The Color of Healing
Let us pray:
Pray not for Arab or Jew, for Palestinian or
Israeli; but pray for ourselves that we may not divide them in our prayers,
but keep them together in our hearts.
Amen.
William Dalrymple wrote in From the Holy Mountain,
"One of the most depressing aspects of Israel and the West Bank is the
degree of separation between the two peoples who share the Holy Land.... The
few places where Palestinians and Israelis meet side by side on equal terms
- such as in prayer at the Tomb of the Patriarchs in Hebron - are famous for
their tensions rather than for playing any part in bringing together the two
mutually antagonistic peoples. The divide appears to be too deep to be
bridged."
He tells the story of a shrine in Beit Jala, a village
outside Bethlehem. For Christians, the shrine is commemorated as the
birthplace of St. George; for Jews, the burial place of the prophet Elias;
for Muslims, the home of their saint Khidr, or Khadr, the green one. It is
likely, Dalrymple tells, that George was a Palestinian Christian who served
in the Roman army during the 3rd-4th century of the Common Era, and was
martyred for refusing to worship pagan gods. It is likely that Crusaders
brought the story of George back with them to Europe; Edward III of England
made George the patron of the Knights of the Garter in 1348. (But that gets
us into empire and that's not where I want to go.) In the early twentieth
century, the three faith communities still visited the shrine and prayed
together. Today, Palestinian Muslims and Christians come to seek the
intercession of the saint whom they both call 'the Green One'.
Dalrymple continues, "On the one hand, then as now, St.
George is seen as a fertility symbol, a sort of baptized Green Man; on the
other he is the Soldier Saint, the combater of demons and the divine
champion against the power of evil."
In the verses preceding the reading from 1 Kings, God
sent Elijah to Zarephath in Sidon, which if I read the map correctly was
north of and outside the territory of the tribes of Israel. He stayed with a
widow and her son, whom he healed. In the passage from Matthew, we find
Jesus in the region of Tyre and Sidon, healing the daughter of a Canaanite
woman. Someone has stepped out of their 'territory' and asked for healing.
Someone else has stepped out of theirs and healed.
I've heard it said that green is the color of healing.
Yet when I go to Hebron before all the leaves are out, before the grass has
turned green, before all the shrubs have leafed out and bloomed here, I have
a hard time when I come back to Durham. There's too much green. It's
oppressive. It's hard to breathe. It's blinding. It's too much.
Yet I've been told that green is the color of healing.
So having experienced that 'things' are always worse
when I return to Hebron than when I left, I look for sources and examples of
healing.
The front gate of the Abu Haikel house on Tel Rumeida
in Hebron opens to the Israeli settlement enclave built on piers above the
archaeological site of David's capital city before he moved on to Jerusalem.
Their grape vines lie next to a Palestinian home which has been taken over
by settlers. A bit down the hill past that house, another Palestinian home
has been taken over by the Israeli military. Hani Abu Haikel refuses to turn
to violence in the face of the Israeli settlers' violence towards him and
his family. The violence has manifested in the settlers throwing garbage
into the Abu Haikel garden, in stoning the children as they go to and from
school, in throwing rocks, bottles, and other debris at the house, breaking
out windows and frightening the children who try to play in their yard. It
has manifested in settlers jeering and calling out "We hope you die", when
Hani's father was taken away in an ambulance, and in having a street party
to celebrate his death less than a month later.
Hani's and his family's steadfastness in not turning to
violence towards the settlers and in staying in their home under difficult
conditions is the color of healing.
The color of healing is in Hani's son Jamil, who when
he sees CPTers in the market runs to meet us, calling our names, and
greeting us with a handshake and a big smile.
The color of healing is in the Israeli soldier who let
a large tour group, accompanied by my teammate Jerry Levin and me, pass
through a checkpoint through which we had been denied passage for most days.
As I called the CPT office from the far side of the checkpoint before I went
up the hill, the soldier walked over and said, "I've called the [checkpoint
] at the top of the hill to let them know you're coming. Be careful." (CPTers
have been egged and stoned by Israeli settlers when they've gone up that
hill and around the corner near the Tel Rumeida settlement enclave.)
The color of healing is in the Israeli border police
officer who, after having chased some Israeli settler boys who had been
throwing rocks at us, said, "I don't have any trouble from the Palestinian
boys. It's the settler boys who give me trouble."
The color of healing is in the thirty-two Israeli peace
activists who came to Hebron on 21 May to visit Palestinian families who
live on Tel Rumeida, to hear their stories, and to stand in solidarity with
them against the violence of the Israeli occupation. The visitors were
arrested by the Israeli police because they had dared to travel without a
permit in territory controlled by the Palestinian Authority.
You will have noticed that my colors of healing are
resoundingly quiet on healing from the settler side of things. The
experience with settlers in Hebron tends to be less than pleasant. Hebron
settlers are some of the most ideologically radical of all settlers, most of
whom live in the settlements for economic reasons.
David Wilder, spokesperson for the Hebron settler
community, wrote about the massive gathering of settlers and their
supporters in late July at the Kissufim checkpoint going into Gaza. "The
definition of Kissufim in a Hebrew-English dictionary will likely be
'yearning' or 'craving'. Kissufim really is a major junction...not only
connecting Gush Katif to the rest of Israel, but also linking Am Israel...to
Eretz Israel, to our homeland. For thousands of years...a spiritual clinging
to Hebron...a soul-hunger so strong, so deep, so transcendental that it
outlasted the most rampant, virulent anti-Semitic hate for Jews, these
kissufim, these desires, they kept the Jewish people alive....The Kissufim,
the yearning for our land, for our cities, for our very soul, was stronger
than knives, axes, and guns."
Powerfully spoken, strongly felt. Based on my
experience of Hebron settlers, I have to work hard on not saying "But the
settlers are clear that it is their intention to rid Hebron of all its
Arabs". Yet CPT has delivered letters of condolence to Israelis whose
colleagues, family members, or friends have been killed by Palestinian
militants. Bottom line: the violence is wrong no matter who perpetrates or
maintains it.
But where is the color of healing? For me it is in
seeking and finding, looking in the eye and acknowledging the humanity in
The Other, be they Arab or Jew, Palestinian or Israeli, or ourselves. And
that can be hard to do.
The British composer Richard Shephard takes a text from
Isaiah and from the Revelation to John for an anthem:
For a long time I have held my peace, but now will I
speak.
I will lead the blind in a way they know not, in paths they have not known
I will guide them.
I will turn their darkness into light, and I will not forsake them.
And he showed me a pure river of the water of life,
clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God;
and on either side of the river was there a tree of life, and the leaves
of the tree were for the healing of nations.
These are the colors of healing. May we seek them out
and build on them, and in doing so not oppress or be oppressed. May we
breathe deeply, and not be blinded. It must not be too much.
4 August 2005
Prayer Vigil for Peace in the Middle East
St. Philip's Episcopal Church, Durham NC
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