Everything Is Not Okay in the Holy Land (guest blog)

My brother, David McRay, M.D., is leading a small group of medical students on a month-long visit to Israel and Palestine as part of their medical education. With his permission, I am sharing this as a guest blog. David is a gifted writer with a unique perspective on the problems plaguing the Holy Land. I think you will be stirred, enlightened, intrigued, and troubled.

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“Everything okay?” No, everything was certainly not okay. My immediate reaction to his question was frustration, even anger, followed almost as quickly by a mixture of disbelief, subdued laughter, and then despair. My emotions seem to race across this spectrum many times a day when I travel in Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories.

We were stopped at a checkpoint somewhere in the middle of the West Bank, on the road from Nablus to Ramallah. It was one of the hundreds of such barriers – most
“permanent” (or fixed) and many temporary or mobile (or “on the fly” as people here call them) – scattered across the Palestinian territory that make life so incredibly difficult for the people who must line up and wait, sometimes for hours, to get to their jobs, farms, and family, if they are allowed to pass at all. Life at the checkpoints is challenging – on a good day – and, on a bad day, may end there.

The young Israeli soldier – certainly no more than 25 years old – stood at the window of our van, clearly marked in multiple ways as a mobile medical clinic van operated by the Palestinian Medical Relief Society (PMRS), asking our Palestinian driver where he was going and why. In the usual posture of a soldier in this situation, with his finger on the trigger guard of his semi-automatic weapon, he glanced inside and saw that the passengers of the van were five Americans (our traveling party) and one additional Palestinian (our assistant and translator) – who is also an American citizen. Pausing briefly, apparently to find the correct English words, the soldier then directed his question beyond the driver to the rest of us. He was implying that there might be some reason to be concerned about our safety – a group of Americans in the company of two Palestinian men. I would like to believe he had our best interests in mind and that, if questioned, he might be able to offer a reasonable explanation as to why he made such an inquiry. In light of the many similar experiences I have had in the past (including the day before when another soldier at another checkpoint asked us, “Where are you sleeping?” and then, in reply to our response of “Ramallah” said, with a sly grin, “Ramallah? Why Ramallah? Why not Jerusalem or Tel Aviv?”), I could not easily find any other explanation for the “Everything okay?” question than the prevalent racial/ethnic/religious profiling that is an accepted approach to security considerations, even a way of life, here.

“Everything okay?” No everything was certainly not okay. Actually, nothing besides our safety was “okay”. For the third consecutive day, we had been driving through the ancient, beautiful hills of the West Bank, covered with stone terraces holding rows of old, but still productive, olive trees, admiring their beauty but saddened by what has happened to them over the past 40 years, especially the last 20. I have traveled these same roads many times since my first visit to this land in 1969. Now, in every direction, one can see hilltops covered with “settlements” -communities, towns, even cities composed of Israelis who, with their government’s permission and support, have built permanent homes on Palestinian land - and valleys transformed by new roads built on Palestinian land but open only to the settlers. I spoke today with a friend who owns a travel agency on the east (Arab) side of Jerusalem. His family owns the land on which one of the “settlements” (“colonies” as they are called by some here) was built. The land was confiscated from his father, without compensation, in violation of international and even Israeli law. The Israeli courts ruled in his father’s favor in the lawsuit that followed, but the court’s verdict was never enforced. No, everything was not okay.

We had been to Hebron where the poverty and malnutrition are devastating and where the conflicts created by a small group of hostile settlers who have planted themselves in the middle of this large Arab city are frequent. No, everything was not okay.

We had visited Jiftlik, a small Arab village in the Jordan River valley, in an area of the West Bank still under complete Israeli control. This was my third trip to this community to follow the status of the community’s health care and the continuing efforts of PMRS to address their needs. They have a new clinic, built by funds from USAID, a good staff, and adequate equipment. Yet the effects of extreme poverty, inadequate and unclean water, and severe restrictions on housing repair and construction imposed by the Israeli military authorities present obstacles they cannot hope to overcome. No, everything was not okay.

