A Most Amazing Place
In traffic that can only be described cacophonous, I entered Bethlehem, the city of Jesus’ birth. And that’s the strangest part about coming here. In the most fleeting of times does it hit me that this is the place where it all went down - where the shepherds walked, where Boaz lived, and where the birth of the one who was to change the world came into humanity. Maybe one expects to feel different. To see the desert and the people and be flooded with the internalization of the story, and come to some sort of immediate epiphany. That doesn’t seem to be how it works. It’s slower than that.
First you notice the cement and the rebar, and the paint sprayed onto The Wall. The faint breath of anger because so much contradiction is engendered by such a wall. Then, one is struck by the roads and how your driver so expertly threads the needle. Perhaps, at this point, it becomes overwhelming. The sounding horns and brakes. The sun baked gentleman sitting in a plastic chair outside his door, watching as the van rolls by. The bright beige-pink bricks and cement that composes the most breathtaking of landscapes. Somewhere between austere and stunning, but probably more stunning. The wind that carries with it spice, and the garden that fills the road with vaporous fresh mint. Heat, and the accompanied sweat, follows you everywhere. That is, until it gets dark. Green is sparse. The sky is a hazy blue. An Israeli settlement looms on the opposite hilltop. It may surprise you, but it’s kind of dry.
Those initial impressions sit with one for a long while. Not in an ugly way at all, simply overwhelming. I think I’m still there. In fact, I know I’m still there. But then something changes. You begin having conversations. And laugh. You understand the people to be those just like you would know at home. You step inside a grocery store and smell familiar smells and see familiar brands. You share a meal with an Arab family (that will change everything, trust me), and are given almost brotherly advice by a stranger when in need of directions. The community is wonderful. It’s not all that different, and yet it’s worlds apart.
I can say without hesitation that Palestine is a most amazing place. Ironically, I feel like I prepared almost as much as I could, but I don’t feel prepared at all.
I’ve been placed with a Christian host family – two young, adorable brothers, and one shy, adolescent sister. The mother speaks excellent English, and she is a passionate follower of Jesus. Several times we’ve spoken of our commonality. It’s fascinating to listen to the hope she exudes, and what she describes as “living by faith.” I don’t feel like I know at all what that looks like. I’m humbled. For Christians her in Palestine, there is much to be upset about: a government that treats their natives like rubbish and a Christian population that dwindles with every year because of their affiliation with international churches and persecution, among other things. The most curious thing is how some of them seem to respond; they try to love. “Love your enemies”... man, I feel like that mentality must have been inculcated some 2000 years ago or something. As my host mother put, “we are to be God’s witness.”
Presently, the smell of cigarette smoke drifts in through the window of our room on the roof. It looks across sea of cement and dust, and is shared between myself and my roommate. He currently naps while the sound of loud speakers echoes through the valley. There is a call to worship. You wonder how many actually believe whatever Abrahamic faith they follow. The prayer is so earnest, filled with such petition. My host brother walks in. He seems to have taken a liking to us. He wants to go play frisbee. “Come fly with me,” he says. We oblige, and that means an end to this blog.
Submitted by: JS
