 Not Even The Grinch! |
|||||||||||||||||
|
by Rev. Sandra Olewine |
 |
||||||||||||||||
Tuesday morning the sun was bright and the air crisp in Bethlehem. The Evangelical Lutheran Church of Bethlehem had planned a special trip for the children of the congregation on this day; every year the church council presents small gifts to the children but this year we decided to take them on a trip to the north of the country instead because many of the children had never been there. The day would include a stop at the Jordan River to remember our baptism, a hike at Caesarea Philippi (Banias) to see the headwaters of the Jordan River, a visit to the Mount of Beatitudes, and, to end the day, a boat ride on the Sea of Galilee and a fish dinner on the shore! Most of our congregation had received permits allowing them to leave Bethlehem and travel everywhere but Eilat, so we opened the trip to everyone. Several parents and grandparents joined us and we loaded up a bus. We took the tunnel road from Beit Jala to avoid exposing the children to the ordeal of the new "terminal." The adults and youth over 16 still had to get off the bus and have their permits and IDs checked but it was a bit better than having to take everyone through the turnstiles, metal detectors, and patrolling soldiers. After about 20 minutes we were on our way. The day was beautiful for a drive. One of our youth workers quizzed the children as we went up the Jordan Valley, helping them to know where they were and what they were seeing. About 20 minutes south of the Sea of Galilee is the end of the West Bank and another checkpoint. As expected, our bus driver was instructed to pull aside for a permit check, but when the soldier approached the bus and began talking to the driver, it was clear something wasn't right. I got off the bus and went around to the driver's side, asking what the problem was. The young Israeli soldier announced "Palestinians can't use this checkpoint. You have to go back and go another way if you want to go north." "Another way" would have entailed 2-4 more hours driving, basically getting us to the Sea of Galilee just before our 4 pm boat ride and dinner! Thus began a forty minute negotiation between myself and the soldiers. I employed all the typical methods one uses in such circumstances, trying everything I could think of to convince these young men of the insanity of the detour they were asking us make. Clearly this had nothing to do with security; they weren't telling us we couldn't go, we just couldn't go through the easy, direct way. I asked the soldier who took the lead in dealing with me, "Do you realize exactly what it is you're telling me? I have one day to take these children to the sea to play and you're asking them to spend the entire day on the bus instead. You do realize that this has nothing to do with security but is only meant to harass and humiliate people?" His answer, "I know. But, this is the rule. It isn't up to me." The church elders and I had a decision to make; should we sit there and wait, hoping that some of the authorities working to clear the bus through this checkpoint, including the Israeli Ministry of Religious Affairs, would succeed? -or should we turn around and make other plans for the day? Knowing that the negotiations could take an hour or even all day, and remembering that the children had already been on the bus for 3 1/2 hours, we decided to make the best out of an unbelievable situation. We would go back to a monastery near Jericho for our picnic lunch, continue down to Ein Gedi to the Dead Sea, and then go back to Jericho for an early dinner. As I returned to the bus I thought of the Dr. Seuss classic tale "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" and thought to myself, "It wasn't the Grinch that stole Christmas from these kids." I was boiling with anger and hurt. One of the hardest things I have ever had to do was get back on that bus to explain to the children and adults facing me that our plans had changed. I could barely begin, choking on the words "I'm so sorry" as tears filled my eyes. Their response was even harder to hear. "It isn't your fault. We know you tried. We're used to it. We often have to change our plans. We'll make the best of our day. At least we saw some fresh scenery and are out of Bethlehem for a day! It is enough." My mind raced; "No, it isn't enough; you shouldn't have to be used to it; it isn't right." I wanted to shout or throw something but not a single child complained; not a word of disappointment was heard as the bus turned around and headed back the way we had just come. After another hour's drive we were back near Jericho at the monastery. Rushing from the bus, the children enjoyed the lush gardens, taking great delight in the donkeys, camels, chickens, pigs, peacocks, pigeons, and cows kept on the grounds. After our lunch, we piled back on the bus and headed south for another hour to reach Ein Gedi. Some of the children had never been there either and were very excited at seeing such a large body of water. Even here though, the impact of the occupation was ever present as one of the smallest among us, Victor, asked his teacher sitting behind me, "Will there be soldiers on the sea?" Within minutes of reaching Ein Gedi shoes and socks were off and pants were rolled up as some of the kids waded into the salty sea. Amazed at the oily feel of the water and intrigued by the huge blocks of salt gathered on the beach, the children giggled and skipped rocks and delighted in the beauty of the place. It was then off to Jericho for dinner. The soldier at the Israeli checkpoint going into Jericho stopped the bus, asking from where we were. When he heard 'Bethlehem,' he looked concerned and actually hesitated for a bit before letting us in. Those of us in the front of the bus just looked at each other and began to laugh. When we got to the Palestinian checkpoint a few meters later, the policeman just waved at the bus. We waved backed, clapping and cheering. After dinner, as the bus made the climb from Jericho to Jerusalem, I thought again of the stolen moments of the day and a journey ruined. But because the children refused to be disappointed, because they enjoyed the places we visited, because they laughed and frolicked together, neither the Grinch nor the Israeli army could steal Christmas from them. They kept Christmas alive because they kept the spirit of wonder, joy, and love present in their lives despite being told "because you're Palestinian, you can't pass here." As we arrived back in Bethlehem I offered a silent prayer of thanks for the children of our church who gave me back my own Christmas spirit, teaching me another lesson about resistance and endurance.
Date posted: Dec 29, 2005 |
|||||||||||||||||