We had listened to the stories told by our Palestinian traveling companion, assistant, and translator about his experiences since returning to his homeland. Born in the West Bank, he moved to the US a number of years ago and became a citizen. After deciding he preferred life in his native country among his friends and family, he returned, with his American passport. At the border crossing from Jordan, the soldiers ran his name through their computer and discovered that he had been born in the Palestinian territories, therefore, in their eyes, he was Palestinian and not American. His passport was not stamped with a visa like ours when we arrived. Instead, he received a stamp that included his Palestinian ID number. Now, he is treated like any other resident of Palestine and denied the privilege of entering Israel, even to visit Jerusalem, only a few miles down the road from Ramallah where he now lives and works. (We met with a 20 year old student of Palestinian heritage studying at Beir Zeit University, born in the States and carrying a US passport, who, along with her family, experience the same restrictions because they have chosen to live in Ramallah.) No, everything was not okay.

And, we were on our way to Qalqilya, to visit a city of some 40,000 people completely encircled by the separation barrier – in some places a massive, 30-foot high concrete wall and in others a complex, multilayered fence with razor wire. Suhad, my friend and our guide for our visit, told us about the many severe health care problems created by the restrictions on movement throughout the Qalqilya region, including the death of her mother following a stroke when they could not transport her to a tertiary care center in a timely manner and the death of a mother following childbirth at the checkpoint. No, everything was certainly not okay.

Regardless of what one believes about the necessity of such barriers, restrictions, and decisions to insure the safety and security of the citizens of Israel, one cannot but be overwhelmed with the implications for the health, welfare, security, and life of the Palestinian people. This is part of what we came here to see and experience, in addition to learning about the health care delivery system in the nation of Israel, with its excellent national health “insurance” program and universal access to state-of-the-art care for all its citizens – two drastically different health care systems, existing side-by-side separated by only a few kilometers and a Wall, with two strikingly different outcomes.

We have completed the first two weeks of our four-week journey. Our group is small, but still big enough to make squeezing into a little rental car cozy, and into a smaller taxi, quite cozy indeed! Jonathan (my oldest son and a veteran now of Middle Eastern travel, on his fourth trip here and his second extended stay in Ramallah), Dr. Justus Peters and Dr. Deepa Somcio (both third-year family medicine residents working with me in Fort Worth), and I flew from DFW to Frankfurt and met the fifth and final member of our group, Danielle Smith (a third-year medical student at Northwestern University in Chicago), at the gate for our flight to Tel Aviv. We only had one hour between our arrival from DFW and our departure for Tel Aviv, but we made it with a few minutes to spare. Our luggage did as well!

After a rain-soaked Saturday night and Sunday in Jerusalem (water was flowing down the streets of the Old City), we headed south to Beer Sheva, and to drier, warmer weather in the Negev desert. We received a wonderful reception there from the members of the department of family medicine at Ben Gurion University and from the students of the Medical School for International Health at BGU, operated in affiliation with Columbia University in New York. Our week in Israel was filled with visits to clinics, a cancer community support center, a staff meeting of the palliative care group, a meeting with a group of family medicine residents, a formal presentation on the Israeli health care system, and two lectures I gave (one to the Israeli faculty and residents and one to the MSIH students). Our only major disappointment of the week was the cancellation of our scheduled home visits to the Bedouin community due to the absence of the primary physician (he was in Africa on a global health elective with a group of medical students!) and the illness of the driver. We left Beer Sheva much better informed and satisfied with this brief introduction to a national system of health care that has yielded excellent health outcomes for the citizens of Israel.

Although our conversations with the doctors and students in Israel were mostly medical and only rarely political, we did learn something of their experience during the recent assault on Gaza. The rockets fired by Hamas that fell on Beer Sheva did little damage but they disrupted lives in significant ways and caused deep fear and anger. In a nation as small as Israel, where every citizen serves in the military for 2-3 years after high school graduation, everyone, I have often been told, knows someone injured or killed in one of the wars or bombings. And every Palestinian, I have also been frequently told, has a friend or relative who has been injured, killed, or imprisoned by the Israelis. No, it seems in every way, everything is not okay here in the “Holy Land”.

