Why do Israeli riot police tear gas guns have precision sights?

Three months before Mustafa Tamimi of the West Bank town of Nabi Saleh died after being shot in the face with an Israeli tear gas grenade at close range, this ominous tid-bit appeared near the end of a New York Times article on preparations for the Palestinian UN statehood bid (emphasis added):

Brig. Gen. Michael Edelstein, the chief officer commanding the paratroopers and infantry responsible for preserving order this month, told reporters that the army had equipped itself with a broader range of nonlethal weaponry. It has acquired more than 20 water-cannon trucks that can spray water or a foul-smelling liquid known locally as skunk; huge loudspeakers that can also emit intolerable noise to scatter protesters; and tear-gas launchers fitted with sights to allow soldiers to aim better when firing the gas canisters.

I found this disturbing at the time because several Palestinian and international activists had already been killed or seriously injured by tear gas canisters. Can anyone explain why soldiers should be aiming tear gas canisters at all? As the Associated Press reports:

Tamimi is the 20th person to be killed over the past eight years at similar demonstrations in rural villages throughout the West Bank, said Sarit Michaeli of the Israeli rights group B’Tselem. … Others who have been struck by tear gas canisters include Palestinian Bassem Abu Rahmeh, who was killed in 2009 when one hit his chest. They also include Tristan Anderson of Oakland, Calif., who is suffering from brain damage, paralysis and seizures after he was hit in the head by a canister at a 2009 demonstration.

Go ahead and debate Mustafa Tamimi’s right to throw rocks at an armored military jeep that invaded his village. But do not for a moment debate the obvious murderous intent of shooting someone in the face at close range with a s0-called ‘nonlethal’ grenade.

Also, somebody please tell the AP that when a Palestinian is killed by Israelis, it is lazy, irresponsible, and downright pathetic journalism to quote only Israelis (even if some are left-wing Israelis) for comments on the events of his death. The voices of Nabi Saleh’s residents deserve to be heard first hand. Haven’t they suffered enough to deserve that right?

Luke 1:46-55

And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;

for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.

His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly;

he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.

He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy,

according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

On Tuesday, on the anniversary of the Palestinian Declaration of Independence, we visited Hebron—one of the most intense microcosms of the Israeli occupation. I’ve visited several times before, and saw similar sights: young men being harassed at checkpoints, settlers surrounded by platoons of soldiers, segregated pedestrians on Shuhada Street, military patrols through the old city, Palestinian shops with their doors welded shut. One new sight, pointed out by our EAPPI host: the recently repaired door of a Palestinian home that had been bashed in by Jewish tourists visiting the Israeli settlement of Beit Hadassa, which is embedded in the center of Hebron. There were also machine gun-toting settlers visiting holy sites in the back yards of Palestinian homes. I didn’t get photos of these last two items.

As we left the old city, we ran into members of the Christian Peacemaker Teams, who had just hear that this weekend things were going to get worse in Hebron. A major settler celebration is taking place this weekend—including many foreign visitors—the kind of situation that usually means very bad news for Hebron’s Palestinian residents. This warning was corroborated by an article by Musa Abu Hashhash, a B’tselem fieldworker, writing in The Jerusalem Post:

Last week Israel’s Minister of Public Diplomacy and Diaspora Affairs called on Jews to come to Hebron for the “Life of Sarah” Saturday, in reaction to the recognition of Palestine in UNESCO. So it is expected that thousands of religious Israeli Jews will visit Hebron this weekend. …

For Palestinian  residents of H2 (the part of Hebron still under full Israeli control), festive weekends like the coming one, when thousands of Jews are expected to visit settlements in the city center, are very different from what the Jewish visitors will experience. Even during ‘normal’ times, life in H2 is extremely difficult for Palestinians. The severe restrictions on movement enforced by Israeli security forces for some 10 years have paralyzed Hebron’s old city center. Hundreds of days of curfew imposed by the Israeli army, and military orders closing stores and prohibiting Palestinian movement in key areas, coupled with the lack of law enforcement on settler violence, have turned a once thriving area into a ghost town, emptied of its inhabitants.

Special weekends like the “Life of Sarah” Saturday mean even more intense oppression. Palestinians are subjected to a de-facto closure: intrusive military and police checks are more frequent and residents report that the harassment that so often accompanies them is more hostile. The level of settler violence, an ongoing problem for Palestinians in H2, is higher.

