"When you minister on the front lines, you can't be selective. You will only limit God's grace."
- Labib Mandanat, Director
Palestinian Bible Society
Israel reminds me of the US in the 1950's with a little of Cold War Berlin thrown in. In the segregated US, people feared one another based on the color of their skin. In Cold War Berlin, a wall separated East from West, communist from capitalist. In Israel and Palestine, these patterns of fear, separation, and injustice are duplicated in a Middle Eastern context with global consequences. The greatest challenge in visiting this conflicted region was refusing the constant demand to choose a side and instead choose Jesus.
The day we arrived in Jerusalem, the Palestinian Bible Society's (PBS) bookstore in Gaza City was attacked by Muslim extremists. At two o'clock in the morning, the guard, a Muslim himself, was attacked and beaten, and a bomb filled with metal bb's was detonated in the shop. Two internet cafés were also bombed that night indicating that the attacks were toward businesses that represent western ideals to the extremists who attacked them. This reminds me of the fire-bombing of churches and businesses in the segregated South, white or black, who were seen as supporting the threatening ideals of civil rights and racial equality. Although many whites in the South lived peacefully alongside their black neighbors (albeit on the other side of the railroad tracks), the racial extremists made life very dangerous for the minority. The voice of the extremists also influenced the views of their more moderate neighbors. Similarly, in Gaza the day after the attack on the PBS Bookstore, the Palestinian Culture Authority stood publicly in solidarity with the PBS staff at the site of the bombing. However, the day we visited and delivered 250+ much-needed Bibles, a Muslim business woman was car-jacked and her business bombed.
The fear and injustice is not limited to Palestinians attacking one another. One night, I had the chance to hang out with an American friend in West Jerusalem. We walked from the Arab east side, through the Orthodox Jewish neighborhood, to his apartment building – the tallest building in Jerusalem. From his apartment window, we had a fabulous view of the ancient city lit up on a dark Shabbat evening. People were out in mass, enjoying the night air and the street performers on Ben Yahuda Street after a quiet day of rest and prayer. My friend and I walked through the crowds to a coffee shop. He pointed out the numerous places that had been bombed out along Ben Yahuda, some as many as two or three times. At the coffee shop, we first passed through security before sitting down to order. A strap separated the seating area from the sidewalk, and we sat and talked about the historical and political factors contributing to the current tension there. Suddenly, a young man with a backpack ducked the strap directly behind my friend. Every eye in the shop was trained on him as he nervously found a spot to sit in the shadows alone. In a moment's time, either a brave server or the security guard went over to the young man, had a short discussion, and the man left the way he had come in. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps he was troubled and having a bad night, or maybe there was a bomb in that pack and he'd just chickened out. Thankfully, our lives went on as usual after that experience, but I gained a fresh understanding of life on constant red-alert.
In reference to Cold War Berlin, there are also physical walls that separate the people in Israel. Those with the most freedom, it seems, are foreigners. In state of Israel, there are three types of people: Jewish Israelis, Arab Israelis, and Palestinians. The Jewish and Arab Israelis have relative freedom of movement thanks to their state-issued passports which also lend them an identity. The Palestinians living in the West Bank and Gaza Strip have no such identity nor do they have freedom of movement. Fear and common sense greatly determine the movements of the Jewish people. Arab Israelis face regular harassment by Israeli soldiers at each check point. Palestinians are basically limited to whichever locality their papers indicate they are from. For example, Salwa Awad, born and raised in Gaza, has not seen her family there in over six years. When she was married 30 years ago, she had her papers changed to Bethlehem where she has since lived with her husband, the president of Bethlehem Bible College. Since the second intifada, thousands of Palestinian workers similarly lack permission to cross into Israel to work, and the unemployment rate among them varies from 40-60%.
