Reflection

 We are all relieved that Oct 7th passed relatively uneventfully. Compared to when I was last here, over 25 years ago, Palestinians are less likely to greet each other with the traditional greetings, expressions of peace and the goodness of the day. The truth is the last two years have been especially difficult, often lacking in peace and goodness. Everyone here in the West Bank has friends and relatives in Gaza, where a classroom full of children have been exterminated by Israel, with US weapons, every single day for the last two years. For the anniversary, I started reading some of the names of the 18.5k children killed. I got through 5%, just over 900 names. I invite you to read 50 of them. Spain has recently found the courage to stop arming Israel, but as everyone says here, the US is the mother of Israel, so I don't expect our own government to follow suit.

I write from the Southern Hebron Hills, where I am taking "a night in" at the international volunteer flat after staying with five different Palestinian families (sleeping in their main room -- a living room/dining room/bedroom/den/study all rolled into one -- on thin foam mats on the floor with several family members) over the last six nights. The families are all scared of the ever increasing, and increasingly violent, settler attacks from illegal Israeli outposts, and have requested international protective presence. These attacks can range from trespassing to property damage to lynching, as the illegal settlers aim to make clear that they want these last holdouts of tiny villages to be wiped out, depopulated, like so many others before them, so they can take the land. This article from a few years ago summarizes the situation well.

We have played frisbee and soccer with kids, had grandmas correct our Arabic, eaten lots of good bread and olive oil, and kept close watch on the hills for any settlers looking to attack. We record and photograph these (thankfully so far just trespassing on private Palestinian owned land during our assignments), to keep track of these incursions.

The 2025 Oscar winning film No Other Land is about this area, and though it's hard to find in the US, I strongly recommend seeing it. It makes the same point as Sunday's first reading from Habbakuk -- patience and steadfastness to the vision (samud in Arabic): "For the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint; if it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late." This and the reading from Amos our first Sunday here have been especially poignant.

The olive harvest is just beginning, which is a time people go back home, like we would for Thanksgiving, in order to help their families and be together. We may get to participate in that, which again has become increasingly fraught as a time of potential violence. The night before last 150 trees were uprooted by the army to make way for an outpost in Umm al-Kheir, where one of the producers of the aforementioned film was murdered by a settler three months ago, just meters from where the trees were just uprooted.

The Palestinian people are strong but this relentless push to drive them off their land is exhausting and stressful. The news of the ceasefire talks are welcome but also make people nervous, as it could also come with more localized violence. Still, sitting on a mat on a concrete floor, watching the news with a simple shepherding family, I am amazed how knowledgeable and informed they are. "This village is old and beautiful," I said in my hesitant Arabic. Ali, the shepherd grandfather, simply nodded.

Habakkuk 1:2-3; 2:2-4

How long, O LORD?  I cry for help
 but you do not listen!
 I cry out to you, "Violence!"
 but you do not intervene.
 Why do you let me see ruin;
 why must I look at misery?
 Destruction and violence are before me;
 there is strife, and clamorous discord.
 Then the LORD answered me and said:
 Write down the vision clearly upon the tablets,
 so that one can read it readily.
 For the vision still has its time,
 presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint;
 if it delays, wait for it,
 it will surely come, it will not be late.
 The rash one has no integrity;
 but the just one, because of his faith, shall live.

Rooted in History, Al-Khalil Under Attack

 Standing in the center of the shop in the Old City of Hebron, known as Al-Khalil to Palestinians, stands a 300-year old sesame press. Hisham, the shop owner, lights up when we ask him to talk about its history. Hisham shows us a photo from when the press was in use and operated by camels, and points out the various parts of the building that were used to process the sesame seed into various products - from oil to tahini to something like halwa, the sweet dessert so well-loved in the area. Before the sesame press was in the building, however, possibly even as long as 800 years ago under the Ottoman Empire, olive oil was made there. Standing there in the presence of such history, I feel the immensity of what it means to try and keep this history - these stories in place - alive.