In fact, my experience shows that the vast majority of incidents occur on Saturdays and on Jewish holidays. Walking around, even along streets that the authorities permit Palestinians to walk in, can mean facing large numbers of settlers; many Palestinian families are forced to spend the weekend indoors to avoid the possible ramifications.

Minaret of Hebron's Al-Ibrahimi Mosque, aka Tomb of the Patriarchs

Most people familiar with the Hebrew scriptures wonder how religious Jews can square the moral teachings of the Bible with their treatment of Palestinians. Rabbi Arik Ascherman of Rabbis for Human Rights, also writing in The Jerusalem Post, sheds some light on the settler mindset:

I once caught two Israelis in the act of stealing olives from Palestinianowned trees. I later found out that one of them was the leader of a group specifically created to steal olives. We were all religious Jews. A surreal discussion therefore developed out in the olive groves, even as they were trying to escape before the police arrived. What does Jewish tradition say about the property rights of non-Jews in the Land of Israel?

It was not a very productive discussion, and I can’t say that either side was listening to the other all that carefully. At one point, one of them said mockingly, “You must be reading from a warped Torah.” I confess that I descended to their level and answered in kind. “I think you’re right,” I said. “The Torah I read from has things that seem to be missing from yours, like ‘don’t steal’ and ‘don’t trespass.’”

Anything be justified if one tries hard enough. Rabbi Mordechai Eliyahu once said that it should not be considered theft to take olives from Palestinian trees because God gave the Land to the Jewish people. Other rabbis eventually forced him to recant.

This week’s Torah portion is invoked to say that, beyond God’s promise, Abraham’s purchase of the Cave of the Patriarchs, Me’arat Machpelah, symbolizes the legal purchase of the entire Land of Israel.

One can counter the commandment to treat the ger (stranger) decently by arguing that this only refers to converts, although this contradicts the plain meaning of the text and the interpretation of classical commentators such as Ibn Ezra. One can cite the commandments to drive out other nations, although the Talmud clarifies that this refers to specific nations that no longer exist, because of specific sins.

Others recall the homes which were owned in Hebron by Jews before the 1929 massacre, though they would not agree that Palestinians should be returned to the lands they owned before 1929 or 1948. …

This, then, is the great Jewish divide. Many feel that mitzvot bein adam l’havero (commandments that govern behavior between human beings) apply only to fellow Jews. Some limit the scope of these commandments even further, fully implementing them only regarding those Jews who share their interpretation of the mitzvot. Others of us note that when the Torah teaches that humanity was created in God’s Image (Genesis 1:27), the Torah doesn’t limit this only to Jews or the wealthy, and makes a point of including both men and women.

Rabbi Ascherman offers some additional theological reflection that’s worth reading, but I didn’t want to reproduce the entire commentary.

But aside from being baffled, saddened, and horrified by the extremist settlers in Hebron and the throngs expected this weekend, I was also encouraged by my mother-in-law’s take-away from the day’s visit: The warmth and hospitality of the Palestinians that we encountered under such circumstances expressed a resilience and vitality of spirit that are just as baffling, though in a far more positive sense. The human spirit is capable of many extremes—positive and negative. Both are on continual display in Hebron.

Israeli border police soldiers stand near an Israeli public bus serving settlements in the West Bank city of Hebron.

Whenever pro-justice and anti-occupation activists draw parallels between the Israeli occupation and South African apartheid or the U.S. civil rights movement, critics are quick to point out examples of why such allusions are imperfect. Of course, all analogies from one freedom struggle to another are imperfect. But one of the biggest difference between Israeli oppression and these other examples is that Israel is careful not to codify many of its most discriminatory practices into explicit laws. (Though even this is changing.) Generally, it counts on de facto discrimination.

So for example, when Palestinian activists boarded Israeli buses as part of a “Freedom Ride” campaign, no, there is no law saying they can’t ride buses of Israeli companies like Egged pictured above that connect West Bank settlements to Jerusalem. West Bank Palestinians are just not allowed to enter most settlements—or Jerusalem–without special permission. Why? Like the answer to every question in Sunday school is “Jesus,” the answer to every question about why Israel discriminates on the basis of ethno-religious identity is “Security.”

