Hope and despair in the Middle East

A year ago I traveled to the Middle East with four friends. Below is an account of the trip from my good friend Andrew Schill----Aaron

By Andrew Schill

Several weeks ago, I embarked on an unusual journey with four of my friends to Lebanon to meet with the deputy head of Hezbollah’s Executive Council. Though certainly not a typical day at the office, I suspect it was a much more tame experience than our initial plan, which fell through a week before our planned departure. Originally, my friend Carl had arranged a meeting with Iran’s polarizing Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and the Supreme Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. Apparent discord between these two men had escalated to such a degree that our Hezbollah contacts decided that such a meeting would not be beneficial to anyone.

After a scenic drive from Beirut to the southern Lebanese town of Tyre, we met our liaison and followed him to our undisclosed meeting place. After a quick check and the dispensing of our cell phones we were ushered into a room to await our meeting with Sheikh Nabil Qaouk, a man who appears to be soft-spoken, but unlike his secular counterparts, he wields both military and religious authority over Shiite Muslims of southern Lebanon. We drank tea while the Sheikh offered a short sermon, which but for the religious Shiite dress could have been given in most American churches. We would later discuss the origins and the perceived necessity for Hezbollah’s existence and their on-going armed resistance with their southern neighbor. At the end of our meeting we – Shiite and Sunni, Christian and Muslim, American and Palestinian, male and female – joined hands in prayer. I would find myself being given the most unenviable task of leading us in prayer and beyond the salutary greetings to God, most of what I prayed remains a fog except for a heartfelt plea for peace and justice.

Any notions I may have held about justice however were challenged by the stateless Palestinian refugees of Lebanon. While Jordan and Syria both have large Palestinian populations and refugee camps of their own, the Palestinians in Lebanon are denied participation in Lebanese political and social life. Those that are able to work outside the camp must stay off the radar, while most remain within the cramped and overcrowded confines of the camp. For the delicate sectarian system of Lebanon the inclusion of the Palestinians would upset the precarious balance that allows for any semblance of a functioning government. Our visit to the refugee camp in Beirut was an entrance to another world – buildings were stacked one on top of another to make room for families inevitable expansion after 63 years of house arrest. Within the camps various factions proclaimed their territory and their loyalty by covering buildings with flags and propaganda. One side of the street would display large pictorial tributes to Bashar-Al-Assad while across the street the yellow banners of Hezbollah would proudly bear the image of their leader Hassan Nasrallah. The most prolific and prominent poster would be of the late Yasser Arafat bearing the slogan, “You inspire us.” While I’ve witnessed worse physical poverty in Latin America, I’ve never encountered such hopelessness – a people without identity – longing for a land most have never known while being held hostage as pawns in a high-stake political game over which they have no control.

Sheikh Nabil likened the Palestinians to a drowning child that Hezbollah must reach out with its own arms to save, yet the camps bear little evidence of such salvation. So, while I believe it is important to engage our enemies (both real and perceived) in true dialog, it is my conviction that political leaders are not going to be at the forefront of lasting peace and reconciliation. True social change and accompanying revolutions must originate with the people in grassroots movements. This can take years and even decades when the goal of these movements is peaceful political and social change. So while our meeting with the Hezbollah was significant for me personally, it didn’t engender much hope for a peaceful resolution with Israel. The greatest encouragement and source of hope would occur a few days later in Amman, Jordan when we meet with one of the young educated leaders of the nascent Jordanian non-violent movement who was still bearing a baton inspired gash to his forehead from the now infamous March 24th uprising. For many of the youth we meet the movement spreading throughout the Middle East seemed almost like an intoxicating drug, while for some the apparent gap in political ideologies they encountered created only despair.

On Jihad and the burning of holy books

By Carl Medearis

You could only imagine how many times in a week (or day) I get asked questions like “Do you think we should bomb Iran?” Or… “Do you think Iran is going to get nuclear weapons and then will bomb Israel?” Or… “Why do the Muslims get so angry when we accidentally burn their Qur’an and yet they seem to feel free to burn our Bible?”

I remember being in southern Iraq a few years ago and the bus boy at the hotel where we were staying looked at me with large brown innocent eyes and asked “Sir, why do the Americans hate us?”

Actually in 30 years I can’t count the times when an Arab Muslim has asked similar questions. “Why do you want to take over the world?” They ask. Or… “I don’t understand why America doesn’t care about Palestinians who are being killed?” And… “Do all Americans love their family the way you do? Because I have never heard of such nice Americans before.”

Funny how this works. Lack of understanding usually goes both ways. And misunderstanding between potential enemies is dangerous. When we don’t personally know someone we can easily fall into fear. And fear leads to all things bad.

I remember early on during our Lebanon years a family saying to Chris and I that they could never become Christians because they LOVED their family. That meant, that what they thought of Americans/Christians (which they see as the same thing) are only people who don’t love each other. Who get divorced. Who send their kids off to colleges far away when they turn 18 (like we’ve done). And they – being good God fearing family oriented Muslims – could never do that.

