Bethlehem: or, The Return of Adam Clement

May 22nd, 2008 Palestine Monitor Office, Ramallah, the West Bank
As we sat in the AIC, Sean and I met Leif Carlson from Indiana. He’s here working with the Holy Land Trust, a Christian organization that does . . . well, I’m not exactly sure what it does. But he was a very cool guy. We sat near him in the bus, discussing liberation theology and the absurdity that the word “theology” needs to be modified by the word “liberation.”
We very shortly arrived at Oush Grab. At 7:30, the sky was already dark. We had left the city, so the stars were glowing. We walked up a hill and then down an embankment next to a small building and the water tower that was apart of the compound. Some graffiti was scrawled across the little building to the left; written next to the three doors were the words, “Martin Luther King Suite,” “Nelson Mandela Suite,” and “Gandhi Suite,” misspelled as “Ghandi.” The names of these incredible activists for social justice were placed there to cover up racial slurs written by the settlers. We also met Anna Dintaman from Virginia who is working in the capacity as Leif. Just before the presentation began, we noticed a ridge behind the Humanitarian Suite which couldn’t go unexplored. Sean was covering this story, so I took his flashlight and Leif, Anna, and I hiked up the crest. The luminous moon shone fully down on the lights of Bethlehem. The three of us sat on an outcropping of rocks and talked beneath the moonlight. These two are amazing. I am continually surprised by the people I meet in such strange and faraway places. Leif had gone to seminary and Anna studied Culture and Religion at a Mennonite university. We found ourselves in agreement on pretty much everything we discussed. We sat discussing life and travel and service and how theology is a part of all these things and that Jesus came to show life lived at its fullest. We talked about McLaren, Wright, Claiborne, Brueggemann, Bonhoeffer, and Yoder. This was a refreshing conversation.
After returning to the AIC, the four of us stood outside talking, Sean and Leif visiting and Anna and I continuing to discuss how crazy and radical Jesus was (and is). We said goodnight and walked with Kristhel to her house, along with a Palestinian from Bethlehem who spoke English with a slightly British accent. We sat around the kitchen table, eating and talking and looking out the window toward Bethlehem. Kristhel very graciously provided a guestroom for Sean and me.

The next morning, we walked the fifteen minutes uphill to Bethlehem to the Holy Land Trust where we met Leif and Anna. They wanted to tag along with us as we took care of our next story. We walked through the city, passing the Bible College and the Intercontinental Hotel where many of the guests of the new Palestine Investment Conference would be staying. Sean and I would be interviewing people later concerning that.
We found our destination: a house with seven walls. A family of fourteen lives in a home which is surrounded on three sides by the Wall. We invited up by one of the residents, Claire Anastas. We sat in her very comfortable living room as she related her difficult story to us. Her mother sat beside us, watching religious television and played with a small cross connected to a string of worry beads. A beautiful woman, Claire had obviously told her story before, but she seemed (understandably) at ease as she relived the painful memories. The Christian family once owned a very successful souvenir shop because the house had been on one of Bethlehem’s main streets. However, because of the Hall, they are basically in the middle of nowhere and their business has closed. She hopes to travel and tell the story and market their merchandise in the near future. Perhaps more tour groups can intentionally seek this struggling family out. I will be doing a photo-story about Claire and her home and will provide a link to it when it is published, so I won’t go into further detail. Also, she didn’t want us to talk about certain parts of the story, or even to write it down, so, out of respect for her, I won’t write about here or on the Monitor.
I took several pictures outside when we exited. I crouched down in the dirt between the home and the Wall, overwhelmed by the oppression and injustice. And somehow these people push on, determined not to be suppressed. I have been told by numerous people that “we live on hope.”
The four of us walked around the Wall for awhile, observing its tapestry of graffiti. An old taxi-driver drove past and pointed to the Wall, shouting at us, “American money!” I knew it, but I need to be reminded.
We ate a shawarma shop near the Holy Land Trust before parting ways. We planned on meeting again in the near future. We walked back toward the main area of town, stopping in an olivewood shop to interview the owner about his view of the conference. The manager, Darwsih Hasn, was a fairly young man and had been born in California, spending quite a bit of time in the U.S. We could tell. An old Scottish priest named Father Aquinas came in and told us why version of the Bible written by St. Jerome was really the only legitimate one and explained that he is the only person in the last 2,600 years to have seen the Ark of the Covenant. The return of this ancient artifact to Jerusalem will be the seventh trumpet prophesied in the Book of Revelation, when the Dome will collapse. This, he claimed with absolute certainty, will happen within his lifetime. He’s written six or seven books on the subject, none of which I plan on reading.
After a long wait, Darwsih took us to the Conference Center where the festivities were being held. Dozens of organizations and businesses were there to present what they had to offer, setting up their displays in an open-air construction which was built to resemble the Old City’s marketplace. After some discussion with security, we were allowed inside, followed by a guard. The purpose of this conference is “to improve the economic and social living standards in Palestine through increased investment in the Palestinian economy, enabled by a strong partnership between private sectors” (obtained from some website; not very good citation for an English major). This is the first of, hopefully, many. The theme, as it has been in many places, was hope. Everyone we spoke with had hope in the conference’s success. Darwsih drove us back to his shop, where we helped him select some of his best olivewood carvings to display at the conference. He jumped frantically around the room, asking us “What do you think about this one? This one? No, I have one like that. Just choose whatever and put in the box.”
We sped through the streets until Darwsih dropped us off near the Wall. He was quite a character. He got Sean to give Darwsih’s business card to some girl at the conference. He told us that if we ever had any brilliant business plans to let him know; that way, we could all become partners. And if we knew any marketing techniques that would boost sales at his shop, we should let him know. He then said that we should come down to Bethlehem again and we could all go “pick up some girls and get some drinks.”
Sean and I walked to the gate, which was actually the wrong place for us to go. We needed to make our way down to where people are supposed to go through the checkpoint; we were at the entry for cars. The soldier on duty, however, let us go through asking if we had room in our bags to take him to America. I met an 18 year-old Palestinian American girl inside the checkpoint. She was born in Little Rock, forty minutes from my university. Another door was opened for us to pass through and show our passports. But the female guard behind the glass wouldn’t allow our new friend to through, telling her to move so we could exit. The guard smiled at me as I put my passport against the glass. I couldn’t smile back.
We once again entered Jerusalem, leaving ten minutes later for Ramallah. Maxie was actually at the flat, with her boyfriend, who is also from Germany. Sean and I left after awhile and spent a few hours at Karamah.

