Saturday in Jerusalem

We began the morning with a bus ride to the Mount of Olives, and a fascinating hour with Margaret who runs a kindergarten at the Lutheran Church. She shared with us some of the frustrations the Church experiences  with the Israeli authorities, who are withholding planning permission that  is being sought to develop some housing units which would provide an income stream to help education and hospital work. The hospital on the site provides the only radiation treatment for cancer suffers in East Jerusalem and across the West Bank.

But Margaret also shared some of her more personal experiences and concerns. Christians are paying higher rents and taxes to Israel, yet receive far inferior services compared with their Jewish counterparts. “And who is suffering?” she asked? – “Our children and our youth.”  There are problems with drugs and addiction among your people; but also there are concerns at the number of  unprovoked attacks made on them by conservative Jews who have been brought up to regard Palestinians as the enemy. “I pray for my children to come back home safely.”

Christians like Margaret living in East Jerusalem may have a Jordanian passport, and a Jerusalem ID and travel document. In the eyes of Palestinians in the West Bank they are lucky, as they are able to travel – even to fly out the country through Ben Gurion, though some are more restricted and have to cross the Allenby Bridge and fly out from Amman. But such journeys always require a visa, which is not necessarily granted.  Yet despite all these disabilities, Margaret insists that her job is to build bridges – and she mentioned an American Jewish woman who is involved with her in various  women’s projects and youth activities.

Living in occupied East Jerusalem she has rights to stay there for as long as she lives – but she has to pay her taxes, as well as her utilities bills. She is then entitled to the Israeli state’s high quality social services and health care – which is a great bonus compared with her Palestinians relations in the West Bank, where health care has all to be paid for.  Yet time and time again discrimination against Palestinians is seen – and no where more so than through the ubiquitous checkpoints. Margaret’s daughter is studying at university in the West Bank, less than a half hour journey away – yet every day the journey turns out to be one and half or even two hours. Despite it all, Margaret insisted that she and her people want to live at peace with the Israelis, and that they are against any form of violence, but as she described her daily life experiences she admitted “You have to be so tough that you can come through”.

St Anne's

From the Mount of Olives we took in the famous panoramic view of the Old City, sadly a little hazy today, and then made our way down the hill, stopping at the usual churches – Pater Noster, Dominus Flevit, and at Gethsemane the Church of all Nations. It would be good to visit these places, surely intended as places for reflection, in quieter times – yet knowing how much damager the Intifada did to shopkeepers and others involved in the tourist trade, something I saw for myself ten years ago, it’s really good to see the “pilgrim” crowds. We’ve been well led by Brian all the way, and he certainly has a gift in putting the essentials of a place into a few quiet pithy sentences – would that some tour guides could take note! He then led us to place I had never visited before, the Orthodox Church of the Dormition, down a very long flight of steps in the floor of the valley. How far below ground it must be I wouldn’t want to guess – but in Jerusalem, the further down something is, the closer it is to the time we are seeking to inspire us. If Jesus didn’t actually walk here, he walked somewhere at this level!

The Christian Quarter from the Austrian hostel

We climbed up into the old city, entering through the Lion Gate and visiting St Anne’s Crusader Church, a magnificent Norman building famous not least for its resonant acoustics. We are not, I fear, the most musical group ever to have visited the Holy Land, but we brought a touch of Reformed spirituality to the place by singing a verse of “When I survey” – and were complimented on our way out by the White Father standing at the door. But then, it turned out that he is from Middlesbrough.

We made our way along the Via Dolorosa, stopping for lunch at the Austrian Hostel and then enjoying the magnificent view from the roof, up to the Holy Sepulchre, and across to the Dome of the Rock. Then we continued along the Via Dolorosa, through the narrow streets and then up on to the roof of the Holy Sepulchre, passing the Ethiopian monastery on the roof, and descending the staircase that runs through their two chapels. Giving ourselves half an hour for another look round the church, we learned that a procession was due in the next few moments.

