Sixty-Three Years and Counting: Palestinian Refugees

This month, Palestinian diplomats hope to submit a bid to the UN Security Council that would have their territories formally recognized as a Palestinian state. The US promises a veto, but the Palestinians hope that a favorable vote in the General Assembly could still increase the diplomatic pressure on Israel.

Students of refugee law will find a highly complex and controversial case in this situation.  Due to a strange definition by the U.N. Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) tasked to the situation, not only the Palestinians who fled in the 1948 war are classified as refugees, but also their descendents. This means that the half a million refugees from 1948 have ballooned to a current total of nearly five million. Israel, fearful of losing its Jewish demography through a wave of immigrants, refuses to contemplate offering any “Right of Return” to these refugees. Meanwhile, more and more Palestinians are born stateless, having neither Israeli citizenship nor citizenship in the nonexistent Palestinian state. Instead, they merely get refugee status cards from UNRWA (and none are automatically eligible for asylum in the US because they do not have a “well-founded fear of persecution”; a life of poverty does not qualify).

These refugees do not live in the worst of conditions: the refugee slums I saw in the West Bank city of Nablus did have concrete buildings and narrow roads. These are not the tattered tents one would see in Darfur, for example. But existing without rights, having only a hostile Israeli government and a nascent Palestinian one, these people see little hope of ever gaining justice. Accordingly, many turn to violence. I saw many posters idolizing armed teenage boys, “martyrs” against the occupation. (“Idiots,” commented one Palestinian, "This kid was throwing rocks at a tank.”)

Palestinian Refugee Camp in Nablus, West Bank. Note the banner honoring "martyrs" who had died fighting the Israeli occupation. 

What is the answer to the Palestinian refugee problem? I believe that it is impossible to return these refugees to their family hometowns in Israel. It’s been over sixty years and the landscape has been completely changed. Moreover, I know Israel will not grant citizenship status to Palestinians for fear that they would become an electoral majority and take over the “Jewish” state. Thus, I think the only fair thing to do would be to permit the Palestinians to form a state, placing the responsibilities of rectifying the refugees’ social justice claims in the hands of their own people.

Thus, I believe the US should not veto the Palestinian’s bid for statehood. Instead, it should vote in favor of it and immediately begin working with Israel to craft safe, secure borders between the two states. 

6 Ways Jesus Breaks Down the evil, despicable SELF/OTHER DICHOTEMY! (buwahahahaaa)

In case you were wondering, I can summarize postmodern philosophy in a few sentences: “Beware of constructed identities! Don’t create an us/them duality! Don’t create strict categories of understanding!”

             Basically, this framework for viewing the world came of age during Vietnam and the Civil Rights movement. Its proponents justifiably took umbrage at the categorization of blacks or Communists as “those people” instead of just “people”. They argued that the evil policies in Nazi Germany began when certain groups of people were labeled as the Other. The ‘good decent normal’ people had to watch out for those ‘bad, weird Other’ people (and ultimately boycott, quarantine, and exterminate ‘Them’). Postmodern theorists than apply this calculus to every other aspect of life. Virtually every paper I write in college can make some reference to the danger that the Self/Other dichotomy poses in one aspect or another. Gender (male/female). Citizenship (citizen/noncitizen). Species (human/nonhuman). Race (one of us/one of them).

Thus, we see in postmodernism attempts to deconstruct these divisive constructs. Now, I don’t agree with all of postmodernism’s tenets, but I think this one has value. And so I think it’s very interesting that God, as seen in the Bible and in Jesus, breaks down nearly every self/other dichotomy I can think of. I’ll make a list, feel free to add to it :)

1. Male/Female. This is a huge, seemingly insurmountable divide. Yet God handles it with tact and aplomb. One particularly epic verse, Galatians 3:28, states that “There is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free, nor is there male nor female; you are all one in Christ Jesus.” Wow. That’s so much oneness in one sentence. I doubt if even a cross between Yoda and the Dalai Lama could have thought of that. But apparently God did, and that’s the way he intends Christians to see the world. Obviously we’re not perfect, but that’s our fault, not Christianity’s.

            Jesus as a person, moreover, took incredible steps to empower women in the patriarchal society of his day. He defended prostitutes from persecution, and spoke with women as equals. These are 21^st century values found in a first century man. Extraordinary.

Powerfully, God frequently even portrays himself in feminine terms. Isaiah 42:14, Isaiah 66:13, Luke 13:34, Proverbs 4, and Jeremiah 31:22 each have God portraying himself as an over-pregnant woman, a mother hen, or some other feminine image. While the majority of the Bible’s allusions to God are masculine, it is interesting that God does not necessarily see himself as “male” in the way we humans think of it. I think God is beyond gender.

2. Poor/Rich. This one’s a bit more obvious. Jesus’ ministry focused especially on helping the poor and on encouraging the rich to give their goods to the poor. There’s too many verses to count on this one. But basically the overall message is that poor people are closer to the kingdom of God—maybe because there’s less stuff distracting them from it. Anyway, in Acts 2 and 4 we see the early Christians shared all their possessions and held everything in common. The original Communists! Thus the first thing we see when people take Jesus’ message seriously is an immediate destruction of class and economic lines. Everyone’s needs are taken care of, and there is no more room for greed.

