April 17, 2002

After the Sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning…
(Matthew 28:1).

Dear Friends,

Jerusalem On Easter Sunday morning, 31 March, I made my way to Jerusalem through the Bethlehem checkpoint accompanied by my Canadian friend, Terry Rempel, who lives in Bethlehem and works with Palestinian refugees, and a Palestinian Christian friend of mine, Jack Giacaman. I was determined that, if at all possible and after having missed both Maundy Thursday services and the Good Friday procession in Jerusalem, I was going to go to Jerusalem for Easter Sunday services at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

Both Terry and I were allowed to pass the military checkpoint; however, I first had to open my winter coat and suit jacket, to reveal to this Israeli soldier of Ethiopian descent that I was not wearing a belt laden with explosives around my waist. Our Palestinian friend, Jack was denied entry to Jerusalem, even though he had secured the necessary permit issued by the Israeli army to Christians for Holy Week. He was turned back, but was not put off, and would join us later inside the Holy Sepulchre. There was no spectacular sunrise over the Judean desert this Easter Sunday. It was as if the sun were refusing to shine this day, and perhaps for good reason.

Upon our return home to Bethlehem in the early afternoon, we were confronted by the scene of countless lorries, carrying Armored Personnel Carriers (APC's) and tanks of the Israeli army, parked beside the road near the Ecumenical Institute of Tantur and ready to enter Bethlehem at a moment's notice. After a short Easter visit in Bethlehem with friends to deliver chocolate eggs, colored eggs, and sweets, I made the painful yet necessary decision to leave Bethlehem as soon as possible. The stories coming out of Ramallah, which had been re-occupied by the Israeli army on Thursday night, were appalling. Being stuck in my apartment for days on end without access to a phone, e-mail or my work (at best), or without food, water, and electricity (at worst), was not an appealing thought. Besides, my sponsoring agency, Catholic Relief Services, has a security plan and an emergency evacuation plan in place for situations such as this, and the decision to stay or to go was not entirely mine.

A quick trip upstairs to my fourth-floor apartment to gather up a suitcase and some clothing, and I, accompanied by my Methodist colleague, the Reverend Sandra Olewine, was soon on my way towards the Bethlehem checkpoint yet again, this time, not knowing if we would be allowed to exit. After some negotiating with the Israeli soldiers, not all of which was pleasant, we were allowed to cross the military checkpoint, and made our way solemnly to Jerusalem past a large convoy of Israeli tanks and soldiers. "What is about to happen to our Palestinian friends?" Sandra asked me. I could not answer her, or perhaps I did not want to answer her. We both knew what was about to befall Bethlehem.

In the three weeks since the Israeli army re-entered most of the Palestinian population centers of the West Bank, large-scale destruction, including bombing and shelling by Israeli tanks, Apache helicopter gunships and F-16s, has all but decimated these cities and towns, home to some three million Palestinians. It will take years to re-build what it took the Israeli army hours to destroy.

The operation, labeled "Operation Defensive Wall" by the Israeli government, came in response to a wave of Palestinian suicide bombers that struck six times in six days, killing scores of Israelis and wounding dozens more. The goal of the Israeli operation, in the words of the Israelis, is "to root out the terrorist infrastructure and to smash it, once and for all."

But suicide bombers have not materialized from out of thin air! And while I don't wish to engage in a debate at this stage about the reasons for such attacks (I have discovered that most people have already formed their own opinions on this issue), from my perspective they are a symptom of a much greater disease, and not the illness itself. One has to reasonably question how bombing the Palestinian population into oblivion will achieve peace and security for the citizens of Israel. On the contrary, it was only last week that I heard the latest explosion from my office window here in Jerusalem—this time, a young woman from Jenin who blew herself up in the heart of west Jerusalem, taking with her in death six Israelis.

And he gathered them together into a place called in the Hebrew tongue Armageddon (Revelation 16:16).

Jenin is a Palestinian city in the northern West Bank, on the plain of Meggido (Armageddon). Jenin has been the scene of some of the fiercest fighting and some of the fiercest resistance to the Israeli incursions in the West Bank. It was only yesterday that the International Red Cross was allowed into the ruins of what was a large refugee camp, home to some 13,000 Palestinians. Eyewitnesses report it looks more like an earthquake zone. In Jenin Camp, the Israeli army and government allege that dozens of Palestinians, most of them "'militants," were killed. The Palestinians, however, claim that a massacre took place, and have estimated that hundreds have been killed, including many non-combatants, among them, women, children and the elderly. The full death toll won't be known for days, perhaps weeks, as bodies continued to be pulled from the rubble of what once were people's homes. If the battle for Jenin was a war between good and evil, then clearly evil won the day.

And Jesus said, "You give them something to eat" (Mark 6:37).