Fortunately I was up on the first floor where the Greek Orthodox chapels are, and with others of the group could look down on the Stone of Unction where every procession stops. Before long the church doors, which had been closed, were opened wide – and the dignitaries in all their finery were allowed in, headed by the Muslim “guardians”. The episcopal figure at the centre of it all was prepared just beneath us as we crowded against the stone edge of the balustrade, resting our cameras. I allowed a small child to creep in front of me and  view it all through the rails. Afterwards, his mother thanked me, saying “It was the first time he saw it”. Unfortunately none of us knew just what this “it” was.

After a time wandering on our own if we so chose, and a rest back at Notre Dame, we jumped into the bus and drove down to Gethsemane again. Here we rang on the door of the Russian monastery and were eventually allowed in to the service of vespers – which as well as having a particular beauty of its own, also gave the opportunity to enter the Church of St Mary Magdalene, one of the hardest for casual pilgrims to get to see. After an hour or so we left and had a quick conversation with Sister Martha (whom we met on ? was it Tuesday) outside – learning from her that “groups”, especially of Orthodox from various countries are increasingly a trial on the nuns’ patience!

Now it was time to go to Bethlehem once more, taking up an invitation from Khalil and Ellyanna to have  a meal with them in a restaurant that looks out on to the wall. To get there we were taken by bus as far as the check point, and then walked through the vast halls ourselves to get out on the Palestinian side. Of course, at that time on a Saturday evening everything was deserted, but one could easily imagine the whole area heaving with people early in the morning as everyone set off for work on the other side of the wall.



Arlette's house is on the left

As we walked into Bethlehem proper we were stopped by a woman who asked us if we could stay a few moments for her to tell us what the wall had done to her life. George and Arlette have a house and shop virtually surrounded  by the wall, as it snakes around the area of Rachel’s Tomb. They now lie in what is a threatening cul de sac, but which just over ten years ago was the main street leading into Bethlehem. In December 2002 when Bethlehem was shut in they were confined to their home for 40 days. Soldiers came at night and forced them outside, frightening their young children. Then the foundations of the wall were laid (originally planned to abut the house, but because sewage pipes were discovered there moved instead to the other side of the street) and the wall itself, nine metres  high, was built in a day. Because their house is more than nine metres high, they are not allowed on the roof: anything needing to be fixed requires a permit. And the effect on their business has of course been devastating.

All of this was in our minds as we made our way into the restaurant where our hosts welcomed us warmly, Khalil giving us a reminder of the disadvantages that Palestinian Christians, and particularly those from Jerusalem, live under. He was also generous in his praise for the continuing support and interest shown by the United Reformed Church, proposing toast to us all, but particularly to Brian, and Jane and Linda who keep the flame alive.

Conversation over the meal has helped me at least to put a human face on some of the scenarios and statistics we’ve rubbed up against over this past week – but all too much to do more than mention this late on in the day. And then the lift home by Ellyanne helped to ground it all in reality as we took over half an hour to drive back through the checkpoint at a very quiet time on an unbusy road. Would we keep our cool as she has learned to do (and doubtless thousands of others too)? At last we were there: and when the IDF young soldier saw that the passengers were all British they were suddenly very friendly, quite uninterested in looking at our passports, and all too ready to wave us through.

But when you don’t have a car full of Brits, no doubt it can all be very different.

And so to Jeruslaem.....

It was an eight o’clock start, with everyone  on time as had been requested, which brought us to Yad va Shem before eleven. We’d taken the Jordan valley route, with the steep climb at the end up to Jerusalem – and all along we’d seen red signs at the ends of roads leading to Palestinian villages warning Israelis that they must not go that way. Palestinians, as we know now, laugh at these signs and the suggestion that anyone driving through their fields might be in danger, and see them as another way by which the Israeli state divides peoples, and ensures that whether in areas A, B or C, it is clear who is really in charge.

