Our first stop was to go to the Abraham Mosque where the Patriarchs (and Matriarchs) Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Sarah, Rebecca, and Leah are buried. In order to get into the building, we had to go through a security checkpoint guarded by the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces). Each of us had to pass through a metal detector and have our bags searched. The building where the tombs of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs are is split in half, one half is a mosque, the other, a synagogue. Since our guide was a Muslim, we were only able to see the mosque portion of the building. Only non-Muslims are allowed into the synagogue. Not wishing to put our guide in the uncomfortable position of having to wait outside while we went into the Jewish side, we chose not to visit the synagogue.
The mosque itself was beautiful and very decorated. But its physical beauty betrayed an ugly history. Up until the Islamic conquest in the 700s, this place had been a church. Afterward, it was converted into a mosque. Inside the mosque, our guide also told us about what has come to be known as the Cave of the Patriarchs Massacre which took place there in February of 1994 when Baruch Goldstein, an Israeli settler entered the mosque and opened fire on unarmed Palestinian Muslims praying inside the mosque. Twenty-nine persons were killed and another 125 were wounded. The attack set off riots and protests throughout the West Bank, leading to the death of an additional 19 Palestinians killed by the IDF within 48 hours of the attack. Our guide showed us a few remaining signs of the attack -- a large number of bullet holes in the front of the mosque near the mihrab or prayer niche at the front of the mosque which still had numbers next to them from the forensic team's investigation after the attack.
While this might seem to be an isolated act of terrorism against the Palestinian Muslim community, our guide told us that it is highly unlikely that the attacker had entered the mosque without the IDF guards (who are constantly patrolling the area since it is a contested site, and one which is very important for both Jews and Muslims) seeing that he was carrying such a large weapon. Our guide seemed to imply that there had been some collusion between the guards and the attacker, and that they had allowed him to enter the mosque with the deadly weapon in plain view.
Seeing the tombs of Abraham and Sarah and the others was an interesting experience particularly with this background. As Christians we consider Abraham our father in faith - that is, we regard him as a spiritual father. The Jews are the actual descendants of Abraham through Isaac. But Muslims too claim him as their father, and regard themselves as descendants of Ishmael, the firstborn son of Abraham through Hagar, Sarah's slavewoman. The site that was now a mosque had at one time been a Christian church, which had subsequently been taken over by the Muslims during the Islamic conquest. For a very long time (up until the present day) there hasn't been an active Christian community in Hebron. Since Abraham is important in our own tradition too, and since the site had once been a Christian church where the Eucharist would have been celebrated daily, the absence of the Christian community was very apparent. During the day I kept thinking back to this, and I wondered whether the lack of Christian presence in Hebron contributed to the tension there. After all, Christians are supposed to be prophetic witnesses of love. I thought back to a class I had about how in the early Church many Romans were deeply moved (and converted to Christianity because of) by the witness of the love that the early Christians had for one another. I wondered what kind of difference a similar community would make in a place like this. Visiting the site, I was left with the feeling that something was missing there.
Walking through the town one cannot ignore the fact that this area is economically depressed. Buildings were in disrepair; trash lined the streets. The poverty of the area is in part a result of the Israeli occupation. Economic development is prevented as a way of controlling the people and the region; after all, it is easier to control people when you keep them poor and vulnerable. Our guide warned us that we would likely be pestered by a group of children to buy things the next street that we walked down, and that while we were free to buy the items he would be happy to ask them to leave if they bothered us too much. Sure enough, we were greeted by a bunch of school-aged children who followed us relentlessly, asking us to buy trinkets: beaded bracelets which looked like the flag of Palestine, or small embroidered purses. These were some of the most persistent - and desperate - children I have seen anywhere. I tried to avoid making eye contact with them, even as they put their items right in front of me, saying "Miss, you buy? Pleeeaaseee? 10 shekel." I simply shook my head no. Our guide spoke to them in Arabic, saying essentially, "scram!" I felt a bit guilty; 10 shekels is about $2.60. Though I didn't want to buy the items, part of me felt bad later on that I had not just given them the money.
Our guide then showed us a number of streets which are closed to Palestinians. Only Israelis, living in one of the settlements are allowed to use them. If Palestinians live on a closed-off street they are sometimes required to get to their houses by climbing across rooftops to get there. Otherwise, they are allowed to pass, but only if they show proof of residence, and guests are not allowed to visit, ever. There was also another street where only a small part is open to Palestinians, a section about the width of a narrow sidewalk, just big enough for two people to walk; the Israeli portion is big enough for two cars to pass by. This area was heavily guarded; there was a little booth manned by several guards with guns. Any Palestinian caught walking in the Israeli part is reprimanded.
Later, we walked through the market place, and our guide showed us a large section of the city which was formerly filled with Palestinian shops and which has been closed by the Israelis. The Palestinian shop keepers were forced to move out, and the Israelis then came in and welded all 512 of the shop doors closed.