3. God/Man. In the greatest paradox of all time, God came to Earth disguised as a human. As one both fully God and fully human, Jesus was the culmination of God’s plan to reconcile humanity and rescue it from itself. Not only that, but humans are offered the chance to become Jesus’ brothers and therefore also to be sons of God like Jesus is. Since children have the authority of the father, what we see is a blurring of the strict distinction between God and Man.

            Moreover, in the thrilling conclusion to the New Testament, the apocalyptic book of Revelation, we see the marriage of Jesus and the Church (representing Christians). Since in marriage two become one, we can see that this wedding feast is symbolic of the eternal union of God and Humanity that will eventually occur. God is not separate from his creation; in fact he loves it so much he chooses to make himself one with it.

4. Heaven/Earth. Earth is evil, trapping our souls in awful physical pain and suffering. Heaven is wonderful; where our spirits are finally free to float around in bliss. Right? WRONGG. This view of heaven and earth is more Plato than Paul. Unfortunately, as NT Wright writes in his book, Surprised by Hope, this view has taken over much of Christian thought. What is the truth?

            Often, Evangelicals portray the Bible’s message as an evacuation: one way or another, Christians will get off this wretched planet and escape into heaven. They see the Earth as good for nothing but destruction. However, the Earth as portrayed by the Bible (Romans 8) is a conflicted space–with much beauty yet waiting for the day when it is finally freed of its decay and bondage to entropy. Ultimately, in Revelation 22, God comes down from heaven to live on earth-forever! Heaven is not God’s final home! It’s the (very nice) motel he’s been staying at until he can finally move in with the people he really wants to spend eternity with—us humans.

            Obviously, God has not yet remade the earth. God still has to renovate. But Jesus’ told his followers to pray and act that God’s will would be done on Earth as it is in heaven. Thus taking care of the earth and others is a foreshadowing of the final reality, the marriage of heaven and earth, the merging of two separate realities into one incredible paradise.

5. Jew/Non-Jew (i.e. racial boundaries). Jesus’ opening of the closed Jewish religion to non-Jews was heretical in his day. But in the same spirit of the verse mentioned above, he taught that there is neither Jew nor Greek, black nor white, French nor EYEtalian, Hispanic nor Asian. In God’s eyes, all are the same. That’s powerful, and that’s an innovation Jesus brought.

6. Ally/Enemy. I wrote about this one a bit in my blog about the Fourth of July. Jesus told his followers to love their enemies, and I think that is the most radical command in the history of the world. It’s easy to love friends, or neutral things like nature, but to love people who hate your guts? That’s revolutionary. Moreover, once you start loving them as if they were your friend, your perspective changes. Psychologically, something happens and it’s impossible, once you start showing love to a someone, to continue treating them as the Other.

So those are just some of the ways I think that Christianity punches some serious holes in some Self/Other dichotomies…I don’t know, I think it’s kind of cool.

But of course, when talking to Liz about this concept the other day, she threw a wrench into the whole theory with two sentences… “But aren’t some differences good, and created by God? Like don’t the differences between males and females or between different cultures enrich the world?” She’s right.

I guess the point is that when these differences get blown out of proportion, they become evil. Jesus’ message deconstructs these concepts so that they can be restored to their rightful positions. 

Two Visits to a Mosque

Ah-Salaam-Malaiku. My mispronunciation of the standard Muslim greeting probably went unnoticed as I mumbled it under my breath to the man who held the door open for me. At least I knew I was getting the “Salaam” part right, having said it many times to Arabs I had met in Israel. Peace be with you.

Last Thursday night I attended a Ramadan gathering at a mosque. I had visited this same mosque three years ago and started the beginning of a blog post, left incomplete. Here’s the full result of what I had written then:

“An evangelical Christian walks into a mosque…

Not a typical Friday.

My heartbeat quickened as I approached the door of the mosque. A seventeen-year old boy who had come of age in the aftermath of the September 11^th attacks and the subsequent wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, I could not help but be nervous. I resolved to leave my prejudices -with my shoes- at the entrance.

            The whir of fans and the lush carpet beneath my feet

The imam’s message, while of course devoid of the “salvation by grace” theology characteristic of my church, had many points I found myself agreeing with. His criticism of American materialism and overconsumption came off not as that of a militant cleric but as a frustrated, chiding leader. More like Barack Obama than Pastor Ray, I decided, especially as the word “hope” peppered his sermon.” [End of Transcript]

My visit on Thursday was tempered by nearly five months in the Middle East and a greater exposure to Islam and Middle Eastern culture. Yet unlike the Palestinians I had met, the Muslims at this mosque were of either Southeast Asian or African-American background. It struck me that Islam, like Christianity, is a ‘universalist’ religion that does put a priority on proselytizing: the religion is not for a chosen few, but intended for everyone.

