Here All Things Scream, Silently.

We have been speaking with Palestinian and Israeli individuals here. As in many conversations around disagreements, and even faith, there are no easy answers, and typically questions elicit more questions. I wrote the following post for our tour blog (URL forthcoming). The Holy Land is a complicated place. As Christians, it seems we sometimes ascribe to the idea that holiness implies magical powers. Miraculous, certainly (at least in the history to which we ascribe), but, at the end of the day, it is a collection of people attached to their land, a people removed from their land, and a people that long to 'go home', though the idea of 'home' in war-torn nations hardly conjures the image of home many of us have as Americans. Having come from traditions of farming, I find it strange that, one generation removed from the farming tradition, I feel no attachment to land anyplace. I feel attached to people in particular places, but necessarily the places themselves. When I think of my great grandfather, I recall the state taking a way their rural Iowa farmland and his death six months later. Once the farm was gone, my great grandfather's identity, his life, all he had ever known, was finished. The attachment to land here runs so deep, it seems it would take miracle nothing short of the hand of God to end the conflict. Almost all of the people with whom we have spoken, both Israeli and Palestinian, have talked about desiring peace, fairly consistently asserting the 'other side' is not interested. We spend our time here listening to the stories, complicated, with histories longer than Americans can fathom (churches here talk of 300 year plans - can you imagine?), only to realize that, perhaps, the most important thing we can do as theologians, as pastors, as fellow human beings, is listen to the stories. In the end, the stories of the people here are representative of the living stones, crying out to God for that which they cannot achieve on their own. Perhaps our role is to continue the story, to participate as living stones, and trust Jesus words, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid," (John 14:27). In having the courage to listen to the call of the living stones, to the call of Christ, and to trust those small, still voices, we give a testament to faith that neither war, nor injustice, nor oppression, nor death can vanquish.