I thought that was an interesting statement, one that caught my attention, especially having just returned from the Middle East with our learning community.  While there, we listened to an international critique of “closed-door diplomacy”.  Israelis and Palestinians alike argued that “closed-door diplomacy” was not resulting in human flourishing in the Middle East.  Instead, they pointed to the walls that separate families and to the shattered economies that impoverish not only villages and cities, but also the imaginations of the next generations and declared that closed-door diplomacy was churning out “impoverished people with impoverished imaginations.”

“These kinds of people,” they continued, “are dangerous.”

So was that political analyst correct in his assertion?  Is closed-door diplomacy working?  Is it helping?  Is it best?

What if, rather than human flourishing, our “closed-door diplomacy” is generating dangerous people?

As I reflect on closed doors and the teachings of Jesus, I am struck by two times when He references closed doors.

First, in Matthew 6:6, Jesus says, “When you pray, go into a closet and close the doors.”  The teaching does violence to our arrogance and image-management while, at the same time, informing our posture and exposing a different kind of power.  According to Jesus prayer is a moment of intimacy in which both God and we are right-sized.  It is an experience of submission where we recognize that we don’t know best nor are we capable of anything outside of the Power & Presence of God.  It is in the moments of prayer where we assume the posture of powerlessness that we become empowered to live wisely and with human flourishing as our end.

Second, in Revelation 3:20, Jesus envisions Himself standing outside of a closed and locked door.  He says, “Here I am!  I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him and he with me.”  The infrastructure with the closed door that Jesus stands outside of is none other than the Church.  No doubt, she is engaged in her own kind of “closed-door diplomacy”, convinced that the strategies for human flourishing that she conceives of within her walls will be blessed by the One who stands locked outside. “If you let Me in” Jesus says, “I’ll show you the things that make for human flourishing.” It should come as no surprise that the action that Jesus would take, should the doors be opened, would be to assign dignity to others through the shared table.

Human flourishing, according to Jesus, does not happen because of “closed-door diplomacy.”  Instead, it happens because men and women engage in closed-door listening sessions (prayer) and in open-door relationship with Him and others.

Every day for the past week, every social media outlet has told their version of the current uprising stretching across the Middle East (Egypt, Libya, Yemen) . Whether it’s pictures of Embassy’s burned to the ground, rioting citizens or highly politicized comics, the surge of content has been anything but “feel-good” and hopeful. And that’s because the events and corresponding responses have been anything but “feel-good” and hopeful.

My heart breaks because I know the events that are unfolding do not represent the majority of those who inhabit the Middle East. I spend a significant amount of time in the Middle East and have built deep, life-long friendships. Just two weeks ago I sat around a table and shared a meal with Christians, Jews and Muslims in the home of a devout Muslim family in this region. A day after that, I served alongside Muslim youth workers who are promoting non-violence and reconciliation in the face of oppression and poverty. On the same day I sat with an Arab Christian who embodied Jesus’ teaching in the Sermon on the Mount in dealing with daily injustice by saying, “We refuse to be enemies.” Lastly, and what keeps playing itself over and over in my head, are the words spoken to me by a Muslim friend named Omar who lives in the Middle East. He said, “Please give this message to all of your American friends. We (Arab Muslims and Christians) desire peace. The violence you see in the news does not represent us. It is not the majority, it is the smallest minority of extremism. Please listen to our story and accept our friendship.” 

I am now back in the States and am seeing that the fear, hatred and violence promoted by governments and media also being promoted by Christians in response to the events in the Middle East. One Christian posted a picture of the world that had completely blown up the Middle East and labeled it “Ground Zero.” The caption said, “There, I fixed it. Problem solved.” This “solution” would mean the death of some of my dearest friends.

My heart breaks because of the hateful stereotyping, racism and violent response being disseminated by Christians who in one breath proclaim the Jesus who calls us to love our enemies and in the next breath encourages their government to blow them up.

As followers of the pro-people Jesus, is this best we can do? Is that a reflection of the Christian hope that was brought about by and through the acts of the Suffering Servant? Have we lost our imagination that leads to the participating in the restorative mission of God for the cosmos?

Friends, we can do better. We must do better.

How then shall we respond?

Grieve the loss of life. My heart breaks for the Americans (and their families!) who were killed in the violence. Ambassador Stevens seemed to be a man who cared about people and did well at engaging the lives and stories of those he lived among. He represented well what many Americans desire of foreign policy and relations. His loss, and those of his colleagues, is a tragedy.

