August 2003

From The Far Side

Dear Friends:

You know, depression is like a sponge. This was what I kept thinking to myself this past week while I was in Palestine visiting organizations in Ramallah, Jerusalem, and Bethlehem. I sat with many people listening to their views of the current situation in the Occupied Territories. They tell me not only the political situation, but also their personal stories. The entire picture is depressing, but the personal stories are obviously the ones that affect me the most.

Take for instance 38-year-old Khalil. He works with a steady income of about $600 per month. With that, he is supporting his wife, his five kids, and his mother, and he is also helping his brother with his brother’s family of five. Until recently, he had never been indebted; but now, there is no other way. I’ve known him and his family for about ten years, and I can say that the change is dramatic: his kids’ clothes are shabby, his house is in desperate need of repairs, and the sound of desperation is in his voice. He says to me in a resigned tone, “We go to church and pray for something better, but have stopped hoping.”

There are countless stories like George and Khalil’s. Alcoholism and domestic violence have surged not just in Bethlehem but in all the West Bank and Gaza. The education system has completely broken down, and parents are at a loss to see any future for themselves and their children. Israeli policies are designed to make life miserable for Palestinians, and these policies are effective: Anyone who can leave is doing so. About 700 families from Bethlehem alone have emigrated, some to the United States, some to Europe, some to Central and South America, wherever they have some stitch of family to help them out. A woman who has been a good friend of Hala’s since childhood left for the United States a few weeks ago. She and her family stopped to visit us in Amman the day before they left. Hala’s friend was crying from the thought of leaving Bethlehem and her mother, who now has no family left there and lives alone. Yet it was her mother who told her to leave for the sake of the children. The Christian presence is evacuating itself from the Holy Land.

Having lived in the West Bank town of Bethlehem for ten years before moving to Amman, I can honestly say I’ve never seen the situation so bad and the people so trapped in depression. Hala and I feel guilty to not be with them, but know we have no choice. The Israelis will not give me residency or a visa to live in the West Bank, even though Hala is a native of Bethlehem with a Palestinian passport. One man commented to me, “The churches bring us rice and we are grateful, but what we really need are medicines to fight our depression.”

People ask me for a word of hope. They ask me if I think there will be peace between Israel and the Palestinians. I can’t really say much because I can’t see a light at the end of the tunnel either. I simply say, “When Jesus returns, He’ll bring peace.” People just nod in resigned agreement.

On a more positive note, Hala, the boys, and I are scheduled to return to the United States for the summer of 2004. It is a time for us to visit churches and communities that are interested in learning more about our ministry or about the situation in the Middle East. If your church would be interested in having us, we would be very happy to come and speak about the importance of mission today and life in the Middle East. Just let us know by writing to us at nadeeb2@yahoo.com, and we’ll start making up a schedule. (Note: While the Presbyterian Church will continue to pay our salary while we’re on interpretation assignment, our travel expenses are not taken care of.)

Peace & Blessings,

Chris, Hala, Nadiim & Adeeb

The 2003 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 156