November 22, 2002

The Wailing Wall and the Noble Sanctuary at night - Jerusalem

Indeed, the worry was not for naught. Bethlehem has been retaken, as well as Nablus, Jenin, and Jenin Camp. Tubas is also under a strict curfew. In short, Zababdeh is surrounded. But we are far away in Jerusalem, hearing the news by telephone only. We split up to run errands and to do a bit of sightseeing.

Marthame went over to the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate to see Bishop Timotheus, whom we had met on his visit to Zababdeh back in January. Marthame, dressed in his usual Roman-style shirt and collar, was not welcomed into the Patriarchate with open arms - perhaps an appearance too Catholic was part of it. Speaking with the Bishop, though, his treatment soon improved. The Patriarchate, as ancient as it is, is quite the intricate maze of courtyards and buildings. Finding the Bishop's home (in a lovely shared courtyard with several other bishops) was tricky business, but they soon met and chatted, speaking specifically about our ministry in Zababdeh as well as the situation for the Orthodox in the area in general. He asked Marthame to deliver some papers to Fr. Thomas.

Marthame then went towards the Church School resource center in East Jerusalem. An ecumenical resource center for Arab Christians, they want to deliver some books to Deacon Firas in Zababdeh. The problem is the delivery path from Jerusalem to Qalandia (where the taxis leave for Zababdeh and the rest of the West Bank). The box of supplies weighed about forty pounds. One of the center's employees helped Marthame carry it towards Damascus Gate, where he tried to find a taxi to Qalandia. No one was going. He carried the box around, trying to find another taxi, and found one empty. He spoke with the driver, who told him, "I don't speak Arabic. But I can help you with your burden." Marthame opened the door to put the box in, to which to driver said, "No, not that burden. Your burden of sin!"

He then asked Marthame, "What church are you from?" (the collar is a dead giveaway of Christian identity)

"Presbyterian."

"Do you believe in inerrancy?"

At this point, the box was beginning to get heavier, and time was fleeing to meet up with a taxi driver going to Zababdeh. The conversation was getting tiresome, too. Marthame, seeing where it was going, replied, "I believe the Bible is the word of God, and that God is perfect."

"Then you're not a Presbyterian. You're a liberal."

"I don't have time for theological conversations right now, my brother. I have to get these supplies to Qalandia."

"You're not my brother. You're a liar! Your dog collar won't save you either, liar!" he shouted as Marthame walked away, carrying the box on his shoulders. So much for disciples of Christ being known by their love. Marthame delivered the box back to the Center, hoping for another day, a better day to take care of business.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth went to meet up with friends for a delicious quiche lunch (after grading some school papers) and to meet a fellow Yale grad between law professorships spending a few months at Hebrew University researching human rights. She spoke with our friends, journalists, about the recent disturbing news today, that of the Brit (a UN worker) shot and killed in Jenin Camp. Different stories are abounding about what really happened, the Israeli army claiming he was caught in a cross-fire and shot accidentally. Given the recent coverage of the attack in Hebron, the idea that the truth, and not political spin, will out is getting harder to believe. In that attack, Palestinian gunmen ambushed Israeli soldiers and settler security armed with M-16s. Strictly an attack on military targets, not civilians. But the story was first reported as a massacre of Sabbath worshippers in Hebron (as the Israeli foreign ministry reported it), and Kofi Annan, Tony Blair, George Bush, and Colin Powell decried it as such. The truth no longer has bearing at that point, because the story has gained validity by simply being told. Our friends bemoaned the challenge of undoing such misinformation, and of honest reporting in the face of a very sophisticated and well-funded spin machine.

Later, we sat at Jaffa Gate, waiting for some friends. We passed the time watching people coming from West Jerusalem into the Old City for Shabbat. Most were orthodox, women in long skirts, their hair covered by a simple hat or a wig. Men came in simple black and white, topped with a large black hat, their sidelocks and fringes long. Some of the men were wearing a style that goes back to more wintery climes, a circular wool hat with a long silk robe and stockings.

Our friends arrived, easy to pick out from the crowd (plus they were driving - a Sabbath no-no). We had dinner in a lovely plaza in the center of the Old City, wandering to an overlook on the Western Wall and Dome of the Rock. Sabbath worshippers had largely cleared out, and the call of Allahu Akbar (God is great) resounded from the nearby Haram al-Sharif. Meanwhile, a full moon hung over the Mount of Olives.

Marthame got a call from Deacon Homam, who had attended an ordination in Beit Jala today. Somehow, even under curfew, he was able to get out and into Jerusalem. He and Marthame will go back to Zababdeh in the morning.