After studying in England and working as a dental engineer, Hisham came home in 2014, when the Hebron Rehabilitation Committee offered to restore the old stone building to once again be a destination for tourism and culture. "If the HRC was going to restore this shop, my father wanted to make sure one of his sons was here to run it. I was the obvious choice."

Hisham shows us a display of gorgeous blown and painted glass for sale.

Back in the 1980s, he tells us, they would take the glass blown in Hebron and drive it to their friends, relatives, and colleagues in Gaza to be painted. "It would take just under an hour," he says. Since the increasing enclosures of the West Bank and Gaza Strip, however, that routine changed drastically in the last 25 years. "We had to take the blown glass to the border of the West Bank in one car, then go through a checkpoint with all of our materials and transfer them into another car in order to drive through Israel. Then we'd do the same when we got to Gaza." Since October 2023, however, all of that movement and exchange of craftsmanship has stopped. The blown and painted glass for sale in the shop is all old, and people in the West Bank and Gaza Strip remain trapped in place by the cruel Zionist project of colonization and military occupation.

Although Hisham continues to open his shop every morning and greet people all day with an "Ahlan wa Sahlan - Welcome!" he struggles to make a living. Like most of the stores in the once bustling Old City, there are more and more days that Hisham's shop remains completely empty, and isn't even visited by one single customer. Hisham, as well as all of those who stay to run their shops do so not only as an act of resistance to their own ethnic cleansing but also out of a deep love for their homeland.

Hisham is just one of the shop keepers we have been asked to visit on Saturday evenings, during the weekly invasion of illegal Israeli settlers and international Jewish visitors - many from the U.S. - who have come to tour the old city. For the last fifteen or so years, starting at around 4 or 5 pm, dozens of heavily armed Israeli soldiers and their APCs (armored personnel carriers) clear the streets of Palestinians and international journalists. Between one and three soldiers armed with live ammunition for every Jewish tourist force Palestinians to close their shops or wait out the scenes of violence.

During one such terrifying invasion, our own team witnessed a soldier harassing an old man and his 2-year-old grandson. The soldier forced the 2-year-old from his tricycle and then drop-kicked the bike across the street. The grandfather asked us to send him the video we took of the abuse, hoping a complaint could be made somewhere. Sadly, the complaint will almost definitely go nowhere - another shopkeeper we have befriended showed us the damage done to his son's car from one of the APCs, but when he has complained in the past, he was told by the illegal settlers, "If you complain, next time I will do the same damage to your face."

Every morning here, we wake to learn of the many nightly bombings and invasions that have taken place by the Israeli military in Palestinian neighborhoods, towns, refugee camps, and villages across the West Bank, some of them nearby. Such violence and destruction continues to force people into poverty. Children continue to beg us for money, and shopkeepers are desperate to have us into their empty shops to purchase their wears.

It is clear that the Israeli military, led by its government, is determined to continue their practices of utter brutality until they gain complete control over all of the land here, and that they are willing to use consistent violence and dehumanizing tactics to get what they want. It is hard to sustain hope that a just peace will ever be possible.

Reflections on Arriving to Falastin

 On landing to Ben-Gurion on the evening of Rosh Hashanah in the year 5786, it was unmistakable to me that I was arriving to a nation at war, the pictures of hostages lining the walls of the arrival hall.

While in line for entry, a male U.S. traveler remarked to another U.S. traveler that he "hoped to see the Iron Dome in action" while simultaneously stating he was there "to walk in the steps of his Lord and Savior."

This twisted violent contradiction left me speechless in its cruelty as I resolved and reminded myself why it is necessary to do solidarity work so necessary for the Palestinian people in a world complicit in genocide and unspeakable violence combined with an infuriating combination of ineffectual words.

Masub Abu-Toha writes in Things You Find Hidden In My Ear, "Borders are invented lines drawn with ash on maps and sewn into the ground by bullets."

Nowhere was this more evident than in the city of Al-Khalil (Hebron), declared by UNESCO a World Heritage Site in 2017 while wracked by violence over decades and now at the epicenter of the militarization of the Occupation. I had prepared for the trip, both physically and mentally, but nothing can fully prepare you for the depth of the apartheid in the military checkpoints in a city which finds itself abandoned by tourists and entrapped by settlements and military.