Even the AP felt the need to inform the reader why their theme was inappropriate (emphasis added):

The Palestinian activists dubbed themselves “Freedom Riders” after 1960s American civil rights activists who worked in the U.S. South to counter racial discrimination and segregation there, though there were no security elements in the American rights struggle.

Tell that to the FBI official who wrote a memo after the March on Washington, describing Martin Luther King, Jr. as: “the most dangerous Negro of the future in this nation from the standpoint of communism, the Negro, and national security.” (emphasis added) “Democracies” have a long history of using security rationales to repress elements that resist oppression.

But just as the violence of segregated America was laid bare by the civil rights movement, that same AP article revealed a very interesting irony regarding the passengers of the Palestinian “Freedom Ride” bus:

The Palestinians paid their fares and boarded, as reporters jostled to board. Dwaik [one of the Palestinian activists] sat a row away from Haggai Segal, a 54-year-old Israeli from the settlement of Ofra once jailed for planting a car bomb that badly wounded a Palestinian mayor. The two did not interact.

That’s right—the Jewish terrorist bomber ex-con gets to ride the bus from his settlement home (built illegally according to international law) and ride into Jerusalem as he likes. The nonviolent Palestinian activists are dragged off the bus and arrested. Moreover:

Posted on the bus stop were posters praising the late Rabbi Meir Kahane, an extremist who argued that Palestinians should be expelled from Israel, the West Bank and Gaza.

So remind me—who’s the security risk here? And if you still don’t think apartheid or civil rights analogies are appropriate, check out the comments of some of the Jewish Israeli bus riders, courtesy of +972:

“I don’t think they need to be here,” Amir continued. “They can be in their villages and their houses, why are they in our area? Can we go to Ramallah? If we go into Ramallah, they’ll kill us. Can we go into their villages or their areas? We can’t enter.”

Amir added that, in her opinion, Jewish Israelis can’t trust Palestinians or believe in them. “They’ll do terror attacks,” she said.

…

A 16-year-old Jewish Israeli, who wished to remain anonymous, said that the Freedom Riders shouldn’t be able to board the bus because, “It’s an Israeli bus.”

“We live here, this is our land,” he said.

When asked about those who feel differently, the boy replied, “Those who say this is Palestinian land don’t have proof.”

He added that Palestinians enjoy a lot of freedom. “We give them identity cards and they can do whatever they want.”

+972 asked the boy, a resident of Maale Adumim who wished to remain anonymous, if Palestinians can do whatever they want, then why can’t they ride a bus to Jerusalem?

“Okay,” he said. “They can do what they need to… I don’t want them boarding the bus.”

…

A teenage girl with long, curly, blonde hair talked to a friend as she watched the activists get on the bus. “What are they doing? They have their own [buses]?” she said. She moved the phone away from her mouth and yelled at the male activists, “You sons of bitches!”

“You whore,” she said shouted at Arraf, the only female Freedom Rider.

No one can deny that some Palestinians have carried out acts of violence over the years. But the naked racism expressed here that attributes such acts to all members of a particular group is astonishing. Moreover, while instances of Palestinian violence have dropped significantly in the last few years, acts of violence and terror by Jewish Israeli extremists is increasing dramatically. Thankfully, as evidenced by the Israeli sites I’ve linked to in this post like Haaretz and +972, the debate within Israeli society about such issues is alive and well—if a bit stunted by the general rightward shift of Israeli society.

Let’s hope these debates go beyond the bounds expressed by some of this bus’s passengers:

On board, the Palestinians’ presence sparked an argument between two young Jewish Israelis girls, aged 13 and 17.

“They’re animals,” the younger said.

“No, not everyone,” the older answered.

Palestinian buses wait in line at the Qalandia checkpoint between Ramallah and Jerusalem.

Daher Nasser, a Palestinian Christian with a literal birthright to his family's land in the West Bank---under constant threat from the Israeli government and nearby 'gated communities,' i.e. illegal Jewish settlements.

