"a people cannot be oppressed forever"

It's so much harder than I thought it would be, trying to put this into words--I said on facebook that my time in Israel/Palestine was so much more than I had imagined--by which I meant, mostly, anything I could imagine would not compare to the actuality; to being there, in the very place, seeing with my own eyes. So, I very much doubt that anything I write will do justice to the experience. But ... I'll try.

As you may have gathered from my last post, I went with a heavy heart, sick with despair, hardly daring even to think I might find any reason for hope. Now, two weeks later, I have become a witness to the stunning resilience of the human spirit.

I had heard much about how the Palestinian people suffer under the occupation--and of course, we all know that many have thrown stones, a small minority have turned to terrorism, and growing numbers are choosing non-violent forms of resistance. But having heard all that in the news is nothing like walking the streets of a refugee camp in the West Bank, guided by one of the residents, a man whose father was shot and killed by Israeli soldiers for trying to cross the street--a man whose friends and neighbors told him he had every right to become a suicide bomber, but who chose instead to "use the power of pain" to work toward a just peace.

He tells us that even though they are in "Area A," supposedly under full Palestinian control, they are still subject to curfews; many roads, including a main thoroughfare through the middle of the camp, are for Israelis only; soldiers regularly come on raids; the Israelis keep water and electricity cut off much of the time--but he says to us, a group of fifty Americans, if we want to help, "Do not send food or water; what we need most is education. We need education so they will see us as human beings."

We heard this from the lips of virtually every Palestinian we talked with: "We want to be treated as human beings."

It was absolutely incredible to me, the patience with which they spoke--about situations that have me boiling over with rage--they seemed to have a calm determination--as exemplified in the matter-of-fact statement of Palestinian Authority cabinet member Nabeel Shaath, "We know that we will win, because a people cannot be oppressed forever."

Here is a sign I really liked at a community development center in the Dheisheh refugee camp.

The guy at the center was telling us that when they were constructing the place, Israeli soldiers came in the night three times and destroyed the place. They had planned to just call it the Dheisheh Community Center, or something like that, but because they had to keep rebuilding it from ruins, it's now called the Phoenix Center. Someone in the class asked why the Israelis would want to destroy a community center. The response: "That is my question! They usually don't give a reason ... We are in Area A, but it is controlled by the Israelis."

Salaam li'l Quds - Peace for Jerusalem
(with thanks to Vicki Tamoush, for translating!)

Anyway, I thought that was such a brilliant image: the phoenix--no matter how hard the powers-that-be try to crush the people's spirit, they will rise again.




"A people cannot be oppressed forever."

Weeping For Jerusalem

And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, "Would that you, even you, had known on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes."Luke 19:41-42

The last two weeks I've been busy, busy, busy preparing for the big peacemaking travel course in Israel/Palestine I'll be auditing (I leave Monday, return July 1). I'm just about packed. I've done most of the reading I was supposed to and some other reading I "assigned" myself. But I don't think I'm really emotionally prepared.

At the end of his ministry, when Jesus came in sight of Jerusalem, he wept. He perceived that the city's destruction was inevitable. The current situation in Israel and Palestine makes me want to cry, also, but the point of this trip is that there is still hope. It's very hard for me to see that.

At the same time, I am terribly, terribly excited for this trip, and open to taking it all in, learning as much as I can, but my heart is so heavy--I don't know what to do with all the grief and outrage that I feel even now--what will it be like, actually being there in the midst of it all?

I've always thought of myself as having a good sense of humor (in terms of recognizing irony and being able to laugh in all kinds of situations). But I really haven't been able to laugh, even about the tragic ironies of the Israeli-Arab conflict. Certainly, there are many such ironies, but I'm just too frustrated and sad about them to laugh.

Well. We will see, we will see what things are like when I am there.

Adventures in Graduating

No "Master of Divinity" After All

Every time I refer to my degree by its name, "Master of Divinity," I always feel a twinge of fear that God is going to smite me on the spot, perhaps with leprosy or a giant hailstone, for uttering blasphemy. "Master of Divinity"--egad, what arrogance, what vanity--what an irony that students of theology, who ought to understand more deeply than anyone the fact of divine transcendence, the vast, yea infinite mystery of God's glory, should presume to name themselves "Masters of Divinity."

So to poke a little fun at the absurdity of the title, I got it into my head (years ago) that I would take some pictures of myself in graduation robes making divinity, the confection. Alas, there are two problems with this idea: first, divinity is difficult to make, and not surprisingly, I failed to prove myself a "master of divintiy" on the first try. Second, divinity is not an appealing candy, and I had no interest in making several batches in order to get one right, which I would probably not eat, anyway.

But here, at least, is a goofy little video of the attempt:

More Silliness
Last year, when I worked at Commencement, I thought how great it would feel, being among the ranks of the graduates. But I had mixed feelings about the idea of walking across the stage to shake the president's hand and receive the diploma case. Again, it struck me as such an exercise in vanity--hoity-toity acadmics slapping each other on the back for their supposed accomplishments. I'm just too cynical about the whole "education" process to really congratulate myself on completing the degree.

