Season of Advent

The tax boycott in Beit Sahour took place during the first intifada – a term that means “shaking off” – as Palestinians in large numbers took to the streets to resist the occupation in various ways.  While some groups eventually turned to violence, and some gave up, the people I’ve spoken with in Beit Sahour – Christian and Muslim – are proud of their town’s historic connection with the tax boycott, which represented a third way for them: active non-violent resistance to occupation.

 

Of course, here we are in 2013, and the Israeli occupation of Palestine is now 46 years old. While Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza have limited autonomy in spots today – and while Palestine enjoys a more elevated status with the UN – today’s Palestinians still do not have citizenship in any fully recognized state, nor independence from Israel in terms of coming and going very far from their various towns, nor access to Jerusalem despite the fact that no country outside of Israel has recognized the 1967 annexation of its eastern half, nor the possibility of movement between Gaza and the West Bank, nor regular access from the West Bank to the Sea during hot summer days, nor full control over West Bank airspace and water or even 60% of the West Bank land itself.  

 

So it is a very long time of longing, and the tax boycott in Beit Sahour clearly has not ended the occupation. But Sahouris – as they are lovingly called locally – still look back on that time as a moment when they stood their ground, and also when they finally began to get something approaching fair understanding from the outside world, as soldiers sealed off their town, closed it down for long periods of time, and seized household property to cover unpaid taxes.

 

You can read more about Beit Sahour of that time from this 1989 story in the LA times. But what does it have to do with our text about angels appearing to shepherds? Well, apart from being associated with non-violent resistance as well as excellence in education – Beit Sahour is also identified by Palestinians as the town of an episode much longer ago. Beit Sahour is identified locally as the town of the shepherds in Luke’s gospel, to whom a whole sky-full of angels appears, bringing “good news of great joy,” about a savior who is born unto them.

 

Unto them! It is probably lost on us today, so familiar are we with this story, but the story of angels appearing to such an unlikely group to announce the birth of the messiah, …in the middle of the night, …on a country hillside outside of the City of David, would have been astounding to its first century hearers.

 

It is not unto Caesar in Rome that the angels appear, nor the Temple next-door in Jerusalem, nor in Luke to wise men from countries far away. It is to them. Regular people – shepherds –  on a hillside outside of town.

 

Sahouris today seem to understand the spirit of this message. They are proud of who they are. When I visit Beit Sahour, I do often hear stories of sadness and frustration concerning their situation. And I know enough now about their situation to view this as totally understandable. These stories need to be heard. But what I almost always also get from Sahouris is a gracious welcoming smile, good and highly informed conversation on events both local and global, very good jokes, stories of town pride, and visions of hope for themselves and their families.

 

In Beit Sahour today, there are still shepherds, though they are dwindling along with open fields. But there are also places like Shadia’s library, where a Lutheran woman has opened an after-school program for children; Singer Café, where a Palestinian-Dutch couple have started a meeting place for locals and international friends to gather for conversation and (very) good coffee; and the fields of the shepherds – both Eastern and Western – the latter of which doubles as the field where Ruth is said to have gleaned wheat in support of her widowed mother-in-law Naomi. Today’s Sahouris are ordinary people, but also beautiful, extraordinary people.

 

I sometimes find myself discouraged serving here in this Jerusalem/West Bank context. And the political reality here is often terribly depressing. But Beit Sahour is one of the places where I go to find joy and peace, even now, despite everything. Beit Sahour today is a place of joy and peace – refusing to relinquish these vital commitments due to injustice – or naively expecting their completion without freedom. I pray that, one day soon, joy and peace will indeed be more complete, for today’s people of Beit Sahour and all of Palestine, for their neighbors in Israel and Jordan and Egypt and Syria, and throughout the region and the world.

 

With apologies for the length of today’s reflection!

 

-Jeff