tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86053028377915674382024-03-13T04:04:16.742+02:00Letters from the Holy Land"The untold want by life and land ne'er granted,
Now voyager sail thou forth to seek and find"Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-47662392192007048852009-10-09T17:55:00.002+02:002009-10-09T18:47:37.973+02:00What About Today?Dear Praying People,<br /><br />Mid-day Friday here. The Israeli military and police helicopters have been hovering overhead all day. There is a surveillance dirigible above my head. A burst of gunfire closeby. Friday is Muslim prayer day and there is trouble.<br /><br />A few weeks ago, Israel decided that Jewish worshippers should also be able to use Al Aqsa Mosque. They say a section should be set aside for them and that on 50 Jewish holidays each year(<em><strong>are</strong> there 50??</em>), the Mosque should be for the <em>exclusive</em> use of Jewish worshippers. Since many holidays of the two religions overlap, guess who will prevail in use of the Mosque on those days?<br /><br />So on Fridays now, there are people clashing.<br /><br />Al Aqsa is located on the Haram Al-Sharif, which is the Temple Mount to Jews. It was where the Second Temple was located, Jesus' temple, and so of course is of legitimate and very holy significance to Jews. However, the Temple was destroyed in 79 AD and Al Aqsa has been there housing Muslim worship for 1400 years since the 7th Century. Considering this preponderance of presence there by Muslims, it seems like it might have been possible to approach this difficult issue with some preliminary discussions and agreements. It seems like the sort of issue one might have treated with consideration and respect for another. But I guess not. Instead we get autocratic decree, enforcing it with the use of hundreds of armed soldiers resulting in injuries to the unarmed, and then blaming Arabs for being naturally prone to violence and making trouble.<br /><br />The establishment of apartheid here is moving along without a hitch.<br /><br />People who come here, and people around the world, are always praying for peace here. Several times each year, there are special events here of Prayers for Peace.<br /><br />I don't know if prayer works or how it works, but I know that the situation here has been worsening steadily for the past 60 years, despite all these prayers, so I wonder.....<br /><br />Maybe we need to be more <strong><em>specific</em></strong> in the prayers:<br /><br />Maybe we should be sure to mention that the peace is supposed to be for everyone, not just the group we favor.<br /><br />Maybe we should mention that peace for some should not come at the cost of oppression of the others.<br /><br />Maybe we should remember that peace is not just about the all-important <em>"security"</em> and a minimal number of bullets being fired, but should also include the notions of justice and fairness, apology and forgiveness, conciliation and equity, respect and consideration.<br /><br />If prayer works, it seems to need alot of time I guess. Like more than 60 years and counting here, for example. So maybe we can back up the prayer with something else.<br /><br />The photo at the top of this blog is homes destroyed last January in the Gaza war. They still look like this because Israel has not allowed any materials into Gaza to rebuild. So the 40,000 people whose homes were destroyed still do not have a home. Winter is coming on. I hope your prayers will give people a house before that, but so far they haven't. So maybe if you pray about this, you could cc: the White House and US State Dept who are backpedaling on several issues related to the situation here at a pace that would leave Lance Armstrong envious.<br /><br />I met some university students in Gaza this week who are receiving scholarship loans from a Christian organization. I'm sure that the members of that organization pray regularly, but they also <strong>do</strong> something to make a difference today.<br /><br />People need jobs today. They need food today. They need healthcare today. They need the gun off their head <strong><em>today</em></strong>.<br /><br />I can't tell you how often someone responds to my description of the situation here with "Oh my goodness, I'll be sure to pray about that." That is great, but maybe you could also inform yourself and then write a letter to your newspaper or legislative member; or work actively to support a candidate who supports your position; speak out when you hear misinformation; or go to the place you care about and see for yourself.<br /><br />A few decades ago, when there were activists who meant it, there was a pop tune that I think about alot here. Its lyrics say.<br /><br /><em>"The tears I'm shedding now I hear will dry in time,</em><br /><em>The fears I'm fearing now I hear will die in time,</em><br /><em>But while I wait around for tomorrow, watching life drift away</em><br /><em>What about, yes what about today?</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>I can't help wondering if tomorrow ever comes.</em><br /><em>And what's my life been lived for if it never comes?</em><br /><em>I've heard alot of toasts to tomorrow, but none of them ever say</em><br /><em>What about, yes what about today?</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Till nirvana comes, what about today</em><br /><em>Till messiah comes, what about today?</em><br /><em>Till the mountains move and oceans part and angels sing and life can start, </em><br /><em>What about, yes what about today?"</em><br /><br />I hope you will pray for peace here. But right after the "amen" I hope you will ask yourself, what about today?Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-47082750425389486212009-09-26T20:18:00.002+03:002009-09-26T20:24:33.903+03:00A LETTER TO PRESIDENT OBAMAFollowing is a copy of a letter I sent to President Barack Obama today.<br /><br /><br />Dear Mr. President:<br /><br />I am writing to offer plaudits and gratitude for your leadership in producing the United Nations Security Council Resolution 1887 regarding nuclear disarmament. It demonstrated the resolve and resourcefulness that we have come to expect from your Administration. As one who supported your election, I was particularly pleased to know that you were at the gavel for that session.<br /><br />I hope that choosing that venue for the initiative; i.e., the community of nations united, was another example of your government’s intention to earnestly participate in that community. It is in that context that I wish to respectfully offer a <em>challenge</em> to you.<br /><br />I speak of your government’s position toward the State of Israel. I am a retired American physician, a constituent of the 23rd Congressional District in Texas. For the past two years I have been living in Jerusalem and doing volunteer work in the West Bank and Gaza. It is from this perspective and experience that I write to you.<br /><br />For several decades, the State of Israel has ignored numerous UN Resolutions, rulings of international legal bodies, and mandates of international humanitarian agencies regarding its illegal Occupation of the Palestinian territories and its oppressive treatment of the Palestinian people. In the face of these admonishments to Israel’s policies and actions, the United States and the international community have been silent. In so doing, our government has tacitly approved these actions and to that extent has been complicit in them.<br /><br />I respectfully ask, Sir: how can the US and other nations expect compliance with Resolution 1887 while it empowers Israel to ignore other resolutions and act with impunity?<br /><br />I hope that your government does not hold the rationale that it can overlook transgressions of the State of Israel because it is in the national interest to do so. Such a position will only further justify the anarchy of self-interest that we see too commonly in our world, as well as place the US on the wrong side of history.<br /><br />You are fond of using that metaphor. I respectfully ask you, then, how often we now condemn empires of the past because they came to power on the backs of innocents? How often do we now view previous political expediencies as egregious self-interest? Sir, will you enter history as having stood up against injustice in any quarter, or will you enter history asterisked merely as a two-term President?<br /><br />Either we are part of the community of nations, or we are not. Either we hold all member nations accountable to international law, or we do not. Either we abide by the consensus of international bodies, or we do not. To advocate compliance for <em>some nations</em> for <em>some issues</em> is disingenuous at best, and arrogant and cynical at worst.<br /><br />I am aware of the forceful statements from you and Secretary Clinton regarding the settlements in the West Bank. You should know, Mr. President, that those statements have brought much hope to Palestinian people here. But with respect, Sir, the statements come from lips and mouth only and have no “teeth”. Unless and until the statements are enforced by the same kind of sanctions and forceful economic measures from the international community that are applied toward rogue nuclear states, those statements will continue to be ignored by the State of Israel.<br /><br />Israel does not await responses from the world. From my two years living here, I assure you that although the diplomatic process proceeds sluggishly, the reality on the ground accelerates at a relentless pace. Indeed, as I write from Jerusalem today, Palestinian apartheid is very nearly a <em>fait accompli</em>. While your Administration’s efforts are repeatedly rebuffed, and duplicitous decoys of relaxed travel restrictions obscure the truth, the suffering of 4 million people increases every day.<br /><br />I implore you, Sir, to uphold the integrity and credibility of your Administration by enforcing international law wherever it applies.<br /><br />In closing, Mr. President, I offer fervent support for the success of your Administration and hope that you will heed the advice of your predecessor and follow the better angels of your nature.<br /><br />Respectfully,<br />John Harry Gunkel, M.D.Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-76909603499169943202009-09-04T10:25:00.003+03:002009-09-04T11:02:36.154+03:00Ramadan MubarakDear Wednesday Morning Group,<br /><br />Sometime between 3 and 4 in the morning now comes the sound of drumming. I wake and hear it distant at first, then closer as someone moves along the streets in East Jerusalem pounding a big drum. No particular rhythm, just noise. Not long after that, a cannon fires once. A very big, very loud cannon.<br /><br />It's Ramadan.<br /><br />I'm not sure why this letter is to all of you. But as I thought who might especially enjoy this posting I thought of you first, perhaps because our conversations and discussions on those early Wednesday mornings always seemed to me to honor differences in backgrounds and traditions. So I thought you would enjoy hearing a little about this very special time here.<br /><br />Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar and it is the month in which the Quran was revealed to the Prophet Mohammad. The Islamic calendar is a lunar one, so the dates of Ramadan, according to the Western calendar, are different each year. By the Western calendar, it occurs one month earlier each year. That is, next year it will be from mid-July to mid-August.<br /><br />Ramadan is intended to be a prayerful and observant time as befits the revealing of the Quran. The faithful fast from before sunrise until the moment of sunset. The drumming in the morning is intended to wake people so that they might eat before the fast begins and that is signaled by the cannonfire. At the moment of sunset, the cannon fires again to let everyone know the fast is broken. So now, during the summertime, the fast lasts about 15 hours.