In this way, I almost connected more with the service at this mosque than I had at Jewish synagogues. My last name notwithstanding, I am not Jewish and thus cannot become a part of that community unless I choose to undertake a lengthy conversion process. Islam, on the other hand, would take me as quickly as you can say the “Sinner’s Prayer”. ­

Also I have to say that Ramadan, a month of fasting, seems like a really cool practice. The whole community comes together for dinners for a whole month, praying each day together instead of just once a week. The rhythm of fasting, while strenuous, certainly provides spiritual and mental discipline. Modern Christians who have lost the art of fasting have much to learn from our cousins (first cousins, once removed). Fasting deprives the suicide machine of modern life its fuel, necessitating a pause for reflection and meditation.

Breaking the fast, though, is of course probably the more fun aspect of Ramadan. I welcomed the eclectic mix of Kennedy Fried Chicken, Pasta, and these tasty fried dough patty spicy-Arab food cakes and downed them heartily.

“Brother!” an older African-American gentleman called down the table. “Have some more chicken!” I declined, stuffed already. Looking around, there seemed to be little integration between the African and Asian populations. Each group kind of sat on its own. I could pick up the words of dads speaking in Indian dialects to their children, but other than that conversation in the room was muted. At least there was a mixture of races there, I must admit. That’s something to be said for the mosque.

Perhaps I was only witnessing a quiet night, but maybe mosques are less conducive to the forging of community than the way I picture an ideal religious community. Another example is that during prayer and the meal men and women were separated entirely. I imagine in Mohammed’s day the mosque was simply an extension of the surrounding community. But here in America, mosques (like churches), face the difficult task of trying to bring together people who may have no contact with each other except on days of worship.

I think that is partly why I’ve connected a lot recently with the theology of modern Christian Anabaptists and the Emerging Church conversation. Among other things, these movements focus on creating space for community to grow. In post-modern America, life is fractured. I think that churches have a unique place and opportunity in society to provide a way to bridge gaps and reconcile people. I don’t think Islam has yet dealt with this problem yet: Islam in America predominantly remains a religion of the immigrant populations. If it hopes to grow, it will have to engage in the difficult, messy task of learning how to create mixed communities. The mosque I visited had some of the pieces in place: it was relatively welcoming to outsiders, people were friendly, and food was provided. But it will take more than that to bridge the economic and social divides of our local area. It will be interesting to see how Islam in America evolves over the coming decades, and what the reaction from their conservative leaders in the Middle East will be.

Mosque in Hebron, Palestine called the Tomb of the Patriarchs. Where Abraham, Sarah, and others are said to be buried.

God Bless Our Enemies

Today is the Fourth of July, a day in which many Americans celebrate the rebellion against the constitutionally limited monarchy of Britain. Most Christians join in with the nationalism of today, singing refrains of “God Bless America” in churches all around the land.

However, rather than demanding God bless us, maybe Christians should check the Bible to see how they are supposed to pray. In Matthew 5:44 Jesus tells true Christians to “love their enemies and pray for those who persecute them”. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen Christians actually try this out, so in this blog I’m going try to be praying for my enemies, and the enemies of America in general. I’d encourage you to pray with me, add other ideas to pray for, or (if you’re not a fan), add your own name to the list of ‘enemies’! haha ;)

God, thank you for the many blessings you’ve showered on America. I ask that you would shower them on our enemies as well.

Bless North Korea, especially as the new leader begins to take over for Kim Jong Il. Please guide him in decision-making in a very hostile world; give him wisdom to produce more food for his people.

I pray for the members of the Taliban and Al Qaeda. Please work in their hearts to reveal the truth of your love. Reconcile them to their estranged neighbors and family members; enable them to go back and leave lives of violence.

Bless China economically; enable it to grow sustainably. Please protect the health of Chinese citizens against pollution and smog. Protect the Chinese from being affected by any US default on debt.

God, I ask you bless the abortion doctors. Protect them from any violent attacks by Christians or anything like that. Grant them favor financially. But I do ask that you would lead them away from the abortion industry.

God, please be with the drivers who are jerks on the road. Protect them from ever getting into car accidents. Enable them to reach their destinations quickly and efficiently. Grant them good driving weather whenever they get in the car. May the radio always play their favorite songs.

God, bless the capitalists who only care for money. Show them true happiness and bless them with great families, health, and joy.

 Please bless the atheists— especially the angry ones who love to mock those who believe in God. Give them long and happy lives here on Earth, and enable them to see the beauty of your creation, and to grasp that there is a Maker behind it all. Be merciful to them: they know not what they are doing.

Show kindness to the gang members and drug dealers of Newburgh, Lancaster, and other areas. Help them to avoid being sent to prison for long amounts of time; allow them to develop marketable, legal skills so that they can have productive careers when they are ready to get out of this lifestyle.

And God, I forgive my enemies all the wrongs that they have done me. Please forgive them as you have forgiven me, they know not what they are doing. Please show me and other Christians how exactly to love these people and be a blessing to them. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Huh. As I finish up this blog, I’m realizing that was actually a really neat experience. It forces one to empathize with them and think about their situation. And in the act of actively praying for good to come to our enemies, something amazing happens: they’re no longer enemies. The Self/Other barrier gets cracked, and for a short while the ‘enemy’ joins the long list of friends, family, and loved ones who we are always praying for.