We visited many locations throughout Palestine: Bethlehem, Jericho, Gaza, Nazareth, and Hebron . Some of these places, like Jericho, are now limited to one entrance with a road-block style gate. Others, like Gaza, have a fifty-foot wall encompassing the city and its suburbs. It has been compared to a maximum security prison of 1.5 million people. Inside some of these walls are refugee camps where four generations of families have lived since their homes and lands were confiscated to create an Israeli state. Other walls, like that in Hebron, separate Palestinians from Jewish settlers in the same town. In Hebron, a Jewish settler and extremist slaughtered 29 worshippers inside the mosque located at the Tomb of the Patriarchs. There was a monument in honor of the shooter erected nearby until public outcry caused it to be removed. The hills that were once included in Bethlehem are now on the outside of the walls and have Jewish settlements on them. Some Palestinian shops in Hebron have Jewish homes built on top of them.
Like all politically-charged areas, the propaganda is everywhere. So are the everyday experiences of the people on all sides. Many Palestinian Christians have the opportunity to leave to attend post-secondary schools in the west. Few return, and I don't blame them. For this reason, I greatly respect the men and women who choose to stay in or return to Palestine despite the difficulty. These people, like my friends Simon, Sireen, and Labib, are forced to choose a side every day. On our travel bus, Labib acted as our guide explaining many of the sights we could view from our windows. At one point, he stopped mid-sentence. I could tell that he was processing his next words very carefully. He was between stories and evaluating whether or why he would share the next information on his mind relating to the injustices all around us. He chose not to continue with his train of thought and explained why. In every passing day, he had a choice to make – the choice between holding offense against people he was justified in calling oppressors or denying his heritage and experiences. Perhaps the most poignant moment of my inaugural trip to Israel was to hear this man of God say that each day, he had to choose Jesus. It was his only choice. It is my only choice.
Like my Father in Heaven, I love Israel. I will pray for them and their salvation as the apostle Paul asks me to. Walking through the Orthodox neighborhood, down Ben Yahuda Street, and taking pictures with soldiers younger than myself, I was blessed to remember that Israelis are people too - people trying to live their lives, who are loved by God, and are overshadowed by fear. I met many beautiful Palestinian people who also love the Lord and are challenged to love their enemies like I may never understand. These people serve Muslims and Christians throughout Palestine and pursue reconciliation with their Israeli family in Christ on a daily basis. I look forward to seeing them again someday.
I began the Master of Divinity program at Bethel Seminary this fall with an emphasis in Global and Contextual Studies. I hope that studying Arabic under Salwa in Bethlehem will be a part of my program. I am also looking into studying abroad in Northern Ireland as a part of a Masters program in Reconciliation Studies. Please pray for the PBS, the people they serve, and the nation of Israel. And me too. Thank you!
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Egypt
“Relations are more important than rules.” - Abuna Menes Abdul Nur
“Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are ye not much better than they?” Matthew 6:26
These are the quotes from the beginning of my travel journal from Egypt and Israel. I don’t think that I can express fully how I was impacted by my trip to the Middle East, but I can share some of the experiences and stories that I got to take part in. This is the first of a three-part series.
A group of 9 relative strangers from the Midwest (and one Californian) traveled from Minneapolis to Cairo, Egypt, at the beginning of April. We had an express purpose: to encourage and strengthen people who were suffering persecution whom we also consider to be out spiritual brothers and sisters. We arrived in the city of 6.8 million people after midnight following a momentary visit to the flowering tulip fields of Holland. With a few hours of sleep, we awakened to take our first adventure in an officially Muslim state.
Lili met us in the lobby of the hotel. “Lili” is not her real name, but then I never did learn what it was (most of the names in this story have been changed to protect the identities of those abroad). It didn’t matter, though, because we instantly knew her heart through the love and joy she showered on us. Lili took us to Kasr Al Dubara, the largest evangelical church in the Middle East, which also finds its home in Cairo. There we met Reverend Menes Abdul Nur. “Abdul Nur” means “slave of light” in Arabic. Here was a 70-plus year old man who had poured out his life for the love of Jesus Christ. As soon as our group entered the office, the peace and love radiating from Abuna (“father”) Menes’ face won our hearts. He instantly became my Egyptian spiritual grandpa. After sharing stories with us and loading us up with gifts, we prayed for him, and the Spirit of the Lord showed up. It was amazing.
