Palestine

Three years ago, my heart pulled me to Israel and Palestine to experience the reality of this iconic conflict for myself, talk to Israelis and Palestinians, and search for ways to support peace. It is one of the hardest places I've ever been, where CryPeace means crying more tears and crying louder for justice than almost anywhere else. This week, as renewed tensions escalate over Jerusalem, my heart breaks that this city, holy to all three Abrahamic faiths, is a cause of hatred instead of love, violence instead of peace, war instead of worship.

I don’t want our kids to meet at encounter groups, to learn to empathise with the “other”

I don’t want them to hear of the Holocaust, to learn how our homelands became our graves

I don’t want them to talk about the Nakba, the right of return, and how long it takes

I don’t want to fear that in my nascent country, we risk annihilation again

I don’t want to fear that in my exile, we risk losing the chance for a homeland

I want to dance at the wall in beautiful protest
Cast a vision of the future in its shadow today

We could hear the same music, dance to the same beat
But I couldn’t see you, our hands couldn’t meet

We could set up a webcam, make a window in the wall
I’d rather you open it, I want to walk tall
through the gate that encloses me now like a prison
Let this vision of the future shine bright as through a prism

It’s Christmas – the day Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus two millennia ago. One of the carols we often sing is, “O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see they lie.” Until this year I envisioned a peaceful village when I sang it, replete with angelic choirs, awestruck shepherds, and the blessed Virgin Mary and Joseph admiring the newborn baby Jesus. This summer I imagined myself celebrating Christmas in Bethlehem this year, anticipating my visit to Palestine.