After a weekend of somewhat arduous but enjoyable travel to Jordan to visit the World Heritage site of Petra, we crossed the Qalandia checkpoint into Ramallah and met our hosts for the final three weeks of our trip. This week has afforded us a broad, and exhausting, overview of the work of PMRS, a 20+ year old non-government organization providing primary health care throughout the West Bank and Gaza via an extensive network of clinics, mobile units, and a host of other healthcare related activities. We also enjoyed a detailed tour of the primary government hospital in Hebron, the major referral center for the southern portion of the West Bank and the site of some 8400 births per year. On Monday we will hear presentations on the history of the PMRS and on the status of another public health project in the Palestinian territories and then, on Tuesday, begin seeing patients at the Ramallah Emergency and Trauma Center (both in the emergency department and the operating suite) and with the mobile clinics conducted by PMRS in the villages around Ramallah. We will continue these activities during our final week and add a visit to the Holy Family Hospital in Bethlehem, a private maternity hospital that provides excellent care to thousands of Palestinian women each year.

Everyone is well and safe. We have never felt threatened in any way. We have had many memorable travel experiences and enriching and challenging conversations about life, medicine, justice, security, and health care. I anticipate we will have many more in the days ahead.

David

A People with No Home

Judy and I recently visited a new restaurant whose sign advertised Mediterranean cuisine. The menu included an appetizing mix of Greek, Italian, and Arab dishes. As we were waiting for our food, I overheard the man who appeared to be the manager or owner as he was speaking with one of the staff. I couldn’t hear much, but I could tell he was speaking in Arabic. I speak almost no Arabic ("hi", "goodbye", "how are you?", "God is great", counting to ten, and, sadly, a couple of unprintable phrases I picked up on the soccer field in Jerusalem), but it sounded like he had an Egyptian accent.

The waitress let him know that we’d like to meet him, and pretty soon he had pulled up a chair for a friendly chat. We learned he is a Coptic Christian. The Coptic church is sort of the official Christian denomination of Egypt. It is one of the oldest Christian traditions in the world—part of the broad Eastern Orthodox tradition, though somewhat unique. In recent years, Coptics have been facing increasing persecution from fundamentalist Muslims in Egypt. Many have left their homeland in search of religious freedom.

Our host was the second Coptic person I had met in Nashville (the first was a student in one of my Bible classes at Lipscomb). He told us that there are four Coptic churches in Nashville, with a total of some eight or nine hundred families. I knew Nashville had a growing Arab population, but I had no idea that there were so many Egyptian Christians here.

We also chatted a little about what it has been like in America since 9/11. I doubt I’ll ever forget his reply.

“In Egypt they hate us because we are Christian. In America they hate us because we are Arab.”

The first sentence is an indictment of the world, and a fulfillment of Jesus’ warning to his followers that this world would hate them. (Makes me wonder why I haven’t felt hated by my own country.) The second sentence is a stinging indictment of an America continually plagued by prejudice and racism.

Arab Christians increasingly feel like a people with no home in this world. They often face hostility from fundamentalist Muslims in their own countries, and find they are unwelcome among Americans who often see Arabs as the enemy. They are truly strangers and exiles in this world.

As a post-Christian America becomes increasingly secular and increasingly unfriendly to Christian faith and virtues, we may find that the plight of Coptic Christians will one day be our own. Considering the success of early Christianity under Roman persecution, maybe that won’t be such a bad thing.

In the meantime, perhaps we could all just be a little more sensitive to the very real possibility that the Arab person we meet in town just might be a fellow disciple of Jesus.

Why I Didn't Care for the Oscars

I remember years ago hearing a speaker talking to youth about their entertainment choices. He told a story about his little boy not wanting to eat raisins. So he decided to try a little experiment. He gave him a bowl of cereal with one raisin in it. He watched his son pick out the raisin and go ahead and eat the cereal. The next day he put a couple of raisins in the bowl, and again the little boy removed them before eating the cereal. The next morning he put in a handful, and then watched as his son carefully picked out every raisin. Finally, he placed a bowl of cereal in front of his son with raisins mixed all through the cereal. The boy started to remove them one at a time, and then just gave up and pushed the bowl away.

The point of the story was to ask teenagers how much offensive material has to be in a movie before you decide it's just not worth trying to pick your away around it. Good question. I'm finding that as I get older, instead of becoming more tolerant of what I see in movies, I'm actually becoming less and less happy trying to ignore offensive material in my entertainment.

My wife and I fast-forwarded our way through the Oscars last night just to see which movies that we have not seen would get awards this year. I wondered why each year it seems like I've seen fewer and fewer of the nominated movies. This year we've only seen one of the films up for Best Picture.

