Today is a new day. We leave this place, this refuge, this place of learning and inspiration, the Tent of Nations Farm, a home to me.
I came with two of my best friends, Amber and Shelby, to this farm in the West Bank to learn about a Palestinian family actively pursuing peace, even through the persecution of the Israeli Army who desperately try to confiscate the land this family has owned and lived on for nearly a century. There is a certain reality in the land of Israel and Palestine that you must come to realize at some point, the dark and concerning conflict that exists. You simply can’t escape it. And you cannot come here without seeing the segregation, the deep seated fear, and the violence that often comes from it. And then there are places like the Tent of Nations Farm This farm is a place that highlights a different reality. Here, there is living peace. Daoud Nasser and his family walk a different walk than many grieving families in Palestine, they walk with a hope they cannot always see, but one they believe from the very core of their being. At Tent of Nations, we have learned and found that hope. But it took the reality of the conflict to unveil the significance of the story here on this farm. The hope here became much more profound once our eyes were open to the degree of difficulty it takes to live in such a courageous optimism. Last Sunday, Amber, Shelby and I came eye-to-eye with the extremity of hate very real to this land. It has hit our hearts like heavy stones ever since. The three of us left the farm to attend a church in the Old City of Jerusalem which we have considered our home church during our month stay here. On our way into the Damascus Gate, we felt the sense to stop and sit on the stairs outside of the gate to collect some thoughts for the day ahead. Two minutes after we sat down we witnessed a sight we will never be able to un-see, un-feel or un-live. All of a sudden an Arab man jumped on the back of an Israeli soldier, violently attacking him. The Israeli soldier threw this man off his back and shot him three times, till there was no life left in him. Immediately after, another man running towards the fight was shot twice and killed by this Israeli soldier. Just like that, two men were dead. People screamed and yelled, some cried, some cheered in victory, many ran towards the scene and many felt the need to take pictures. We went the other direction, away from the scene, only to hear seven more gun shots behind us. I can’t fully explain my emotions, as I have had trouble imagining how to begin writing about this. What I can tell you though is how mad seeing something like this makes me feel. It disturbs me that people can look at this like a movie scene, cheering for the “good guy,” to take victory. Where is the victory when any men are left dead? I am mad at the disturbing media twists that do not depict even close to what we witnessed. I hate with my whole heart these weapons of “defense” on the back of every 18-year old soldier, too young to deal with the repercussions of using such a deadly tool. I hate that people can find justification for one’s death in a universe where we desperately need one another. I hate the continuous violence of this land and people in desperate situations not knowing how to release such deep inner frustrations. I hate all the time we spend trying to point fingers, missing the reality of people’s pain and the understanding of the need to help others find ways to constructively be heard. But just like the men we witnessed expressing the anger, fear and pain in such a deadly way, they needed an outlet for their emotion. And here I am, in need of an outlet. So I plow this oat field. The past couple of days, I have physically slammed this axe into the roots of many weeds, exhausting my back and breathe. One million thoughts run through my mind in the many hours we have spent on this large field. Yes, those angry, emotional moments have come out, but through that I am filled with pleasing, comforting, transforming thoughts. “We must keep going,” Daoud Nasser encouraged the three of us. He has seen many of these horrific sights in his life, he lives the conflict every day. “Life is a struggle,” he said. There is always a new challenge against his existence and the land that his family has lived on for one-hundred years. Life is not fair either, it is not fair that just because of someone else’s beliefs, his home, his crops, his livelihood should be destroyed. It is not fair that he has had to re-prove his right to exist on his family’s land over and over again, thousands and thousands of dollars later. It is not fair that a teenage soldier should put a gun to Daoud’s face, and tell him that the land his family has owned since the Ottomon Empire is not his land. I am reminded of Jesus, when he faced death, as the Pharisees came running towards him telling him to leave because Herod wanted to kill him. Jesus had a similar response, “Press on.” “Go and tell that fox I will keep on driving out demons and healing people today and tomorrow and on the third day I will reach my goal.” (Lk 13:32) “I Must press on,” Jesus said. (33) The Tent of Nations Farm is a refuge. It was a refuge last summer as I fled to a peaceful place during the Gazan War, and it is a refuge as the three of us return from a traumatic experience. This place is peaceful because of the route Daoud and his family decided to take with their frustrations. Daoud could have chosen violence, he could have chosen victimization, he could have chosen defeat and immigration, but his family chose a fourth option, they decided to let their anger mobilize their pursuit for peace and non-violence, “We Refuse to be Enemies,” is written on the stone entrance to the farm. Daoud understands the need for hope in this land. All along he has persevered and held true to his visions and his beliefs to maintain his family farm, to use it as a tool to educate others how to constructively use what you have, not letting circumstances like no water rights, no electricity rights, no building rights prevent him from his pursuit to keep his land. I have been here for ten days and I have seen hundreds of people from all around the world visit this farm to hear the story of someone who has held onto hope, and pressed on when he had every reason not to. On Sunday, Amber, Shelby and I had every reason to cave under the weight of this conflict. At moments, we felt as if the hate here is too strong to have a sense of hope for. But we came running back to this farm and into the arms of Jesus, where we are surrounded by the spirit of hope and reminded that we are on a path of love, justice and peace in this land, and it is because of these hateful acts that we are even here, following this vision. So, “Press on…Keep going,” These are words flowing through my mind. Here, we have the ability to mobilize the pain of what we’ve seen into clearing a soccer field, where young children will be running and laughing and playing in a couple of weeks, where they too will find a place of inspiration, knowing that the unfair, painful circumstances they have seen do not have to lead to destructive pathways. Here they will find that they have another choice, to walk humbly and fiercely in the path of peace. To use their frustrations to create, dream, believe and… press on. So we walk away from this farm knowing full and well that we may face the reality of this terrible conflict again, but this time not without hope, not without the understanding that perseverance is our hope.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorKatie Elizabeth: Writer, Wonderer, Wanderer. Archives
October 2020
Categories |