This, I am convinced, is perhaps the single biggest difference that marks Christianity from all other religions. Every other one has some system of morality, but they break down when it encounters the enemy, the Other: you have to either ignore them, avoid them, convert them, or kill them. Only Jesus says, “Love them, forgive them, and pray for them.” There are no outsiders. Everyone belongs.

So I think I’m going to keep praying for my enemies. God knows they need it. 

May God even bless little wannabe terrorists like this kid. 

The Garden of Naming

Perhaps the most powerful thing in the world that anyone can ever do is to name something. To choose a word to sum up. With a few syllables, names can stick, they can both describe and determine identities.

Think how powerful these words can be: Beautiful. Hero. Messiah.

Or:

Ugly. Failure. Disappointment.

In the Old Testament, names were incredibly important, and a change of name marked a change of identity. Abram became Abraham. Jacob became Israel. God, while having many names and characteristics in the Bible, is usually referred to by modern Jews as “Ha-shem”, The Name. God’s name is considered by them as too holy to say. Maybe they grasp a truth that Christians don’t…

In the Garden of Eden, the first man Adam was given the job of naming the all animals. Whatever he called them, that was its name. Its identity. As God had created Adam and had named him, now Adam was doing the same. This is a powerful image, Adam fulfilling his destiny as a lord over the earth and co-creator with God. (Check out my previous blog "Red" for more analysis on the meaning behind Adam's name).

Maybe it has something to do with gardening. Recently, I think I’ve finally begun to understand its allure. I had never cared much about tending to plants before, and tasks like weeding and watering seemed dull and pointless. Why grow plants for beauty? Or even food (which I’ve yet to attempt)? It always seemed too much effort, for little gain.

But I’ve revised my opinion lately. I have had more free time this summer, and I’ve surprised myself by willingly going out to clear weeds, trim back plants, mow grass, etc. I’ve found I enjoy seeing the results of my work, being outside, and being in touch with nature. I don’t understand exactly why this joy exists. But it fits in with what it seems human existence is about: it’s part of that co-creating for which the original humans were created.

Now, if the connection I made between naming and gardening were an isolated connection, you could write me off (you always can, actually). But I see at least two other examples in the Bible where these two meet. At the end of the book of John, we find Mary Magdalene weeping in front of Jesus’ empty tomb, wondering where his body is. Once again, we’re in a garden. Jesus comes behind her and asks her what’s wrong. She thinks he is the gardener. Jesus calls her by name, saying, “Mary.” And that’s all that’s required for her to realize that he’s Jesus. In shock and in joy, Mary replies in her own language of Aramaic, “My teacher!”

Are you getting this symbolism? It blew me away when I saw it. Jesus is the “new Adam” the firstborn of a new race of humans: those who are perfect, forgiven, and who have eternal life (1 Corinthians 15:20-28). So where do we see this new Adam? In a garden, of course! And what is the first thing this new Adam does? He calls Mary by name, and she responds. I can imagine him saying it full of love, and Mary rushing to embrace him. Thus God’s new order begins, as the first one did, in a Garden of Naming.

Jesus' empty tomb, which was in the midst of a garden owned by Joseph of Arimethea

But this is just the beginning. The garden motif is consummated in the prophetic book of Revelation, which describes the final destruction of evil and the marriage of heaven and earth. In the last chapter the author of Revelation describes the ultimate city of God, where He lives with all of his people on Earth. This eternal paradise has a river, fruit trees, and a tree of life. Sound familiar? That’s because this is the same description as for the Garden of Eden. Eden has finally returned, it’s back, and it’s been completely redeemed from sin. And guess what? Every single person in this city of New Jerusalem has the name of God on his or her forehead (22:4). Their identity can only be described by using the name of God. They are now considered full children of God, bearing his name.

So there’s something special in the Bible about gardening and names and identity. The connections are tough to unravel, but they’re lively, interesting, and beautiful.  

Babel, Pentecost, and the Beginning of the Redemption of the World

20^th century philosophers like Derrida, Foucault, and others all teach an essential truth: language matters. The words and discourse used to describe reality in turn actually create and construct that very reality. Those who control the words and terms control how reality is perceived. I won’t explain the whole theory in what I hope is a short essay, but some examples commonly used are rights discourse (used to justify violence against those with no rights), nation-state discourse (used to unify the nation against the outsiders), and discourse on sexuality (used to define and exclude those who are deemed sexually deviant).

Thus, these philosophers argue, language not only fails to describe the world as it truly is, but it also inevitably inscribes the values and taboos of the ruling class. Institutions of oppression are inevitably established, masked by a linguistic system that justifies it.

Interestingly enough, the biblical story of the Tower of Babel also addresses this truth. In the story, the whole world has one common language. One group of people decides to create a city (Babel) with a tower that reaches to the heavens so that “we may make a name for ourselves, and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth” (Genesis 11:4). We can see their fear of being conquered and divided. Their response is to group together, unified by a single language, build a fortress city, and defend against those who wish to scatter them.