Responding to the severe humanitarian crisis that is rapidly unfolding in the Palestinian territories of the West Bank, five aid agencies in Jerusalem have joined together to address what will surely become one of the worst humanitarian disasters to hit this region in decades.

The Joint Emergency Relief of the Christian Organizations—represented by Caritas International-Jerusalem, Catholic Relief Services, the Mennonite Central Committee, the Pontifical Mission for Palestine, and World Vision-Jerusalem—have combined their efforts in order to provide immediate and much-needed food assistance to the besieged Palestinian towns of the West Bank.

Beginning Monday, April 15, 2002, and every other day thereafter, food convoys will leave Jerusalem for the Palestinian cities that are reeling from more than two weeks of Israeli siege and bombardment, many of them closed off to the outside world, including lack of access to humanitarian assistance, medical assistance, and the international press. Many of these cities have also been without electricity and water since the Israeli invasion of these areas began on 29 March.

On Monday, a food convoy consisting of 19 vehicles successfully entered the Palestinian cities of Beit Jala, Bethlehem, and Beit Sahour to deliver 1,000 food packages. The food packages consisted of the following:

• 3 liters of cooking oil
• 3 kilos of sugar
• 5 kilos of rice
• 3 cans of peas
• 2 cans of tomato paste
• 4 cans of corned beef
• 4 cans of tuna
• 3 packs of macaroni
• 2 kilos of lentils

It is estimated that a family of five could "subsist" on this food package for a period of approximately one week. The food packages were delivered to the Latin Seminary of Beit Jala, the San Antonio Charitable Society in Bethlehem, and the Latin Church in Beit Sahour. They will be distributed from these points, and will hopefully reach the most severe and hardship cases within these areas. Clearly, however, there is a great need amongst the entire population of these areas for food assistance. Our combined efforts will not be nearly enough; the need is so overwhelming

Stopping at Tantur to re-group, we gazed into Bethlehem at a scene that is hard for me to describe. There before us were the towns of Bethlehem, Beit Jala and Beit Sahour, and not a soul to be seen. No sign of life was visible anywhere. It was as if the entire population had vanished into thin air, and yet I knew the reality to be anything but that. Behind the walls, windows and doors of the homes that were before us was a population of approximately 70,000 people, all of them under a strict military curfew and prevented from going outside lest an Israeli sniper shoot them. It was an eerie scene, and one I will never forget.

We happened to enter the Bethlehem region yesterday just as the Israeli army had announced a lifting of the curfew for four hours, in order to allow residents to leave their homes in search of food. The scene changed suddenly before our eyes, and from behind all of the doors and walls came hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people in search of food. Some stood in long lines waiting for bread, others for any fruits or vegetables that might still be in the market. Still others rushed off to the pharmacies for much-needed medicines, assuming that they were available. Traffic snarled, dust swirled, and people hurried about to find what they could amidst the chaos.

Out of the crowd, I caught glimpses of familiar faces, and during two of the three stops, I was able to get and to give a hug to friends I had not seen in two weeks. Some choked by tears, as we busily worked to offload the precious cargo of food. Others joined in to help. We concentrated on the task at hand, and tried not to let our emotions get in the way of our work, and yet it was difficult, to say the least. At our last stop in Beit Sahour, the town of the Shepherd's Fields, Father Majdi Siryani, the parish priest, told us, "We don't need your food. We have enough food to feed our people for five years. What we need is for you to stop sending Israel your toys" (an obvious reference to U.S. military aid given to Israel). Clearly, the strain and stress could be seen on the faces of friends and strangers alike. In less than an hour we would be gone. In less than two hours, they would once again be confined to their homes.

This week begins the third consecutive week of Israel's military re-occupation of Palestinian cities and towns. The fear, distrust, and outright hatred between Israelis and Palestinians continues to grow with each passing day. Ariel Sharon's military operation into the West Bank continues to have popular support amongst Israelis. Months ago what an Israeli official called it "warfare, but not war" has now been labeled "a war for Israel's survival." But the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, Michel Sabbah, visiting in Rome, has warned that Israel will "disappear" if it continues this style of hostility and war against the Palestinians.

U.S. Secretary of State Colin Powell is now packing his bags, en route to Cairo. He leaves amidst growing uncertainty about what tomorrow might bring for the peoples of this land called holy, and fears that the conflict will grow ever-wider and consume the entire Middle East.

Tomorrow at dawn, our second convoy will set out for the Palestinian City of Tulkarem.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Ramallah, an aging and angry Yasser Arafat, armed with nothing but a cell phone, sits in the dark of his military compound, under virtual house arrest by the Israeli military that has kept him there for more than four months. And the president of my country and the leader of the world's only remaining super-power, continues to tell him, and only him, in the same monotonous voice, to "stop the violence; stop the terrorism."

It would be laughable, were the situation here not so tragic.

Douglas Dick

The 2002 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 143