Listen, Learn and Be Still. We would do well to slow down and listen to the stories of others before telling their story for them. Those that have stepped foot in other cultures (whether domestic or international) know how much we have to learn as products of each of our unique upbringings and world views. Slow down, listen, learn and be still before jumping to words or actions that may do more harm than good.

Have eyes for common humanity before common politics and religion. We all inherently know that the diversity of humanity isn’t going to allow for us all to perfectly agree on politics and religion. Rather than look at people (again, domestically or internationally) through the lens of politics or religion, look at them through the lens of a shared humanity. All humans were made in the image of God. When we see Jesus in the eyes of “the other” it is much harder to hate, hurt and demean.

Pray: Pray for the healing of others, from all nations and religions. Pray for peace in places of conflict. Seek forgiveness from our bling prejudice. Ask for courage for those who promote Kingdom values. Pray for new friendships to be cultivated among former enemies. Pray for your/our enemies.

Ask hard questions. How might have my political or social involvement perpetuated or sparked some of the recent events? Am I an objective observer or are there ways I can be part of the problem or part of the restoration? Is the form of Islam that is being portrayed in the media an accurate form of faithful Islam or a simply an ideological counterfeit?

Live a Different Narrative & Care for the Hurting Among Us. I have heard over and over again, “Oh, it’s those crazy, lunatic Muslim’s just doing what they do again.” It is in times like these that our role as pro-people people in the Way of Jesus must listen, learn and share a different story…a more true story of Islam and those in the Middle East. Those of us that know and have experienced real life with the people who are now being labeled “insane terrorists” must bring to the dialog table the disconnect between perceived reality and reality. We must acquire important resources that will help us better step into this situation with eyes for common humanity, justice and the heart of God. We must live into the narrative God desires for humanity, which inevitably will lead us to care for the hurting; whether grieving families who have lost loved ones or families/individuals who are experiencing hate and stereotyping in your neighborhoods because of the events half way across the globe.

Let us begin that process now.

Overlooking Jerusalem

We journeyed from the other side of the world to the Holy Land and in many ways experienced the Bible come alive.  We were in Bethlehem and touched where Jesus was born.  We were in Capernaum and saw where Jesus did much of his ministry. We were at the Mount of Olives where Jesus prayed for peace over Jerusalem.  We sat in the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus pleaded for the cup of suffering to pass yet fully submitted to the Fathers will.  We touched where Jesus was crucified, buried, and raised from the dead.  We walked in the footsteps of Jesus.

As moving as these places were, I left most of them with a pit in my stomach.  Although they gave me a better understanding of the physicality of scripture, I was struck by the disconnect I felt between the historical and the modern narrative that was playing out in front of me.  On one hand I was able to better picture the place of Jesus, on the other hand I had a hard time seeing many people living into the message of Jesus.  I am not suggesting there are not people trying to obey the ways of Jesus in the Holy Land, I was just overwhelmed at the museum like manner in which Jesus was on display.

On this trip we not only visited these historical places but we also befriended the people.  We were invited into homes and shared meals with people who not only know the story of Jesus but live in the way to Jesus.  At one of those meals our host told us that many people come to walk in the footsteps of Jesus but never take the time to meet those they are passing by.  The implications of his statement were sobering.  It means that this place becomes a museum of important artifacts to those that visit and not a place where thousands of people live, work and struggle everyday.  While on a journey of remembrance many seem to miss the present reality of what is before them.  This was very convicting.

I so desperately desire to be transformed in the way of Jesus.  I want the reality of scripture to come alive around me everyday.  It is not enough to walk where Jesus walked without being transformed by who He is.  The tension I feel while being here brings to surface the fact that unless I live like Jesus and obey what he taught, I am just celebrating history.  In John 14:23 Jesus says,  ”All who love me will do what I say. My Father will love them, and we will come and make our home with each of them.”  Many times I can get caught up in the pursuit of understanding the message and person of Jesus and neglect to obey the way he tells me to live.  I not only want to be a person that studies the life of Jesus but a person that also is being transformed by that life into a disciple of Jesus.

Today, after 6 long days of giving ourselves fully to both the Israeli and Palestinian narratives, we were able to offer our energy in a more tangible way. We entered into the story of Milad and Manar and their organization, House of Hope, whose mission is to give Palestinian children in Bethany opportunities they might not otherwise receive because of Israeli restrictions on Palestine. These opportunities include after school programs, computer lessons, music outlets, writing tutorials, and other resources aiding in a safe, encouraging upbringing. We were invited to lead the kids in activities throughout the day, so we planned a day of drama, music, and games.