The Tower of Babel: Symbol of Empire

God, however, does not seem to like this. This is the establishment of the first empire, and while it is not a threat to God, he knows that such a dominant power would wreak immeasurable havoc on earth. God says, “Let us go down and confuse their language so that they will not understand each other”. They do so, and the empire is halted in its tracks. The very thing Babel was created to defend against—its people being scattered—is in fact what happens to them.

God’s intervention at Babel creates other languages, and thus more opportunities for different states to rise up with their own language of oppression. But God is more willing to have that than a singular language that could dominate everybody.

Now, I recently noticed that in the Bible, the Hebrew word for Babylon is not just similar, it’s exactly the same as the word for Babel. Thus every time we see Babylon come up, the poetic-spiritual connection must be made to the Tower of Babel and to language. The destruction of the Temple and the burning of Jerusalem: Babel. The beginning of the Israelite captivity: Babel. Babel sees [herself] as God: “I will continue forever—the eternal queen!” Babel shrieks in Isaiah 47,“I am, and there is none besides me.”

Babel is again portrayed as the Great Queen/Prostitute in the apocalyptic visions of John’s Revelation. How can Babel come up again, having been conquered by the Persians nearly five hundred years prior? Because Babel is an archetype, a symbol for empire, domination, greed, and spiritual adultery.

In Revelation 17, Babel is a woman in a desert sitting on a scarlet beast. The beast is covered with blasphemous names: words so evil that merely writing them down was blasphemy—again highlighting the connection between wrongful language and evil. Later in Revelation, we learn that the woman Babel “is the great city that rules over the kings of the earth”, that the merchants all trade their goods with her, and that she is the murderer God’s people. Babel is the locus of all power, wealth, and violence against God.

It therefore makes sense that in John’s vision Babel’s violent destruction is met with wild celebration in heaven. At last!— the great city that is the spiritual signifier for every emperor, greedy merchant, and persecutor of innocents has been thrown down. With the final destruction of Babel, God’s holy city (New Jerusalem) can descend from heaven. In New Jerusalem are people from every nation and language; gone is the false unity that Babel attempted to impose. God brings peaceful diversity.

But is there hope in the here and now? What can God’s people do to battle the Babels around us? Hatred, greed, otherization, bifurcation—they surround us all, and many of God’s people prostitute themselves to these things. Whether it is out of fear of “being scattered”, or ignorance, or perhaps because they have bought into the myths of Empire, too many Christians see serving the nation-state above God and engaging in imperialism or domination as acceptable and even admirable practices.

But God gives us a linguistic turn to escape the language of Babel. And that is through Jesus, the Word. John 1 is perhaps the most incredible chapter in the Bible from a philological perspective. God seems to know that He cannot be completely translated into human language, so he must become human. Jesus is God’s translation: all of God’s words, logic, and law revealed in one single being. To speak God’s language, his Words, we follow Jesus’ example.

And Jesus behaves in a pretty anti-Babel manner. He wants his followers scattered, that doesn’t bother him in the least. He eschews violence. He opposes all Empire, Roman and Jewish alike. He cares little for nationalism, instead seeking out the “Others” around him: women, Samaritans/Palestinians, Romans, slaves, the poor… Jesus shows us how to break the curse of Babel. And that’s through unconditional love and forgiveness. “Stop trying to make a name for yourselves—I’ll give you a new name”.

As yesterday was Pentecost, I’d like to close with one final bit of hope related to that. Yes, Jesus is currently gone. All we have of his life are a few dozen pages written about him. Is that enough to escape the Babelonian discourse that we’re immersed in? But there is more. In Pentecost, we see another linguistic turn. The Holy Spirit comes upon the disciples and they speak to a crowd—but each listener hears words in their own language. The curse of Babel, where language was confused, is finally reversed. It is a foretaste of Heaven, where every single nation will praise God together, unified.

The Holy Spirit is God living inside of humans, enabling us to speak and live out God’s language as Jesus did. That may mean physical miracles, or speaking in tongues, or prophecy. And it may mean living in an anti-Babel manner, by loving our enemies, aiding the oppressed, and reaching out to the Other. We escape the lure of Babel; we “come out” of the great Prostitute (Revelation 18:4). Let us stop whoring around. Let us reject Babel everywhere we find her. Yes, she rules the world, and must still for a time yet, but let us not speak her language. 

Dance With Me

“Dance With Me” by The Morning Of

I love this song. But:

“I’ll let you go to my head cuz my heart can’t handle, my heart can’t handle it.”

How many times do I do that to God? I make him a head thing instead of a heart thing. I can’t bear the implications that He presents to me. He, God, Always-loving, Always-forgiving, the All-Powerful, the Commander of Angels, Glorious, Encompassing, Artistic, Panoptic, Imperial, Unpronounceable. YHWH.

I can’t accept it. The fact that HE loves me. Me? More than anything? And forgives me? Truly forgives me? I belong on some barren city streets. I don’t know why you waste your time on me…

[But,] God whispers, [let me just have one dance. Just one. And you won’t feel anything that pulls you down. Gravity will release you.]

