Mennonite Church Peace Resources for Youth

A view of the wall from someone standing below, looking past the graffiti (photo by Christi Hoover Seidel)

A Day at the University

Some time ago, I had the distinct privilege of accompanying a new friend of mine, Judith, to the local university where she works as a professor in the Education Department. I met Judith through a mutual friend who thought we would enjoy each other's love of education, which is my background. Needless to say, I was very excited when Judith invited me to sit in on one of her classes where young Palestinian women were learning how to teach English as a second language.

Bethlehem University is a beautiful place. Trees, grass and quaint stone buildings are the backdrop for the youth walking to classes or just talking with friends. I could almost imagine that I was in a "normal" place where it seemed that the political circumstances weren't dictating the lives of those around me.

My heart felt at home sitting in the university classroom and participating in the micro-lessons that the girls were demonstrating. I was impressed by how Judith was instilling so many current and age-appropriate teaching strategies in these women. Both Judith and the young women were setting high standards for becoming great teachers and giving their best to develop that desired outcome.

Meeting Reem

One woman in particular stood out to me. Reem, a spunky young woman with a sweet smile and an outgoing personality, was the first to give her lesson. She had greeted me with a "Welcome to our school!" earlier, and my presence as a foreign observer was not at all intimidating to her. She eagerly pulled me into the lesson, she was enthusiastic, articulate, skilled and confident, all the while performing in her second language-English.

I thought to myself what a wonderful teacher Reem would be and how much her students would love her enthusiasm. I was already picturing her in the classroom, living her dream and loving it.

Reality Sets In

Looking up at the wall from behind the barbed wire. This is just from a roadside in Bethlehem (photo by Christi Hoover Seidel)

After the class was over, Reem and I talked briefly. I reiterated how impressed I was and how I thought she would make a great teacher. Reem, with a matter-of-fact strength of mind responded that even though she would love to be a teacher, she is expecting that she will end up doing secretarial work somewhere instead, the circumstances being what they were. Sadly, I was not at all surprised, but I felt my own enthusiasm deflate as she spoke to me about the reality facing her life. Because of the political situation here, jobs are difficult to come by. Travel to Jerusalem to find work is forbidden without permission from the Israeli government, even though it is six miles away. Reem can't even picture herself in a classroom doing what she would love to do most-teaching English.

There is also a concrete wall being built around this town. The consequences of its existence strip people of hope and freedom. And what I saw in the university, a place where dreams theoretically are being formed and refined, a ceiling of oppression is preventing a younger generation from embracing even their dreams.

Her Dreams are not for Herself

It's very difficult for me to voice Reem's story in a way that clearly articulates just how frustratingly unjust her circumstances are. In America many of us are able to define our lives by dreams, particularly the "American Dream." Dreaming itself is not limited to the privileged, but the juxtaposition of the dream is. It is from this place of privilege that I see here so strongly the contrast in the way people dream. In a spirit similar to that of the late Martin Luther King, Jr., people here do not dream for themselves as much as they do for their children and grandchildren. Living in peace, returning to their land, and having work are just a few of the dreams that the older generations are forced to dream only for the generations to come. The present day means struggle.

Graffiti on the wall surrounding Bethlehem. Painting the wall is a creative and nonviolent expression of resistance (photo by Christi Hoover Seidel)

Choice Dilemmas in Palestine and Israel

The Value of Choice: An encounter with an Israeli Soldier

The first time I drove through the new checkpoint that separates Bethlehem from Jerusalem, I was with my British friend Susan. I got as far as driving through the nine-meter high concrete wall that separates the towns, when the Israeli soldier told me to stop the car and have Susan get out and walk through the terminal and meet me on the other side. While I went through in minutes, I waited on the other side, noticing that there didn't appear to be many people coming through, including Susan. I called Susan and she told me she was in a long line of people that didn't appear to be moving.

I got out of the car and walked up to the first person I could find that seemed to work at the checkpoint. I showed him my American passport and complained that my British friend was stuck. After asking what Susan looked like, he went in to look for her. Another soldier leaned on the metal fence next to me. I decided to ask him why he was serving in this army. I gestured toward the wall and said, "This wall won't bring peace." To my surprise he agreed with me! To the best of his ability, he communicated in English that though he believed that checkpoints and walls were not the answers, he felt trapped in a system that requires youth to be in the military. He felt he didn't really have a choice.

It's true that Israelis who refuse to serve in the military face jail time. I was just beginning to realize my own arrogance when the man returned from the terminal with Susan. Here I was, my blue passport in hand, the power to get around a military checkpoint, preaching at this man. Did he have a choice? Yes, he did-between service or jail. What kind of choice is that? What choice would I make if I were him? Perhaps when one, like myself, has so many choices, it's difficult to understand the value of choice.

Do My Choices Really Matter?

Like this soldier, people often feel imprisoned by systems that are set in place in this world, such as military, financial, religious or political. Even if we don't agree with the system, we often feel we lack the power to make a difference. But is that true?

The Palestinian parents trapped on the inside of the wall, faced with unemployment and the needs of their children, have to make a choice to carry on, to wake up in the morning, to embrace their own dignity, even if others do not.

As an American, I can choose to ignore the situation here in the Middle East, or get close enough to it to try to get myself and others like me to understand and care for it as well. Maybe we don't see the impact we're having or that we'd like to have, in the moment, but we can never underestimate the power of a choice that focuses on life, peace, loving our neighbors, protecting our planet, remembering the poor, or simply striving to understand what it is that we fear.

Choosing Hope

Even though certain conflicts in the world leave us with little reason to be optimistic, we can choose to hope. Optimism means we have a reason to think things will get better. Hope chooses to believe even when there seems to be nothing good on the horizon. Hope in God, hope in life, hope in ourselves, hope in our fellow humans can all be parts of our daily choices, whether they are lived in the security of familiar towns or in chaotic foreign places. We must ask ourselves, do our choices embrace life or conquer it?

For more information on military refusal in Israel, visit http://www.refusersolidarity.org

Map of Palestine for historical reference