Yad Vashem is a gripping reminder of the horrors of the fate that befell the Jewish people, and as such should be a place where we might all reflect of the cruelty of which human beings are capable. But here in Israel the story is told to the visitor as they walk through the museum in a very political way, not only to justify the foundation and existence of the state of Israel, but also it in effect to justify the political decisions and actions of successive governments. Quiet reflection is made impossible not only by the sheer numbers visiting, but also by the guides who block the way and explain again to their groups what is already explained in the exhibits – while putting a very definite slant on the story.

We who had been with Palestinians and heard their stories in recent days seem, comparing notes afterwards, all to have been struck by parallels between what Jews suffered in the 30s and what Palestinians have to suffer now. Of course, the holocaust is such a searing experience for the Jewish people that it is easy to understand the outcry when such a comparison is made, and certainly as the story moves into the 40s and the horrors of the ghettoes and the camps it is clear that this is a different and unique story. But how troubling that there should be these parallels at all.

On our way to Jerusalem Glenis had led our morning prayers on the bus. She had prayed that we might understand that all things we were to experience today will have a past, a present and a future. Today we have seen more about the past, which might help us understand some things in the present, but I think we will be left fearful as ever for the future.

Outside the museum are two bronzes – the one  showing the cowered Jews of the ghetto, and alongside it a representation of the new Israeli, powerful muscular and looking confidently to the future.  But is this the future that the leaders of 1948 envisaged? If we have come to Jerusalem as disciples of Jesus, we need to remind ourselves that the way we are called to follow is not a way of triumph, but of weakness and resignation.

St James's

From Yad Vashem  we moved on to lunch at Notre Dame, just outside the old city walls, which through a change of plans has now turned out to be our Jerusalem accommodation – and very comfortable it is too.  The afternoon was spent on a walking tour which took us from St James’s Armenian Cathedral, where we caught the end of the daily liturgy, across to The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where Orthodox and Latins were in full voice competing with one another. And to add to the variety of church life, we also found ourselves in a Syriac Orthodox church where we had a fine rendition of the Lord’s  Prayer sung  in Aramaic by the church guide. Finally, we made our way to the Western Wall a few minutes after sunset, as the square was filling with eager enthusiastic Jews of every variety. Some of us walked up to the wall, surrounded by singing and chanting and fervent prayer. What a richness!

We made our way back from the Jewish Quarter to the Damascus, noticing that there was still a stream of Orthodox Jews (fur hats etc) making their way through the Muslim Quarter. What is that saying about population changes in the old city and East Jerusalem? I expect we will hear much more about these things in the coming days.

Sea of Galilee

If yesterday morning we were more like tourists, today we have become more like conventional Christian pilgrims. The challenge now has to be to connect it all up, and discover for ourselves how following in Jesus’s footsteps gives us the resources to deal with the justice issues and the quest for peace that have been very much the focus of our thoughts and activity for most of this past week.

One discovery today for at least some of us has been that he didn’t have very far to go. We’ve been on and off the bus all day (and we realise of course that he and his friends had to walk everywhere), but I don’t think anything has been more than ten or fifteen miles away. True, it’s a bit further up over the hills to Nazareth: but by once he’d come down to the lake, the whole of Jesus’s Galilean ministry was exercised in a remarkably confined area.

We began the morning with visit to Kursi – like Bet She’an visited yesterday,  one of Israel’s National Parks. (In fact it is situated within disputed territory, lying below the Golan Heights and being part of the land which was taken from Syria after the six day war – but we’re not concentrating  on such recent history today.) Kursi boasts the remains of the largest known Byzantine monastery in the Holy Land, probably built in the 5^th century. However, the Jesus connection is that this is the site traditionally associated with the Gadarene Swine. We duly climbed a little way up the hill to sense the potential for self destruction, and realised that this was an excellent start to the day as we were able to look across the lake back to the north western shore, and recognise where all the activity took place, and where now every spot is marked by a pilgrim church.