No! My heart can’t handle that. It would tear apart, be overwhelmed. So instead, I let God go to my head. I fit him into another compartment in my mind. I make my knowledge of him purely intellectual.

God’s just another philosopher, not my lover.

I’ll let you go to my head cuz my heart can’t handle, my heart can’t handle it.

[Andrew, you know I’m a hopeless romantic. My first miracle was at a wedding. The end of history will arrive with a wedding- between the Lamb and the Church. I’m head over heals in love with you and I refuse to give up.]

I know that. Really, I do. But if I felt that, really felt it…life would be so different. I would be so different.

So I’ll let you go to my head cuz my heart can’t handle, my heart can’t handle it.

What Makes the Holy Land...Holy?

“Type”, n.: A person or thing symbolizing or exemplifying the ideal or defining characteristics of something; a representation of something not present.

               I believe I have touched upon this in other blogs, but I’m going to really focus on it here. And that is the symbolic, conflicted geography of Israel. The deserts are here, but so are the streams. The freshwater Jordan River produces a fertile valley, but this is also the river that feeds into the Dead Sea, where nothing can remain alive. Mountains, valleys, and seas all make many appearances in Jewish history and prophecy. The Holy Land is deeply symbolic of God’s relationship to humanity.

               In Deuteronomy 11:10-12, God explains why the land of Israel is different from the land in Egypt. In Egypt, crops were maintained by human effort, by irrigation from the river Nile. But Israel “is a land of mountains and valleys that drinks rain from heaven. It is a land the LORD your God cares for.” Here, the Jews would have to trust in God to provide. They were leaving a place of security to go to a place of risk. But while the risk is greater, so is the potential reward: a land flowing with milk and honey. I haven’t always been the hugest fan of honey, to say the least…regardless, the idea of a land with such fertility is incredible. But note that the reward was not certain—the Jews would have to trust and submit to God to provide. There was no Nile as a backup plan.

             Now, much of the land of Israel is an arid, dry desert. But here even more symbolism comes in…”Behold, I am doing a new thing!...I provide water in the desert, and streams in the wasteland” (Isaiah 43:19). I blogged earlier in “Streams in the Desert” about Ein Gedi, where a single spring transforms the whole landscape. Besides this, much of Israel relies solely on the rare winter rains. Ancient cities had to dig huge cisterns to collect rainwater in order to survive. Again, rather than surviving by their own effort and irrigating via the Nile, the Israelites would have to wait and trust that God would send rains. And if they were being rebellious, God would often withhold them to shake them up.

               Speaking of Ein Gedi, barely a kilometer away from there is the Dead Sea. Now, my girlfriend Liz would be better able to explain the ecology of it all, but what defines the Dead Sea and gives it its saltiness is that fact that is has no outflow. It is always taking, never giving. As such, the sediments pile up until there is so much minerals and junk in it that nothing living can survive. Each year it only becomes more and more salty; nothing can change that. However, there is a prophecy that says it will indeed change. In Ezekiel 47, God promises that a river of freshwater shall flow from the altar in the Temple and down to the Jordan Valley, ultimately turning the Dead Sea into a Living Sea, one with fish and trees. Perhaps this is merely a symbolic prophecy of Him giving new spiritual life to humans that are dead in sin, and not a literal prediction. But even so, the symbolism draws on a unique environmental phenomenon that can only be found in Israel.

                A few words now about Mount Zion, which is the mountain where God dwells and is synonymous with Jerusalem. Zion literally means, in Hebrew, “place of dryness.” So God chooses to come down to the place of dryness. Why? Why wouldn’t he choose a more fitting place, like an ecological paradise? I think it is to show us that, spiritually, this is what God is doing here on Earth—meeting us in the place of dryness so that we can live with him. Geographically, Jerusalem is part of the hill country of Jerusalem. Immediately to the east, desert. Immediately to the west, a fertile plain stretching to Tel Aviv. Jerusalem is on the fulcrum, balanced between east and west, always in tension. And that’s where God chooses to make his home.

               In addition, something I’ve noticed is the unimpressiveness of Mount Moriah, where Abraham supposedly was sent to sacrifice Isaac and where the Jewish Temple was built. It’s basically a hill. There are higher mountains only a few kilometers away—my university in fact is built on the highest. And certainly these mountains are nothing compared to the Alps, Andes, even Mount Beacon in my hometown! But I think it is fitting of God: he chose a mountain for the Temple to be built that is not necessarily the highest—for that would equate physical dominance with God. But God is beyond mere size. That this humble little hill in a huge mountain range should become the center of the world is just the sort of upside-down thinking that God has shown throughout the Bible. The infertile couple becomes the start of a new race. The suffering servant becomes the king. The enslaved people become the rulers of a new land.