<br /><br />The fast is absolute. No food, no liquids, no gum, no cigarettes, no sexual relations during its time. But more, the mouth should also be prayerful. There should be no idle gossip, or silly chatter. No profanity or harmful speech.<br /><br />When the fast breaks every evening, there is a general gathering of friends and family for "break-fast" (<em>iftur</em>). So there is an extremely important social and family-strengthening aspect of the time as well. And this is shared with all. A few evenings ago, I was returning to my apartment just after 7 in the evening and waved hello to the guys in the barber shop across the street. They called me over and invited me to share their iftur with them. I did and enjoyed getting to know my new neighbors.<br /><br />The evenings also find the streets lit up festively. The photo at the head of this blog shows a scene in the Old City at Ramadan.<br /><br />I love the rhythm of Ramadan. It is rather noisy where I live, with the sounds of life all day long from the street. But around 6:30 pm, a quiet begins to descend. It is noticeable and makes you stop - "what's different?". It lasts until about 8 pm. Everyone is indoors eating and drinking after 15 long hours without, and enjoying their friends and family. Around 8, the streets fill again, but then it becomes quiet again about an hour later. It is now Evening Prayer time and most people are at the mosque for prayers. I live near Al Aqsa Mosque, one of the holiest sites in Islam, and thousands of people attend prayer services there during Ramadan.<br /><br />Thousands more would also like to pray there but are not allowed by Israeli security. Mostly this is young men. It is one thing to prevent someone from moving about under ordinary conditions, but it is another much more nefarious and insidious thing to also prevent them from practicing their faith. Imagine someone stopping you from going to Christmas Eve services - how would that affect you?<br /><br />As an outsider and one with an extremely superficial understanding of Ramadan, I am struck by the profundity of this time. I am moved by it and in awe of the faithfulness it calls forth. I sometimes try to join in the fast and admit it is extraordinarily difficult. But what moves me is that the difficulty is minor for the observants. They are much more focused on the intent. The Quran tells that the purpose of the fast is "in order that you might become more pious"; to find humility; to recognize the bounty of Allah by noticing its simulated absence; and to find empathy and compassion for those everywhere who everyday do not have enough to eat. From where I sit, this is profound and I feel blessed to be here in the midst of it.<br /><br />I hope you enjoy this very unlearned rendering of this celebration of faith, and perhaps you will want to "google" it to learn more.<br /><br />I look forward to seeing you all again, inshallah at the beginning of next year.<br /><br />Love,<br />HarryHarry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-18340046576142081612009-08-14T11:47:00.003+03:002009-08-14T12:04:51.489+03:00Those Lazy, Crazy, Hazy Days of SummerDear John and Mike,<br /><br />I've been thinking enviously of your new jacuzzi. I know it's been a special boon to you this particular summer. I was thinking especially about you when a group of us <em>ajaaneb </em>(foreigners) went last Saturday to the <strong>Jifna Dream Pool</strong>.<br /><br />Jifna is a village in the West Bank outside Ramallah and there is a wonderful community pool there that was a great oasis in this August's heat.<br /><br />Nine of us went and when we arrived there were only a couple families with kids. We were the only foreigners. The pool is half-Olympic size, sparkling clean. It's surrounded by a wall with some lovely paintings of town and country scenes. Look at the photos in the slideshow at left.<br /><br />We swam a little, ate a great lunch of bar-b-q chicken and lamb kebabs, and "salads". Every meal here begins with salads, but we would probably call them appetizers. Small plates of a variety of dishes. I'm not sure what some of them are, but they're unfailingly delicious. When you first come here, you have to learn not to make a meal of them because there will be LOTS more food coming.<br /><br />We lounged and lingered a few hours as others families arrived, then headed back home, refreshed and relaxed.<br /><br />There are as many levels of engagement in what's going on here (aka, brutal oppression of 4 million people) as there are people who come. I've always tried to see what's here; why else would I be here?? But there is a price to pay for that and Saturday was a rare opportunity to just enjoy, relax, and refresh.<br /><br />Jifna Dream Pool, what a perfect name.<br /><br />Keep the jacuzzi bubbling till the winter when I get back. It will be a nice place to while away a winter evening.<br /><br />HarryHarry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-48052394445495259742009-08-05T11:00:00.003+03:002009-08-05T11:57:44.189+03:00Have A Nice DayDear Sandy,<br /><br />Thank you for continuing to send the articles from the Washington Post and NY Times. I usually know about the events - they're happening outside the front door, after all - but I appreciate reading what's being said about them abroad. Or not being said, which is sometimes more informative.<br /><br />I have to comment on one of the articles you sent recently because I think it tells much more than it was meant to. Or more accurately, <em>reveals</em> more and in a way that holds a world of meaning for what's happening here.<br /><br />The article, from the NY Times, reports on 3 recent occurrences here. One is possible corruption charges against a key figure in Netanyahu's new government. But what caught my attention more was the 2 other occurrences.<br /><br />The reporter described the eviction last Sunday of two Palestinian families from their homes in an Arab neighborhood around the corner from me. This has been going on for months here, the relentless insidious extension of the Occupation into East Jerusalem. Many homes and buildings are being taken and occupied by "Israeli nationalists" every day.<br /><br />But this one seems to have caught the attention of the media perhaps because the occupants of the homes have been there for decades, 53 years in one case, and despite the title of ownership still being considered in the courts, an eviction notice was issued anyway.<br /><br />So on Sunday, two families were out on the street and new occupants had moved in within minutes. All enabled and enforced by Israeli police.<br /><br />Then, the third part of the story was a brief mention of the recent killings inside a gay club in Tel Aviv. The story contained this sentence:<br /><br /><em><strong>"...shock over the attack jolted a society that largely values tolerance and has hardly been exposed to the specter of hate crimes."</strong></em><br /><br />Oh my goodness. <strong>OH MY GOODNESS!! </strong>One hardly knows where to start.<br /><br />So within sentences of describing tossing two families out on the street from their homes of 50 years - without evidence to do so - and letting in new occupants who have no claim to ownership, the reporter describes a society that "largely values tolerance". Umm, which kind of tolerance would that be?? And if illegally occupying and oppressing 4 million people and periodically bombing the crap out of them isn't a hate crime, exactly what <em>is</em>?<br /><br />But this is what I think is so revealing here. My guess is that the reporter either 1) does not consider home evictions and demolitions of Arab homes to be intolerant or hateful; or 2) does not even realize what she did.<br /><br />I suspect the latter. Like much of the world, her image of Israel is so entrenched, so ingrained, so reinforced by her Judeo-Christian environment (and really, really effective media management) that she cannot even recognize when it is refuted by reality.<br /><br />It's too simple to say that's the only problem here, but it is certainly a large part of it. As it must be in all cases where there are some people who are different and therefore, scary.<br /><br />There is too much in our relationships with each other that is hidden. Unspoken. Unacknowledged. Buried in our fear and guilt. Too many dirty little secrets.<br /><br />So we all go along with policies that enable hateful treatment of a people by calling them something else. "Security" for example. Denying it is what it is because we don't want someone calling us the "Anti-..." name. And after all, the society is so tolerant and naive of hate. Surely a people who were the victims of hate crimes cannot themselves perpetrate the same? Surely.<br /><br />Easier that way, isn't it? We don't have to get all mixed up and confused by our dark sides. The trouble is that what makes some of us really comfortable with ourselves is causing a world of hurt for others.<br /><br />About the same time I was reading this little slice of Disney-mania, I also saw a notice that the internet was "abuzz" because two actors had been left off People Magazine's photo of the reunion of the ancient TV sitcom, Saved by the Bell.<br /><br />Really? Abuzz? About this? This is what gets attention?<br /><br />ok.<br /><br />Have a nice day.<br /><br />HarryHarry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-19630067802833287682009-08-03T11:22:00.002+03:002009-08-03T12:41:21.841+03:00AlienThis letter is for all those who have found themselves living in a foreign place. Or anyone who is thinking of doing that.<br /><br />We all do it for different reasons. But for many of us, it's because we think there is something "wrong" somewhere and we go to try to help. To "do something". Or maybe we just can't stand watching it from afar and want to get closer and see better what's really happening.<br /><br />So we go. And pretty soon, we figure out that it's not like we thought it was. It's worse, or more complicated, or more enormous. At this point, some of us realize there's little or nothing for us to "do". And if we stay on, we begin to shift our awareness and focus from doing to being. As my friend Jesse recently wrote so wisely, it dawns on us why we're called <em>human beings</em> and not <em>human doings</em>. <br /><br />So we begin to think and talk and write alot about <strong><em>"Presence".</em></strong> The importance and significance of just being with people who are in hardship.<br /><br />And that's where many continue to live while they're there. <br /><br />But I think we have to be careful with this Presence thing. It doesn't necessarily mean relationship; in fact I would argue that it rarely does. It can have a <em>deux ex machina</em> quality about it. Dropping in to just "be with you." I think we can move through presence and come to realize how it is different from making relationship. <br /><br />We are forever alien in these new places we inhabit. No matter how much we want not to be alien. That's what all of us wanted when we came - to not be alien. We wanted to learn the language and every nuance of the culture and "belong".<br /><br />I'm not sure we can ever belong. Which can leave us in an isolated place, especially if we came alone. But if we're really, really fortunate we can learn to abide in this alien state without deluding ourselves, and on occasion live in moments that show us the real reason we came.........<br /><br />I live in a flat in a GuestHouse. There is a beautiful courtyard garden which I can look down on from my windows. A few days ago, there was an engagement party in the garden. It was beautiful. From time to time during the evening I watched in a kind of cultural voyeurism, seeking to know better how to "belong". As I watched during the evening, two friends who work at the GuestHouse and were serving that night weaved through the crowd, looking movie-star handsome in their black slacks, white shirts, and black bowties.