So back to the questions. Why do they seem to hate us? Want to kill us? Bomb Israel?

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I know that Jesus is the answer, but what does that mean?

Is the gospel about Jesus rescuing us from hell and transporting us to heaven… or is it about Jesus creating a community to work with him in the renewal of creation? Here in America, questions like this can determine whether you think of yourself as emergent (or not), whether you like Sojourners (or not) or whether you prefer Fox News or CNN. It’s a question that Christians can discuss with their friends over a cappuccino at Starbucks. We know that Jesus is the answer, but what does that actually mean? Let me tell you about a group of people where the answer to this question can spell the difference between hope and misery: Palestinian refugees in Lebanon.

A couple of weeks ago I traveled to Lebanon and Jordan as part of a delegation of authors, professors, and businessmen. Originally we were supposed to meet with a major world leader, but that didn’t pan out, so we ended up spending our time meeting with political leaders, democracy activists, Christian workers, and Insider Muslims (which are Muslims that follow Jesus within the context of Islam—another story for another day). One day we spent a morning at a Palestinian refugee camp in Beirut. It wasn’t at all like I expected.

Like many people, when the words “Palestinian refugee camp” came to mind, I pictured makeshift tents strewn on an open field somewhere, probably in the middle of a valley or a desert. The Palestinian camp in Beirut is more like a city within a city, a series of autonomous heavily guarded neighborhood blocks in which the Lebanese police are not allowed to enter. The partially bombed-out buildings betray evidence of previous wars and invasions, the streets are narrow and filthy, and walking on the narrow and filthy streets between the partially bombed-out buildings you can look up and see tangles of wires connecting here, there, and everywhere; evidence of people doing the best they can with what they have to work with.

Most Palestinians refugees in Lebanon live and die in the camps, and it’s been that way for over 60 years. Unlike Jordan, where the Palestinian refugees were granted citizenship and integrated into the fabric of society, Palestinians in Lebanon are permanent non-citizens; living in a land that’s not their own while longing to return to a land that most of them have never been. What this means in practical day to day reality is that Palestinian refugees in Lebanon face a number of prohibitions against working, owning land, or building homes outside the camps. The ones that are able to find work outside the camps often have to do so under the table. The U.N. agency tasked with overseeing the refugee population (UNRWA) fulfills a much- needed role, but can only employ a fraction of the refugee population. The situation is so grave that a group of British researchers tested the mental development of a group of children by lining them up and throwing soccer balls at them. To their shock and horror, instead of the children picking up the balls and throwing them back, they let the balls fall to the ground without picking them back up, showing not only a lack of mental development, but a perpetual state of hopelessness. To them, the camp is a prison which they have little hope of escaping.

Which brings me back to my original question: I know that Jesus is the answer, but what exactly does that mean?

The wannabee Anabaptist side of me says that the solution to all of the world’s problems lies not in politics but in the Kingdom of God, and the Kingdom of God isn’t necessarily about solving the world’s problems, but creating an alternative community that eschews earthly power structures in preference for servant hood and simple living. Given the tendency of Jesus to lampoon the Herods and the Caesars of his day, coupled with his ability to transcend political ideologies by inviting tax collectors and zealots to serve on his apostolic team, and let’s not forget the Apostle Paul telling the slaves “If you can be free, great! But if you can’t, don’t worry too much about it” (my paraphrase of I Corinthians 7:21), I find a lot of justification for this position.

It’s surprisingly similar to what the Pentecostal side of me would say, “No matter how crappy life is on earth, hell is worse and heaven is better, so let’s focus on the issues that really matter….eternal issues, not temporary issues which are passing away.” Back in the days of slavery in America, the message of patiently submitting to suffering in hope of an eternal reward helped many African Americans get through their miserable days, knowing that there’s a sweet by and by in the sky gave them a peace and a hope that transcended their circumstances. All good and wonderful, except when you factor in the infamous Uncle Tom and Martin Luther King’s soul-stirring appeal in Letter from a Birmingham Jail, it kind of makes you wonder if Christianity’s critics, the ones who claim that Christianity is a ploy of the ruling classes to keep the lower classes in servitude and submission….may have a point after all.

Here’s the problem. How can I credibly say that “Jesus is the answer” if “Jesus is the answer” means that I no longer advocate for political solutions to problems that can only be solved….by a political solution? For the plight of Palestinian refugees to change for the better, one of three things has to happen. Either Lebanon grants them citizenship, the Palestinians get a state of their own, or Israel grants them the right of return. The sectarian system in Lebanese politics makes option one very difficult, and the prospect of Israel making peace with Palestinians seems like a pipe dream. Still, anything less than one of these three options and the plight of Palestinians in Lebanon remains miserable and hopeless no matter how much individual charity is directed their way.

So why am I asking this question? I may not come up with any definitive answers, but here’s what I’m hoping will happen. I hope that some will read this article and take the time to visit, make friends, pray for and advocate for Palestinian refugees in Lebanon. If more people learn about the plight of Palestinian refugees in Lebanon, and decide to do something about it, however big or small, then maybe the question is worth asking after all.