I was initially excited about this day because I love hands on interaction with youth. It has always been the area that touches the deepest places in my heart, and I knew it would be a time that would bring me a lot of joy. And it did. However, today was an experiences unlike any I have had. From an observer’s perspective, we led a day very similarly to a Vacation Bible School with stations, skits, and songs. But that was just the surface. I saw in one day at House of Hope what I’ve failed to see during 5 days of VBS in the past. Today, I witnessed a staff of young adults dedicating their lives to developing the future of Palestine. I encountered children who literally welcomed us with open arms and children who played and laughed with all their hearts. I watched Christians, Muslims, Palestinians, and Americans come together as a seamless group to show love to kids in the community. Most importantly, I walked away with a more profound understanding of people and of myself.

I came into today with a lot of knowledge about the conflict in this area and the challenges Palestinians face every day. I’ve read the books and watched the documentaries. I’ve walked through the Old Testament and New Testament narrative and have seen the ways our biblical history interacts with the current situation. I have engaged in the Israeli and Palestinian narrative, giving myself fully to the pain, redemption and retaliation in each story. With all of these understandings in the back of my mind, I interacted with the kids differently.

When I was painting some of the girls’ nails, I was holding the hands of children who do not have the same freedom as me. I saw children who have to walk through check points and go days without water because of the occupation. When I looked into their eyes, I didn’t just see the equivalent of VBS kids in the United States; I saw children who are growing up as the next generation in Palestine, children whose family story is probably already embedded in her heart. The thought of those children spending the rest of their lives in the same conditions crushed my heart, but being apart of House of Hope even for a day gave me hope for the future.

My previous knowledge coupled with my interaction with the kids today solidified that all humanity deserves freedom, justice, and fair treatment. I’ve always conceptually known this, but today that has entered into the fabric of who I am. This is the beauty of The Global Immersion Project. “Mission Trip” is being redefined. I did not come into House of Hope in the posture of a hero, but as a learner. By doing this, I entered today with compassion and left with a deeper understanding of who God has called me to be: a person who sits with the oppressed, sees their pain, and joins them in their hope for justice.

Two driving values inform The Global Immersion Project’s Exposure Phase: (1) to create space for the spontaneous to occur and (2) to walk the neighborhood streets rather than the manicured paths of tourism.  We recognize that the spontaneous moments are rich with potential for relationships to develop and that the neighborhood streets are the spaces where encounters with everyday people occur.  In this post, TGIP Learning Community participant Kristen McCormack reflects on a moment of embracing the spontaneous in the streets of Bethlehem.

I don’t know how God sorts it, but I took my very first breath in a shiny-floored, disinfected smelling hospital room in the States. And that breath has gifted me an almost guarantee    at food on my table, money in my pocket, and a little blue book that allows me the freedom to go where ever I want. 

After five days of immersing in the narratives of Israelis and Palestinians (Jews, Muslims, Athiests, & Agnostics) our learning community made our way to the Tent of Nations in the hills of Bethlehem where we met Daoud and his family.  They represent a dwindling number of Palestinian Jesus Followers in the West Bank.  Below, Jeff Rutledge, an emerging difference maker with the ability to ask important questions at the rigth time, reflects personally and communally on the impact of Daoud’s story. 

Tent of Nations in the West Bank operates on a simple idea: we refuse to be enemies. Sitting on a hillside with a stunning view, surrounded by Israeli settlements, this 100 acres of land is farmed by a Palestinian family with documents proving their ownership of it through Ottoman, British, Jordanian, and now Israeli control of the area. This rare combination of paperwork has allowed them to keep posession of the land through an ongoing court battle now nearly 20 years old. Though cut off from resources and in a difficult economic situation, the family will not leave their home, and they won’t give up on reconciling with their neighbors. As Daoud, our guide and the grandson of the original owners, showed us around, he mentioned the three usual reponses to conflict: violence, playing the victim, or running away. He told us that none of these responses are the way to peace, and that the best way forward is another simple idea: start acting differently.

Much more than farmers, Daoud and his family are indeed acting differently. Their tools of creativity and love contrast sharply with the tools of oppression. In the face of demolition orders and uprooted trees, they host summer camps and create art. Cut off from water and electricity, they choose to put on theater productions in view of their fully resourced settler neighbors. Even when faced with armed soldiers emptying his car, David went out of his way to acknowledge the soldiers as friends in front of his scared children.