<br /><br />'Round about 10 pm, the party had broken up and the clean-up was just about finished. There was a knock at my door. It was one of the two guys who had worked that evening. His wife had been taken to the hospital and he asked if I would drive him there and go with him. So the three of us went.<br /><br />His wife was in the emergency room, thankfully doing fine. She had fallen and had some bumps and bruises. The hospital is a large one in East Jerusalem whose staff and patients are just about exclusively Arab. Late at night like that, I was the only foreign face for miles around. I stood with my friends, waited for and talked with the doctors to find out what the situation was, watched all the people coming and going.<br /><br />I realized with a suddenness that startled me that I wasn't alien to my two friends that evening in the ER. I was just with them. Not in a <em>Presence</em> way - I wasn't there to "support" or do anything. I was just there because they knew I would go with them and they weren't afraid to ask me. The cultural prohibitions against that - and there are many - were no longer operating with us. We were there together just because we know each other.......<br /><br />Just steps from where I'm sitting right now occurred some of the most momentous events in all of human history. Some believe God incarnated and walked here. Died and rose from the dead. Some believe that a people here in ancient times were chosen by God to be an example of devotion for all future generations. Some believe a great Prophet came here one night in a miraculous mystical journey. <br /><br />Millions of people come here to see where these things happened. To hear stories about them, pray about them, wonder about them, be transformed by them.<br /><br />When I leave here someday and think back on this time, it won't be those events or places that I remember. It will be an evening that I spent in an ER with some friends.Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-7791394244443280722009-07-22T19:50:00.002+03:002009-07-22T20:27:50.415+03:00Back To GazaDear Janina and Johannes,<br /><br />I was able to visit Gaza yesterday for the first time since February. Our friends send their love and long for the day when you might be able to visit again. You are much remembered and missed.<br /><br />Entering Gaza has changed a little since you last visited. Now, just a kilometer or so after clearing Erez checkpoint and entering Gaza, you have to stop at a Hamas checkpoint. They examine your passport and take information and sometimes examine your luggage. The first time I was a bit unnerved by this (Hamas has a copy of my passport?!?!?), but now it's another part of the routine. I have always found the men at this checkpoint to be cordial, polite, and professional. Much more so than some other people who man checkpoints around here.<br /><br />Everyone we know is as well as can be expected, but I worry more and more about Dr. M. He remains as gentle and gracious as ever, but his tired, saddened eyes and stooped shoulders tell the strain and burden of life there.<br /><br />I'm sorry to say nothing has improved in Gaza. Which means it is worse. Every day that goes by without change means another day of poverty, no work, ill health, little food, and confinement. Nothing has been rebuilt or repaired since the destruction caused by the war. Nothing. Israel lets nothing in that is needed for repairs, saying the materials could be used for bombs or rockets. The UN is supposed to be taking in 20,000 tons of cement, but so far approval is still not given. No hurry, it's only people's lives. We wouldn't want to go too fast and cause diplomatic awkwardness. Tony Blair, Envoy for Only-God-Knows-What, is still encamped at the $400/day American Colony Hotel here. I do hope he's comfortable enough.<br /><br />I also have some positive news for you, though. Yesterday I sat in on some training for staff in Gaza to learn how to deliver psychosocial counselling and support. This is almost universally needed after two years of embargo and deprivation, and the war/slaughter of January. So even though this activity was made necessary by so much suffering, still it's wonderful to see something positive, constructive, and life-affirming arise out of it. I don't believe I've seen people there so energized and enthusiastic about anything in the nearly two years I've been going.<br /><br />I'm sorry the world despises Gaza so, because we are missing a chance to see such wonderful developments. To see people figure out how to ennoble themselves against all odds. To enrich themselves, to <em><strong>save</strong></em> themselves. Or maybe the world doesn't despise Gaza, maybe we are just afraid. Or don't understand. Or ignore. It's a shame. We have alot to learn from the people we hurt the most.<br /><br />I know you well enough to know how you miss going to Gaza and how you hurt when you hear the news from there. I look forward to the time when we might go again together.<br /><br />Love,<br />HarryHarry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-26157817042117840212009-07-19T10:44:00.003+03:002009-07-19T11:20:06.732+03:00id-dars 'arabi (the Arabic lesson)Dear Mary and Doug,<br /><br />This comes with fervent hopes that your summer there has backed off its relentless blazing heat. The summers here are very warm - alot like a normal S Texas summer - but nothing like you're experiencing this summer. <em>Inshallah bikher</em> - God willing, all will be well.<br /><br />I was studying Arabic the other day and had an ah-ha moment which made me think of both of you and the dinner which we enjoyed together at your home when I was visiting recently. You asked me to say Grace in Arabic.<br /><br />The ah-ha moment came when my new lesson got me all excited because there was so much new vocabulary in it that I would really be able to<strong> use</strong> alot.<br /><br />Then it hit me - the new words and phrases that I was learning and realized I would be using: <em>to confiscate property, imposition, 4 verbs related to imprisonment, to become a martyr, to be killed, incendiary, to become poor, to be fired</em><br /><em></em><br />I thought about what I know how to say. Of course, many most common words. I can say coffee, table, tomato, house, walk, car, etc etc. But almost before learning those, I learned how to say settlement and checkpoint. And war, rockets, bombs, soldiers. Yet, I confess to you with reddened, little-boy-ashamed face, that I do not yet know the liturgy in Arabic or words related to it. Of course some others here learn those words first, but I haven't. I guess I'm moving in a different context.<br /><br />I'm sure there are profound quotes about what words mean in our lives, but I don't know them. But in trying to learn a new language at this advanced age, I am very aware of how language is the currency of our daily lives. Since my time (and neurons) are limited, I've tried to learn how to talk about what I encounter every day. And as recently dawned on me, those particular words are sometimes a very dear currency.<br /><br /><strong><em>Sahaatkum! wa alla ma'kum.</em></strong> Thankfully, these words flow easily - <em>good health to you and God be with you. </em><br /><br />HarryHarry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-17946296837463779812009-07-18T09:23:00.005+03:002009-07-18T10:54:14.363+03:00We Shall Overcome<em><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">This blog contains language which may be unsuitable for some readers. Precaution is advised.</span></strong></em><br /><br />Dear Nancy, Mike, and Doss,<br /><br />All of us are children of the '60's. Vietnam and the riots, protests, and demonstrations. The Kennedy and King assassinations. We all graduated from college in the spring of Kent State and the invasion of Cambodia. Through all that, I don't know about you, but I was never tear-gassed...<br /><br />Until yesterday.<br /><br />There is a village in the West Bank called Bil'in. A few years ago, the "security barrier" came through its environs and confiscated much of the land and farmers' fields. Nothing much new in that, since the barrier does this for alot of its route. In this case, though, an Israeli court ruled this course to be illegal. The barrier is still there, however, because claims of security here trump all.<br /><br />So about 4 years ago, villagers began to hold demonstrations against the Wall. The demonstrations continue on every Friday. I had never been, but went yesterday with my friend Anne who has been going for years.<br /><br />I was very skittish about it. Soldiers stand at the barrier. Sometimes they shoot. Over the years about 10 people have been killed, the last one only about 3 months ago. At first, they used real bullets, but after Israeli's starting participating, they now only use rubber bullets - a euphemism if ever there was one - or aim tear gas cannisters at demonstrators. Other people have been seriously injured. A young American man shot a few months ago lies in a hospital now in a coma from which he will likely never recover.<br /><br />The leaders of the demonstation urge everyone to stay non-violent, but nowadays there are always a few who throw rocks at the soldiers. Recently, it was discovered that some of these people have been Israeli infiltrators. But most are not.<br /><br />Yesterday, the soldiers just used tear gas and a new weapon, the "Skunk". A truck carries a huge water cannon on its roof and a spray is shot into the air which contains a chemical that smells like, well, shit. Nice, huh?<br /><br />There are photos in the slideshow on the left. The clouds on the ground are tear gas and Skunk-juice. The posters are of the young man who was killed recently.<br /><br />Thankfully, no one was injured yesterday. But the service driver on the way home said we smelled <em>"mesh kwayyes"</em> (not good).<br /><br />Between ducking the tear gas and Skunk, often unsuccessfully, I talked to alot of people and also wondered why we were there. Them I can't speak for, me I can.<br /><br />I'm not sure why I do these things here. So often my behavior here is very different from in the States. Of course, I live in very different circumstances here. I guess the unknown is what my behavior will be when I return to the States to stay. You all may wind up avoiding me like some kind of freak.<br /><br />It seemed to me that yesterday we were "demonstrating". Showing something. I don't know about everyone else, but I think that I was demonstrating both to the soldiers - <em>no matter what you throw at us, we are not going to let you do this in silence or invisibly </em>- but probably more to the people who live in the village - <em>you have not been abandoned. We will get gassed and shat on with you. There are people who know this is not right and are not going to just look away.</em><br /><em></em><br />Does this mean anything to either group, really? Does it change anything? Does it help? Does it hurt?<br /><br />I don't know, but why else are we all here in this human family?<br /><br />Looking forward to seeing you when I get back, hopefully smelling better than yesterday.<br /><br />HarryHarry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-374071411323958672009-07-15T20:41:00.013+03:002009-07-18T10:43:09.642+03:00Summer ShowersDear Jane,<br /><div><div><div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you for your recent email. You have the most wonderful way of putting words together and it always lets me see something in a slightly different way. So when I read your words about the "thread" of my vocation drawing me "joyfully," it set me thinking. </div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>I frequently return to the Buechner definition of vocation - where our joy and <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVcfHzWm3vnNisKSvr7UDTzaVnisnINgS2yFLEk-ejH_ytaxrb-S_SEzWkDZjDw0w1H51MbjBq40BH6M9lk4iFTY6LfO4mVCr8Fvs2n33DYGkDi9A0-PsWKV3o-0C36u4DbseXMURUgMNr/s1600-h/IMG_0907.JPG"></a>gladness meets the needs of the world. Then I recalled a conversation with a friend when I was in the US recently. I was explaining something that happened here, one of the awful things that happens all too frequently, and he said, "ok, and <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7k0zSP22OZQBmPit9lOtueYXxoHVAYZ2Saq3ojzHHxpdE2GHo-0Wg_FL6E_bSAeRdwjCYQL573O_-qfuD0bvy2ugQK95CauWYNyUXuRIybaAV0g_WkNYkvAZueM7u-i_ZWaQOQZZTzomb/s1600-h/IMG_0908.JPG"></a>you are there becaauuuse....?" His remark brushed me back and at the time made me think he doesn't "get it," doesn't understand how <em>wonderful</em> it is to be here. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div> </div><div>Then the penny dropped.....</div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>I almost never write here about the <strong><em>joy</em></strong> of being here. I do go on about the angst, don't I? In part, that's probably my naturally dour personality, but I suppose also because the harsh realities are more compelling and because it's the injustices that I want people to be aware of, to engage with. But in fact, we also have alot of fun here. There are so many wonderful people, so much going on. We frequently have beautiful musical events. There are many museums (and of course churches) full of beauty. Many times of laughing and enjoying our lives here. I'm sure that in those times there's an element of tension release, because there is certainly plenty of that, but there is also sheer joy. </div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>But mostly, like anywhere else, it's the people and friendships who bring the most enjoyment. A few days ago, I watched some men haul some furniture up to a second floor by ropes. Look at the photos below. These were huge, heavy pieces of furniture with plenty of effort and exertion needed. But they had fun with it. Look at the celebration in the last photos. Joyful at a job well done. These are the moments I don't write much about here, but they happen all the time.</div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>By the way, I believe that the man on the left in the last photo, signalling the victory of the job done, is the hardest-working man I ever encountered. I thought my father was, but I don't think he could keep up with Maher. And his buddy on the right is one of God's most delightful creatures - affable, gregarious, charming, and delightful. Both these men are far too talented and able to be hauling furniture up the sides of buildings but their circumstances leave them nothing else.....</div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>Oops, I did it again. Finding pain in the joy. </div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>You know those summer showers that we get in South Texas, rare enough to be noticeable, when in the middle of a heavy rain shower the sun shines through? Because of some particular conformation of clouds and climactic conditions. Every day is like that here. Sun in the midst of rain. Hour of gold, hour of lead.</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>There is a line in the Talmud which has been adapted into a tune that many people learn when they come here. It says,</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div><em></em></div><div><em></em></div><div><em>"Ten measures of <strong>beauty</strong> God gave to the world: 9 to Jerusalem, 1 to the rest.</em></div><div><em>Ten measures of <strong>sorrow</strong> God gave to the world: 9 to Jerusalem, 1 to the rest."</em></div><div><em> </div></em><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Thank you, once again, for pastoring me toward new understanding.</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>Harry </div><div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6BIgiIik8Q7sAo1qh4CqqHwjy5HutJGUrviG4sbk50iawowZCzASr4ceq3E5AqipoIfJvwLFCHeXg6_J2X6UPfda0HqDUVfZG8rQVDJqEz0GdggTqmYc6e1T_qjID9faoQwpR-8Gnk9U/s1600-h/IMG_0904.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358763457871932658" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6BIgiIik8Q7sAo1qh4CqqHwjy5HutJGUrviG4sbk50iawowZCzASr4ceq3E5AqipoIfJvwLFCHeXg6_J2X6UPfda0HqDUVfZG8rQVDJqEz0GdggTqmYc6e1T_qjID9faoQwpR-8Gnk9U/s200/IMG_0904.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1J1QOEKx9H-it4bJgewsHBku6V_WUkes9BNpyUYGZKG1WmULfYICm_QP740gKyeZJgxZnvka8yTFk7W8dng_gUZz-tja_wscKs2_RmM1Y_0i59bspHR3-yj8mYz6ZAXTWsb-uoNzGb3jL/s1600-h/IMG_0906.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358764529813990690" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1J1QOEKx9H-it4bJgewsHBku6V_WUkes9BNpyUYGZKG1WmULfYICm_QP740gKyeZJgxZnvka8yTFk7W8dng_gUZz-tja_wscKs2_RmM1Y_0i59bspHR3-yj8mYz6ZAXTWsb-uoNzGb3jL/s200/IMG_0906.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXZXrCa2CLhOOE2Q9CPs6MnB9g31c_11uLFYdpiUpzxhMEYvil2Jbp0GbKBANYtCCEaufrPdos422aAEQd6T7ENHxj2A5xE81kr8ryjQuJ-booP9ympYVd0Xx8iA7EFG489NJrO2PpWIR/s1600-h/IMG_0908.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358764539576909234" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXZXrCa2CLhOOE2Q9CPs6MnB9g31c_11uLFYdpiUpzxhMEYvil2Jbp0GbKBANYtCCEaufrPdos422aAEQd6T7ENHxj2A5xE81kr8ryjQuJ-booP9ympYVd0Xx8iA7EFG489NJrO2PpWIR/s200/IMG_0908.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTGJ5ziEOwBxOKAiXD2wilAjIF5s3k6VJC_q9T0jVGIoBuJfHZlGZemuqBPeHzZGzY53eWiBIF3Y9r4GYO1dKiHDZrT-3NnoPt0zcZvc7-ggeD1UI6FpsnP_1GyTYviZc-tReqcZBFFMiu/s1600-h/IMG_0911.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358764541709624994" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTGJ5ziEOwBxOKAiXD2wilAjIF5s3k6VJC_q9T0jVGIoBuJfHZlGZemuqBPeHzZGzY53eWiBIF3Y9r4GYO1dKiHDZrT-3NnoPt0zcZvc7-ggeD1UI6FpsnP_1GyTYviZc-tReqcZBFFMiu/s200/IMG_0911.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div></div></div></div>Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-14794786717957602982009-07-13T17:11:00.006+03:002009-07-13T18:36:42.098+03:00Miles To Go Before I SleepDear David,<br /><br />It's been awhile since we had a visit in New York in April and I haven't had a chance to check in with you since coming back here in May.<br /><br />Somewhat to my surprise, but also my delight, it's like starting over. As a "free-lance" volunteer now, without affiliation, I feel a new energy and a new spirit about being here. But with the advantage of knowing where I am, how things work, and slightly improved language skills. I am finding enjoyments which were lacking before and an unfamiliar vitality in being able to delve into something that sounds interesting, without having to censor myself about it.<br /><br />My primary focus and commitment this summer is on teaching Anatomy & Physiology at a nursing college in Qubeiba, a village in the West Bank which is one of the four reputed Emmaus sites (although probably the least likely of the four). It's a new branch of Bethlehem University, just two years old. I love being part of something new in the West Bank where so much is stifled, stunted, and worn out.<br /><br />Our classes are small with only about 13 students in each, divided just about evenly between males and females. The secondary schools here teach English, but not all teach it very well, so most of the students come to nursing college knowing little. Much of their first year is spent on English (the University requires instruction in English) and I am amazed every day by how quickly the students pick it up. So they are not only studying new, complicated, technical material, but they're doing it in a foreign language. I can barely say "Where is the bus station" and they're learning cardiovascular physiology!!<br /><br />My admiration for the students and staff is part of what I love about being included in this program, but it's also because this college is giving some young people a chance for a good career where there aren't that many. I feel like part of a community of possibility.<br /><br />I will teach there in the fall, also. The second half of Anatomy & Physiology and Pediatric Nursing, as well. I met recently with some faculty at a medical school in Nablus about teaching there also but I'm not sure about that. There would be some logistical issues involved in commuting there so I might not take it on, even should they invite me.<br /><br />And from time to time other opportunities are coming along that bring that sense of "vocation". Tomorrow I'm going to a village near Hebron. A friend lives there and invited me to come visit the Red Crescent clinic in the village. They need medicines and supplies, so I'm going to see what the situation is and then see if I can get someone in the States or Europe interested in helping out. I also accepted an invitation to write some articles for an NGO about the work they're doing. So I'll be visiting people in the West Bank and Gaza who benefit from their help to write their stories. It will let me get to know more people and something about their lives. To know them in their homes, drink tea, and discover how alike we are.<br /><br />When I was in the States recently, I imagined I would come back here and get involved in lots of human rights issues. I may do, but since coming back I'm finding that my enjoyment really comes mostly from being able to be with people individually. To get to know them. Spend time and listen to what's on their minds. Share the good, share the bad, share the ugly. I love kidding with my students, but also sitting with them and figuring out what we can do to help them grasp the material better so they can succeed. Or enjoying their delight when they make an "A" on a quiz. Or try to encourage when they make a "D".<br /><br /><p>Back in February 2008, which feels like a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I wrote here about asking <em>"What am I doing here?"</em> I've been asking it alot again lately in this new context. For me, it's critically important to do that. Of course, an old analytical introvert like me would love that stuff anyway, but I actually do think it's important especially in this kind of venture. But I believe it must also apply in anything we do. To ask: Really.....no, <em><strong>REALLY</strong></em>.....what are we doing here? Are we here because we want to help? That's noble, but is our help needed or wanted? Do we ask first if someone wants or needs help, or do we assume because we have so much and they seem to have so little? Do we give them what we think they need, or do we ask what they need?</p><p>Are we here because it makes us feel good? When who we encounter and how we meet them are incidental to our "goals". I do that sometimes and I see it alot here. There are countless people who have been here dozens of times over 20 or 30 years. But they don't speak a word of Arabic or Hebrew and the only people they know are those with their agency, church, or organization. They have only slept in hotels and have never had a meal with someone who wasn't on the itinerary. </p><p>I don't want to be "institutional". That can do enormous good - raising awareness, raising money, setting policy, seeking justice. All important. But I don't think that's what I'm doing here. I'm not good at it and it feels, to be blunt, empty to me. I'd rather spend Wednesday afternoon going over his lecture notes with Mohammad than sit in a high-level meeting at the UN or Knesset. Bless those who do that, but it's not what I'm doing here.</p><p>So here I am, still crazy after all these years and still stumbling around trying to sort stuff out. Please know that your support and encouragement throughout this long journey have been a wonderful gift. Thank you for that. I look forward to sharing what's left of this journey with you.</p><p>Harry</p>Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-57658242253506871632009-07-11T11:08:00.002+03:002009-07-11T12:12:07.128+03:00Letter #1Dear Friends,<br /><br />It's Saturday in the Holy Land.<br /><br /><strong><em>Holy Land</em></strong>.<br /><br />Wow. Sounds Important. Sounds Special. Sounds Serene and Prayerful.