My comrades remarked, "Oh wow, this is worse even than last year." The shops shuttered, garbage collecting on the sidewalks, with only a few humans in eyesight as we walk into what the tourist brochure dubs "the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world" and one of the holiest places in both the Judaic and Islamic worlds.

Alone on a once busy souk, we were quickly identified as internationals and approached by two former shopkeepers who told us the story of their livelihoods vaporized by the force of a nation at war. They told us that since October 7, 2023 five hundred and fifty more shops have closed in the Old City due to the strain on the economy and lack of tourist traffic as well as increased military presence and settler violence.

Part of a much larger exodus since 2000, they reported that a full 1800 shop owners have gone out of business. They also told of us of the 2000 soldiers in the military presence protecting 400 settlers in the four settlements within the city. Of this reality one said, "they treat us worse than the animals but we do our best to resist."

Later that morning as we monitored the checkpoint leading to Al-Ibrahim Mosque, we saw their words in action. As 300+ worshippers answered the call to Friday prayer, we bore witness to the indignity of checkpoint 10. Barely able to see into the turnstile, we had difficulty ascertaining what constituted the multiple delays we observed, we saw one man turned away from prayer at the Tomb of the Patriarchs, one of the holiest places in both Judaism and Islam.

The man walked away visibly angered as my colleagues debate the effectiveness of us tallying the numbers in a conflict the United Nations is obligated to monitor. Just five days earlier, the U.N. complains about the two boys aged 6 and 8 who are detained for playing soccer in the very alleyways we were standing in.

I reminded my colleagues that solidarity meant showing up, bearing witness, and doing as the people ask. The people of Palestine had not only asked us to be here and welcomed us by offering us chairs as we counted and gave us tiny cups of the delicious Arabic coffee. We sat and watched the checkpoint and reflected on how the will to resist stays alive.

Resistance stays alive in dignity and courage but most of all in kindness in the face of injustice. "Salaam alaikum", some called out to us, perfect strangers only recently arrived. Do not forget, these passersby reminded us, God is still good.

Al-Khalil does not forget what it means to be a friend to God in its sumud (steadfastness). Falastin has so much to teach the world-- I am honored to be here to listen.

The Road Home

“I hate this place so much,” I thought.

It’s was 7:46 PM and the checkpoint to get home was closed early. “Why does it have to be so hard?!” I breathed away the tears. 

This is what it’s all about, isn’t it? They want the Palestinians to hate being here. They want to drive them out by nickel and diming away their sanity. 

Side roads are closed with massive boulders so a hundred feet away another path must be made to the same road. Main roads have been bulldozed so already dilapidated cars take an even greater beating. 

Every nugget and every crumb adds to an almost certain resignation, but then why can’t I see it in Palestinian faces? How do they smile? How do they find something extra in nothing to share with me and their neighbors? How do they find joy given the incessant chipping away of peace and stability? 

We are forced to turn around at the checkpoint, behind us was a Palestinian. We yell, “as-salamu alaykum,” out the window and they stop to roll down theirs. We yelled the town we were trying to go to, the driver nodded his head and said to hurry. We raced through the town following them. They were going to lead us home. Even though they are the ones who this labyrinth is designed to inconvenience, their faces show us nothing but kindness and warmth. With smiles they gladly help us. The only time tonight I can find a smile is looking back at them. 

I don’t hate this place. Even though they want us to hate it, even though they want them to hate it. I love Palestine, and they love their home. Their spirit will be unbroken and inspired by their beautiful resilience. The tears come again and my heart is filled by their spirit.

The Wall of Exclusion

I stand on top of the hill. The sun rises over the hills of Jordan and spreads across the Negev Desert to the south. To the north the sun has not reached Yatta which spreads out wide below my feet. 