Is it possible to overcome hatred with love? Daoud and his family make a strong case. As they told us, small steps can make a meaningful difference.

As our day ended with one of these small steps–an impromptu Arab dance party–I was reminded that human beings are remarkably similar everywhere you go. Start acting differently.

Father, forgive me for Hebron – Social networks and their role in peace in the middle east

Many narratives are present in the middle east. The two predominant ones are a Palestinian and Israeli narrative. We saw both today with accounts from the each group. A very nice Jewish lady told us of her Grandmother’s assault by extremist Arabs in 1929 and her Father’s murder by a vicious Arab as well. In between these two events was the holocaust which killed 6 million Jewish people. We then met several Arab men that described the injustices put on them by Israeli soldiers. They spoke of humiliating check-points, burdensome housing situations, economic constraints, and one horrifying mass murder in a mosque by an Israeli doctor. We walked in these all to common middle east narratives by visiting a Israeli settlement, a synagogue, a marketplace, and a mosque. We saw some really beautiful relations and some really harmful ones. In the midst of this, I couldn’t help but notice the connectedness of these opposing communities and the cycles of harm each went through.

Anger and violence seem to be  contagious. There is an old story of a small Italian village that underwent a spree of murders where a member of the victims family would always carry on another act of murder but to a completely new victim outside the involved parties. This means the first man’s action created a ripple of violent actions in the community and those around it. The book Connected, How Social Networks Affect Everything We Do points to extensive research about the role social networks have in our lives and its influence on our thoughts and actions. A social network is all around us. It is not just the number of facebook friends you have but a complex set of relationships that you and the people around you choose to participate. The research determined that an individual’s actions (happiness, weight gain, etc) have a quantifiable effect at least 3 degrees along a social network. That means your friends and their friends, and your friend’s friends are influenced by your thoughts, feelings, and actions. When actions are profound enough or at the right node of the social network they can create social epidemics that spread through communities across the land.

You may be asking why I asked for forgiveness for Hebron. The unsettling truth is I have acted in ways that create harmful ripples for an unknown distance. I have harmed others and been impacted by other’s harmful actions to create cycles of negative behavior. I have made poor judgements or spoken a little to freely about the middle east in a way that propagates through my social networks. For this I am deeply sorry and left wondering how I can be a part of stopping this vicious cycle of harm.

To further complicate matters, I observed most of these harmful actions were committed by people who were trying to do the “right” thing. Religion informs much of what we understand to be right and wrong. Some morals may be universal among religions and others may vary considerably. Epidemics of harm seemed to start when religion was held so tightly that it failed to see the humanity of another. The successful peacemakers from all over the middle east seemed to hold loosely to the “right” for the greater purpose of preserving another’s humanity.

The good news in all of this is that happiness and healthy living are contagious too. Africa is known for having laughing epidemics and it is proven that if you are happy than your friends are 15% more likely to be happy. Many of us know a person who just by being around them we feel happy and can be happier around others. Our words and actions clearly permeate through our social networks in wholesome and harmful ways.

I am left asking questions…

How do I stop socially contagious anger and violence in the places I live?

In what ways could the institutions in which I participate create social epidemics of happiness, joy, and peace through our communities?

When I speak in my social networks to what type of epidemic am I contributing?

Today was an incredible day.

We experienced Masada, hiked the caves of Qumran, swam in the Dead Sea and exfoliated our skin in the famous “Dead Sea Mud”.  We toured Jericho, ate figs at the base of  Zacchaeus’ Sycamore,  and navigated the same mountains pilgrims would have wandered on their way to Jeruselem (Psalm 122 check it out!). We’ve had some absolutely incredible opportunities- and as we have these unique and awesome experiences there remains the backdrop of the Israeli/Palistinian conflict.

Today we set out to immerse ourselves in the Palestinian narrative by exploring some of the realities for Palestinians living in the Israeli occupied West Bank, Palestine. Our guide for the day was Husam, a Muslim Palestinian man who was imprisoned for his activism against the occupation and his involvement in the first intifada who now works to educate people in non-violence and reconciliation practices concerning the Palestinian and Israeli conflict.

As we sat and listened to Husam share his personal story and the stories of his people, one phrase continued to rise to the surface of his explanations, “it’s complicated.”  As we explored the historical and present day realities for Palestinians, the interweaving’s of pain, politics, and perceptions would prove just how complicated this narrative was.