And then it struck me--of the 15 movies up for one of the top awards (Picture, Director, Best & Supporting Actor/Actress), 10 were rated R and 5 were rated PG-13. Not one movie out of the 15 was rated PG or G. According to Kids-in-Mind.com (a very helpful resource for parents about the mature content of films--actually, Judy and I frequently use it to decide what we will see), these 15 movies included a total of over 150 "F" words. That's an average of more than 10 a film! (Granted, two of the films accounted for nearly 100 of that total, but most of the films had at least 2 or 3, if not more.) The only nominee for Best Picture which did not find "F" words necessary to produce quality dialogue was "The Reader"--and it got a 9 out of 10 for the amount of sex!

Some will say that such films are realistic and serious and true-to-life. Maybe. But I can remember when Hollywood was able to make Acadamy Award winning movies without vulgarity, nudity, simulated sex acts, or realistic visual effects of someone's head being cut off.

So when I look at the movie listings on a Friday night, I find myself wondering, "How many raisins can I keep picking out of my cereal?"

The answer seems to be "less than I used to" . . . but even at that, I'm pretty sure I'm putting up with more than Jesus would.

Gracious Speech and Partisan Politics

Have you noticed how partisan politics has become? I heard an NBC reporter this morning discussing the way the current stimulus package debate has drawn President Obama into partisan politics, despite his pledged desire to bring new bipartisanship to Washington. The reporter pointed out how the same thing happened to Bush, who had pledged to be a "uniter" rather than a divider. He said it just seemed to be part of the fabric of Washington.

I'm concerned with the way partisan loyalties seem to be destroying our ability to treat each other fairly and respectfully. Some conservatives accused Democrats of wanting Bush to fail because of partisan loyalties, and said that was un-American. Now some conservatives say they want Obama to fail. Why was it bad for one and not the other?

Party loyalties often appear to overwhelm objective analysis of issues and positions. For example, when a Republican president led a war against Iraq, some Democrats charged that we had no clear national interest at stake and that we had no clearly defined measure of victory and no exit strategy. When a Democratic president sent troops into Bosnia and Somalia, some Republicans said the exact same thing. To the independent observer, it looked like the real issue may not have been national interest or military strategy; the real issue may have been whether or not the President belonged to your party.

Even worse, it seems that the growing political divide in our country is leading us to demonize our opponents, much the way we demonize our enemies in war. It seems we want to believe the worst about our political opponents. They are the enemy. Since we believe in the truth, they must be enemies of the truth. Since they are enemies of the truth, they must be ignorant of the truth or, worse, liars.

So right-wing pundit, Ann Coulter, writes a book entitled, If Democrats Had Any Brains They'd Be Republicans; and left-wing pundit (now senator), Al Franken, writes one entitled, Lies: And the Lying Liars Who Tell Them: A Fair and Balanced Look at the Right. And each side is thoroughly entertained by one and deeply offended by the other.

Too often when I talk with people about political and social issues, I hear them paint their opponents in harsh, insulting, and combative ways. Friends have called Cheney and Rumsfeld "warmongers." Clinton was a "whoremonger." Bush is "an idiot." Obama "pals around with terrorists." It's rare that I can sit at a table with someone and find they can treat their opponents fairly and respectfully. Can't we question whether the Bush administration's policies were too hawkish without labeling them as inhumane warmongers? Can't we question some of Obama's political associations without making it sound like he plays racquetball with Bin Laden?

I confess that I once engaged in the same sort of rhetoric. And I admit that I still struggle at times to treat my political opponents with respect. But I'm doing much better. I now consider it something of a personal challenge to enter a controversial discussion and find ways to speak politely of opposing positions—and an even greater challenge to describe someone else's positions with the fairness with which I would want them to represent my own views.

Somehow we Christians must learn to speak "with grace" (Col. 4:6), using speech that "gives grace" to those who hear (Eph. 4:29).

You know, the way we do when we discuss our differences in the church . . .

Who’s Next?

I have just learned that the standard directory of the Churches of Christ (meaning the a cappella branch of the Restoration Movement founded 200 years ago by Barton Stone and Thomas and Alexander Campbell; not the "Christian Churches/Churches of Christ," another branch of the same movement which uses instrumental music in worship; nor the International Churches of Christ, formerly known as the Crossroads/Boston/Discipling Movement, a splinter group that broke off the from Churches of Christ; nor the United Church of Christ, an entirely separate denomination with ties only in the distant past) has removed 21 churches from the 2009 edition of the directory.