We got to see a lot of sites in the area, including the Great Pyamids of Giza, which I had long dreamed of seeing in person. The truely life-changing experiences of this trip, however, were with the people we met there. One night we met three people at a restaurant owned by a Christian businessman. As long as we spoke in english, our new friends Adam, Meg, and Mark seemed to be at ease. However, Mark spoke mainly in Arabic, and the volume of his voice seemed to make Adam and Meg nervous. If the non-believing staff heard Mark telling his story, things could go very badly for all three of them. Mark was from Alexandria and had been recently imprisoned on trumped-up charges based on the false witness of some people who knew him. While imprisoned, he was tortured with electric shocks while tied to a metal chair in an attempt to make him denounce his faith in Jesus. Meg seemed especially fearful of becoming suspect by the restaurant staff. At one point, her fear overcame her and she got up and left. Her husband, Adam, explained that this was because they had already been “separated” for two of their seven-year message due to their Christian activities. Meg did return a short time later, thankfully, and I was blessed to have the chance to pray for her and share a word of encouragement from the Lord with her.
The story of another man was also shared with us. Joseph was from a village in Upper Egypt, the region along the southern part of the Nile River. As a result of his Christian faith, he received death threats from people who were hostile to his beliefs. The government of Egypt at the national level supports religious freedom, but they are often unaware of the goings-on at the local level. Joseph was forced to leave his home and his family and travel to Saudi Arabia to find work. After several years there, the knowledge of his faith reached the ears of people who also sought to have him imprisoned. He refused to deny his faith and therefore had broken glass ground into the palms of his hands. By a miracle, he was released and returned to Egypt, but he could not work. He had never received medical treatment, and much of the glass was embedded in his hands. Through the donations of supporters of Dr. Pat’s ministry, News Service 2000, Joseph was able to have the glass removed. While we were in Egypt, he was with his family for an annual weekly-long vacation. The local government of his family’s village had determined this was the maximum amount of time his family would be allowed to leave the village to be with him.
We also had the joy of getting to know Pastor Jack and his family. Jack is a gregarious traveling evangelist who has led thousands to Christ and planted numerous churches in his 15-year ministry. He, with his wife Rose, and four beautiful children, minister in house-churches, delivering Bibles, preaching, and leading worship. One night, my team member Mary and I piled into Jack’s Fiat with the whole family and visited a church in a flat on the outskirts of Cairo (well, at least I think it was the outskirts, but I really don’t know where we were). We were treated with usual Arabic hospitality to tea and warm greetings before the service began. A 10 year old boy, the pride of the church, played piano while several other teens led worship. Jack told us that since they were up to around 30 regular attenders, this church was ready to plant churches in new neighborhoods. We greeted several of the excited church-members before quickly and quietly exiting the building, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves as foreigners. We met the pastor of the church we had visited on the way back to the hotel. He had been covering for a pastor at another church. He gave me his card, which I returned to Jack for safety reasons, and I gave the pastor a scripture the Lord had put on my heart for him.
On a sight-seeing trip to Khana al Khalili, a large market, we stopped to drink Turkish coffee at an outdoor café. A young Muslim woman, whom I later found out was named Nelli, approached us seeking alms. The baby in Nelli’s arms had thick black eyeliner and a port inserted in its arm for frequent shots. I quickly gave her 10 Egyptian Pounds (about $1.25), and shooed her away. She seemed a little overwhelmed by the gift - small to me, but immense to her - and seeing the tears in Nelli’s eyes, and I immediately felt convicted that I’d just made a big mistake. I pulled Lili aside as we were about to leave and asked her to translate for me. We found Nelli close by, and she told us her story.