Husam led us outside the old city walls of Jerusalem as we came to the remains of a Palestinian village called Lufta, which was destroyed in 1948 by Israeli soldiers who pushed Palestinians out of their community in order to gain access to their perceived promised land. As we climbed down the remains of old homes I felt a deep sadness and anger at the injustice against the people of Lufta and the many, many more Palestinians, who up until that point were living side by side, peacefully with their Jewish neighbors. I ached for their families who are now refugees, many of them still holding the keys to their homes in hopes of returning one day to claim their land and the life they once had. I wrestled with a small fraction of the pain they must feel as a people who, from their refugee camp look up to see a separation wall and Israeli settlements on all sides of them, a constant reminder that even the land upon which they are refugees isn’t their own.

Destroyed Village of Lufta

As we continued to descend to what would have been the center gathering place of the village, my inner wrestling’s were interrupted by a beautiful sight. Fresh water was filling an old stone pool, and seeking to cool off from the hot sun, local Jewish and Muslim children were hard at play. At the center of a destroyed city, in the middle of deep inner questioning, was a moment of joy and shared life.

It hard for us as Westerners to fully understand a people whose nationality is “to be determined”, a people with no proof of any rights, a people completely without freedom in the land their ancestors have been living for centuries. It’s often complicated as we discuss how to bring justice to this people, how to take steps towards healing from the past and peace for the future, and quite honestly I often get overwhelmed just thinking about the hopelessness of these realities. But amidst the complexities of the Palestinian narrative I watched as children of different race and religion, who’s people and land are embedded in deep conflict, were playing peacefully together, not as Arabs and Jews but as humans. Instead of seeing their differences, they celebrated their shared humanity as fellow playmates near a source of cold water, and in so doing challenged us all to be human in the very place where people have been stripped of their humanity. In my confusion and anger, these children helped me understand, that while the complexities remain, until we are able to see each other as humans first, there is no hope for peace for this region.

My prayer is that we would be a people who recognize injustice around us and who replace the fears of the complexity with the human response of sharing life so that barriers, boundaries, and walls that stand between us may be brought down. 

One man can change the course of history.

Today we went to the Yad Vashem Holocaust museum in Jerusalem. It is never easy seeing the pictures and reading the stories of this horrific time. I find myself getting angry and frustrated at the German people of that time for having fallen for Hitler’s regime. And yet, Hitler was a man who had a passionate vision for a defeated and depleated nation. He offered hope and a new start. In one of his speeches he said, “Nicht unseren Staat hat uns geschaffen, sondern wir schaffen unseren Staat” (Our state did not form us, we form our state). Hitler used his crafty rhetoric to make the Germans believe that better days were to soon to come. With this glimmer of hope the Germans affirmingly followed their Fuerher.

No one anticipated the horrors to follow. As Hitler became the horrible tyrant and people realized that the promised hope was never going to happen, Hitler had already change the course of history in the worst possible way. A desparate and hopeless nation clung to a man who promised what they sought, but who instead shredded and trampled every last bit of that.

I am quite surprised that this is what I am reflecting on. Of course I was affected by the Jewish narrative but the fragility of the German nation at the beginning of the war stands out. I think when I look at the conflict between the Israelis and Palestinians I see a fragility that longs to be anchored in hope and reconciliation. So, if one man can become the world’s worst history changer, can not then one man change the future of this Conflict for the better?

Liel is a twenty-something year old Jewish Israeli who is passionate about the reconciliation of Palestinians and Israelis. His grandparents experienced the Holocaust, he grew up in the Jewish tradition and served his time in the IDF. On paper he could be a “common” Israeli Jew, but the moment one starts to talk to him one quickly realizes that is not the case. He has dedicated his life to peace making and both his university studies as well as his free time revolve around this. Liel has endured judgment and persecution from his friends and family and yet has not strayed from what he believes to be true. He may not be in the news every day but what he is doing is profound and beautiful. He is changing the course of history in his neighborhood, perhaps beyond.

So, what do I do with this? I want to be a history changer. I want to fight for what is right and good and just. I do not want to sit on the side lines and watch racism and injustice happen. But how? Liel gave a tangable way one can make a difference: Change starts with making conscious choices of where I buy coffee, eat out at or who I talk to. These are ways we can begin to create change in our neighborhoods and bridge the invisibile lines of segration and injustice. I can do that!!! And step by step, choice by choice change will happen. Hope may be brought to the depleated and defeated. So I say it again, one man can change the course history. Will it be Liel? Me? Or perhaps YOU?