We began at probably the best known, the Mount of the Beatitudes. Whether or not this is the exact spot, it’s hard to doubt that he will have talked and taught somewhere on these hillsides. Maybe this is a church that does not sit easily with everyone’s interpretation of the text, but for all the excesses of religious tourism, no doubt many of the crowds (more than ten buses were in when we arrived at 9.45) come genuinely seeking a blessing. We were blessed in having a time together and being allowed a quiet place in the grounds to celebrate holy communion.

 Then we made our way on foot in brilliant sunshine down to the main road, to the sound of birdsong and in the company of darting swallows, while enjoying the sight of spring flowers in fields and hedges.

Crossing the road we visited the Mensa Christi Church, right on the lakeshore, recalling the story of Jesus breakfasting with his friends. And yes, the church shelters of course the rock which he used for a table!  Next door at Tavgha the Eucharistic meal is recalled in the most celebrated mosaic in the Holy Land, replicated on plate and bowl and chalice sold in the every souvenir outlet, yet still moving to see in its original state. Equally beautiful are the ancient mosaics of ibis and other birds, also protected in this modern church building.

Capernaum synagogue

After lunch (falafels again!) it was a case of “all aboard!” as sailed on the lake in a full sized tourist boat, which we twelve had all to ourselves. The sea was mirror calm and the sun shone over the lake, while a slight haze seemed to accentuate the beauty of the scene. Landing at Capernaum, we first visited the Greek church, and then moved on to the ruins of Capernaum – the last visit of the day. Here the Franciscan guardians have managed to build an unbelievably ugly church over the site – but today, unusually, it was open, and from the centre it was possible to look down into the actual ruins of the ancient church below.
To my mind more moving is the ruined monumental synagogue, dating only from the 4^th century, but built of a white stone which is laid on the basalt foundation of an earlier building. In an environment where every church seems to compete to assure the visitor that this was the spot, that he really was here, I like the idea that that earlier layer of stones may have touched his feet, and yet nothing is left to contain him.

Every Christian pilgrim has to make what they can of the story. Those of us from the more liberal traditions are liable to find ourselves using words like “allegedly” and “may be” rather freely – but of course there is no doubting that this is the lake, and these are the hills, and this is the whole natural environment that was the essential backdrop to his ministry and message. But it did not end here in Galilee. For Jesus, Jerusalem beckoned – and that’s the direction we will be travelling in tomorrow.

Nazareth

For much of today it has been almost as if we were real pilgrims-cum-tourists.

A tolerably early start from the Jericho Resort Hotel allowed us to be at the baptismal site just south of the Allenby Bridge before nine o’clock. To reach it we had to pass through an unmanned road block leading us into the Israeli territorial strip that runs the length of the border – a border which is marked of course by the River Jordan. Mine fields lie either side of the road, with dire warnings on the fences. The whole area is clearly prepared for any invading army.

Despite the early hour, we were by no means the first at the site. Quite a large group were praying and singing, while the workers who care for the site accompanied them (despite the notices asking respect for religious groups’ practices) on their motorised saws, bringing down dead palm leaves and generally tidying up for the season. A few other individuals were wandering round, and we ourselves shared our morning prayer time together as we sat on the steps leading down to the river. All of this under the watchful, but unthreatening eyes of a few pairs of Israeli soldier – while just a few yards away, on the Jordanian bank, other Christians were doing much the same. We were to hear later in the day about invisible barriers. The Jordan, it should be said, is very muddy and very visible – but what a barrier it represents.

From there we drove north up the Jordan Valley, where for much of the way the road follows the border fence. Many of the farms along this way are lush and productive, and there are countless date palms to give depth to the scene. Large water pipes are in evidence – and the productive farms clearly depend on copious irrigation. These, we can be sure, are the farms of Israeli settlers. Where the crops are poorer, the cause will be a comparative lack of water, which is a sure sign of Palestinian ownership. Yesterday we saw the Bedouin having to rely on a poor and distant water source, while the Israeli main supply passed right by their village. Now we were seeing a similar situation: Palestinians are allowed only something like 20% of the volume the Israelis may purchase.