“I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bridge beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them.’” Revelation 21:2-3

Dome of the Rock, built atop Mount Moriah, where Abraham sacrificed Isaac and the Jewish Temple used to stand

                  One final aspect of Jerusalem’s geography that is notable is something I see nearly every day: the mountains of Jordan. Otherwise known as the land of Moab or Ammon. These mountains are much taller than the hills of Jerusalem and are dark and imposing when seen from Israel. I can imagine that at all times in Israel’s past (and present), the fear of invasion existed. This is not something we know in America, as we have two oceans separating us from our enemies. So it is interesting that this would be the homeland of the Jews—always within view of dangerous foreigners. This can lead to fear, and a desire to gain security through military power and the god of fortresses. Or it can lead to faith, faith that God will protect his people.

             

              So that’s it. I just wanted to show that God used and still uses many of the environmental features of Israel to teach spiritual concepts to us. The refreshment of the rains and springs is a beautiful sight in a dry land, and to those who have eyes to see it symbolizes God’s mercy to us in the spiritual realm as well. It’s not the same, but it is a hint; it is “a copy and shadow of what is in heaven” (Hebrews 8:5). And I think that’s cool.

A Contrast

Early in the morning on May 3, 2011, a group of fifty-five ultra-Orthodox Hasidic Jews were halted as they tried to barricade themselves in Joseph’s Tomb in Nablus, a major Palestinian city. While there are regulated monthly visits to the tomb, these particular Hasidim decided they wanted to ensure a permanent Jewish settlement there. Apparently, this is similar to how the settlement in Hebron started: once Israelis are in there, the Israeli Army must protect them, thus granting a government sanction of the land grab.

The Hebron settlement is one of the most militant and anti-Arab Jewish settlements in the Palestinian lands. A huge wire fence has to cover the Hebron marketplace, and one can see the garbage and large stones that would have rained down upon the Palestinians by the Jewish settlers in the compounds that overlook the market. The city center is deserted now, all business scared off. Palestinian schoolchildren often have stones thrown at them as they walk past the settlement on their way to class (escorting these children is one of the main activities of the non-violent Christian Peacemaking Team in Hebron, cpt.org).

The marketplace of Hebron, with the fence to catch garbage and stones thrown by Jewish settlers at the vendors below

Obviously, not all Jewish settlements are like this. Most are just little outposts on isolated hills, built there by people who want cheap housing. But let me contrast the stories of Nablus and Hebron with a story I just found this morning about another Jew who settled in Hebron.

In Genesis 23, Abraham’s wife Sarah dies. He goes and humbly bows before the people living in Hebron and asks if he can buy a plot of land for Sarah’s burial. Three times, the people living there insist that Abraham take whatever piece of land he wants for free. And each time, Abraham declines and insists on paying the full, fair price for the land.

Thus in Genesis the Patriarch Abraham, the first Jew, was offered land in Palestine for free—that’s how much he was loved and respected by the people there. But he insisted on dealing honestly with them, refusing to take advantage of his superior position.

But nowadays, Abraham’s descendents take land in Palestine by force, usually only there backed up by the American-made M-16s of the Israeli Defense Force.

May Abraham’s descendents start behaving like he did.

[News article: http://www.haaretz.com/print-edition/news/right-wing-israelis-barricade-themselves-in-west-bank-jewish-holy-site-1.359707

Bible Passage: http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis+23&version=NIV ]

Race, Patriotism, and the Nation State

Yesterday I was sitting in the Piazza del Duomo in Milan, Italy. It was a warm and lively evening, as hundreds of people milled about with their beer and gelatos. Meanwhile, the dominating white edifice of the Duomo Cathedral hung over everything, its stained glass windows lit from within. My attention was distracted from it, however, by the bright rocket/helicopter toys that street vendors would launch into the night sky to attract the lustful eyes of children. Over and over the toys flew through the air like shooting stars…(or like flares announcing the start of war? I can see the soldiers leaping from their trenches into the maw of the machine guns, their blood spilling upon the soil that is undistinguishable but for the fact that it is their soil, for their nation…).

Over the past few weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of race and nationhood. The mythology of the Romantics and fascists alike is powerful: that people form discreet groups or ethnicities based upon a homeland (and therefore usually also a language, history, and set of stories). Germany for the Germans, France for the French, Italy for the Italians, Israel for the Jews… The implication of this is that these people groups each have an essential, eternal, almost spiritual identity, not an artificial one created through normal processes of history.

            This was very clear to me yesterday when I went to an art and history exhibit about Italy’s wars for independence (their 150^th year as a nation is this year). While I couldn’t understand all of the Italian in the descriptions, what I gathered was quite patriotic. The Italians fought for their land against the French and Prussians, with a common ethnicity, language, music, and colors binding them together. By blood and force the new nation had been forged.

But after World War II, it seemed that the concept of the nation-state had been dealt a deathblow. The radical fascism of Italy and Germany had proved disastrous, so most of the world united around universal values instead of the nation-state. The Western bloc chose the values of political freedom and sought to promote those, the Eastern bloc chose economic freedom from the claws of capitalism.

