August 1, 2007

Dear Churches, Friends, and Family:

It has been some time since I've written a formal newsletter. It seems as though every time I sit down to write about one thing, something else happens and it throws me for a loop. Today is a classic example. I will try to incorporate some of my original letter into this message, but it was written before I got to the office, that is, before I left my house, before I was denied entry into Jerusalem, before I waited for hours at the Al-Ram checkpoint, before I gave up and gave into what the soldiers demanded, and before I went through the Kalandia checkpoint, spending double the time and money it normally takes to get to work.

The situation in my neighborhood seems to worsen daily, yet I do not notice all the little changes. Being on the road for a couple of weeks sheds light on the shifting circumstances, the extra roadblocks, and the new coils of barbed wire along the street. I am looking forward to taking a vacation, but with that comes the dread of re-acclimating to the deteriorating situation.
 
The young adult conference concluded last Sunday, which brought me relief, and some sadness as the group said their goodbyes. I appreciated the statement written by the participants. It’s strange how well you can get to know a group of people in such a short time. Still, at times it felt like a long ten days, full of travel and experiences.

It was also personally enriching to be reminded of the injustice of this occupation. I saw these young adults become aware of the complex situation, at the same time realizing how thick my own shell has become. I saw their emotions when they encountered the humiliation and frustrations people living here face on a daily basis. I often struggle to feel some sort of emotion for myself, when I am in these challenging situations—anger, frustration, or perhaps sadness, yet these sometimes escape me. The conference participants reminded me how natural this way in this situation. But still, I know it is pointless to express such emotions in front of the soldiers, as it does absolutely no good, and at times can make the situation worse.

After I was denied passage through the Al-Ram checkpoint today, I stood to the side with the other people. We called every humanitarian organization that helps to monitor the checkpoints, with no luck. The soldiers said there’s a new “rule” that internationals can’t pass through Al-Ram anymore, starting today. Yet I knew that my American roommate had passed through just one hour before, with no problems. Apparently, the “rules” do not apply to everyone, and I know they will not be enforced tomorrow. After an hour or so, I began to wonder what would happen if I made a run for it. The bus was literally 100 yards away, what’s the worst that could happen? Get arrested? Deported? Shot? Who knows? Such thoughts don’t offer viable solutions, but they do help to pass the time.

How much longer will this occupation last? Isn’t 40 years enough? How much worse can it get? These are the questions that are not often voiced, and people are not able to answer. Only God knows the answers to such things, and I continually pray that awareness, solidarity, and hope is uplifted within the hearts and minds of many.

In the meantime, I shall try to keep my own chin up, so that I may be able to look deeply into the warm amber eyes of the people around me and resonate with the people who are consistently denied entry and prohibited from moving freely within the land in which they were born.

Freedom. I pray for freedom.

Shannon

The 2007 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 170