We were stopped at the check point that leads into Israel proper, but were not delayed, and we were soon heading away from the Jordan and into the Valley of Jezreel, where we stopped at Bet She’an. Here we felt like real tourists as we explored the 400 acre park which contains the ancient city of Scythopolis and the imposing Tel. For most of us the temptation to climb to the top was too great, even though it lies at the far end of the site, and demands the effort of climbing hundreds of steps. No surprise then that we were a little later back at the bus than original planned: but well satisfied by the visit, and perhaps more than a little pleased to have had an hour or so with a totally different focus.

Back on the bus we were soon in Nazareth, where we spent a few minutes in the Greek Orthodox Church containing Mary’s Well, and then moved to a café round the corner where we enjoyed a fine falafel lunch. From there we made our way through the market to the Synagogue Church – certainly very much later than the time of Jesus, but still a place that for centuries has  commemorated his Nazareth sermon, and which retains an atmosphere of quiet reverence to this day. Jane read for us the verses from Luke 4 describing the event, touching our spirits. The Basilica of the Annunciation provides a contrast, though today the comparatively small number of visitors made it less off-putting than sometimes. The old Byzantine ruins in the “basement” were nearly empty when I sent down the steps, and there was a real atmosphere of prayer and quietness – even after I realised that the man on his knees in front of the grill was in fact taking a picture on his mobile phone.

From there we walked together through the streets to the YMCA, where we met up with Violette Khouri of Sabeel, the liberation theology organisation. Her presentation to us was clear and spirited, and we found answers to many of the questions that we had already been discussing in the bus. We learned how the Israeli Arabs (they are not allowed to call themselves Palestinians) are second class citizens in a number of ways. Though citizens of Israel they do not have Israeli nationality. They are obliged to live in specified locations, and their schools are not allowed to teach children their own history and traditions. Yet these Arabs make up 20% of the population of Israel. However, only 8% of this minority are Christians – ie just 1.4% of the population of Israel.

Violette described her people as having a lost identity, a conflicted identity, and an occupied identity, before going on to outline the story of Sabeel’s work in Nazareth, and weaving into this a number of her own stories as a mother, a businesswoman, and now an active participant in Sabeel’s programme. Christians of the eight denominations in Nazareth are now being encouraged to meet together. Jewish people who are prepared to cross the many invisible walls that run through Israeli society are also encouraged to participate in activities and understand the perspective outlined by Susan Nathan (herself a Jew) in her book “The other side of Israel”. Violette concluded by giving her own understanding of liberation theology, as a Christian voice raised in a non-violent way – “as Christ would do”.

A further hour’s drive brought us over the hills and down to Tiberias, and to our kibbutz hotel a few miles further north along the shore of the Sea of Galilee. Tomorrow we will be visiting sites around the lake, and no doubt will have Violette’s words and personality in mind as we reflect further on the ministry of Jesus, and the manifesto to bring good news to the poor and relief to those who are oppressed.

Between Bethany and Jericho

Thanks to everyone who is reading this blog. You may like to know that an "official" blog from the group, written up by a different member each day, can be read at http://blog.urc.org.uk/


We are told that something 2 million olive trees in the West Bank that were being harvested by Palestinians before 1967 have been cut down or uprooted – the recent erection of the wall having added to this wilful destruction. However, we saw a few of them in their new homes today: on the traffic roundabouts leading into Ma’ale Adumim.

Ma’ale Adumim is the third largest Israeli settlement in the occupied territories. It has been built in the desert, but built in such a way as to make Israeli settlers feel that they are living in an ordinary community. Olive trees are part of their heritage and a sign of normality – and they and the palms and the lush vegetation all give the impression that this is just another suburb of Jerusalem, although they are using water at twice the rate as people in Israel proper, and eight times the rate that Palestinians are. People who live here are probably not religious fanatics and they may not have any clear political views, simply remaining blind to just how controversial the settlements are. Angela (our guide to Hebron on Sunday) had joined us as our bus reached the top of the hill up from Jericho to give us an introduction to the present situation with settlements and, complete with a bag full of maps, she then led us across the road to look out across the Judean wilderness.