But meanwhile, hidden beneath the tide of universal values that rose up in the post-war period, one anomaly entered the system. The nation of Israel was founded, a homeland for the Jews scattered around the world. Finally, after 2000 years, the Jews would no longer be a minority in other lands! The verse I’ve heard applied by Israel’s founders comes from 1 Samuel 8:5, where the Jews want to be “like all other nations” (The fact that this displeased God is ignored). However, established in its founding charter as a “Jewish, democratic state”, Israel has sacrificed some democratic values to preserve its Jewish character, for example by forbidding non-Jews from immigrating and by banning non-Jews from getting married. Thus I believe that while Israel is obviously quite democratic compared to its Arab neighbors, it is not an American-style democracy. It is a Jewish nation-state with many democratic tendencies.

This has many interesting implications besides the marriage and immigration limitations mentioned above. A one-state solution in the Palestinian-Israeli conflict is no longer on the table because high Arab birthrates mean that there would be too many in the “Jewish” state. This also reveals itself in a well-documented bureaucratic effort to keep Palestinians from ‘taking over’ Jerusalem. Building permits for expansions of housing or schools are usually denied to Palestinians in East Jerusalem, while almost always approved for Jews. The result is over-crowding and poverty for these families in East Jerusalem, or else being forced into the even poorer cities Ramallah or Bethlehem.

 However, any Jew who questions any of Israel’s policies as unbefitting of a democratic state is labeled by many as a “self-hating Jew”. Why? Because by not supporting these policies of excluding non-Jews, they are undermining the concept of a solely Jewish state. Once that concept is gone, the theory goes, Jews will once again have nowhere to be safe and will inevitably face another Holocaust, one that will wipe them out for good. This is the basis I’ve heard over and over of all the fears of losing Israel’s solely Jewish character. So thus the ‘self-hating Jew’ is thought of in Zionist and neo-Zionist thought as an anti-Semite, therefore on the side of those who wish to complete Hitler’s Final Solution.

In fact, merely by writing this blog and other blogs that are mildly critical of one or two of Israel’s policies (such as the Security Barrier built on Palestinian land that economically crushes Palestinians), I have been personally called out for in essence being an anti-Zionist (AKA an anti-Semite). The fact that some people label would place me in the same camp as the Nazis is a bit scary and shows that no middle ground currently exists in the minds of modern-day Zionists. “Either you are with us or you are against us.” In their view, criticisms by leftist Jews or neutral people like me, intended to help Israel become an even better nation, must be completely silenced lest they serve as moral ammunition to the Hitlers who wait at the doorstep.

But perhaps, we see recently that Israel’s nationalist policies are not that deviant. Throughout the West there is now a trend towards preserving the “nation” from those “outsiders” who threaten it. In France and Germany, PMs Sarkozy and Merkel have each proclaimed that “multiculturalism has failed”. Throughout Europe, racism abounds against Muslim and African immigrants who threaten their singular national character. In France Muslim headscarves are banned, while racist parties gain power in Denmark and Switzerland. Goodbye freedom; hello nationalism.

To what extent is ultra-nationalism present in America? We see it in fears against Mexican immigrants and the need to preserve jobs for “true” Americans. That’s interesting because America is one of the few states in the world that was not founded on a singular nation of people. A mix of Europeans created a state built on the theory of freedom for all, regardless of race or religion. But perhaps America is in fact a nation like all other nations; the only difference being the rationale given for waging war. Instead of for a given “nation”, we wage war for “freedom”. Same violent results.

            Is there an answer? Must every group of humans necessarily become violently exclusionary to preserve it’s own identity? How does this apply to me as a Christian? If you’ve talked to me about these types of issues within the past year or so, I think you can guess what my solutions might entail. Hint: they do not involve a Church with political power. Instead, there must be a Church that is anti-political, on the side of the excluded, the lepers, the poor, the shunned. NOT to empower the outsiders politically, as that would ultimately lead to the same problem. But we are only called to love them, free them, and be among them.

(On a side note, I am frustrated by Christians who worry constantly about the direction America is heading politically. They’re afraid of the wrong things! The soul of a single person is infinitely more important than whether America continues to have Christian bling like Ten Commandment displays, “in God we trust” coins, or “under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance. I hate to say it, but America is not eternal. The soul of every single person is. So unless one thinks that angrily fighting gay marriage tooth and nail will somehow lead people to God, then one is fighting the wrong battles.)

Pardon me for the tangent. The conclusion to this long essay is that there is a way to avoid the temptations of nationalism. Nationalism is beautiful, and patriotism is surely a more beautiful idol to worship than drugs, alcohol, or sex. But for that reason it’s much more deadly. Thus we must renounce the nation state and choose to live in the world but not of it. To always challenge the systems of power that dominate and exclude. To unconditionally love the rejected.

I don’t believe in the myth of the Nation State anymore. And it saddens me to see that the Jews, God’s chosen people, have chosen to go the route of all other nations instead of deciding to be different, a light to the rest of the world. “It is not you they have rejected as their king, but me,” God says to Samuel (1 Sam. 8:7). The desire for a supposedly secure homeland trumps the desire to be uniquely God’s people, showing compassion to others.

May Christians not follow into the same error, and repent if they already have.