John Mark Stratford
April 2009
This is the word of the LORD to the prophet Micah:
He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?
This command of Yahweh for righteous living is addressed to every single person within this hall, and every single person outside as well. It has become quite clear to me through my recent studies of the conflict in Palestine-Israel and through my living in the reality of that conflict this past summer in the West Bank, that this command to do justice is of an absolutely imperative nature if ever the conflict is to be brought to a peaceful end. But to whom should we address our cries that justice be carried out? Who is the offender in this situation? On whose side would, in this complex and confusing conflict, Jesus, the Prince of Peace, be? And what would Jesus do in response to this conflict?
Let me now invite you into three scenes from my summer in the West Bank, which will allow us to gain some insight into the conflict:
I’m riding a bus after a day of travelling and visiting the city of Nablus. I’m tired and already ready to be back home in Bethlehem by the time our bus stops and we sit in line at the largest checkpoint between Nablus and Bethlehem, inching ahead in line as minute after minute ticks by. Finally, we reach the gate and Israeli soldiers board the bus. Two of them go about their searching, and I watch as one soldier seems to be joking and acting playfully with Elias, our 24-year-old Palestinian Christian leader, seated at the front. He motions to Elias that he likes his sunglasses and wants to try them on, and Elias, not wanting to start something, gives the soldier his glasses, who then puts them on and continues joking around. Elias doesn’t get visibly cross or ask for them back. When the search of the bus is complete, the other soldiers get off. Following them, the man with Elias’ sunglasses takes them off, and with a sneer, rather than handing them to Elias, he pushes them back onto Elias’ face. He makes some remark and exits the bus, and we leave the checkpoint, heading back to Bethlehem. I only hear later about the crude nature of his comments to Elias—suggesting that Elias give him some of the ladies from our group to have sex with him.
I’m walking down Al-Shuhada street in Hebron with a Muslim woman and a group from my Summer Encounter program. I know this street is a contentious place because of its location in relation to the Jewish settlements in the city. The street is normally closed to Arabs, but the woman with us, Zleecha, has a permit to travel the road because her backdoor opens directly onto it. We pass a few soldiers as we walk, but after they stop us and check Zleecha’s permit, everything is fine, and they allow us to continue. After a minute more, two Jewish women who had been sitting on their front porch, run out into the street, yelling when they see us. They confront Zleecha (who is obviously Muslim because she is wearing a hijab) and, inches away from her face, start yelling at her in English that she is not allowed to be on the street and that they are calling the police. Zleecha does not yell back, but calmly tells them she has a permit to be on the street and continues walking. A man comes out in the street from the same house as the women, holding his rifle; our group stops walking, unsure of which direction to go. The soldiers we just passed come up, asking what the situation is, and the angry women yell their complaints about Zleecha to the men. They take her aside and examine her papers again. The police also arrive. They debate things with Zleecha while the Jewish women hover over them, yelling at the officials to arrest her. They put her in the police van and say that she will be arrested if we do not leave. We attempt to negotiate her release, but, torn, we leave because they will not relent, and there is nothing that we can do. We walk back the way we came, and when we arrive at Zleecha’s door the police van pulls up and lets her out. They tell her that her permit doesn’t allow her to walk “up” the hill on this day of the week, only “down.”
I am walking to the park near my house, but this time it is different because it is night, not morning—when I usually walk to work at the park. Mohammed, a child who knows me from camp sees me in the street, and looking concerned, points in the direction of the park saying “yeh-hu-dim!” I reply, “ba’raef” (“I know”). Mohammed has heard that there are settlers spending the night on the hill next to the park; that is why I am going. I nod at him reassuringly, and continue toward the park. I walk through the entrance, past the IDF soldiers stationed there, ignoring them when they ask me what I am doing. My heart is racing, but I continue walking down the hill to the entrance of the park, where I am greeted by Abu-Musa and some of my co-workers and friends; they are glad that I have come. There is loud music, lots of lights and lots of people. I’m surprised to see that there are children running around. I thought that things wouldn’t be safe enough for them tonight; we aren’t gathering for a party—though that is what it may look like—but gathering for the purpose of being a presence to protect the park from the settlers staying at the top of the hill. I play and watch soccer games, play cards, eat, and socialize; but I know tonight I’m doing all these things with a single purpose—to be a presence. As the night goes on, the music is left blaring and the lights left on. I take my friend’s sleeping bag down to the base of the climbing wall and get in, sore from playing too many soccer matches. In the morning, I wake up to the sunrise. My friends and I walk uphill to find that the settlers and soldiers have gone. Examining the abandoned camp where they stayed, we observe what they left behind: graffiti saying, “Stop the Arab occupation,” “We will win, God is our side,” “No coexistence,” and “Israel for Jews”; there is now a large Israeli flag flying from atop the main building. We remove it later.