Maybe it’s because we got extra hassle at the checkpoint today, but two things I read just made me so mad I have to share. First, a Jerusalem Post article about “Christian Birthright” tours—”now in its eighth year, several of the program’s alumni have become advisers to top American and European officials”—tells the following lie-damned-lie that makes Baby Jesus cry:

… it was important for the group to go to Nazareth and Bethlehem to see how Arab-Christians are treated with equal rights by Israel and how they are discriminated against by the Palestinian Authority.

Vomit. Where to start. I guess you could read my post elsewhere on the real challenges facing Palestinian Christians. And as to the utter bullsh*t claim that Arabs, Christian or Muslim, are treated with equal rights by Israel, the Knesset is now considering a bill that would, in the words of the Israeli site +972, “formalize second-class status for Arab citizens.” That article does a good job of summarizing ways in which Palestinian (Arab) citizens of Israel are already routinely discriminated against.

Second, I like to read the New York Times photo blog, Lens. Today, it featured an already questionable exercise in exoticizing children and their bedrooms which pushed me over the edge with the photo of an ultra-orthodox Jewish boy. The caption:

Tzvika, 9, shares a bedroom in an apartment with his siblings. The family lives in the West Bank, in a gated orthodox community called Beitar Illit.

“Gated orthodox community” my ass. Beitar Illit is a settlement. It is built on land stolen from Palestinians by the Israeli government. Like all Israeli settlements in the West Bank and East Jerusalem, it is considered illegal under international law. When explaining these heavily guarded enclaves of suburban splendor in the mist of the Israeli military occupation of Palestinian land, I sometimes joke that settlements are the “ultimate gated communities.” I find it sad and sick that The New York Times would publish such a laughable euphemism as a straight caption. Shame on them.

A clearer look at Beitar Illit, like all Israeli settlements, considered illegal under international law.

To combine these stories—the relative treatment of Palestinian Christians and the status of Beitar Illit—read about the Nassars, Palestinian Christians who live near Bethlehem on their farm, also known as Tent of Nations. My colleague, Rachelle Friesen, wrote about our visit there about a year ago:

On the neighbouring hilltops surrounding the farm stand four illegal (according to international law) Israeli settlements: Beitar Illit, Neve Daniel, Elazar and Rosh Tzurim. … Daher says that during last year’s “freeze” on settlements, his neighbours kept building and expanding.

This is in stark contrast to what is permitted on Daher’s farm. Daher has not been allowed to build on his farm. The tents for volunteers that sit on the property, the main washroom that has water access, and the greenhouse all have demolition orders from the Israeli military. Daher has not been allowed develop electricity nor lay water pipes to have access to running water. He has even been warned by the Israeli military that the old van that houses pigeons, is not allowed.

Although there are roadblocks and fences, settlers often appear on his land, harassing Daher and even destroying his olive trees. …

Since he cannot build buildings on his land, Daher digs caves for offices and bedrooms for volunteers. At the end of our tour of the farm, we gather in one of these caves that he has turned into a small chapel. Despite the violence around him, despite the unjust challenges he faces on a daily basis, Daher leads us in singing a praise song reminiscent of my childhood “Alleiua, Praise Ye the Lord.”

Hearing this song, I could not help but ask Daher what keeps him singing praises to God when he faces such oppression. He responded that it is because he has hope that one day there will be justice and he will be able to live in peace on his land.

So, to all the “Christian Birthrighters” and dwellers in West Bank “gated communities,” hear the testimony of the Nassar family, who have a sign at the entrance to their farm that reads, “We refuse to be enemies.” They are praising God in caves because Israel will not let them build above ground, and are a far more powerful testimony to Jesus’ spirit of love and peacemaking than I feel like expressing in the face of such insidious falsehoods as those propagated by todays’ JPost and NYT.

Palestinian and international clergy walk the Stations of the Cross on Jerusalem's Via Dolorosa, following the traditional path that Jesus took to his crucifixion on Good Friday.

On my work blog I recently posted about some extremely unhelpful comments by the Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams in regard to Palestinian Christians. The Archbishop hosted a conference last week where he offered some more helpful nuances on the issue. I know at least one of the Palestinian participants at the conference, who had a fairly ambivalent experience of the event. But the fact that his conference was being accused of being “anti-Israel” when the content was as apolitical as possible demonstrates the very real pressure such figures are under. Not an excuse for William’s earlier interview, but still, at least now he’s talking about “solidarity with Palestinians” and naming things like settlements (thanks, Stephen Sizer, for the link):

Speaking on Tuesday at the end of the conference, in response to an accusation of bias, Dr Williams insisted that the Church of England was not anti-Israel:

“Proper solidar­ity with Palestinians is looking to­wards a just solution which is good for Israel as well. There is no security in the region that is not shared security.”

