By Laurie Lyter

As seen through my eyes…

Today we sought hope in sacred spaces and got swept up by sacred people instead.

We met kings – like Ramzi, who calls himself the king of Bethlehem (to distinguish from Ramses, the one time pharaoh of Egypt) – a guide who spoke of the church of the nativity (where many people believe Christ was born) and shepherds field (where the shepherds were said to have been visited by an angel) with wisdom, and the struggle of life in Bethlehem without resorting to malice.

We met queens – like members of the premier Palestinian women’s soccer team. Girls as young as twelve refusing to be dissuaded from what was, just a few short years ago, “a game just for boys”. Women playing on the international stage in their uniform and their hijab, resisting the idea that one belief betrayed the other.

Angela – our very own angel – At Diyar Consortium’s International Center of Bethlehem

We even met an angel – Angela who introduced herself as “angel from Bethlehem” in her time living in the US to bring her natural light and levity to some encounters with racism and ignorance that might have devastated a lesser person. A coordinator of public relations for Diyar Consortium’s International Center of Bethlehem, she conveyed hope and an irresistible dedication to the promise that art, culture, and education are the keys to breaking down the walls within and, someday, the external walls as well.

We wandered through caves thousands of years old and sure we saw some incredibly special places, but it was in witnessing the gorgeous stained glass windows made from the rubble of the siege of Bethlehem that we saw real resurrection.

It was in sharing laughter with the young soccer player who responded to male classmates taunts that she wasn’t a “real girl” for playing soccer by declaring that she’d best them at their beloved game (and she did) that we were reminded that all things are possible.

It was in watching hundreds of adults jostling through the church of the nativity, each having to crouch low to get through the “humility door” (built to keep the crusaders out and to prompt all who enter to be humble before God), and then seeing scores of school children walk through with their heads held high that we remember – the promise of hope in this troubled place is incredible, but it is not rare here at all.

By Brenda Mehos

Marker at the Tent of Nations entrance

Monday was a tough day.  That is when I started having a real emotional reaction to what I was seeing and hearing here on the West Bank.

Daher Nassar of the Tent of Nations and Usama Nicola talk with our group about Daher’s farm

We visited the Tent of Nations where we heard from the owner Daher Nassar about his 21 year legal struggle with Israel to keep his families farm and he has remained so hopeful and positive in spite of all the road blocks, harassment, and poverty caused by the occupation.   I felt anger.

We visited the souk in Hebron and saw where parts of their market have been walled off with barbed wire and now empty or occupied by settlers.  We saw the  wire over parts of the souk near the Jewish areas to protect shoppers from the bricks and trash they have thrown down into the market.  I felt uncomfortable and angry again.  The hope here was in the “welcomes” people said to us after asking where we were from.

We ate a delicious meal in a Palestinian families home that is right next to one of the walled off sections to Palestinians.  This mans son was a beaten by some of the neighboring settlers and spent months in the hospital recovering.  Our host still makes an effort to know his Jewish neighbors who are friendly and invites them over for food and coffee.   I felt anger and awe.

Finally we had a taste of going through a check point with a gun aimed at our head by a bored a Israeli guard on our way to the tomb of the Patriarchs.   Several in our group reached out to a guard and talked to him when he asked where we were from and did we know John Denver?  I felt some fear and then hope again with the gift of humor.

Soldiers at checkpoints point guns at us… and are sometimes friendly.

Fear, anger, sadness all such negative emotions but what I did hear and see from the people I’m meeting is their great hope which makes me hopeful.

By Dana Jones

Tent of Nations farm owner, 28 October 2013, © Dana E. Jones

Daher Nassar’s grandfather — also named Daher Nassar — purchased the land that is home to the Tent of Nations in 1916. Since then, the family has worked the land by day and slept in caves on the property at night. In 1991, the Israeli government declared Daher Nassar’s property and the surrounding area as property of the Israeli state. Settlements — five today — began springing up all around the area, but Daher Nassar refuses to leave. He has been embroiled in constant court battles that continue today. Unlike many Palestinians, Daher Nassar has paperwork showing his family owns the land. He has established the land as the Tent of Nations, named in part for the fact he cannot get permission to build a permanent residence on the site. In recent years, his battle has come to the attention of justice workers from around the world, who offer many volunteer hours to help work the land and maintain the property as it has been for years. Standing on the highest portions of the land, you can see five Israeli settlements. Among many signs of hope at the Tent of Nations is the large number of olive trees that have been planted. There is solar power, composting toilets and a green house made of recycled plastic bottles. Participants of the Living Stones Pilgrimage arrived just after the olive harvest had been completed.

28 October 2013, © Dana E. Jones

Tent of Nations, 28 October 2013, © Dana E. Jones