(at Karamah)
Today, we have spent the whole day at the Monitor’s office. I wrote the article about the Ni’lin protest (which can be read at http://www.palestinemonitor.org/spip/spip.php?article424 ), fleshing out the notes I took at the rally. We go back tomorrow for the protest which is now going to meet every Friday. I proofread a few things and briefly began the story about the home in Bethlehem. Adam came back around noon, high on coffee and spouting off great experiences with extraordinary people. He threw a shirt in my face as a greeting, letting his big pack fall to the floor. He will be here until Saturday, and then he heads back to Salfit. Kirsty gave him a khafiyeh as a belated birthday present.
We put in a long day at the office, roughly 9 to almost 5:30. We slowly trudged to our flat and sat on the couches for awhile, recuperating. I wear myself out on trips such as these, forfeiting sleep to see and do as much as I can. As much as I want to take a nap, I feel like I am missing out on fleeting opportunities. And I do love naps.
Sean tried his luck with wireless from the windowsill in our room while Adam slept on the couch. I pulled out Everything Must Change and read a few chapters. The three of us then returned to downtown to our old stomping grounds at Karamah. Sean is sitting outside the door on the sidewalk, leaning against the glass wall and talking with someone back in the U.S. through IM. Technology is weird. Phil Collins is actually playing in here. “Oooh, I wish it would rain down . . .” Adam and I stepped a few doors down to Baladna Ice Cream (and slushie) for a little snack. One of our friends was working there. Tall and broad-shouldered, he greets me with a firm slap-handshake and “Whatsup?” Most people don’t know the Palestine Monitor, but when I said “Mustafa Barghouthi,” he nodded and said, “He’s good, no?” I look forward to getting to know this guy during our stay here. Tomorrow, we go back to Ni’lin.
I might paste this excerpt from Everything Must Change at my desk at the Monitor’s office:
Don’t get revenge when wronged, but seek reconciliation.
Don’t repay violence with violence, but seek creative and transforming
nonviolent alternatives.
Don’t focus on external conformity to moral codes, but on internal transformation in
love.
Don’t love insiders and hate or fear outsiders, but welcome outsiders into a new “us,”
a new “we,” a new humanity that celebrates diversity in the context of love for all,
justice for all, and mutual respect for all.
Don’t have anxiety about money or security or pleasure at the center of your life, but
trust yourself to the care of God.
Don’t live for wealth, but for the living God who loves all people, including your
enemies.
Don’t hate your enemies or competitors, but love them and do to them not as they
have done to you- and not before they do to you- but as you wish they would do for
you.
I am repeatedly convinced that peace is the only way to achieve peace. We cannot fight fire with fire; we must extinguish the flames with water, something entirely different. I really do think Jesus was right. And it truly is a narrow, difficult path.