Nelli was married with two children. The younger boy was sick and required shots twice a day. Nelli’s husband had lost his job and they were unable to pay rent. As a result, he was required to go to debtor’s prison for 10 months, leaving Nelli alone with the children. At the time, he had been gone for 4 months and they were sleeping on the floor of what Lili described as a kind of hotel. Her only livelihood came from begging. My heart broke, and through Lili, I told Nelli that Jesus loves her and wants to heal her baby. People were starting to watch, so I decided go as far as I wanted with prayer and calling on the name of Jesus to heal the baby. HOW LAME! The next day I prayed and fasted for Nelli and her family in a meager attempt to make up for it.
My second-ever Arabic teacher (the first being my homegirl Sumita from Iran) was Jack’s 10 year old daughter, Patty. We took the family on a relaxing boat ride on the Nile on one of our last afternoons in Cairo (part of the encouraging and strengthening, you know?). She taught me words like “frekh” (chicken) and “ferowla” (strawberry) as we ate lunch. She was the hardest to leave when we finally said goodbye. Someday, I hope to return to her, Lili, and Abuna Menes, and I will pray in the authority of Christ for any “Nelli” that the Lord puts on my heart.
The spirit of Cairo felt heavy and dark as we visited there, but there were beautiful lights all along the way. I guess Minneapolis might feel the same way if Jack or Lili were to visit here. It was just a different kind of oppression - not as familiar. Whether I’m overseas or in my home on the Southside, I will not view the world in the same light ever again.
“Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are ye not much better than they?” Matthew 6:26
These are the quotes from the beginning of my travel journal from Egypt and Israel. I don’t think that I can express fully how I was impacted by my trip to the Middle East, but I can share some of the experiences and stories that I got to take part in. This is the first of a three-part series.
A group of 9 relative strangers from the Midwest (and one Californian) traveled from Minneapolis to Cairo, Egypt, at the beginning of April. We had an express purpose: to encourage and strengthen people who were suffering persecution whom we also consider to be out spiritual brothers and sisters. We arrived in the city of 6.8 million people after midnight following a momentary visit to the flowering tulip fields of Holland. With a few hours of sleep, we awakened to take our first adventure in an officially Muslim state.
Lili met us in the lobby of the hotel. “Lili” is not her real name, but then I never did learn what it was (most of the names in this story have been changed to protect the identities of those abroad). It didn’t matter, though, because we instantly knew her heart through the love and joy she showered on us. Lili took us to Kasr Al Dubara, the largest evangelical church in the Middle East, which also finds its home in Cairo. There we met Reverend Menes Abdul Nur. “Abdul Nur” means “slave of light” in Arabic. Here was a 70-plus year old man who had poured out his life for the love of Jesus Christ. As soon as our group entered the office, the peace and love radiating from Abuna (“father”) Menes’ face won our hearts. He instantly became my Egyptian spiritual grandpa. After sharing stories with us and loading us up with gifts, we prayed for him, and the Spirit of the Lord showed up. It was amazing.
We got to see a lot of sites in the area, including the Great Pyamids of Giza, which I had long dreamed of seeing in person. The truely life-changing experiences of this trip, however, were with the people we met there. One night we met three people at a restaurant owned by a Christian businessman. As long as we spoke in english, our new friends Adam, Meg, and Mark seemed to be at ease. However, Mark spoke mainly in Arabic, and the volume of his voice seemed to make Adam and Meg nervous. If the non-believing staff heard Mark telling his story, things could go very badly for all three of them. Mark was from Alexandria and had been recently imprisoned on trumped-up charges based on the false witness of some people who knew him. While imprisoned, he was tortured with electric shocks while tied to a metal chair in an attempt to make him denounce his faith in Jesus. Meg seemed especially fearful of becoming suspect by the restaurant staff. At one point, her fear overcame her and she got up and left. Her husband, Adam, explained that this was because they had already been “separated” for two of their seven-year message due to their Christian activities. Meg did return a short time later, thankfully, and I was blessed to have the chance to pray for her and share a word of encouragement from the Lord with her.