To the east on the next hill, I see an Israeli illegal outpost. Behind it on the next hill is the illegal Ma'on settlement, and lined up with them on the next hill is the illegal Carmel settlement. When I turn around to the west, I see the illegal Mitzpe Yair settlement. As I look at this line of settlements, I remember a Palestinian telling me that the Israelis are building a wall of illegal settlements to cut the entire Masafer Yatta off from the West Bank. 

In the morning light I can now visualize the line of illegal settlements that creates the framework for a wall or line of expropriation, a virtual wall that will deny Palestinians any access to use their homes or land. This wall of Israeli expropriation will defacto separate the Masafer Yatta from Palestine and make it part of Israel.

Oppression Without Bloodshed

November 21, 2015 | Meta Peace Team, Phoenix Jones | Occupied Huwwara 

On a daily bases, Human Rights / Occupation Laws are being broken, by the Occupying Israeli government. One of which is the function of farmers requiring a permit to tend and harvest from their orchards.  A second are settlements erected on Palestinian land.

Act 46: Family and rights, the lives of persons and private property, as well as religious conventions and practice must be respected. Private property cannot be confiscated.

Act 49: The Occupying power shall not deport or transfer parts of its own civilian population into the territory it occupies.

On Wednesday and Thursday last week, Scott, Bud and myself accompanied a Palestinian farmer to his olive orchard in Occupied Huwwara, near the Huwwara checkpoint.

checkpoints are composed of two elements - an infrastructure which impedes vehicular  and pedestrian traffic and permanent presence of Israeli security personnel (e.g. the IDF, the border police, the civil police, a private security company). Security personnel usually check the documentation of persons crossing the checkpoint and conduct searches on their vehicles and their belongings. (United Nations definition)

 Below the Brakha- Samiratian Settlement (Israeli settlements are Israeli civilian communities built on lands occupied by Israel since the 1967 Six-Day War.)

On Wednesday, while harvesting a military van parked and the soldiers called the farmer that owns the land down. They spoke to one another.  The farmer returned from the conversation with the solider.  We then, all notice soldiers standing above us on a hill.  The Farmer is called back down by the soldiers to talk.  This time a Jewish - Israeli woman went down with him to try to talk with the soldiers.  As they spoke, we all exchanged glances, aware of the soldiers still standing above us.  As the farmer made his way back up, with the jewish - Israeli woman behind him and the Israeli military behind her.  We were all there standing between the olive trees.  I then came to the understood that the military was saying we had to go, more specifically the farmer had to vacate his land.  How is it that  this farmer could be forced off of his own land.  Israel has made it an illegal act to harvest, prune trees or tend to your land without a permit.  The farmers permit was for Thursday, not Wednesday.

We returned to the farm on thursday, not long after starting to harvest an Israeli truck pulled up, he was speaking to an Israeli settler.  myself along with Bud began taking pictures.  The Israeli soldier called us all down.  With broken english and signals he told those that have reached the gate between them, no pictures.  The Israeli settler is there with the soldiers, telling Bud that he cannot take pictures and he must erase the pictures he took.  I never completed the walk down to the fence.  We all made our way back up to the orchard.  soon after we resumed working, we saw soldiers above us, closer than the previous day. we harvested the whole day with exception to a coffee break and lunch. As the day began to wind down (because the permit was for morning to 4pm) the soldiers became more visually closer.  About 2 hours before the permit expired, the soldiers yelled down from their hilltop in hebrew, I am sure rushing us along.  Maybe an hour before the permit expired the soldiers yelled down to us, once again.  The farmer asked what time is it, when we answered his hands moved a little faster.  The farmers are required to be completely off of the land when the permit expires.  with some minutes to spare the farmers had packed up their supplies and olives and we were headed down the hill.

This is not an isolated incident, nor is it close to being the most overt.  This is what Israel has created, illegally.  All over Palestine laws are being broken by the Israeli government and the human rights of Palestinians are being ignored.  It is the job of the outside nations to hold Israel accountable for their crimes.

Our liberation is bound together, and your solidarity is mandatory!

anyone wishing to host a presentation on Meta Peace Team members experience in the West Bank, please contact www.metapeaceteam.org.