The things we get used to

Last night was my first experience of a rocket siren in Jerusalem. Having read reports of the breakdown of the Gaza truce talks before bed, I knew exactly what it was when I heard it. We jumped out of bed, rushed downstairs to get the kids, and assembled in our mamad (a bomb shelter with reinforced concrete walls, required in every Israeli apartment built after about 1992—a privilege most of my Palestinian friends do not share). On normal days, our mamad houses our home computer, spare folding chairs, and two hanging racks of clothes. 

Our bomb shelter/office/closet
Photo by Robert Smith

Weird? Yes. But having lived in the U.S.’s tornado alley most of my life, it didn’t feel all that different from the scramble to get underground when the tornado sirens wail. I also found that the things I said to the kids (and the rationale I used to stay calm) weren’t much different, either:

“Guys, it’s probably nothing. Chances are it’s far away from here. Just a precaution. Did you bring a blanket? We’ll be back in bed soon.”

We were indeed back in bed soon (although sleep didn’t come until long after). The rocket landed in an open area of Jerusalem, causing no apparent damage.

Not so lucky were the 11 Gazans killed overnight, including the wife and infant daughter of a Hamas military chief. Also killed were three children (Farah Raafat Alawah, Muyasera Raafat Alawah, and Mustafa Rafat Alawah) when the Israelis struck a refugee camp near Rafah. Their bodies were pulled out from under the rubble around 6:30 a.m.

So, my walk into church this morning took a little longer than usual. I mentioned to one of my colleagues in the office that I had had a hard time sleeping. “Ah,” he chuckled, “You’ll have to get used to these things!”

You’ll have to get used to it. Indeed, while last evening seemed to signal several giant leaps backward on any sort of path toward a peaceful solution in Gaza, this is far from the first time. And this morning the everyday signs of the occupation continue on, almost unnoticed.

In Nablus this morning, four residential structures were demolished. This follows the demolition of 3 homes earlier in the week in a Jerusalem neighborhood (for lack of permits) and the destruction and sealing off of homes in Hebron on the same day. The Hebron homes belonged to family members of those purportedly responsible for the killing of 3 Israeli teens earlier this summer. (American friends, imagine this: Your son/nephew/grandson has committed a heinous crime. And now your home will be destroyed by the government.) 

The Old City of Jerusalem,
normally bustling with tourists,
now often with shops shuttered and quiet.
Photo by Carrie Smith.

You’ll have to get used to it. This morning in the Old City, most shops were still shuttered at 10 a.m. It’s not a holiday, it’s just that there are no tourists. My friend Rami, who runs a jewelry shop in the Christian Quarter, says they are doing only 5% of usual business. The Gaza conflict is keeping everyone away. “We 

cannot save even one shekel.” At the money changer nearby, the owner’s son was providing unplanned help behind the desk. He rents cars at the airport, but the manager told him to stay home. No tourists, no car rentals. (Note to tourists: Shopkeepers who call out to you to see their goods are not being rude—they are working! They’re trying to feed their children, trying to keep the family business open, trying to stay in Jerusalem, the home of their ancestors. So please, stop it with the dismissive looks and nasty words.)

You’ll have to get used to it. The other day, I was lamenting to a Palestinian friend how my country, and my president, have been unable (or unwilling) to do anything to positively affect the situation here. His response was, “Look—we are resisting occupation. And yes, we need the help of the world to do it. But you, too, are occupied. You are occupied mentally. You are occupied by the media and by economic interests. 

This occupation is even harder to resist.”

I’ve been thinking about my friend Ali’s words as I’ve been studying the lectionary texts for this week, especially the second reading, from Romans chapter 12:

I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, 

to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, 

which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, 

but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, 

so that you may discern what is the will of God—

what is good and acceptable and perfect.

The separation wall and sniper tower in Bethlehem
Photo by Carrie Smith

“You’ll have to get used it.”

“You, too, are occupied.”

 “Do not be conformed to this world.”  

The Apostle Paul seems to be crying out: “DON’T get used to it! Do not be conformed! Resist!”

Paul appeals to us as believers to resist the pull of conformity, the allure of empire, and our nearly irresistible addiction to power and privilege and the status quo. As followers of Christ, we are to resist occupation (by anyone or anything) and instead be transformed by the “renewing of our minds”—a transformation and renewal which happens through prayer, through Scripture, and especially through offering our entire bodies in worship and in service to God.

So today, as tired as my body is, I’m contemplating how my whole transformed, non-conforming self refuses to get used to these things:

·         Dead children pulled out of rubble

·         Checkpoints, walls, and sniper towers

·         Illegal occupation

·         Rocket sirens in Israel, “warning knocks” in Gaza, and “live shooter drills” in U.S. schools

·         Tear gas used on unarmed citizens (in Palestine or in Ferguson, Missouri)

·         Boys being taught special strategies to stay alive, based on the color of their skin (In Palestine, or in Ferguson, Missouri)

What occupies you? What are you resisting? 

How is your whole body offered as a “living sacrifice” and in “spiritual worship”? 

Schoolchildren marching in support of Palestine,
near the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, Jerusalem
August 20, 2014
Photo by Carrie Smith