Promise in Gaza

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the US and marks my first week on this mission. In just that one week, it has already been a rich rollercoaster. I wonder what else is in store?

On my first Sunday here I attended church at St George's, the cathedral of the Diocese, pictured to the right. Sunday services are offered in English, Arabic, and both. Sunday I attended the bilingual service. It was a full house and the combined voices and languages in corporate prayer and song is a pretty amazing thing.

The Gospel reading was from Luke chapter 21 where Jesus speaks the dire prediction that the Temple and Jerusalem will be destroyed and brothers and sisters will betray each other. It is a story of uncertainty and suffering. Then he provides the promise: for those who live the life he embodies, not a hair will be harmed and souls will be gained.

Then yesterday, I visited Gaza. Only one day there and it's hard to know how to say it all. This blog will unpack the experiences in coming posts. But what should I say to you now? Should I tell you about the pervasive destruction and damage to virtually every structure? About the visible despair in people? About the children with observable evidence of malnutrition? About the current restrictions that allow no fruit but bananas to enter the area? About the previous restriction that allowed no milk in for several weeks? About the proscription of 80 medicines that are not allowed to enter the area? About the rubbish everywhere, some of it burning, some of it partially burned? About the resulting smell? About the family we visited who live in a cemetery? Live there. About the patients who lie in hospital and die because the necessary medication or surgery is not available and there is no possibility of leaving to go where they can get it? None. About the "security" measures on entering and leaving that may or may not provide security but that cannot fail to dehumanize, anger, and frustrate? About the man who said, "Dreams are forbidden in Gaza"? About the many people who told me that living in Gaza is living in prison?

What is there to say about a place of such suffering and uncertainty? Where is the promise in Gaza?

In a situation so complicated and so overlaid with conflict upon conflict, it's hard to know where to look for promise. But as I spent the day listening and learning, it seemed to me that the promise begins in the people there who still - somehow, incomprehensibly - laugh easily and share their tea, their stories, and their hospitality. Who ask for little except fairness and some compassion. Who want to be allowed to work, take care of themselves and their families, and have food to eat.

But the promise has to include you and me, the brothers and sisters of the people in Gaza. The powers of the world will continue to wrangle and fight, so it might be up to us. How can we help? What can we do? Should we help, should we do?

As people in the US celebrate and give thanks in the next few days, I invite you to ask whether the world you want to live in - whether the "Kingdom of Heaven" or Paradise or ideal world you imagine includes this Gaza. If it does not, what will you do??