By chance we shared the viewpoint with another group, who were being addressed by an Israeli, also armed with maps. As Angela countered his facts with facts of her own, we discovered that we were in the company of fellow Brits – members of the Conservative Friends of Israel. That there was little meeting of minds goes without saying, but the experience was a reminder (if we needed one) of just how intractable the whole situation is.

With the maps before us we were able to understand a little more of what is currently happening: in effect, Israel by developing the E1 area east of Jerusalem will completely encircle Jerusalem, and split the West Bank into two – reducing any hope  of a two state solution. And meanwhile, countless ordinary people’s lives are being destroyed by the development of the settlements, by the road system (ploughing in brutalist fashion through this precious Biblical landscape, and keeping settlers separate from Palestinians traffic), through building restrictions and through the whole wretched system of permits which prevents people from making simple journeys to places that are near on the map, but may require detours of some tens of miles.

And meanwhile, between Ma’ale Adumim and Jericho, just at the point of this planned land pinch, are people who are losing their lands and their livelihood. We moved on to visit Jahalin Bedouin people whose plight Angela had put before the British Conservative politicians who did not want to know. Stopping on the main road we hopped over the safety barrier into their village, where we were welcomed by Eid. His father was among the Bedouin who were expelled from the Negeb in the south of Israel in 1951 when their tribe refused to fight in the Israeli army. The land they are now living on is not theirs, but they have the owners’ permission to be there. However, pressure from the settlers on one side and from the army on the other has reduced their grazing grounds, so that they now have just 140 animals whereas ten years ago their flocks numbered 1600. If you think Bedouin life is all about camels forget it – their last one has gone, when once there were 25 here. “We are way under the red line” said Eid.

The only permanent building on the site is the school, provided by the United Nations, who keep a presence in the area – in fact their vehicle drove down the hillside while we were there. This is the only place we have been where neither teachers nor small children have been willing to be photographed: a six year old girl made her wishes very clear. What has happened that there can be such fear and suspicion among people? Well, at present the Israeli government is doing all that it can to move them away from this site to a piece of land which is really the Jerusalem garbage tip. Needless to say, they are resisting, and have active help and support from Angela and others in Israel. It’s a big problem for Eid and his tribe, but as he explained to us, “It’s not just a problem for the Palestinians, but a problem for the whole world.” Where, he asked, can there ever be two states, and how can there ever be peace, if the world allows this wedge of Israeli territory to be established?

Driving back up the hill and into Bethany, we made two quick visits. First to the Russian Orthodox School, where we heard from the Principal, Sister Martha, about some of the tensions that are part of living in Jerusalem. She took us up to the roof, from where we could see the wall snaking through the east part of the city – at this point dividing Palestinian from Palestinian. Not that Palestinians are always united: some  of her stories touched on the outbreaks of violence between Fatah and Hamas, when the school relied on the support of parents to keep children and staff from danger. The children are nearly all Muslim – Bethany is a Muslim village – but this Christian school recently managed to gain second place among school teaching of the Koran!

Then a quick visit to the Four Homes of Mercy – which thankfully, since time was running out, is really only one home now. The home in one form or other has been running for 70 years, and now is home to 60 residents, all of whom are severely disabled, most frequently through congenital conditions. Poverty and culture combine often to keep such people abysmally treated: a case in 2011 made the headlines, concerning two sisters who were kept chained to a radiator in a locked room until their sister at last came to their rescue. They ended up a the Four Homes of Mercy immobile and in a terribly distressed condition – but a few days ago, we were told, they were dancing with joy at the Valentines Day party. And sure enough, as we were in the midst of our lightning tour a few minutes later, one of them was walking down the corridor, smiling and keen to go to her afternoon session of occupational therapy.