He said that the delegates at the conference had discussed how “time seems to be running out for the two-state solution. . . The settle­ments question was of course in everyone’s mind, and the sense that settlements presented one of those great threats to a two-state solution.”

Dr Williams called for a “step change” in how the Church in the UK engages with Christian com­muni­ties in the Holy Land. He said Christians needed to “rethink how we approach pilgrimage, [so it is] not just a tourist venture, but en­gages with the realities on the ground”.

He described how partici­pants at the conference had ex­pressed fears of its becoming a “Christian Disneyland rather than living communities”.

Dr Williams stated that the conference had not “set out to solve the political problems”, but was focused on “problems that might be solved”, such as questions of access for Palestinian Christians and how to make life “slightly more bear­able, slightly more just” for them.

“We cannot wait for politicians to sort it out. Therefore we as civil society, as people of faith, need to get on with making the difference we can make.”

Whenever I hear about church leaders claiming to “avoid politics” I get nervous. It’s often an excuse to avoid prophetic risks, and MLK’s Letter from Birmingham Jail should shame any religious leader who takes that tack. But again, acknowledging the pressures on such figures, it’s worth noting that Williams at least knows his BBC interview was problematic:

Earlier this month, Dr Williams was criticised by Christian Pales­tinian groups after he gave a BBC interview on the plight of Christians in the Holy Land that did not men­tion the Israeli occupation (News, 1 July).

He said on Tuesday that his remarks in the interview had related to “a very specific case”, and he had not intended to make “any general comment” about the situation facing Palestinians.

That’s pretty lame, but at least he acknowledges that his comments did not accurately represent the situation facing Palestinians in general and Christians in particular. Baby steps, I guess.

Olive branches cast shadows on the face of Darwish Darwish, a village mukhtar from the Al-Issawiya neighborhood of East Jerusalem.

Every now and then, one of Jesus’ parables comes to life.  Reading a recent Jerusalem Post article, I was grabbed by a story that screamed “Good Samaritan.” By the way, there are still bona fide Samaritans living in Palestine. In the northern West Bank, they still worship on Mt. Gerizim and try to survive as an often misunderstood minority. But that’s another story. As for the parable, Christian Zionism expert—and critic—Stephen Sizer has blogged that,

“…if Jesus were telling the story today, he might have used a Palestinian as the good guy. Incidentally, the word ‘good’ does not appear anywhere in the story. That gives us a clue to what we have done to the story – we have domesticated it and think its a sweet story about being nice to people.”

For me, the key to the parable has always been the set-up. A would-be-righteous lawyer tries to test Jesus:  ”But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied … ” (Luke 10:29-30)

A Jewish Israeli delivery driver coming from Jerusalem thought he was a taking shortcut on his way to Maale Adumim, an Israeli settlement built on occupied Palestinian land in the West Bank, and considered illegal under international law. Coincidentally, Maale Adumim lies very near the ancient road to Jericho. That road is no longer open, because the ancient route from Jerusalem to the Jordan Valley is now blocked by the Israeli separation barrier. There’s not even a checkpoint there. Just a wall. Of course, there’s now a multi-lane highway that takes you to Maale Adumim, avoiding Palestinian neighborhoods. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Construction continues in the Israeli settlement of Maale Adumim, built on occupied Palestinian land in the West Bank, and considered illegal under international law.

This “shortcut” takes the driver into the Palestinian neighborhood of Al-Issawiya in East Jerusalem. Apparently, his GPS told him to turn there to avoid traffic on the multi-lane highway. He later admitted that “he hadn’t even heard of the neighborhood before his ordeal.” After entering the neighborhood, his car was surrounded by youths who threw stones, broke the windows, and began beating him into what the Post describes as “light-to-moderate condition.” Not quite the “half dead” of the parable, but no parallel is perfect.