Note I said "removed," not "labeled." The directory has long included a wide variety of Churches of Christ in its listings. Past editors have indicated the diversity with labels designating congregations that are one-cup, or non-class, or non-institutional, or predominately African-American, and so on. At one time they had an "ecumenical" label for those congregations that were less sectarian and less traditional than other Churches of Christ (I don't know if that designation is still used). But in this case they chose not to label these congregations. They completely removed them.

Some of those 21 churches have reportedly broken ties with the rest of the a cappella fellowship. In that case, their removal seems justified for a directory that intends to serve that fellowship. But for others, the decision is very disturbing, including the Richland Hills Church of Christ in Fort Worth (the largest Church of Christ in America) and the Farmers Branch Church of Christ in Dallas (where my son has been attending) and the Redwood Church in Redwood City, CA (where a good friend of mine now preaches, who used to serve with me as our youth minister in Houston).

And why have they been removed? Because of their use of instrumental music in one of their worship services on Sunday morning. Those three churches each have an a cappella worship service on Sunday morning, but they have also added an instrumental service (that's right—the largest a cappella Church of Christ in America also has an instrumental service on Sunday morning). And for that they are no longer listed in our directory.

These churches have not broken ties with our fellowship. Their ministers and their members still attend events and go to schools sponsored by Churches of Christ. They still baptize by immersion; keep weekly communion; believe in the authority of Scripture; and proclaim Jesus as Lord (of course, not in that order of importance). And they still value our a cappella heritage and continue to have a cappella services.

But they have decided to be both/and churches rather than either/or churches. They have decided they don't have to choose to be either exclusively a cappella or exclusively instrumental. They can offer both a cappella and instrumental services and give their members and visitors the freedom to choose. For this the editors of the directory, published by 21st Century Christian here in Nashville, have decided they are no longer one of us. (Click here for the story in The
Christian Chronicle.).

So what does this mean? Am I supposed to withdraw fellowship from the preachers at these churches, all of whom are friends of mine? Are the other Churches of Christ in their area supposed to stop inviting them to 5th Sunday Singings and area-wide Bible Bowls? (Do we still do those things?) Do we not tell members moving to those cities that these churches exist?

And who's next? If these churches are out because of Sunday morning services, what about the many Churches of Christ all over the country that have instrumental music in events at other times? That probably includes most of the largest Churches of Christ in the Nashville area. Hey, that includes my church! Are we going to be cut out of the next edition?

And what will get you cut out? Does it have to be a live instrument? What if you show a music video in the worship service? Will that get you kicked out? Or what if you show a clip from a movie during the sermon, and the movie has a sound track that includes a musical instrument? What if your Sunday School uses a CD of songs for children? What if your teens are listening to their ipods during church? (Ok, ok. Now I'm being sarcastic. But I just want to know what the rules are.)

And who gets to decide? Do the editors of this directory (apparently they think they do). Maybe we need to appoint a denominational board to rule on who is in and who is out. But wait, that won't work—we aren't a denomination . . . Right?

Conflicted Feelings over the Inauguration

What an incredible day for our nation! I did not vote for President Obama, but I still found myself stirred by watching the son of an African immigrant take the oath of office to become the first African-American president in our history.

Earlier this morning I watched an interview with Congressman John Lewis, a noted civil rights leader who had worked alongside Dr. King. Congressman Lewis recalled that not 50 years ago he was beaten while struggling for the right to vote, and now he had lived to see an African-American become president. His emotion was not only understandable, it was contagious.

When I was student body president of my high school in Murfreesboro, TN in 1975-76, we had a "White Vice-President" and a "Black Vice-President" (that's what they were actually called). It was the only way a black student could be elected to an executive office. I helped elect a black student to succeed me as the first African-American student body president at a predominately white high school in state history (at least, that's what we were told at the time). That led to the end of the office of a Black Vice-President. But we were still decades away from seeing the same thing happen in national politics.

How could anyone, white or black, Democrat or Republican, who had lived through any of the history of our nation's struggle with racism, not be profoundly moved to witness this event? (And Aretha singing "My Country 'Tis of Thee" was pretty cool, too!)