We, by this time exhausted as well as moved by all that we had seen and heard, headed back for Jericho and lunch. After that, the final session of the day saw us at the YWCA headquarters, where we met up with Nazar, who introduced us to a group of women working in the food production project. Twelve women are employed in total, and they spoke to Linda about the security that this work has afforded them, and the satisfaction they have in meeting one another and being more open and aware of what is happening in the wider world. A variety of foods are produced here and either sold in the shop or marketed more widely across the West Bank. Some couscous has even been exported to Italy, proudly bearing the label Produce of Palestine,   

The work of the YWCA in Jericho began in the Aqbet Jaber refugee camp in 1948, focusing first on literacy and handicrafts and focusing as a community centre for displaced women and their children. The YWCA kindergarten work continues to this day – and local schools claim that the YW kindergarten “graduates” are easily identifiable through their attitudes of respect and awareness of others. After the second intifada the work took on a new emphasis of economic empowerment, which we were now seeing through the food production project, set up in 2001. Linked with this project, we learned, had been exhibition opportunities making the products better known, and of course staff training, as well as development of links with other NGOs.

Alongside the food project technical training courses has developed in subjects like hair dressing and English language, and participants have become more acquainted in human rights issues and in promoting gender equality. Men have also been encouraged to share in discussing such issues; and we were assured that the results had very much challenged stereotypes. Many men have been proud and happy to see such empowerment of the women in their family. And for all the pressures that people in Jericho live under, and perhaps women in particular, the work of the YWCA is growing – and their dream now is to develop into the villages to the north up the Jordan Valley.

Having said our thanks and goodbyes to Nazar, we had time for a brief drive up to the viewpoint below the Mount of Temptation. On the top of the  cliffs  behind us the ancient monastery clung to the rock face, while to the east the Mountains of Moab across the Jordan glowed pink in the light of the setting sun. For all its troubles and all its divisions, and for all that human beings have done to destroy  it, this remains a beautiful land. May the healing and the signs of hope that we have seen today yet outweigh the ugliness, hurt and despair that have been out daily companions.

With PARC around the West Bank

Today has been a much more hopeful day – and what’s more, the sun has been shining for much of the time. And now we’ve ended up at Jericho, and my room has a balcony overlooking the pool – so even if this isn’t a holiday, and it emphatically isn’t, there are at least times that we can really enjoy.

PARC = Palestine Agricultural Relief Committee (as any good Commitment for Life supporter will surely know). However, as soon as Deputy Director Dr Abdellatif Mohammed joined us on the bus at Ramallah (we’d left Bethlehem at 7.00 to be there for 8.30) we learned that that is only its trading name, and that is it now properly known as the Palestine Agricultural Development Association.

When Israel annexed the West Bank in 1967 it did nothing to improve the agricultural sector, leaving farmers discouraged and liable to neglect their land. Then the authorities called on an old Ottoman law that allowed for confiscation of neglected land – an early instance of the land grab mentality that we have seen in recent days in connection with the wall. PARC, or rather its voluntary organisation predecessors, was set up to bridge the gap and provide relief for people working on the land. But from the time of the first Intifada the emphasis has changed to encouraging development projects and diversification, with an increasing emphasis on household economy – moving in effect from pure agriculture to integrated rural development.

reclaimed field

Moving on from Ramallah we visited three villages, the first being Bizzariya, where we were welcomed by a PARC official who led us into the fields above the village. The scenery is incredibly beautiful, with wide ranging views in all directions which in the west stretch to the coastal cities of Israel and nearly to the sea itself. Some of us were distracted by the wild flowers and had to be urged to keep  up, but soon we were at a perfect example of land reclamation which had been explained to us a few minutes earlier while we were sitting in the village council chamber. On one side of the path was the original land, while on the other side, behind a PARC-provided fence, was a field in the first stage of reclamation.