<br /><br />We're in the middle of our three consecutive days of sabbaths in this place, this "holy" place, which most of the world's people place at the center of their religion and spirituality.<br /><br />....I live in predominantly Arab, predominantly Muslim East Jerusalem near Al-Aqsa Mosque, one of the most venerated sites in all of Islam. For Friday Prayers many people want to pray there. But sometimes men less than 50 years old are not allowed by Israeli police and soldiers to go there for their prayers. A "<em>security threat</em>". One Friday during the Gaza war I was walking to a market not far from Al-Aqsa when suddenly the street was full of men standing quietly in rows filling the entire block. It was prayer time, but the soldiers had set up a checkpoint outside the Old City and these men were not allowed in to their mosque to pray. So they stood quietly and did their prayers right there in the street.<br /><br />I thought that these men praying as best they could was something holy. I thought what the soldiers were doing was not.<br /><br />...One Friday evening I was returning from my Arabic lesson and came to a streetcrossing. While waiting for the light to change, a man whose clothing identified him as a conservative Jew asked me if I am Jewish. I said no and he began to ask me for something. Through his broken English I understood he wanted me to come to his home and help him with something - changing a light bulb I think. I thought it must be high up and he couldn't reach it. Or something. But his asking my religion first made me nervous. You need certain sensibilities here. So I declined and walked on. A block later, I realized what had happened. He had asked my religion because it was Shabbat and he was not allowed to "work"; ie, change the light bulb, so he was trying to find a <em>goy</em> to help him out.<br /><br />I have no doubt this man believed that he was behaving in a holy way, honoring his creed as best he understood it. But it left me confused: does God <em>really</em> want this man to have to bring some stranger into his home rather than change a light bulb? <br /><br />...a young friend here, an Arab Muslim man tells me he can't sleep lately and his heart hurts. He is from the West Bank and he comes to Jerusalem to work because the pay is better. However, he is supposed to have a permit to come here but he can't get a permit, so he comes illegally and dangerously. And because he has no permit and no recourse, his employer here treats him like a slave with low wages and no benefits or vacation. His girlfriend, who he loves very much, got married to another man last summer because my friend doesn't have enough money and her father made her marry someone else. My friend's best friend got married last summer and kind of abandoned him because he's never around now, having to go to Jerusalem to work and having to stay here for weeks because he has no permit to come and go.<br /><br />At 22 years of age, my friend sees his life "closed". No university, no travel, no girlfriend, no best friend, no decent job. No opportunities. No future.<br /><br />Because he's Palestinian and some other inhabitants of the <strong><em>Holy Land</em></strong> do not want him here so they keep him behind a wall, make him have to have a permit for every move he makes, and close his life.<br /><br />My friend is a sincere and prayerful Muslim, but I wonder if he thinks this land is "holy"?<br /><br />I suppose they call this place holy because of things that were said to happen here some few thousand years ago. OK. But today - right now - this can be the un-holiest of places.<br /><br />Millions of people come here every year to see the "holy <em>sites</em>" and hear endlessly about what was said and done in the ancient past. I would rather they come here, ignore the sites, and bring some holy compassion, justice, generosity, and fairness to those here now. Aren't the <em>people</em> here more holy than the <em>land</em>?Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-47799065452742963722008-08-15T20:56:00.002+03:002008-08-15T21:04:44.372+03:00FaithI think "faith" is one of those words that gets used so much it becomes watered down and we lose track of what it actually <em>means</em>. At a friend's prompting, I've been thinking about faith alot lately as it relates to what I'm doing here.<br /><br />But I'm having a problem with this because 1) alot of the time, even now, I'm still not sure what I'm doing here; and 2) I'm not sure what faith is.<br /><br />I went to the Episcopal catechism looking for a definition and found none, but found that the catechism itself is called an "Outline of Faith." Hmm, Interesting. So does faith mean stuff we're supposed to believe?<br /><br />I remember in the 60's, after the two Kennedy brothers were assassinated and there were countless stories about the tragedies of the Kennedy kids - retardation and deaths violent, tragic, and too young. Rose, their mother, was always asked how she endured this. She always said she has a strong faith. I didn't know what that meant. Did she mean faith made it not hurt so bad? Did she mean it was awful but faith told her it was somehow ok anyway? All for the best? In God's plan? I didn't know what she meant when her response to her children dying was that she had strong faith.<br /><br />I know it had something to do with God, though. And I think she meant despite all that really, really bad stuff she still believed in God.<br /><br />As it is frequently expressed, faith seems to be about that.....belief in something undetectable but undeniably, unwaveringly, uncontestably good. (Like wind? Electricity? Santa Claus?)<br /><br />So I guess that when these terrible things happen, faith keeps us from wondering what God is up to or whether God <em>is</em> at all. That somehow, it's all...........what - acceptable? meaningful?<br /><br />So I suppose I must be having a crisis of faith. Because this has been my struggle for much of the time I've been here. On mission, God is smack in the center of things. For some people, God is the subject, for some the object. Or the verb, or adverb, or adjective. Different for different people, but God is definitely in the narrative somewhere.<br /><br />But it seems on more days than not here, God is most notable by apparent absence. Alot of bad stuff goes on here. People are being hurt badly. And other people are doing the hurting. And still more people are supporting the people who are doing the hurting, even encouraging it. Where is the ultimate good in that? Like dying children. Where <em>exactly</em> is God in that?<br /><br />The truth is that I am an awfully lot more aware these days of the other guy - the one with horns and forked tail. I see him <strong><em>real</em></strong> clearly here.<br /><br />And yet - and here's where I get real confused - I stay on here. Along with all these other people who don't like these things either. I don't know why. It's hard and it's unpleasant and it's sad and it's tiring and it's maddening and it's sickening.<br /><br />I was talking to my spiritual director recently about a decision to do one thing or another and I found myself saying that one of those choices didn't seem "faithful." <strong><em>Where did that come from??!! </em></strong>I of little faith was choosing to act <em>faithfully</em>.<br /><br />For me, in that instance, it meant acting <em>authentically</em>. Acting in a way true to the purpose and intention of coming here in the first place, enduring, and staying on. I don't know what that has to do with reacting to children dying, but I think it has something to do with it.<br /><br />On mission, we learn that answers will rarely come. That certainty isn't likely. That comfort in your previous beliefs and values will be cold comfort. But that you just have to keep going anyway.<br /><br />With faith.Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-80835680263189394702008-07-18T20:36:00.004+03:002008-07-18T21:14:20.801+03:00Tawjihi!! And BeyondToday is an important day in Palestine. Every year all the graduating secondary school students take a standardized national Test, the <em>Tawjihi</em>. This is huge. The score determines their future. Whether they get into University, and which University. Or not.<br /><br />Today the scores were made known. The scores are read on the radio - everyone listens, family and friends. It's a national event. All day we heard car horns of those celebrating their sister, son, niece, nephew who did well. Those who didn't do well had a much more somber occasion. Now, as I write this, a young man sits next to me looking at all the scores published in the newspaper. His sister took the test; she did well and should get into one of the good universities.<br /><br />Education is terribly, terribly important here. It is a source of great pride and honor and families do all they can to provide the best for their kids. The young man next to me is the oldest brother and much of his salary goes for his sister's education while he defers his.<br /><br />There are more universities here than you might think, all rather good as far as I can tell.<br /><br />I think maybe this emphasis on education here has two sources. One is historical and racial/cultural. Going back hundreds of years, when Europe was in the Dark Ages and practically living in caves, the Arab world was rediscovering the Classics and making new knowledge of their own that we still depend on today. I think this tradition is held in great esteem here and carried on.<br /><br />But I wonder if a second reason is that a good education gives young people here at least <em>some</em> promise. There isn't much promise here and even with all the education in the world, if things don't change, it might come to naught. I have ridden with plenty of cab drivers with college educations who just can't get work. With others who have no work at all, and only their diploma at home to attest to what they tried to make of their lives.<br /><br />The plight of young people here can tear at your heart. Like young people everywhere, they're full of energy and hope. Like everywhere, the young men are riding the wave of the testosterone surge, spending alot of time and energy on their hair, clothes, and being tough and cool. The young women are learning to be poised and counting on a good marriage and children.<br /><br />Everything here is about the family. There is simply no comprehension of a place, like the US, where so many people <em>choose</em> to be unmarried and <em>choose</em> not to have children. People here see this as a sign of the decay of the society.<br /><br />The coming together of male and female here is much, much different from the west. Save in only a few places, like Ramallah, there really is no dating as we know it in the West. A young man and woman may have time to talk, always when others are present, to get to know each other a little, find out whether there is some kind of attraction and commonality. But as far as I can tell there is not the sort of "romantic love" that we in the west think is necessary. Nor is there the emphasis on "relationship" that we have been so Oprah-ized and Dr. Phil'd about in recent years. I might be wrong but it seems to me marriage here is mostly about raising children.<br /><br />I hope these kids who got their scores today, whether celebrating tonight or not, will in fact have that future of hope and promise. I believe they can if we can give it to them. If we can leave ourselves and our greeds behind for long enough to make a new way for them. Inshallah.Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-45975467746463707442008-07-14T20:04:00.002+03:002008-07-14T20:33:23.830+03:00HomageThey were my first really good friends here. The kinds of friends you tell your secrets to.<br /><br />It's been a week now since they returned to Germany. They'd been here several years and it was time for them to return to their home in Germany to begin a new journey in their lives and ministries. It's not the same without them. In some ways, the ministry is not the same. I look at the darkened windows of their flat and hear the echoes and miss them.