A reflection by Dave Grishaw-Jones
28 October 2011
Jerusalem
Joy drenched me when you said
Come inside my house
Now our feet stand within your gates, Jerusalem
Planted upon your wholeness
Jerusalem,
Place where each is welcome
All belong
From Psalm 122,
translated by Norman Fischer,
2002
Sarah Kreimer is the Associate Director of Ir Amim in
Jerusalem, an organization that envisions dignity and welfare for all of
Jerusalem’s residents. It’s not an easy
vision to sustain in today’s climate—where despair and disinterest make
progress almost unimaginable. Still,
Sarah speaks from a committed heart—looking out over illegal Israeli
settlements, the intrusive security wall and the vulnerable Palestinian
neighborhoods of East Jerusalem.
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| Sarah Kreimer of Ir Amim looks out at East Jerusalem settlements |
High above her city, she helps us understand the
strangely calculated purpose of Israeli-supported settlements in East
Jerusalem, neighborhoods like Gilo and Sheikh Jarrah. These unwelcome developments, in what ought one
day to be the Palestinian capital, quickly become ‘facts on the ground’—rendering
a viable two-state solution more and more problematic. And less and less likely. And as easy as it seems for Israeli-backed
settlers to dig in, it’s next to impossible for land-owning Palestinians to
gain the permits necessary to build for themselves. On their own lands. In their own neighborhoods. In what ought to be their city.
Sarah reflects, tellingly, on her own doubt and fatigue. Activists on both sides struggle to hang in here. More than a few can’t—and give up trying. Almost in passing, Sarah says something that registers significantly with me. Given the despair in both communities, she wonders “if our two peoples will ever find the will to change things.”
There are so many balls in the air here—more like a
hail storm of angst and distrust. What
about those disruptive settlements? What
about the pitiful government response to Palestinian social needs? What about the barrier annexing key
Palestinian lands? What about economic
viability? What about statehood and voting
rights? Even so, the most significant
question—the one that cuts like a knife through all the others—is a question of
will. Desire.
What must happen in order for these two peoples, so
beautiful and proud, to will peace?
I believe in the power of the beloved individual. I believe in the power of the enlightened
practitioner of peace. Sarah Kreimer is
a compelling figure, and remarkably gifted.
We’ve met committed Palestinians as well—women and men with
determination and passion. Individual courage
is indispensable in the struggle for justice and peace. But only relational power builds capacity,
nerve, discipline and will. Hand in
hand, heart to heart, adversary facing adversary: we develop the trust, purpose
and bonds that overcome hostility and fear.
It’s not enough to do the right thing; we need to do right things
together. That’s how things change for
the good.
So many stories, so much history gets in the way. Zoughbi Zoughbi talks about the important
shift from blame and victimhood to responsibility and accountability. As Director of Wi’am (the Palestinian
Conflict Resolution Centre in Bethlehem), Zoughbi is a mediator, counselor and
activist on many fronts. He speaks of
the struggle his community has faced for 63 years. “Blaming is toxic,” he says. “Dwelling on victimhood is suicidal.” He urges Palestinians in the West Bank to do
the hard work of nonviolent struggle, institution building and diplomatic
negotiation. He focuses his centre’s work
on training for women, children and youth; on gender justice and gender
sensitivity; on meeting generations of trauma with compassion.
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| Security Wall bisecting an East Jerusalem neighborhood |
“What we ask of all religious people is simple,” he
says. “Empower the weak. And bring the strong to their senses.” He pauses here, for effect it seems. “Not to their knees,” he insists, “but to
their senses.” In a hundred ways,
Zoughbi’s staff breaks the cycle of blame and encourages Palestinian responsibility. It’s not enough to throw stones. Violence begets violence. Victims oppress other victims. Relational power—only relational power—builds
capacity, nerve, discipline and will. Lift up the lowly; bring the powerful to their senses. No more victimizing. No more victims.
Walking along the eight-year-old barrier wall, snaking
through East Jerusalem and the West Bank, I wonder if this isn’t its most
sinister consequence. It boldly
perpetuates—in the name of security—the tragic cycle of blame and victimhood
that drives madness in the Middle East.
Walls do just this—in depriving whole communities their freedom of
movement, economic opportunity and spiritual connection to holy sites. They function in much the same way rockets
do—flying out of Gaza and slamming into schoolyards in the south. Those who define themselves by their
victimhood generate immense amounts of fear and distrust; this is true on both
sides. And no one is served. No one takes responsibility for peacemaking;
no one is accountable to the common good.
Profoundly committed to a very different way, Zougbhi
Zoughbi articulates something beyond victimhood, something rich with
compassion. “I believe,” he tells us
in Bethlehem, “in the hyphenated character.
I am the oppressed-oppressor. I
know both what it means to be oppressed and betrayed and what it means to be the
oppressor and betrayer.” Openness to
this truth is critical as Jew and Arab, Israeli and Palestinian, encounter one
another and imagine together a world beyond walls and rockets, oppression and
fear. It creates a transformative
space—a relational space, I guess—where adversaries may come to will a common
peace, a shared future, a city and nation for all peoples.
At the end of the day, I find myself returning to
James Carroll’s marvelous book, Jerusalem, Jerusalem. To whom do we turn? Where might we find the inspiration for this
journey toward responsibility, compassion and relational power? “Instead of a unit,” writes Carroll, “the
Oneness of God affirms a unity. Oneness
in this sense means not the being who stands apart, radically different and superior,
but the being who is present as the reconciliation of oppositions. That God is One means, as Isaiah saw, that
the God of this people is the God of all people. Monotheism in this sense is not the source of
conflict, but the source of conflict resolution.”
I give thanks for the prophets like Sarah Kreimer and
Zoughbi Zoughbi, and for their hopeful witness in the midst of so much
despair. And I pray tonight for them,
and for these holy peoples:
God of Abraham and Sarah, Moses and Miriam:
Make me an instrument of your peace.
Jesus, Son of Mary, Light of the World:
Make me an instrument of your peace.
All-merciful One, All-compassionate, All-holy:
Make me an instrument of your peace.