The story of another man was also shared with us. Joseph was from a village in Upper Egypt, the region along the southern part of the Nile River. As a result of his Christian faith, he received death threats from people who were hostile to his beliefs. The government of Egypt at the national level supports religious freedom, but they are often unaware of the goings-on at the local level. Joseph was forced to leave his home and his family and travel to Saudi Arabia to find work. After several years there, the knowledge of his faith reached the ears of people who also sought to have him imprisoned. He refused to deny his faith and therefore had broken glass ground into the palms of his hands. By a miracle, he was released and returned to Egypt, but he could not work. He had never received medical treatment, and much of the glass was embedded in his hands. Through the donations of supporters of Dr. Pat’s ministry, News Service 2000, Joseph was able to have the glass removed. While we were in Egypt, he was with his family for an annual weekly-long vacation. The local government of his family’s village had determined this was the maximum amount of time his family would be allowed to leave the village to be with him.
We also had the joy of getting to know Pastor Jack and his family. Jack is a gregarious traveling evangelist who has led thousands to Christ and planted numerous churches in his 15-year ministry. He, with his wife Rose, and four beautiful children, minister in house-churches, delivering Bibles, preaching, and leading worship. One night, my team member Mary and I piled into Jack’s Fiat with the whole family and visited a church in a flat on the outskirts of Cairo (well, at least I think it was the outskirts, but I really don’t know where we were). We were treated with usual Arabic hospitality to tea and warm greetings before the service began. A 10 year old boy, the pride of the church, played piano while several other teens led worship. Jack told us that since they were up to around 30 regular attenders, this church was ready to plant churches in new neighborhoods. We greeted several of the excited church-members before quickly and quietly exiting the building, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves as foreigners. We met the pastor of the church we had visited on the way back to the hotel. He had been covering for a pastor at another church. He gave me his card, which I returned to Jack for safety reasons, and I gave the pastor a scripture the Lord had put on my heart for him.
On a sight-seeing trip to Khana al Khalili, a large market, we stopped to drink Turkish coffee at an outdoor café. A young Muslim woman, whom I later found out was named Nelli, approached us seeking alms. The baby in Nelli’s arms had thick black eyeliner and a port inserted in its arm for frequent shots. I quickly gave her 10 Egyptian Pounds (about $1.25), and shooed her away. She seemed a little overwhelmed by the gift - small to me, but immense to her - and seeing the tears in Nelli’s eyes, and I immediately felt convicted that I’d just made a big mistake. I pulled Lili aside as we were about to leave and asked her to translate for me. We found Nelli close by, and she told us her story.
Nelli was married with two children. The younger boy was sick and required shots twice a day. Nelli’s husband had lost his job and they were unable to pay rent. As a result, he was required to go to debtor’s prison for 10 months, leaving Nelli alone with the children. At the time, he had been gone for 4 months and they were sleeping on the floor of what Lili described as a kind of hotel. Her only livelihood came from begging. My heart broke, and through Lili, I told Nelli that Jesus loves her and wants to heal her baby. People were starting to watch, so I decided go as far as I wanted with prayer and calling on the name of Jesus to heal the baby. HOW LAME! The next day I prayed and fasted for Nelli and her family in a meager attempt to make up for it.
My second-ever Arabic teacher (the first being my homegirl Sumita from Iran) was Jack’s 10 year old daughter, Patty. We took the family on a relaxing boat ride on the Nile on one of our last afternoons in Cairo (part of the encouraging and strengthening, you know?). She taught me words like “frekh” (chicken) and “ferowla” (strawberry) as we ate lunch. She was the hardest to leave when we finally said goodbye. Someday, I hope to return to her, Lili, and Abuna Menes, and I will pray in the authority of Christ for any “Nelli” that the Lord puts on my heart.
The spirit of Cairo felt heavy and dark as we visited there, but there were beautiful lights all along the way. I guess Minneapolis might feel the same way if Jack or Lili were to visit here. It was just a different kind of oppression - not as familiar. Whether I’m overseas or in my home on the Southside, I will not view the world in the same light ever again.
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