First the big rocks had been removed to provide material for retaining walls and terraces, which help to retain soil humidity and also prevent erosion. Then the land had been thoroughly ploughed, before the planting of fruit trees – in this field almonds, plums and apricots. This programme, which only provides farmers with trees that thrive without irrigation, has already led to a million trees being planted, and they are now working towards the second million. PARC only helps farmers who own their own land, and so have an interest in the success of the scheme – and they number in total between six and eight thousand each year. And of course through these projects Palestine is being helped towards food sovereignty: all the fruit from this field (give it four or five years before harvesting) will be sold within Palestine.

cistern

Walking into the field we gathered around the rainwater cistern – also built with the help of PARC. Rain runs on to the concrete cover and, crudely filtered, is led into the cistern itself, which holds water that will be used to water the summer vegetables grown between the rows of trees – vegetables which include courgettes and snake cucumbers (we’ll have to google them), or sometimes vetch used as a green manure.

We drove further on to Kufrallabad where we met another group of farmers from the local co-operative in their headquarters. As usual cups of Arabian coffee were served, but no sooner had we downed them than massive bowls of fruit were lifted on to the table, allowing us to see and taste for ourselves just what was being produced. The strawberries in particular were a big hit – and clearly were the favoured crop, in that we were given most facts and figures about them. Suffice to say, that whereas Israel once flooded the West Bank with theirs, PARC has enabled Palestine to come closer to being self-sufficient in strawberries. The local co-operative was set up only in 2008 with twenty farmers, but already 35 are members, and all benefiting from the expertise particularly in irrigation that the organisation supplies.

We drove on to a farm of poly-tunnels where we saw for ourselves the simply but effective way in which rain-water was collected from the tunnels, stored in a metal reservoir, and then gravity fed to the tunnels as and when needed. Where water has to be pumped in, it is now metered – so that whereas when farmers were paying by the hour of pumped water they were indifferent to waste, now they are careful to conserve every drop.

Our third visit was to Shoufa, where we were welcomed at the semi-restored Otoman Barqawi Castle, which now serves as headquarters for the farmers’ co-operative. This time our visit, half a mile or so beyond the village, was to a farmer who has installed a cement pool on his land thanks to PARC. Pools of 100 or 200 cubic metres are the norm, for which PARC pays 75% of costs. If the farmer wants a bit of extra capacity then he pays for that himself. Here we saw the concrete pool, half buried in the side of the hillside, surrounded by a thriving plot of broad beans and other spring vegetables. The farmer explained that with the rain water collected here from his greenhouses he has sufficient water to last him for the five winter months, from November to March. He then has to pay for water pumped from the wells- but when August comes, and the water level is low, he stores the water he buys in his pool, just to be on the safe side.

Back at the castle we were served a magnificent meal of Makluba – chicken and lamb served in vast dishes with rice and vegetables, well spiced and full of nuts. And then the long journey back to Ramallah where we dropped off our guide for the day, and a final drive down to Jericho,  which we reached as darkness was falling.

Talking together this evening over dinner and after dinner, it seems that plenty of questions are going through our minds. PARC  is doing great work in helping individual farmers and helping the rural economy, but how can an economy grow effectively under occupation? Everywhere are signs of Israeli presence. From the top of the cement pool we looked across the fields to the separation fence snaking into the distance. On our journey we passed through countless checkpoints: apparently there are more than 500 in the West Bank. We weren’t stopped at any, and most were unmanned – but the knowledge that you might be stopped, and for an inordinate length of time, makes any journey planning hazardous. How, for instance, can  you transport produce efficiently under such circumstances. Passing through Ramallah on our way back we drove past the Palestinian Authority compound – newly built following the virtual destruction of 2002. How can such a state ever offer its peoples the services and resources they need for a full life?

Linda has reminded us that Christian Aid supports PARC through its core funding rather than project work – so in a sense we are contributing to all that we have seen today, for without its core professionals there would be no projects in place. If only there were a way of ensuring that the central needs of ordinary citizens could be met with the same degree of resourcefulness and commitment.  

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.