These are three deeply personal encounters with injustice that I experienced this summer. It would be a gross denial of reality for anyone to suggest that these three vignettes were somehow isolated events or not the norm. These stories of Israel perpetrating injustice are nothing at all new or surprising. Yet, Micah declares that Yahweh requires justice, kindness and humility. Is this what Israel is demonstrating through these actions? Certainly not! It is common in evangelical Christian thought in the United States to suppose that God is on the side of Israel—God’s “chosen” people. Yet, why would God side with those who are blatantly defying God’s commands of how to live righteously? Throughout the Old Testament, chosenness is portrayed as inextricably linked with living justly and being a light to the nations. The routine injustices of the state of Israel clearly do not exhibit the just-living of an exemplary chosen people. Critics who recognize that I am arguing that Jesus certainly would not side with Israel will complain that, if this is the case, certainly Jesus is not on the side of the Palestinians either, citing such egregious acts as suicide bombings. No, clearly Jesus would not side with those who perpetrate violence in such a manner, yet, surely Jesus is no more on the side of suicide bombers than he is on the side of the Israeli Defense Force soldier or the antagonizing Jewish settler.
I ask: whose side is Jesus on? I am compelled to believe that Jesus, Issa, is on the side of the oppressed, not the oppressor. He is sitting in the seat next to Elias, walking down the street and riding in the back of the police van with Zleecha, and sleeping under the stars with Palestinian and international activists to protect a community’s only park from vandals. Whether you call him Issa, Yeshua or Jesus, it does not matter—it does not change who he was or who he is. Regardless of who calls upon his name, the Prince of Peace sides with the lowly, the downtrodden, the cast out—the oppressed—and in this conflict, the Palestinian is overwhelmingly oppressed.
The object of this forum is to demonstrate a peace position, and it may seem that I have more to say about justice than “peace,” but certainly, there is no “peace” without justice. Shalom—the “peace” we are discussing—is not simply a declaration of the absence of conflict, but a claim of wholeness. Injustice does not allow people to be whole. In the Palestinian context, it separates loved ones, it deprives people of water, of their land, of a stable economy, of livelihood, of security and stability, of autonomy and even of freedom to move about in their own land. While there is injustice for Palestinians, there can be no peace.
In each of the three scenes from my summer recounted earlier, there was an oppressor and an oppressed individual or group who responded nonviolently. In the Palestinian nonviolent response to injustice we observe the mingling of Justice and Peace. This reminds me of the beautiful picture put forth in Psalm 85.10:
“Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet;
righteousness and peace will kiss each other.”
In this passage the psalmist personifies righteousness (that is, Justice) and peace, portraying them as intimately linked to one another, meeting to go out into the whole earth before the LORD who is coming and bringing salvation. These Palestinian nonviolent responses to injustice, therefore, paint the most hopeful pictures I can imagine in their situation: incarnating the divine attributes of righteousness/justice and peace, which unite to herald the coming of their salvation from their oppression.
Rather than idly waiting for this oppression to cease, I believe that we are to be the agents of God’s change for justice. “What Would Jesus Do?” Jesus would act. He would sit with the oppressed. He would walk with the oppressed. He would lay down with the oppressed. . . When we act in solidarity with the oppressed, we act justly and peacefully along with Jesus in combating perpetual violence and injustice.
Palestinian Christian Archbishop Elias Chacour claims that: “The church in America has lost its soul” [to not act on behalf of justice, continuing to support Israel and ignoring the plight of Palestinians, especially our Palestinian Christian brothers and sisters.] Currently, the U.S. government gives Israel $6.85 million per day, and continuation of this sort of support is favored by many evangelical Christians who mistakenly believe somehow that God wants us to support the unjust state of Israel. However, this support absolutely must cease if implementing Christian principles of peace-making requires living justly, which it most certainly does. In this conflict, doing justice, and therefore enabling peace, requires siding with those with whom Yahweh clearly sides—the maligned and oppressed Palestinians.
So, I plead with you: Go, align yourself not with the oppressor, but with the oppressed—for this is what Jesus would do. Go, act as Jesus would act, and stand in solidarity with those who nonviolently resist injustice—for there can be no peace without justice.
Go, and do what the LORD requires.