So I decided to lighten up the moment by wearing an awesome pair of striped flip-flop socks (and a pair of flip-flops my mother bought me when I was eleven!). Even during the long time waiting, before and in the midst of the ceremony, I was sitting there, first feeling bitter, then just sad, about all the wasted opportunities of the past four years. But when at last they called my row to line up, and I saw my family there in the audience--I was happy--in fact, when they called my name, I was so happy, I threw my hands up and ran/skipped across the stage. "Wow!" said President Mouw, shaking my hand, "Congratulations--you won the race!"

Why do I look so short in this picture? (-;

No longer a seminarian, it's time to catch up on some vices--quick, before I become a pastor.

The sweet taste of success--in cigar form!

Movies (Three)

We've gone to see three movies recently! Here is my report.

Going into Thor, I had pretty low expectations. After Iron Man, thus far the pinnacle of superhero movie acheivement, it's hard to get excited about something you know will never compare. But actually, Thor was quite fun.

To be sure, there is nothing original about it; I winced at some of the insipid dialogue; it suffers a bit from predictability and cliches. But for some reason, it was easy to overlook these weaknesses. In the early scenes of Thor's obnoxious war-mongering, it was actually nice to have the assurance that a formulaic change of heart lay in his future.

Perhaps much of what made the film so palatable was that I liked how it looked. New Mexico is so beautiful; Asgard, too.

X-Men: First Class, on the other hand, was marred for me by visual flaws: some of the CGI was, I think, not detailed enough to meet the highest standards of realism--for whatever reason, some of it looked fake. And Beast's make-up was poorly done--especially, his mouth didn't move very well--it looked bad.

Aside from that ... it was a pretty good movie, but surprisingly boring. Perhaps because the old "threat of nuclear war" plot has been done so many, many, many, many, many times over--and as a person who did not live through the Cuban missile crisis, I cannot recall the terror of that time.

Perhaps they could have done more to play up the interpersonal drama--give the characters a little more depth.
X-Men left me feeling something like, "Gee, maybe I'm getting tired of movies--I've just seen too many"--but watching Source Code, my love of films was restored completely: "This is why I watch movies!"

Yes, Source Code was an excellent film: smart, gripping, surprisingly humorous; it handles superbly a clever premise, through simple, yet elegant storytelling. It strongly recalls another great film, 12 Monkeys, using similar themes and images, though to very different effect. Brilliant script. I'll have to keep an eye out for future work by Ben Ripley.

Thoughts on Authority

Have I mentioned before that every time someone suggests a Ph.D. could be in my future, I want to scream at them: "NO, NO, NO, NO, NO-O-O-O!!!"?  It has to do with the kind of person I do not want to become, or to be subject to.

During my internships, I've given a lot of thought to the concept of authority--both in a pastoral context, and as an abstraction. And I've come to understand that, ultimately, all genuine authority is God's authority. When someone speaks or gives a command authoritatively, it is because they are speaking God's truth, and commanding God's will.

In this sense, authority cannot be vested in any human being, whether by virtue of appointment, position, or relationship. A person's authority does not depend on their role (pastor, police officer, judge)--their role helps them to exercise authority effectively--but the moment a pastor speaks heresy, or a police officer uses excessive force, or a judge decides a sentence based on a bribe, they cease to speak and act with authority, and should be challenged rather than obeyed.

Even when I am ordained as some kind of pastor at a church (God willing), I will not really possess any authority by virtue of my position. Any real authority I have at that point will not be mine at all--I may by God's grace be able to speak with the authority of divine truth and the divine will, and in such a way exercise God's authority. But I do not want anyone to submit to me; that would be idolatry.

And what does this have to do with my horror of the world of academia? I really hate the way that the educational system puts professors in a superior relationship to students. I think it's bad for professors, who are encouraged to become narcissistic and set themselves up as false gods; and I think it's bad for students, who become intellectually indolent.

The One who is Truth should be the head of the seminary classroom; professors ought to recognize the humbleness of their position, being but fellow servants of our one Lord, and empower students to use all the unique gifts and experiences God has given them--they should see the class not primarily as a personal project through which they can impart their superior wisdom; but as a learning community where all contribute.

Is this really so radical of an idea? In fact, YES! Sadly, I can think of only two professors who seem to have understood that they had as much to learn from students as students had to learn from them. They were good teachers. I wish there were more like them. I guess maybe I should be the change I wish to see and think about getting a Ph.D. someday, after all. Oh, heavens. Only if the good Lord asks it of me ...

(Hey--this is my 200th post! Who knew I had that much to say?)

It's All Coming Back Now ...

It's been a fantastic year. My internships at Children's Hospital and Immanuel Pres. to-ta-lly rocked. In fact, things have been so great, I had forgotten all the agony and grief of my three years taking classes at Fuller. But tonight, it all came back to me ...

Every year they throw a special party for the graduating class. I wasn't sure what to expect, but, gee, it was lame. Not many people came. There are about 500 graduates per year; perhaps thirty (plus significant others) attended this event.