<br /><br />Since they probably don't want their names splattered all over the internet I will call them by their initials "J" and "J". They're two of the most talented people I ever knew. Musician, artist, reporter, writer and poet, iconographer, executive skills, linguists. But that's the work they do. I know them mostly as friends and companions on this strange journey.<br /><br />Since being here, I've come to imagine Jesus' disciples in such different ways from before. I always thought of them in reference to Jesus, their relationship to him. But J and J have helped me to imagine and understand how the disciples might have related <em>to each other</em>, as well. It's tough to try and follow a path that is almost impossibly difficult, and in J and J I found fellow disciples who made the hard times so much more bearable. We talked alot and shared experiences and reactions to experiences. We prayed together - some of the times I remember best are the Evening Prayers at the Cathedral. The quiet and solitude. Sometimes the tears as we remembered some of the things that happen here and stories of people we love here.<br /><br />They were my first role models as missioners and one of their great gifts to me was the importance of learning the native language. They are both unusually gifted in languages and watching them speak Arabic so beautifully but more, watching the way people here appreciate that, made me know my intention to learn is well-founded.<br /><br />We went to Gaza alot together. I think it was this that made us closest. Being there in that place listening to the sad, hard stories of friends there brought us common ground that we could build on. We traveled other places, too. Times on the road and waiting at checkpoints to be able to really talk. There isn't alot of time or room here for superficialities or shallow blah blah. We got to know each other in those times.<br /><br />We plan to get together in Germany in a few months. And I know they will be back here. And I know we will stay in touch and nurture our friendship. But it will always be these first days in Jerusalem, Zababdeh, Haifa, and Gaza, and almost Kufr Yasif (a private joke!) when we came to know each other that I will cherish most.<br /><br />When they settle in Germany and get the computer unpacked and hooked up, they will read this. So, J and J....<br /><br /><em><strong>Shukran ktiir. Allah ma'kum.</strong></em><br /><strong><em></em></strong><br /><strong><em> </em></strong>Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-54070070157706894322008-07-11T22:08:00.002+03:002008-07-11T22:56:58.672+03:00King of the RoadThe world regularly turns upside down when you're on mission.<br /><br />I'm teaching this summer at a nursing school in the West Bank. The administration of the school gave me a car to use during the course, which is a tremendous luxury and takes about an hour off the travel time I would have using public transportation. But I felt guilty about having such a luxury, so I decided to share it by giving rides to the people who frequently are walking in the West Bank.<br /><br />So now after passing the checkpoint, I look for hitchhikers.<br /><br />Until now, I've never, ever, not once picked up a hitchhiker. You know, dangerous.....you never know who...blah blah blah. But here, it's just folks who don't have cars. I've had some wonderful experiences. An old man I've picked up 2-3 times (elderly men are known here as "<em>hajj</em>" in tribute to the likelihood they might have made the Hajj to Mecca at some time. Women are "<em>hajje</em>") who talks a blue streak. A young boy of 16 on summer break. A family of mom, dad, and two small children. It's been a wonderful chance for me to spend some time with people I might not otherwise encounter. We speak Arabic - they're thrilled when I can maintain at least a simple conversation - and they always, without fail, invite me in for tea or coffee. It's been a real treat for me and I'm grateful for this car and the chance it gives me to encounter life here in a different way.<br /><br />I wonder what makes us do these things when we're on mission? Where does this come from??!!<br /><br />A retired American priest who's been here for at least 20 years was recently leaving for the States for awhile and wasn't looking forward to it. Too easy and comfortable. He was explaining all this and looked at me and said with a smile and twinkle in his eye, "Some of us like danger."<br /><br />I've thought about that and I think he's right. But I don't think it's <em>that</em> kind of danger. I don't think it's just that we're adrenaline junkies. I think it's the danger of stepping into new experiences and daring to forego comfort, convenience, and the familiar. The danger of wondering what's on the other side of what we think we know. To become friendly with what's alien. To allow yourself to discover that the people you thought were violent and dangerous are in fact gentle, generous, and funny. And the people you thought were meek, humble, and peaceful in fact have a monstrous streak in them. To look at yourself being scared and grumpy when you're cold and tired and don't understand anything anybody is saying. And to see yourself, also, waiting at the checkpoint, when you have a choice, with those who don't.<br /><br />In the Gospels, Jesus calls his disciples and they just go. I used to wonder what they expected when they did that? Now I think they didn't expect anything. I think this mission business doesn't have room in it for expectations, for measuring things that way. I think it's more about just walking on, following who/whatever called us, full-faced into what lies ahead. Not wondering who or what we'll meet there, but just meeting them. Learning that the alien which we've so carefully crafted our lives around (race, nationalism, religion) really isn't. That we can meet someone on a hot dusty road in the Occupied West Bank, find a way to communicate, and wind up sharing tea. <br /><br />I've learned that on the road this summer. It's been wonderfully dangerous.Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-52338006887379556822008-07-08T20:10:00.002+03:002008-07-08T20:59:34.793+03:00BalanceLast week I received several emails and a phone call from friends, asking if I was ok after they heard about the sad event here in Jerusalem when a man drove a bulldozer into a bus and 3 people were killed. Although it was good to receive that caring, I was confused at first. <em>"Why are they asking about this? This stuff goes on all the time here?"</em><br /><em></em><br />Then I realized that many people might not know that this stuff goes on all the time here. Depending on which "stuff" we're talking about and where "here" is. I was reminded that what really happens here is not well known outside. I've mentioned this in blogs before, but it seemed a good time to talk more about that. About how some sad events are exploited for political gain, how other sad events are never mentioned, and about how so many who we should be able to trust collude in all this.<br /><br />The event in Jerusalem last week was plastered all over the internet and all the newspapers. I assume it also received TV coverage in the States, from the notes of concern I received. It was said a "Palestinian," who was immediately dubbed a <strong><em>terrorist</em></strong>, was responsible. That version feeds the mythology that some want to perpetrate, but I must tell you it's not true. The man was Arab and was an Israeli citizen living in Israel. His motive had nothing to do with politics or religion. He had a history of mental illness and was pissed at a man who owns the bulldozer company. He did what he did to get that man in trouble.<br /><br />Sad isn't it? Just a sick man with revenge on his mind. No Palestinian, no terrorist, no politics, no religion. But it became so in callous, wanton deceit and the world responded dutifully as it always does. Poor, poor Israel, the beleaguered democracy under constant attack by these terrorists.<br /><br />For balance, here's something else that's been going on the past couple of weeks........<br /><br />There is a village in the West Bank called Ni'lin. The Wall is being built around it. (The Wall is the "security barrier" that isn't, but is a mechanism for land-grab and isolation of peoples). The construction, which was encircling and strangling Ni'lin as has been done in many other places including Bethlehem, was declared illegal by the World Court and ordered to be stopped. It wasn't. It almost never is. The Wall has been found illegally built many times, including by the Israel Supreme Court. Occasionally construction stops, usually it doesn't. The IDF (Israel Defence Force) screams "Security" and trumps the court.<br /><br />For some time, demonstrators have been protesting the Wall in Ni'lin. Palestinians, internationals, and Israeli activists. Last week, the IDF declared the village a military danger zone, circled it with troops, blockaded all entry and exit, and put the village under curfew because the demonstrations had become "too violent". They cited rock throwing and rolling burning tires.<br /><br />These are acts of violence, yes they are. But I'll pause a moment while you ponder about the forces of a nuclear power, armed to the teeth, finding rock-throwing too violent. And whether an appropriate response is to punish the entire population of the village.<br /><br />Can you say "Gaza"? <br /><br />When this happens and a village is put under curfew, which is one of the things that happens here which you don't hear about, it means house-curfew and the curfew is around the clock. In other words, while this order is in effect people cannot leave their houses. For anything. If they do, they are shot with rubber bullets, or tear-gassed, or their houses are invaded by the soldiers and destroyed. When people in Ni'lin were injured by the bullets and needed to go to the hospital, ambulances were not permitted entry by the IDF. This was corrected the next day when an activist called a member of the Knesset who ordered the soldiers to let the ambulance enter. I hope the child who had been shot in the neck came out ok.<br /><br />The curfew has been lifted just now. The soldiers remain in place.<br /><br />It's not the stories you usually hear from here is it - Salivating mad terrorists besieging a peaceful, quiet democracy. But these stories are the "stuff" that goes on here every day. People detained into their houses by armed soldiers, food and water running out, medical help denied, shot if they venture out. Democracy.<br /><br />When you hear about the next sad event from here, and unfortunately you probably will, please remember the people you hear about in your prayers or thoughts of concern or however you note those things.<br /><br />But also please remember the other people you're <em>not</em> hearing about. They need your prayers, too.Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-51187772986183692572008-06-26T21:05:00.000+03:002008-06-26T21:05:00.596+03:00A Blog About Blogging. Sort OfDid you miss me?<br /><br />I've realized of course that I wasn't posting like I used to, but lost track of time and now notice that the date of the last blog was 6 weeks ago. Oh my!<br /><br />There are a number of reasons. Partly because I've become much busier now with plenty to do, unlike those first dreadfully long, dark, cold winter months here when I wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else. Now, it seems, I live here. I have friends, lots to do, and days just started going by without my thinking about blogging. But it wasn't just about the time. I also lost the muse a bit. I felt I was saying the same thing over and over. I couldn't seem to find ways to make the blogs "interesting."