But in the midst of the attack, a village leader, or mukhtar, appeared and rescued the man. The driver later described him as “a really righteous person.” The mukhtar took him to his house, “where he gave him water and tried to wash his face, which was covered with blood.” He then brought a car as well as several other men who “promised to defend him against the crowd,” and drove him to meet Israeli police who were waiting at the entrance to the neighborhood, who then took him to the hospital.

The mukhtar’s name is Darwish Darwish. The Post cited his eloquent testimony:

“We are against violence between peoples, not just on the Arab side,” Darwish told Channel 2 on Sunday evening. “As a nation we need to stand up and say ‘enough violence!’” Darwish visited Nachsom at his home in Ma’aleh Adumim on Monday afternoon, after he was released from the hospital.

“I’m sure if we hadn’t been there, someone else would have come to your rescue,” Darwish told him, extending an invitation to visit the village again, YNet reported.

Darwish said he hoped Nachsom would not hold a grudge, “because there are extremists in every place,” he said. He added that his neighborhood was neglected and that the children were denied basic rights and services.

Darwish Darwish picking olives with his 7-year-old grandson, Mohammed.

I had the privilege of  meeting Darwish Darwish personally last October while participating in an olive harvesting day in Issawiya organized by one of MCC’s partner organizations, Stop the Wall. (Hence, the photos.) He struck me as a kind, gentle, and wise man. I got this mostly from just watching him pick olives with his grandson.

Once, in a discussion about Jesus’ teaching on nonviolence, a fellow church member back in D.C. challenged me that, sure, Jesus taught us to have compassion on the man who was beaten and left half dead. But Jesus wasn’t specific about what to do if you came upon that man while he was in the middle of getting beaten up. Would you intervene? Would you commit violence to protect the innocent? Would you call the cops? In that conversation, I asserted that the rest of Jesus’ life and teachings were sufficient to guide us in our response to violence-in-progress.

Of course, every situation is different. And not all of us are mukhtars. But most people reading this post are “people of privilege” of one kind or another—racial, economic, social, educational. And each of us may have the opportunity—at no small risk to ourselves—to intervene when members of our community are abusing an outsider.

Moreover, akin to the social status of the Samaritan in Jesus’ parable, the hero of this story, Darwish, is also a person living under oppression and marginalization.  He could have found excuses for not intervening on behalf of a Jew. Israeli authorities routinely demolish homes in Issawiya, harass residents, and threaten its land with confiscation. Furthermore, Jews have attacked Palestinians in Jewish neighborhoods in much the same way as this incident. Schadenfreude would have been a natural response. And there’s always the bystander effect—previously, in similar previous incidents in Issawiyya, nobody else intervened.

But Darwish showed himself a true role model by taking the risk to save someone who didn’t even know his neighborhood existed—later even visiting this “neighbor’s” home in an Israeli settlement. This is not a story about Darwish being “nice.” This is a story about radical, revolutionary neighborliness.

Children march with Israeli and international solidarity activists to protest Israel's demolition of Palestinian homes in the East Jerusalem neighborhood of Al-Issawiya. The girl's sign reads, in Hebrew,"There's nothing holy about an occupied city."

Last December, a rally organized in part by another MCC partner, the Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions (ICAHD), marched nonviolently through Issawiya. Thousands of Israeli, international, and Palestinian activists rallied to oppose Israeli government actions in this community. So though it’s true, as Darwish said, “there are extremists in every place,” there are also neighbors in every place. Perhaps not enough neighbors.

I conclude with the end of the parable found in Luke 10:25-37:

“Which of these … do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”

He said, “The one who showed him mercy.”

Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

One of the most unique and compelling events of my Holy Week experience was the Holy Fire celebration in Jerusalem on Holy Saturday—the day before Easter. For an explanation of the event, here’s a snippet from Wikipedia:

On the appointed day at noon, the Greek Orthodox patriarch, followed by the Armenian archbishop, march in grand and solemn procession with their own clergies, while singing hymns. They march three times round the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Once the procession has ended, the Orthodox Patriarch of Jerusalem or another Orthodox Archbishop recites a specific prayer, removes his robes and enters alone into the sepulchre. Before entering the Tomb of Christ, the patriarch is examined by Jewish Israeli authorities to prove that he does not carry technical means to light the fire. … The congregation subsequently chants Kyrie eleison (“Lord, have mercy” in Greek) until the Holy Fire spontaneously descends on 33 white candles tied together by the Patriarch while he is alone inside the tomb chamber of Jesus. The patriarch then reveals himself from the tomb chamber and recites some prayers, before he lights either 33 or 12 candles and distributes them to the congregation. The fire is considered by believers to be the flame of the Resurrection power, as well as the fire of the Burning Bush of Mount Sinai.

