From Bethlehem to Hebron

This morning began with a spot of church-tasting. Most of us were ready, after a fairly relaxed breakfast, for a walk to the Church of the Nativity – where, it has to be said, the welcome was not really effusive. But then, how many of our congregations would cope with crowds of people (it wasn’t just us) barging in in the middle of the service and demanding access to some particular favoured spot? Suffice to say, even after popping our heads round the door later in the morning, we never did make it to the cave – the alleged birthplace of the Christ Child.

But meanwhile the Greek orthodox liturgy was in full swing. I confess I still haven’t found out whether or not it is Lent yet for the Orthodox – but if it is, there was little sign of restraint. Meanwhile, next door in St Catherine’s, the Latin church, we could stand at a grill and see in and hear the anger in the priest’s sermon – yes, it’s certainly Lent in the west. And later, as we all gathered at the Lutheran Christmas Church (having popped our heads round the door of the Syrian Orthodox on the way up the hill) we were welcomed by folk we had already met yesterday, and given an English order of service that assured us the readings would be the Temptations, and that we would be able to follow what was going on, even if it was in Arabic.

But Brian (our leader, Brian Jolly) was invited to read the first lesson, and we and some official Church of Scotland visitors were given a few words of welcome in English – and as an even more familiar expression of welcome, there was coffee in the hall downstairs after the service. Two new members of the EAPPI team (ecumenical accompaniers) had been in the congregation – and they were soon in conversation with Linda Mead (Commitment for Life makes  a significant contribution to the EAPPI programme). And then we walked back to Manger Square for a falafel and salads lunch in a small café.

There we were joined first by Jane, who has just completed her medical training and is working in a placement in a hospital in East Jerusalem, and who is with us for the next few days, and then by Angela, who is an Israeli human rights activist, and who was to lead our trip to Hebron. Soon we were on the bus again, and heading  south along the Route 30 that we had looked at from above yesterday.

We were warned, of course, of what to expect: warned that this would probably be a depressing and disturbing experience. On the other hand Mohammed, who greeted us as the bus arrived (we’d been waved through the check point with no trouble) told us that he wanted us to have a good time. And he did his best – though first of course we had to have tea at his father’s shop, and visit his father’s shop, and maybe  even buy something at his father’s shop……  To be fair, there weren’t many signs of others around who might be shopping the afternoon away.

No sooner had the tour begun than Mohammed had to leave us. He was not allowed into the main Jewish part of the Tombs of the Patriarchs – this extraordinary building, dating back to Herod, that dominates the old city. We really needed a guide at this point: clearly we were in a centre of deep Hebrew study and devotion, but trying to sort out one tomb and one cenotaph from another was quite a puzzle – in fact, now I’ve looked at the welcome leaflet I’m more confused than ever. But what clearly mattered to everyone there was that this site was now theirs: as the leaflet puts it “Only in 1967, when Hebron was liberated in the Six Day War, were Jews allowed to enter the building and worship there”.

Back with Mohammed we were able to visit the other part of the building, the Mosque; and here we were reminded of the dreadful massacre of 1994, when in the midst of Ramadan 29 worshippers in the mosque were killed, and 125 injured, by the Israeli settler Baruch Goldstein. And then he led us through what is now the main Palestinian shopping street. Current regulations (and he showed us the map before we began our walk) divide streets in the centre of Hebron into various categories. In some of these Palestinians may walk, but may not drive, and may not own shops. In others they may own shops or may drive, but not both. And in many more, of course, they are simply not allowed. The result is the collapse of Palestinian life and commerce in the centre, as Jewish settlements encroach; and for ordinary Palestinians the most unbearable pressures.

We passed along the street where settlers’ homes have been built overhead, and where the traders below have fixed wire netting to keep them safe from the stones and rubbish thrown from above. At the end of one street was a high barrier preventing access to the Muslim cemetery across the next (now Jewish) street: to bury someone there now involves a car journey of 16 kilometres. As in Bethlehem yesterday, people shared with us their experiences of what it is like to live as though in a cage, and here also to be continually challenged by the military forces (soldiers were on watch towers all along our route) and asked to show permits.

But we met people who are trying to live with the situation and make it bearable for others, and we heard a little of the work of a number of organisations. We passed a row of shops under one of the encroaching settlements which had now been confiscated and the doors welded shut: but elsewhere we saw new shops being prepared by the Hebron Rehabilitation Committee so that individuals might start trading again. We met a representative of the Christian Peacemakers Team, who accompany Palestinian children each morning on their way to school past people who sometimes aim to cause trouble for them, and are more generally able to be at hand as witnesses at potential flashpoints. We also met two members of TIPH, a civilian observer mission commissioned by the Israeli and Palestinian authorities – both in Hebron for a six month period. Besides these there are of course the ecumenical accompaniers from EAPPI, and a large number of human rights organisations besides.

Yes – in many ways our two or three hours spent walking the streets of Hebron was a depressing experience. Again, as yesterday, it is hard to see how a just solution might ever come about, particularly when the settlers have such strong backing from the Israeli state. Yet just who are these people? As Mohammed said, they claim that they are religious Jews, but he knows (and we know) of no religion that leads you to despise your neighbour in the ways we have seen today. Mohammed’s aunt joined us for part of our time: she reminded us that there always were Jews in Hebron, and that she knows of one Jewish man now living in Jerusalem who longs to return to his own home there. But he cannot, because the settlers have taken over this property. “They are all thieves” he said.

Yes, it was depressing, and we all left feeling helpless. But everywhere we had been thanked for coming, pressed to come again and bring others with us, and to let these peoples’ stories be known. If there is justice in the world, then surely their voices will be heard.