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Israel - The Frontline Is Everywhere page 5
by Lloyd Howell
Arab Christianity
On one of my team’s outings we went to the old city of Jaffa situated below Tel Aviv. Jaffa was an ancient city and is recorded in the Bible as Joppa, the port thru which the cedars of Lebanon were brought in to Israel. Now it is a mostly Arab city. Wandering through Jaffa’s streets we came across the walled compound of St. Paul Jaffa Coptic Church. We rang the bell and an old monk appeared and slowly walked to open the gate. He was brother Mikhail a Coptic Christian from Egypt. He was in his late 60s, had trouble walking and only spoke Arabic. Nonetheless he could understand, through his very minimal English and with the help of our approach book, that we were people of God on a mission of peace. He invited us in and soon appeared with some tea and cookies. The property was in decline from lack of funds and congregants. We gathered that he had been ’holding the fort’ for the past 20 years. His loneliness was great but his faith and love, I surmised, kept him from departing for friends and family in Egypt from where he came.
We struggled in vain to communicate the breadth and depth of our work. And although not much could be said he was happy to see us of Catholic and Protestant backgrounds and through various gestures and a groping for words we understood that he was calling us ”Jesus’ family”. Later I asked to see the chapel where his few people gathered for Sunday services. He took us there. I was anxious to see the hymnals and Bible – yet when I saw the Arabic type I was caught by surprise! Although I had studied church history, the major emphasis had mostly been on the 'successful' Greek thrust of the early church. However, upon seeing the Arabic type, the forgotten efforts of those early Christians who carried their faith to Alexandria [Egypt] and throughout North Africa came to my mind. Although I did not know the details of that mission. I could sense the tears and disappointment of those involved to see that work eventually come to a virtual dead end as Christianity in the 7th century receded before Islam.
The Crying Menorah
One of my team’s visits was to S’hmuel Ha’navi [Samuel the Prophet] community center in a poorer section of Jerusalem. There we met Tali and her co-workers. We got a tour of the center and a description of its activities. Thereafter we sat down in the conference room where we were served one of those delightful cups of Middle East tea with the mint leaf floating inside. I gave a brief introduction to the Peace Initiative and the Rally and made my appeal that they organize some buses to bring their people.
The talk was well received and the staff attending was of like minds and expressed their support but stated that unfortunately the day of the rally was also the day of the wedding of one of the center’s staff. They were all committed to attend the wedding. Still we asked if some posters could be placed and if there was sufficient positive response we would be glad to schedule a bus.
On the way out I noticed a wall upon which there were many photos. Not having noticed that wall on our tour I drifted over to see what it was about. Just before I got too close I began to grasp that I was going in to a sensitive situation, one that our guide had most likely purposefully circumvented. It was a wall memorializing those young people of the community who, had served as soldiers over the past decades, and in so doing had lost their lives in various conflicts and wars. The reality of life in Israel once again emerged its painful side. I awkwardly expressed my remorse before Tali, who too had served in the Israeli army. We had a moment of silence and exited.
Outside I noticed a large menorah [a nine candle candelabra, associated with the celebration of Chanukah]. Under the menorah was a list of approximately 34 names – no doubt the names of the youth who had lost their lives. Unlike American memorials, the eerie thing about this tearful menorah was that there was still room for more names to be added!
There was also a trip to Hakfar Haryarok, a government run boarding school outside Tel Aviv. Purported to be the largest of its type in the country the school claimed 600 students; both Jew and Arab. It was an impressive setup with farmlands, animal husbandry et cetera. There we too were hosted and given a full lunch including a glass of Israeli wine. It was a paradise of sorts and its lush tropical foliage and pheasants running wild made me homesick for my past years in Florida. But there too the ugly face of war had left its reminder in the old concrete bomb shelters scattered around the grounds.
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