Oh Little Town

Our next meeting was in the little town of Bethlehem. We negotiated with our cab driver a price that he grumbled was much too low but which later we discovered to be 20 shekels higher than the typical price. Of course, he drove us into Bethlehem the long way—through Beth Jalla to avoid the checkpoint.

Here's where I'll try to get into politics a little bit. In 1948-49 the state of Israel became an independent nation; in 1967, after the six-day war, Israelis occupied Palestinian territory, including the West Bank (where Bethlehem is). The politics are very complex, and this one sentence isn't close to representing the entire story, but the point is that now the Palestinians are closely monitored by the Israelis, to the point that they may not leave the West Bank without permission from the Israelis.

We drove through Beth Jalla into Bethlehem where our driver dropped us off at a large church—The Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church—that was decorated with graffiti. I remembered we were in the infamous West Bank and wondered if we were absolutely crazy for coming here. But a young man showed us into the church, and we found ourselves in a beautifully renovated ancient church with many welcoming people.

The pastor, Rev. Dr. Mitri Raheb, our contact, was not yet available, but we were ushered into a lovely coffee bar where we sipped water while watching the wonderful commotion around us as people prepared for a graduation ceremony of ten of the school's students. I had found Dr. Raheb online while researching back in the states. His writing had been on behalf of the Palestistian people whom he considered prisoners in their own country. He is an influential voice—he'd met with Jimmy Carter just a few days ago (see Palestine: Peace Not Apartheid)—so I was surprised when he'd agreed to a meeting with me. We didn't mind waiting.

Dr. Raheb apologized profusely for being late and told us he had been in a council meeting all day. He had not yet eaten lunch and had a graduation ceremony to conduct in an hour. Still, he was more than willing to hold a brief conference with us and graciously invited us into his office.

I blundered at the first word. I spoke of Israel, which is the occupying nation making his life so miserable, and I asked about the likelihood of restoring peace in the country—which is like asking a couple in the middle of a bitter divorce why they won't just kiss and make up. I just didn't get it.

Dr. Raheb quickly and kindly put me in my place. He shook his head a bit and said, "Maybe the focus of your book should be on other Christians. Why introduce 11-year-olds to the complex politics here?" Really. How could they possibly understand when the researcher herself was so out of touch? As Dr. Raheb patiently taught me, my heart quickened and I felt a compassion in a very real way for this nation, much like how I had felt when God was calling me to the work in the inner city. Suddenly everything I had been learning fell into place. This man is undoubtedly a modern-day prophet.

We stayed for part of the graduation ceremony and then slipped out to meet a young Palestinian woman who had once been a student of Dr. Raheb. If my meeting with her teacher hadn't already knocked me to my knees, my time with Sawsan certainly would.