<br /><br />But a few friends wrote, saying they missed reading the postings (that was really nice, thank you). And in reflecting about it then, I realized that part of my responsibility here is just to <em>witness</em>. Not to censor it because it doesn't seem interesting, but simply to share whatever is here, interesting or not. I also realize that with more time here, "interesting" has taken on new meaning. Today I was driving from the West Bank back into Jerusalem. At the checkpoint, the soldier was sitting on a chair up on the curb above street level. His machine gun was draped lazily across his lap, muzzle pointed at me about 2 feet away. I said "Shalom", handed him my passport, he waved me on. I drove away, wondering briefly if the machine gun was loaded but not otherwise paying much attention....... Um, this is not really a normal thing. I bet it doesn't happen alot in San Antonio or Auckland. But here it is routine. One of the challenges here is to always stay alert to the horrific abnormality of this way of life. If we forget that and get used to the Occupation and oppression, we are lost.<br /><br />Another thing I realized is that part of what needs to be witnessed and shared with readers is that in many ways <strong><em>it is</em></strong> the same thing over and over again. The sheer relentlessness of Occupation is one of the things that makes it so difficult. You know when you wake up every morning that it's still there. You still can't go wherever you want or do whatever you want. You will have to endure that checkpoint again today. You still have to remember to take that ID card with you. You still know that soldiers with guns control your life. And when you go to bed tonight, you know that it will be there again tomorrow. This is hard.<br /><br />Maybe in other places, when it's not on the news people think it's better somehow. That it's peaceful for awhile. <em>"Oh, no stories from Jerusalem today, that's good."</em> No, that's not the case. We're still here. Nothing has changed. Some people have asked about the recent ceasefire. Truthfully, we didn't pay that much attention here. People hoped of course, but after 60 years everyone here knows how these things work. Mostly, these events are for show on the world stage. Events here are moving inexorably forward toward removal of the Palestinian people. Never mind what you read, that's what's really happening.<br /><br />Seeing this, realizing this apparent course of events is hard. When I know the people I have come to love face a series of dead-ends and losses, it makes alot of sadness. But it also makes me need to stay here with them. How could I turn my back now?<br /><br />So. Life goes on. Hours of gold, hours of lead. Interesting or not, I'll keep writing. I hope you'll keep reading.Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-48082407992403210972008-05-18T01:15:00.001+03:002008-05-18T20:38:52.312+03:00How Many Times....?Recently I was ready for some new tunes on my MP3 and, struck by a wave of nostalgia, I decided to see what was available from Peter, Paul, and Mary. I downloaded a few of their songs and have been listening alot the last couple weeks to "Blowin' in the Wind." Remember it? More than 40 years on and as the news of the world has unfolded lately, how fresh those "protest" lyrics still are....<br /><br />People are being beaten and killed in Zimbabwe for not voting for the party in power<br /><br /><em><strong>"How many times must a man look up before he can see the sky? How many ears must one man have before he can hear people cry?"</strong></em><br /><br />Countless thousands in Myanmar are dead or now homeless, hungry, and deserted while the government charged with their care only scrambles to protect its secrecy and power<br /><br /><em><strong>"How many deaths will it take till he knows that too many people have died?"</strong></em><br /><br />The American President speaks to the Israeli Knesset extolling its noble democracy and valued friendship, while mere miles from where he stands 5 million people are under military occupation and subjugation by said glorious "democracy"<br /><br /><em><strong>"How many years must some people exist before they're allowed to be free? How many times can a man turn his head and pretend that he just doesn't see?"</strong></em>Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-45360039707654198752008-05-13T05:55:00.001+03:002008-05-13T05:55:00.871+03:00Promise<strong><em>"Don't you know that it's worth every treasure on earth to be young at heart"</em></strong><br /><br />I seem to be crying alot lately. Not boo-hoo bawling, but tears coming easily. Like the heart leaking. A friend said recently if your heart doesn't break here everyday, you need your sensitivity adjusted. That's very true, but I think it works the other way, too. If your heart doesn't swell everyday, something's wrong there, too. It's a big reason that being on mission is so exhausting. Every day is a ride.<br /><br />The young people here have been on my mind alot lately. There's an organization here called Kids4Peace. It's a program for Christian, Muslim, and Jewish kids and teenagers (and their parents) to come together and get to know each other, understand each other, like each other, and learn to live with each other. They spend a year in the program which includes 2 weeks at a camp in the US. Recently, they had a reunion. Many more than expected showed up, some after several years, meaning it meant an awful lot to them. I watched them reconnect and start right in where they left off, the way kids do. Several of them talked about how the program changed the way they view the world, how they're now leaders in their schools in tolerance and ecumenism. See some photos from the reunion in the slideshow.<br /><br />Then last week I went to the opening and dedication of a new nursing school branch of Bethlehem University. I'm going to teach there this summer. It's located in a village called Qubeiba, just outside Ramallah in the West Bank. What I love about this school is it's location there in an area of particular poverty and isolation. This is one of the areas that The Wall is trying to close in and shut off from the world. All the students in the school are local kids who now have a chance for a good profession that will assure them of work, even here. At the dedication ceremony, some boys performed a <em>dabka</em>, a wildly energetic Palestinian dance. There are some photos of that, too.<br /><br />One of the Gospel stories about Jesus' resurrection has him meet two people walking on the way to Emmaus. No one knows for sure where Emmaus was, but one of the possibilities is Qubeiba. Rebirth and promise. How fitting.<br /><br />Stopping in Ramallah on the way to Qubeiba, I met a young friend I've made. He works in Jerusalem but lives in Ramallah. He doesn't have a permit to be in Jerusalem, so he goes there at considerable risk. He has had to climb over the Wall to get there; he has been beaten up by soldiers who caught him trying to enter Jerusalem. He goes there because there's more work and better pay. It's the first time I've seen him outside Jerusalem. In Ramallah, he belongs. What a pleasure to see him walking around freely, stopping to chat with friends, smiling and laughing. I wonder what will happen to him. Where will he go? What will he do? What lies ahead for this bright, ambitious young man?<br /><br />A few weeks ago I met a man of 22 at a refugee camp in Bethlehem. As we chatted, he told me about back surgery he had recently. I asked what for. He said because of injuries to his back when he was tortured in prison. What??!! One night soldiers came into his house and took him to prison. During interrogations and torture he was kicked and beaten, breaking some vertebrae. Tens of thousands of Palestinians are or have been in prison. In fact, it's hard to meet someone who wasn't himself or has a family member in prison.<br /><br />What will happen to these young people who are worth every treasure on earth? Perhaps conditions will change here and they will find the bright promise of futures that other young people have. I hope so because right now I can't think about the alternative. I've already cried enough today.Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-4808115970891689812008-05-10T06:39:00.003+03:002008-05-10T09:35:04.687+03:00Family ValuesLast Sunday, I went with some friends to Nazareth for the wedding of a friend of ours. Nazareth is up north, about 2.5 hours from Jerusalem. It sits atop a hill and offers spectacular views all 'round. On a clear day, as it was Sunday, you can see the mountains way off to the east in Jordan.<br /><br />The wedding was beautiful and happy and lively. The church sits on one of the highest spots in Nazareth and the front entrance door looks out onto that endless, timeless view. So as the couple turned to leave the altar after their vows, they must have believed they were looking out into a bright future of promise. Inshallah.<br /><br />Thankfully, both the husband and wife have permits to be in their homeland, so they will be able to live together. <em>Alhamdu lillah</em> (Praise God). But it isn't always so........<br /><br />The next morning, we went to Gaza. I have now been there many times and each time is more difficult as we watch our friends there suffer more and more as the embargo, attacks and incursions continue. On top of all the other deprivations, on Monday two of our friends there were both dealing with Family Separations.<br /><br />One man's wife went at Christmas to visit their children in Jerusalem. When she tried to return, she was told her permit was no good and she would have to get another. So far she has not been able to, so our friend in Gaza has not seen his wife since Christmas and his children since longer.<br /><br />Our other friend's three children have been in Jordan studying and working for 3 years. He won't let them return to Gaza because he does not want them to be trapped there with no work or opportunities available. However, he assumed he would be able to visit them sometimes. But now it's been 3 years since he has seen them because he cannot get a permit to leave Gaza. On the day before we visited he had learned his request for a permit to attend a conference in Jordan had been denied. He was going to take his wife and they would see their children. But they weren't allowed to leave, again. They won't see them, still.<br /><br />I think we can't imagine this, most of us. Not being able to see our family because we are not <em><strong>granted</strong></em> a <em><strong>permit</strong></em> to travel. It sounds like a scenario from a futuristic doomsday novel: <em>("here's what could happen to you if you aren't careful"</em>). But sadly, it's the stuff of real life here. I cannot describe for you the pain of this man as he told us his story and asked, "Why can't I see my children? What have we done?" Indeed.<br /><br />There are tens of thousands of Palestinian families who are separated this way. Some for years, as our friend has been. Israel does not grant them permits to live together. They become separated in various ways, often as in our friends' cases, because of travel from which return was prevented. The cited reason is "security." Always, security.<br /><br />There is a danger afoot in the world. And it isn't from terrorists or extremists. It isn't even from the power-mad politicians, my usual favorites to criticize. No, the danger is from us. You and me. From us who allow those others to work their evil because we don't stop them. The danger is from our indifference, from our fear, from our self-indulgence and falling in love with our comforts, from standing down when we see things we know are wrong, from not getting involved because what can we do about it anyway.<br /><br />There is absolutely no way that families being together threatens anyone's security. These thousands of people are suffering separation because power is being cruelly exercised for its own sake. And we are allowing it.<br /><br />We can do much better than this.Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-44306589552702157742008-04-24T05:56:00.001+03:002008-04-23T22:16:10.060+03:00EdgesI remember in a seminary class talking about "<em><strong>limnal</strong></em>" places. Edges. Margins. A condition of being in two places, or in no place. Often a stage in transformation. I don't remember much else about it or why it came up (hopefully the professor isn't reading this)<br /><br />This mission business is funny. Funny/peculiar that is. I'm still very new at it, a little short of 6 months now, but some traits of the life seem to be revealing themselves. From day to day, you're never really sure about anything. Planning is pointless, as are Goals and Expectations. What you pay attention to in life is very different than it used to be. And you don't quite really belong anywhere. Ever a foreigner here, you also begin to feel estranged from what used to be "home".<br /><br />I notice these things only lately. I notice I am less inclined to post blogs. A friend who has been here for several years now told me recently that she thinks this is part of the process and also indicative of it. You find that you seem to be saying the same things over and over, and realize nothing has changed. The Occupation is still here, people are still suffering...what new is there to say?<br /><br />But it was more revealing to me that she said she believes this also indicates a separation from the people you're writing to. Your thoughts are with them less and more with the people you're among now. Living on the edge of the two places. I realize this is true. I think less and less of "home". I think more and more of my life and friends here. Gradually - very gradually - I speak more Arabic and less English during the day.<br /><br />Friends recently sent me some summer clothes I had put aside before leaving the US. Opening the box when it arrived here was strange. They were my clothes but they seemed alien. I've been wearing the same 2 pairs of jeans and the same 4 or 5 shirts for nearly 6 months now - why do I need all these extra, nice shirts?? It was a glimpse at a life I hardly recognized.<br /><br />I begin to think of staying on after my one-year commitment is completed. But then I remember <em>Planning is Pointless, as are Goals and Expectations</em>. So for now I will go on being where I am, on this edge.<br /><br />Something that always puzzled me about the Gospels, and annoyed me a little, was why the Disciples seem to be such bumbling fools. They never really get it, do they? They don't understand the parables, they sleep when they shouldn't, they argue about who Jesus is and about who gets to sit next to him. Nowadays, I realize that the Disciples are my brothers. I begin to understand why they're always confused and never quite sure what's going on. They're on mission. But they keep going don't they? I think that's the point. Through all the uncertainty and confusion, they manage to keep hearing whatever is calling them on, and something - perhaps beyond all common sense or reason - will not let them go back to the life they had before.<br /><br />Here we say "Inshallah". God willing.Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-1583500925243782332008-04-10T04:47:00.000+03:002008-04-09T20:45:32.090+03:00Jerusalem PanoramaIt's turned spring here and on a beautiful afternoon recently, I went walking with camera in hand. I went West which is the Israeli/predominantly Jewish side of Jerusalem. The East, where I live, is mostly Palestinian/Arab, although with more and more appropriation by Israelis occurring. These national/ethnic/religious categories can be very confusing at first.<br /><br />In any case, I thought I'd show some views of the West Side, which is very, very different, when I stumbled upon a Christians for Israel rally going on. The 60th anniversary of the establishment of Israel comes up next month, so these kinds of events will become quite common soon. One wonders how much of the true situation here these visitors see, or how much they care.<br /><br />In any event, enjoy the photos in the slideshow. Captions offer some commentary. Just click on the slideshow to see all photos and their captions.Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-17337280657891596662008-04-06T06:11:00.001+03:002008-04-05T22:20:42.132+03:00Little PeopleAs it is for many people, "Casablanca" is one of my favorite movies. Nearly every scene has become iconic, but I'm thinking today of the closing sequence at the fog-shrouded Casablanca airport. Rick Blaine (Bogart) has found nobility and is off to work in the WW II resistance movement. The story has told us that he found his way to this decision out of his unrequited love for the ineffably beautiful Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman). As we hear the scored "As Time Goes By" for the last time, Rick tells Ilsa that where he is going she can't follow and what he has to do she can't be any part of. But they'll always have Paris. Then he says that he has learned that the lives of two <strong><em>little people</em></strong> don't amount to a hill-of-beans in this crazy, mixed-up world.<br /><br />This has become an ethos for us, hasn't it? That beside The Greater Good and God and Country, we don't amount to a hill of beans. And we have believed this. We have become steeped in the honor of this, in the superiority of national interest. We talk about the necessary "sacrifice" of war to make it something to be lifted up to God. We have been taught well.<br /><br />One of the blessings of living in a place like this, where headlines are lived out every day, is that you can get to know what it all means to very particular individual people. You might not really understand everything that's going on, but you can see plainly what it boils down to in the lives of all the little people. And I am learning that the problems of little people <strong>DO</strong> amount to a hill of beans in this crazy mixed up world. In fact, they are what matters most. They may be <em>all</em> that matters.<br /><br />I think of the stories of Jesus' ministry. He lived under the occupation of the Empire, but notice he doesn't talk much about national interest. He talks about people who are sick or marginalized or poor or widowed. The stories are almost all about his encounters with particular little people. People with names, people with problems. They are what is important to him. Not alot of Secretaries of State or Prime Ministers in the Gospels. In fact, it's always seemed to me that when he comes before the Empire in the form of Pilate, he hardly has time for him. I notice, though, that he has time for the two thieves beside him on their crosses. Little people. Even <em>criminal</em> little people. He has time for them.<br /><br />I spent the past two days in a village in the north of the West Bank where I go sometimes to work in a clinic. I stay with a family there and although their abiding hospitality will always demand that I be treated as a guest, the more I'm there the more they don't notice me. Being with them, I see what their lives are like every day. What they eat for dinner and breakfast, what they say about the current events of the day, how the Occupation affects them or doesn't, what makes them laugh and what makes them angry, what they do in the evening, what they spend their money on, who they keep company with.<br /><br />The hill-of-beans ethos would say we mustn't focus on them, though. We must keep our eyes on the Big Picture, The Future, What's At Stake, Global Concerns. "Sacrifice" will be necessary. The more I am here, the more I think this is dead wrong. Some days I think it's even evil. Am I naive, do I not understand harsh reality and the way the world must work? I think I understand it very well. And I think it's a Great Big Problem.<br /><br />On the road back to Jerusalem yesterday, we saw a military vehicle come to a stop and 3 soldiers jump out. Their rifles were up and pointed ahead as they began to run up the hill by the road. Just as we passed by, they began shooting at someone up the hill. We couldn't see who it was. Probably someone whose life got in the way of some national interest. And we won't find out who it was. His shooting or escape will pass by unnoticed by the world. Because his problems don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy, mixed-up world.<br /><br />If these national interests and global concerns playing out here and in other parts of the world are so all-fired glorious and noble, why are so many people hurting in their wake? I think maybe all these national interests all rolled up together aren't worth even one eyelash from Hamza, or Rana, or Sabila, or Samir, or Fadi, or Ruba, or any of the other millions of little people who are being hurt here.Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605302837791567438.post-54978519869526728392008-03-26T04:10:00.001+02:002008-03-25T21:12:47.541+02:00EasterSunday was Easter<br /><br />Oops.......<br /><br />So does anyone else stumble over the Resurrection? I mean, it isn't something that's part of our experience, is it? Yes, sure, we can see it metaphorically: "This new job really makes me feel like a new person." "My cancer is cured, I have a whole new chance at life." "I see everything in a new way now."<br /><br />But it seems to me the writers of the Gospel went out of their way to describe a bodily resurrection. Jesus walks, talks, eats, and invites people to poke their fingers in his execution wounds. I don't think the writers wanted us to imagine it symbolically. They clearly meant us to believe that Jesus was dead 3 days, then rose again. So what are we to do with this in our rational, post-modern world?<br /><br />I'm not prepared to say Impossible-Can't Be-No Way. After all, it wasn't that long ago you would have been burned at the stake for talking about reading this blog on that computer machine. But at the moment, resurrection is something that just doesn't seem possible to me, and I don't really want to just put it aside and accept it "on faith." I think that slips over too easily into magical thinking. For now, I'd rather stay open to possibilities, abide with not being able to figure it out, and say I just don't know.<br /><br />I sure as heck hope there is resurrection, though. Today I met Rachel Corrie's father. Rachel was a 23-year old American writer who was in Gaza because she cared about what was going on there. In March, 2003, she stood in front of an Israeli bulldozer in hopes of stopping it from demolishing a Palestinian home. It didn't stop and it killed her. Her parents are here this week for the opening of a play about her. Her father told me he quit working after Rachel was killed ("How can you go back to work after someone bulldozes your daughter."). Now Rachel's parents tell her story and are trying to have her killing investigated, apparently with little success. I hope Rachel comes back to life for her family and friends. <a href="http://www.rachelcorriefoundation.org/">www.rachelcorriefoundation.org</a><br /><br />I think of the young men I've met here. They're from the West Bank and are in Jerusalem illegally because they don't have permits, but they come here at risk of their lives to find work. They're like all young people. They have dreams. They want to have good work. They want to have families, to see Paris, to live rich full lives. I see their enthusiasm and between their broken English and my broken Arabic, hear their dreams. But their excited talk always fades out, knowing that none of this can happen because someone else has decided they are terrorists or militants or security threats and has forecast their futures for them. And so they live stunted lives that feel like death. I hope these young men will rise from the dead, too.<br /><br />I hope it's true that The Lord is Risen! He is Risen, Indeed!Harry Gunkelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01677719642756124132noreply@blogger.com2