April 30, 2002 — Mudeif Productions

We woke up in Nazareth and headed south to the checkpoint. Marthame dropped Elizabeth off and she walked across, first being checked by some baffled soldiers. She walked maybe fifty meters to the gas station on the checkpoint road, where a taxi was waiting to take her back to Zababdeh in time to teach her seventh-graders. She only has one class a day now that the remainder of the school year has been concentrated. She misses teaching especially the first and second graders, who are so cute and sweet. She misses teaching most of the eleventh graders, too - but she's just as glad no longer to discipline the more mischievous ones. School is still (since last Thursday) running at full steam, with all our students and all our teachers able to attend and eager to make up for lost time. And today, the electricity schedule was extended, so that there are only three hours (from 1 to 4 PM) without power. Oh, the luxury! The school now offers only one religion class a week, which Abuna and the sisters are covering, so Marthame is staying in the Galilee until Easter (Orthodox Easter - and thus Zababdeh Easter) to take care of some work. After Elizabeth was successfully across, he headed up to Ibillin to make some visits.

After picking up some clothes from Mar Elias College, he headed off to see the St. Joseph Sisters of Ibillin. They had stockpiled some food for the West Bank, particularly for Zababdeh. They were proud to show off their church and their very own native saint. St. Mary Jesus the Crucified was a miracle child who was soon orphaned. While fleeing persecution in Egypt, she had a vision of the Virgin Mary, after which she entered religious life. She died while ministering in Bethlehem in the late 19th Century - at the same moment, the bells rang by themselves in the church in Ibillin. In 1983, she was canonized, but - the sister confided - the people of Ibillin have called her a saint since the day she died.

Marthame also visited with our Korean friends who are still marooned from their home in Bethlehem. The longer they stay out, the more homesick they get, and the more concerned they get for their friends still stuck under curfew. Tomorrow it's supposed to be lifted for four hours for people to do shopping. Other friends stuck in Bethlehem are counting the days - thirty now - that they've been confined to virtual house arrest. It's hard to remember how many civilians are still caught by the tight siege. At least a beautiful sunset over Ibillin (along with a home-cooked Korean meal) could bring some comfort.