“Peace-making…is the work God is calling us to do…”

by the Right Reverend Thomas Clark Ely, Bishop of Vermont
Mountain Echo
September 2005

I write this column just as the planned Israeli withdrawal from the occupied settlements in Gaza is about to begin. By the time you read it, we will know how “successful” that withdrawal is and what it means for the hope of peace, justice and security in the Holy Land. When Ann and I were in Israel/Palestine this past June, there were many opinions being expressed about the relative merits, sincerity, ulterior motives and long-range effect of the removal of Israeli settlements in Gaza. Since then, the rhetoric has heated up considerably. My prayer is that this will be one step forward in the process of securing a sustainable peace in the Holy Land, a peace that will respect the lives, hopes, dreams, rights and aspirations of Israelis and Palestinians alike.

My second bishops’ pilgrimage to the Holy Land brought deeper understanding and new insights for me. In the first place, everything wasn’t all brand new, and I didn’t feel like I was walking around with my mouth open looking like a “tourist” all the time. This time, I had a better idea of what to expect and what to look for. I was better prepared with questions to ask and points to make. I had a sense of the geography, and I studied the maps of where we were going ahead of time.

I had seen the “security wall” before, and so I was prepared for its impact. I knew about the Israeli Army check points, about the roads that were only open to Israelis and which cut off many Palestinians from the land they had farmed for generations. I had been to the refugee camps in Bethlehem and elsewhere, and I knew about the struggles of Palestinian and Israeli parents who had lost children in the conflict.

I went this time with more understanding about the Anglican Church in the Middle East and the struggle that Christians are facing as they become an ever dwindling minority population yet continue vital missions in the areas of education and health. I went with the strong memory of the children and young people (Jew and Arab) whom I met during our last visit and the way their hopes for peace and a better life had so profoundly affected me.

I was better prepared for this pilgrimage, but I was not prepared for Azaria. Azaria, a Palestinian village southeast of Jerusalem, is where the Zira'i family lives. Their home was demolished on April 5, 2005, and 29 people have been left homeless, among them 16 young children. The land on which it was built was their property, but now the Separation Wall in Azaria is making its path near it. The demolition was not conducted as punishment for any criminal or terrorist action by any member of the family but strictly for making space for the Wall.

The Zira'i family are shepherds and law-abiding members of the community. The house had been their only possession, built with funds earned by working hard in various menial jobs and pasturing the few sheep and goats they possess, as well as by producing and selling cheese to the neighbors. They now live under a small tent that offers no protection from the ruthless summer heat and freezing cold of the desert nights. They have no running water to use so must fetch it from far away. There are no prospects that they will be able anytime in the near future to build their own home again.

We visited the Zira'i family, and it was the most remarkable visit of our entire pilgrimage. We parked our bus as close to the tents as we could. The Separation Wall construction was in full swing, and the concrete dust from the construction covered everything, including us by the time we left. This is what I wrote in my journal later that day:

At the tents of the dispossessed, we were offered hospitality—a place under their tent (their home now) out of the direct heat of the sun. Our attempts to persuade them otherwise were to no avail. The culture of hospitality, like the hospitality of Abraham and Sarah at Mamre, draws no distinction between wealth and circumstance. A circle of plastic chairs was gathered from other nearby tents—everyone needs a place to sit before we can talk.

A translator from a relief agency helps us talk with members of the Zira'i family. They tell us their story while offering coffee to us—more hospitality. The little children look at us with curiosity. I must not let their beautiful eyes and precious smiles distract me from seeing the injustice of their dispossession. This is a family of 29 who had their home on their own land confiscated and demolished to make way for the Wall. Resistant and determined, they make their home now in tents covered by the suffocating dust of the Wall’s construction. Still, they opened their tent to give us relief from the sun, a place to sit and coffee to drink while we heard the story of their plight.

This is but one story among many stories of house demolitions that are taking place in Palestine as the Separation Wall is being built. If you are interested in learning more about the situation and resistance efforts underway, one helpful source of information is The Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions (ICAHD). Their Web site address is www.icahd.org.

As I continue to learn more about the complexities of the situation in Israel and Palestine through pilgrimage, conversation and reading, I never want to loose the incarnational perspective of how this conflict is taking its toll on human lives—Israeli and Palestinian—every single day. Solutions may not be simple and the politics may be thorny, but people of faith need to remain engaged in order that the voice of the oppressed and dispossessed is not rendered silent. Peace making is challenging work, and it is the work God is calling us to do each and every day in every circumstance of our lives. This is the sort of baptismal living to which we are called by the Baptismal Covenant, and I pray that with God’s help we will do it well.

Shalom,
+Thomas