But as fascinating as this annual ritual may be in its own right, the far more personally compelling aspect of this experience was to be surrounded by thousands of Palestinian Christians, first anticipating the fire, and then celebrating its appearance. This was no simple feat. As I’ve mentioned in recent posts, access to Jerusalem has become increasingly difficult for Palestinians, and though some permits are issued to Palestinian Christians on holidays like Easter and Christmas, actually gaining access is never guaranteed.

For example, the father of a friend who lives in the West Bank near Bethlehem is an ordained pastor—who received his theological training at Associated Mennonite Biblical Seminary in Elkhart, Indiana. He has a renewable 6-month permit to enter Jerusalem—a privilege most Palestinians do not have. However, because this year the Jewish Passover completely overlaps Holy Week, the entire West Bank is under “closure”—meaning no entry into Jerusalem. This is often the case with various Jewish holidays—access to Jerusalem is closed to West Bank residents even if they may have a rare and precious permit.

But for those whose types of permits are still honored despite the Passover closure—or for those Palestinians already living in Jerusalem—entrance to the holy sites is further restricted. I entered the Old City with my Jerusalemite colleague, having to pass through some four or five separate checkpoints at various points. The first photo shows the checkpoint where police refused to allow anyone—Palestinian or foreigner—to pass. We only got through when the crowd surged forward and those of us at the front were quite simply forced past the arms of Israeli police attempting to hold everyone back. I snapped the photo over my shoulder as we scrambled away—only to have to talk our way past several additional checkpoints where the police were less strict—perhaps because we were fewer in number. According to my colleague, before such restrictions were put in place by Israel, access was easy and the crowds were relatively calm and peaceful. It’s not as if the current crackdown was necessitated by riots or terrorist attacks.

Because access to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre where the Holy Fire ceremony takes place (and the traditional site of Jesus’ crucifixion, burial, and resurrection) requires tickets, our final destination was a nearby rooftop. There we were surrounded by pilgrims both foreign and local that had endured similar ordeals. At one point, because Israeli police had further blocked other access points, the faithful were helped through an adjoining bathroom window. As a local man told me, no matter how the Israelis try to restrict their movements, “They can’t keep us out!” Such is the resourcefulness and persistence of those living under the restrictions of military occupation. I was reminded of the friends who dug a hole through the roof to lower their paralytic friend to Jesus.

As we waited, the youth on the rooftop sang, danced, drummed, and led various chants celebrating their Christian and Palestinian identity. When the Holy Fire finally arrived—passed from candle to candle from the church through the streets—the crowds exploded in even greater enthusiasm, surging back into the narrow streets of the Old City. At this point, only a few police were visible watching from the margins. Apparently at this point, “security” was no longer an issue…

As for me, I just continued to go with the flow and let the crowd carry me along on its currents of faithful fervor.

Haaretz reporter Amira Hass stands between soldiers, Israeli solidarity activists, and the Palestinian residents of Nabi Samuel during a Land Day event on April 1, 2011.

I had the privilege of hearing veteran Haaretz journalist Amira Hass speak this week in Ramallah—the only Jewish Israeli journalist to live in the West Bank. While on a weekend away in Nazareth (chillin’ at the Fauzi Azar) I finally found the time to read David Remnick’s New Yorker profile of Haaretz. His recent writing, as “arguably the most influential Jewish American journalist,” is one of several signs that the U.S. Jewish community is incrementally (shway shway) moving in a positive direction on Israel-Palestine.  I’ve noted Haaretz‘s shortcomings in other posts, but it remains Israel’s best most honest and reliable source of news and commentary. A  few money quotes from Remnick’s piece:

On Gideon Levy and Nazis:

He has been called “Hitler’s grandson”—sooner or later, nearly everyone on Haaretz gets called a Nazi—and some have wished cancer on his family. He has been threatened in the market, harassed on the street, and shot at by Israeli soldiers. When he writes, for example, that the Qassam rockets fired at Israeli towns by Palestinian militants “have a context,” the denunciations are renewed. He does not care.