The part of the Palestinian market which we were able to walk through which was still open around the Israeli settlements was quite another terrible story. Above the road was a screen which looked like a metal fence covered in garbage in other refuse, sometimes even bottles filled with soiled water (sometimes even urine). Our guide explained that the Israelis who live in the buildings on either side of the market often throw trash down at the Palestinians who work or are shopping below. The screen was put up to prevent some of the trash from hitting them. When they did this to protect themselves, the Israeli settlers started throwing eggs, which would break upon hitting the fence and fall onto the shops and people below. Then, to protect themselves from liquids or eggs being thrown at them, some shopkeepers put up tarps above their shops. Some Israelis responded by throwing a highly corrosive chemical, melting the plastic tarp in one spot, ruining the shop below.
Walking through the streets, one can't help but notice that all around us there were Israeli security cameras. Our guide explained that when they capture Israelis doing these terrible things to the Palestinians, the occupying forces do nothing. But if a Palestinian so much as picks up a rock and waves it, threatening retaliation (or self-defense, depending on how you look at it), he or she is quickly taken into custody. Our guide also read some of the graffiti (in Hebrew): "Death to the Arabs!" or "Arabs to the gas chambers." It is utterly appalling to me - especially since I just took a class this past spring in which I read Primo Levi's heart-wrenching account of surviving through the war in Auschwitz (and since I've actually been to Auschwitz) that a people who have gone through such a collective tragedy as the Shoah (Holocaust) can make jokes about putting another group of people through a similar dehumanizing experience.
What I have not yet mentioned is that on my plane ride from JFK to Tel Aviv I sat next to a middle-aged Israeli man who, upon hearing it was my first trip to Israel insisted on talking to me for FIVE hours, feeding me the most blatantly anti-Arab, anti-Palestinian propaganda I have ever heard. He actually said to me that the Americans got it right and knew how to take care of the Japanese problem. After Nagasaki and Hiroshima, they surrendered. He suggested that the way to stop the Arab problem is to drop bombs on Mecca and Medina (major Muslim shrines). Do that he said, and they'll give up.
As someone who has been strongly influenced by Catholic Social Teaching and the social justice tradition, all of this deeply angered me. I believe firmly in the dignity of all human persons. To hear such hate - and see such injustice, the curbing of basic human rights, the mistreatment of one group by another simply on the basis of ethnicity or creed -is offensive to me, first because of my faith commitments and values, but for other reasons as well: my boyfriend is an Arab-American, of Jordanian/Palestinian heritage. It disgusted me to think that someone could utterly hate a group of people so much, a group which includes someone I care about deeply. I found myself beginning to develop a deep bias against all Israelis - particularly Israeli Jews - in light of what I had seen and heard.
With these new sentiments rising up in me, I knew I had an interesting conversation ahead of me. Though an Arab-American, my boyfriend is generally pro-Israeli, much to the chagrin of many of his family members, some of whom are Palestinian and left the Middle East around the time the occupation began. Some of his relatives were displaced by the Israeli occupation and had their homes seized and destroyed by the occupying forces. Having heard and seen such terrible things, I had to tell him what I saw, and I wanted to know how it was that he didn't have any negative feelings toward a group that has caused his own family such suffering. In the past when we've talked about the whole Middle East situation he has said that his family ought to "just get over it" because they're in America now. He couldn't see why they still held grudges for what happened back then. Seeing what I saw, I told him I couldn't blame them. I pushed him a bit more on this, saying, "it seems a bit flippant to say "just get over it." We talked a bit longer and he explained a little more of why he has come to this position.
What he said last really surprised and has continued to challenge me: He said, "When my cousins start arguing about how I can be so soft on the Israelis, and are angry with me for not hating them for what they did to our family back in the day, I ask them: "Do you pray for them?" to which they say, "Heck no!" To which I say, "Well, then you're not a Christian; you're just like one of them, filled with hate, because Jesus said, "Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.... What credit is it to you if you love those who love you? Even evil persons do that!" (see Mt. 5:43-48). If you are truly a Christian, then you will pray for and even do good to your enemies."
I was speechless. How can I argue with Jesus? Though part of me wants to dismiss this as a pious platitude, I know that my boyfriend really means this, really lives this. Though these words can seem naive or even foolish on one level, the words of Jesus contain infinite wisdom. In the earlier verses from the same chapter of Matthew, Jesus says, "if a soldier pressures you to carry his load for a mile, carry it for two; if someone strikes you on the cheek, turn and give him the other..." I once heard it explained that here Jesus is calling us to non-violent resistance. Legally, Roman soldiers could ask you to carry their load for a mile, but no more. If you carried it for two, you put them in the precarious situation of being liable for a crime against you. In that sense, by going above and beyond, you had power over someone who formerly had power over you. And rather than using that power to control the other, Jesus suggests that we ought to use that situation to bring good. By going above and beyond what is required of you, you gain the power to influence the other and bring about change. It seems counter-intuitive, but there are countless examples in history which point to the irresistible power of non-violent resistance: Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr. By doing good even in the face of great evil, ultimately, these individuals prevail.
What I realized from his words and from thinking about all of this is that I was hardening my own heart. Here, he was challenging me (without knowing it) to greater love. In this case, his witness, of choosing love over hate convicted me of the need to choose the same. In closing, this is what I was talking about earlier when I asked how might the situation in Hebron be different if there were a vibrant Christian community living there, exuding this kind of prophetic, counter-cultural love in the midst of conflict and hatred? It seems to me that the witness of individuals who choose to take the higher road instead of the easy one really could make a world of difference.
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