Why did the evening suck so badly? There was no spirit in the gathering. It was very telling that virtually everyone left immediately following the closing prayer--a few small groups stayed to chat, but man, that room emptied almost instantly.

That was my experience of Fuller in general--a complete absence of group spirit--no sense of unity, camaraderie, fellowship, or mission. It's so strange; we have great professors and great students, but the whole is somehow less than the sum of its parts. So completely opposite from Whitworth.

It makes me sad. I received an excellent education here, but by the end of those first three years, I felt that much of the opening up and softening of my heart that happened at Whitworth had now been undone. I felt so calloused and bitter, closed hearted, hostile and burned.

Looking back on it, my internship at Immanuel has really been very healing ... so much so that it was quite a shock being suddenly re-immersed in the soul-less-ness of Fuller.

I'm glad that not everyone experiences Fuller in this way. On the bright side, Brandon won a raffle prize and we received a neat benediction attributed to St. Patrick:

"I bind unto myself today
The virtues of the starlit heaven,
The glorious sun’s life-giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind’s tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea,
Around the old eternal rocks."

(Most stirring part only quoted--more here)

Sympathy for bin Laden (ending in a rant)

(Skippable) Introductory Concept: On Moral Dilemmas

Watching this neat video of an ethics class, I thought: people need a paradigm shift for thinking about moral dilemmas. We want to come up with the “right answer”--the best option, what you’re supposed to do. Ethicists try to tease out the moral principles involved and discern how they apply in a given situation, hoping to end up with a list of propositional statements which can be expressed in logical symbolism, making it possible to create a formula, from which we derive the correct course of action.

I still find such an approach natural, and think it immensely useful, except that it misses the big picture. And the big picture truth is that reality is messy, people’s intentions are typically unclear even to themselves, they are influenced by a whole range and variety of factors which perhaps no one will ever know completely, and even the consequences of one’s actions are always uncertain.

I think we need to stop thinking of ethics as a way to determine the single, formulaic “right” way to act (a la Kant especially, but Utilitarians and others as well) and instead accept that moral dilemmas are probably always going to be more complex than any individual is going to wrap their head around, and that the best we can do is consider carefully the competing values we recognize as applicable, and weigh them against each other as best we can.

What does this have to do with bin Laden?

Well, Americans have really vilified him, but he believed he was doing the right thing, and he has quite a number of admirers who still think so. Americans fail to appreciate that bin Laden and other revolutionaries of the Arab world find themselves faced with a genuine moral dilemma, and we ought to have greater respect for the choices they have made, given their situation.

Now, I want to acknowledge, explicitly, that acts of terrorism are an absolute evil. Killing non-combatants is murder; it’s wrong, no question. But if we stop there and just call Osama bin Laden an evil man because he was a terrorist, we fail to appreciate the complexity of the situation.
America and its ally Israel compose a modern day Goliath to the Arab world’s David. Particularly in the Palestinian experience (which was a driving impetus behind the September 11 terrorist attacks), Arabs have been horrifically, unjustly victimized by ruthless displays of our vastly superior military might. They have no way of fighting back against our tanks, bombs, soldiers, etc. So they choose the only target available to them: civilians.

As I said before, attacking civilians is evil. I do not condone such a practice. But consider this: the United States is a democracy of sorts. That means every citizen does hold some responsibility for the political actions of our nation, including military actions, including our support of Israel’s semi-covert attempts at eradicating the Palestinian people (a.k.a. ethnic cleansing or genocide). In ancient Greece, military service was a prerequisite to voting. We could stand to learn from such a policy that having a say in the fate of a nation means accepting the consequences of our decisions, including the ugly consequences of bad decisions. If we choose to inflict violence on others, we should expect a violent response, and we should take responsibility for provoking it.

Rev. Jeremiah Wright was not being anti-American when he pointed out that on Sept. 11 we were reaping what we ourselves had sown. In fact, he was showing greater patriotism than all the flag-waving horn-honkers who rejoiced at bin Laden’s death this week. Why? Because citizenship is not about “hooray for our side”; it’s about wanting our country to be the best it can be--and that’s not possible if we continue to ignore the truth about ourselves. The truth is, we are a violent nation, and that’s not acceptable. Violence begets violence. Those who live by the sword die by the sword. Osama bin Laden may have been an evil terrorist, but he was also a prophet. We should listen to him.

Addendum:I just want to express my irritation at two details of media “spin” in coverage of Osama bin Laden’s death: first off, it was misleading to say he died “in a firefight,” as it appears to have been a completely one-sided fight--he was shot, unarmed, for not immediately surrendering. I have no doubt that, tactically, this was entirely sensible, but I do think it’s regrettable he was not taken to trial. And I believe it is also misleading to talk about Zawahiri as the “second in command.” Hasn’t he been the head of al-Qaeda for years? Bin Laden was a powerful spokesperson for the organization, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t having a whole lot of direct influence on things during his time on the lam. I’m just irritated by the way the media are trying to make this out to be more of a victory than it really was.