Operation Cast Lead, the Israeli invasion of Gaza, “wasn’t a ‘war,’ ” he says. “It was a brutal assault on a helpless, imprisoned population. I suppose you can call a match between Mike Tyson and a five-year-old boxing, but the proportions, the proportions!”

On Israeli isolation from the occupation:

Apart from the settlers, Israelis rarely go to the territories, unless they have the obligations of a soldier or a journalist. When I asked Amos Schocken, Amira Hass’s greatest supporter on the paper, when he had last visited Ramallah, which is a fifteen-minute drive from Jerusalem, he said, “I’ve never been there.”

“Why not?” I asked. Ramallah is, in a sense, the capital of his outrage.

Schocken smiled. “I read about it in Haaretz,” he said.

On Amira Hass’s Holocaust legacy and journalistic credibility:

Levy-Hass used to describe to her daughter the sight of German women standing by the side of the road trying not to notice the sick and the dying as they marched to the gates of the camp. The image was ingrained in Amira, and she says that her work as a reporter is rooted in the “dread of being a bystander.”

…

Amos Harel, the chief military correspondent for Haaretz, told me one day while we visited the occupation headquarters in the West Bank, “The most sophisticated military guys admire Amira for her accuracy.”

On the paper’s editorial diversity:

…dealing not only with the likes of Hass and Levy but with columnists well to his right, like Yisrael Harel, a leader of the settler movement, and Moshe Arens, a hawkish former defense minister. (One staffer called Harel and Arens the paper’s “shabbes goys.”)

On “terrorism”:

In 2008, on the sixtieth anniversary of the state, Sternhell won its highest honor, the Israel Prize, and the announcement infuriated settlers, who claimed that he supported armed insurrection. Sternhell did no such thing, but he had written in Haaretz that Palestinians had no recourse other than armed resistance. “My intention was not to say that they could kill civilians,” Sternhell recalled. “No. The important thing is that I said the settlers’ movement was both illegal and illegitimate, and the Palestinian resistance to settlements was understandable.”

At around 1:30 A.M. on September 25, 2008, Sternhell went to his front door to lock it before going to bed. As he opened the outer door, a pipe bomb exploded. He and his wife had just returned from Paris, and so the hall was filled with luggage, which shielded Sternhell from the worst of the blast. He suffered only minor injuries. “The nasty thing in that story is that this was pure terror…”

On Haaretz‘s reputation:

Nahum Barnea, the popular columnist at Yedioth, spent a long time describing to me how “out of touch” Haaretz was with public opinion, but then admitted that he begins his morning with it, not with his own paper.

On marketing unpopular truths:

In the nineties, when Schocken was trying to conceive a slogan for a marketing campaign, he suggested “Haaretz: Not a Newspaper for Everyone!” The advertising executives looked at Schocken as they might have regarded a deranged intruder.

On the Gospel according to Haaretz:

“The ability to publish a newspaper that does not serve any outside agenda, except what its editors believe, is in the best interests of the country,” he said. “If we weren’t around, it would be . . . sad.”

Finally, he could not resist a local metaphor. Sometimes, he said, shouldering the burden of Haaretz “is like carrying a cross.”

BTW, even though Haaretz remains a venerable institution, reading multiple sources is still essential to getting a halfway accurate sense of what’s going on—whether in Palestine and Israel or anywhere in the world. Hence, I offer this link to my Google Reader feed so you can check out the stories I pick from the many sources I attempt to digest on a regular basis.

On our way to the Sabeel conference titled “Challenging Empire: God, Faithfulness, and Resistance,” this little scene appeared at the main Bethlehem checkpoint. In case anyone wasn’t aware, Palestinian Christians experience the oppression of the Israeli occupation just as much as their Muslim neighbors.

Also interestingly, as we left a lunch for Sabeel supporters on our way to the main conference site a short walk away, youths had gathered to vent their anger at occupation in the form of the separation wall. I was able to linger for a few moments to witness an exchange of stones thrown at the wall and tower with a few Israeli concussion grenades (loud noise with little effect) thrown in response.