But I must also confess that I found myself troubled at the same time. I truly wanted to rejoice without reservation. But my deep misgivings over some of President Obama's positions kept me from sharing the elation that so many understandably felt over this event.

Just over the last week I learned of new questions raised by conservative groups over two issues of importance to me. One report said that while Mr. Obama was running for the Illinois senate, he had pledged support for homosexual marriage. (http://www.onenewsnow.com/Politics/Default.aspx?id=387986) Even more troubling to me are the reports that the new congress is preparing to pass the Freedom of Choice Act and that last year Mr. Obama already promised to sign it. (http://www.fightfoca.com/) According to pro-life groups, this legislation will eliminate all restrictions on abortion nationwide, overturning any state laws on parental notification or partial birth abortion, and would even force faith-based hospitals to provide abortions. I don't know if these reports are true; but if they are, they are deeply disturbing.

During the campaign, I remember President Obama expressing support for marriage between a man and a woman and I remember him saying we need to find common ground on abortion and work to reduce the number of abortions. My deep skepticism of all politicians (which is a big part of why I am an independent) makes me wonder whether he was completely honest in those remarks, or whether the other statements may have been politically motivated, or both. I don't know if his positions have honestly changed, or whether these conservative groups are quoting him out of context. All I can say is that I am not optimistic.

And so I find myself in the conflicted position of celebrating the election of an African-American President and glad to have lived to see this day, and on the other hand, wishing the first African-American President had been someone who would not lead us in the radical direction I fear this President will want to go.

So I will pray for him and treat him with respect, as the Scriptures call us to do. And I will pray for my country, because, truthfully, whether President Obama had been elected or not, I believe we were headed down this path any way.

I'm Abandoning Sports Forever!

Football season is over! Well, maybe not for everybody, but I think it is for me. The biggest game of the year is still a couple of weeks away, but I don't think I care.

Since I was a boy I have been a huge fan of the Minnesota Vikings (remember the Purple People Eaters and "Injun Joe Kapp" and the amazing Fran Tarkenton?), and almost as big a fan of the Oklahoma Sooners. Since returning to Tennessee five years ago, I've also joined the frenzy of home town fans cheering for the Titans. Last week promised great excitement as all three of my favorite teams were playing in postseason games. The Vikings were hosting a first round playoff game for the first time in several years. The Sooners were taking the highest scoring offense in college football history to the BCS championship game. And then the Titans, arguably the best team in the NFL, would host a second round playoff game they were sure to win.

On Sunday the Vikes fumbled the game away. On Thursday the Sooners did the same. And on Saturday the Titans joined the parade of disaster. All three! In one week!

And this is the second time this happened this year! I've been fortunate to live in three major league baseball towns. Over the years I've been a fan of the Cubs and White Sox in Chicago, the Brewers in Milwaukee, and the Astros in Houston. At the end of the baseball season, three of those teams made the playoffs. That meant I had a 3 in 8 chance of one of my teams making the World Series. How exciting!

In their opening series, the Cubs, Sox, and Brewers managed to win one game. Not one series . . . one game! Not one game a piece, one game period.

How do I describe the feelings? Heartbreak . . . disbelief . . . anger . . . frustration . . . depression . . . despair . . . A season of excitement and anticipation and hope crashing into the agony of defeat. Not once, but three times at the end of two seasons! Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!!!

Why do I subject myself to this? The odds are that no matter who you cheer for, your team will only occasionally make the playoffs and almost always lose their last big game (you know, in most sports only one team each year wins their last game). Sports brings lots of fun and excitement, but lots of disappointment too (at least I'm not a Detroit Lions fan!).

I wonder what it would be like if I regularly found myself as excited and passionate about worship, about the kingdom, about time with God as I get about sports. (Do even Pentecostals get that excited about worship?) I'm pretty sure God would not leave me as disappointed at the end of each season. I love the sign on a Wisconsin church that says, "Jesus will never leave you for the Jets!" (If you don't get that, you're probably not a sports fan. Try googling "Brett Favre.")

So I've decided to devote more time and energy to more fulfilling, life-enriching, spiritually enhancing pursuits. And to never again get this wrapped up in sports.

At least not till March Madness.