Prayer of Lament

So I guess it's about time to post again. I have been reading a book called "Prayer" by Phillip Yancey (thanks Jenkins') and there is a lot in there about the appropriateness of lament in prayers. Throughout the scriptures, especially in the book of Psalms, prayers of lament are recorded and included as part of the biblical text.
After reading this, I was trying to pray one morning, and I was continually distracted by all that is going on in this part of the world. Rather than try to ignore what I was thinking about, I pored it out to God and then decided to write down my thoughts.
So, I'd like to hear what you think about the appropriatness of such "prayers of lament." Is it really ok to talk to God like this. I am starting to think that it is, but I'm not sure. Well here is the prayer:
Oh Lord. You are the great King of Kings. All power in this earth is in your hands. Why do you allow humankind to continue to do evil in your name? Why do you allow the Christians of the world to justify injustice by declaring it to be the will of God?

You are big enough, God, to stand up for yourself. You have declared that we should not use your name in vain. Yet you simply watch as people are throwing dirt upon your holy character, pushing others away from you.

In Palestine, leaders use people for their own benefit. Like a man who is raising sheep, only to slaughter them to satisfy his gluttony, the leaders of Hamas and Fatah fight over the loyalty of the people so that they can become rich and powerful. They do so in your name, in the name of God. Why do you allow this? Why don't you stand up and force them into humility?

In Israel, oh Lord, the people of Palestine are treated as a gardener treats an unsightly Ant mound. Whole families are destroyed in an instant, and their lives are repudiated by the designation "terrorist." The men and women of Israel claim that your will is that Israel should be free of these "terrorists," and they commit evil acts to carry out this will. Why do you allow this? Why don't you make your true character known?

Lord you do not distinguish between Jews and Gentiles, all are one in You. Yet we do. All around the world, men and women who worship you and call themselves Christians stand by as the Army of Israel commits depraved acts. We cheer them on in your name. We say abhorrent things to justify their behavior. We give them money to build tanks, to buy guns, and to kill innocent people. We defame your name with our cursing of Arab and Muslim people. Why do you allow this? Why don't you come down here and shut us up?

Lord God, I can never understand your ways or your thoughts. I will never see the world from your point of view. Your are too big, too powerful, too God, for me to call you into question or to criticize your handling of the affairs of the world. But God, I really want to understand. Is your silence a model for us? Should we be silent as well in the face of injustice?

Or is your silence simply a temporary one; designed to leave room for us, your servants, to act?

Basem

Things that make me happy:
Looking out over Beit Jala and seeing how every building and structure fits perfectly into the landscape

Walking through the Old City and seeing Muslims, Christians, and Jews conducting business, exhanging pleasantries and acting like life is normal

The apologies and remorse that Muslim leaders expressed after the church attacks

The way that both Israeli's and Palestinians have gone out of their way to help me when I have questions

The awareness that God loves all peoples, and the process of figuring out what that means

Things that make me less happy:
The way some Israeli's look at me when I tell them I'm living in Bethlehem

The church attacks in the West Bank and Gaza.

Being pulled off of an Arab bus by IDF soliders, told to stand in a line against the wall and present our ID's . . . in the middle of Jerusalem.

The way The Barrier creates an ugly scar across the landscape.

The way The Barrier irritates so many open wounds.

? to be an American

Just makes you proud, doesn't it.

The Martyr's Journey Toward Rest

The following is a little unpleasant, but for me, it is better to write than keep it bottled up. Please don't read it if you don't want to.


There are three of us leaning against the old brick wall in front of the hospital: Zeyad, Jesse, and I. Zeyad finishes his cigarette and flips it over the top of the wall, onto the cobbled patio just above our heads. A sizeable crowd has gathered. For now, it's difficult to tell what we are waiting for. The children running around waving flags with excitement suggest some kind of parade. The old men wearing thobs and black and white checkered keffiyehs suggest a solemn, perhaps religious ceremony. The young men with fury in their eyes and guns in their belts suggest something else entirely.

Around the corner of the hospital I can hear the chanting. Faint at first, it grows louder with each repetition. "Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!" (God is Greater! God is Greater! God is Greater!). A surge of energy fills the crowd as the mourners come from around the corner with the body of a13 year-old martyr above them on a stretcher. They are pushing in closer to the stretcher, so they can share the burden of his body. The crowd exits the courtyard and turns right, up the hill, to go past the place where the boy died yesterday afternoon. One man pulls his pistol out of his belt fires three shots into the air. The weapon's report echoes up and down the street, but is drowned out by the chants of the crowd.

As we start to walk toward the location of Mohammad Ali Showria's death, the crowd starts to separate into three groups. The middle aged men and some young boys are in the front. They are walking quickly and deliberately, no chanting or yelling. The older men and a few others are in the back. They also are not chanting, but walking and sometimes talking quietly with those around them. Most of my attention is taken up by the group in the middle. Thirty or forty young men and boys all between the ages of 10 and 30, are carrying the body. It is from them that most of the noise emanates. Clapping, yelling, flag waving, and continual chanting.



We reach Bab Iddair (the parking lot in front of the Church of the Nativity) where the boy had been yesterday afternoon (depending on who you ask, he was either walking with his father or throwing rocks at soldiers who were besieging a house in Bethlehem). We walk past the spot where he last had lived, before the bullet of an IDF soldier passed through his heart and liver, killing him instantly. As we pass this spot, dozens of children unfurl various flags. The Green of Hamas is predominant, but compeiting with it are the Black of Islamic Jihad and the Yellows of Hizbollah and Fatah , with some large Palestinian flags leading the way. Four men unroll two banners with a picture of Muhammad, and carry them next to the body, one banner in front and one behind.



Next, the body is to be carried to the boy's home, a village about 8 kilometers away. One of the banners leads the way. The chanting, somehow, continues as we climb rapidly up the hills in the desert heat. I can tell that the men in the middle (those who are doing all the chanting) are starting to tire, but their grief and anger enable them to continue to shout the entire way. As I drop to the back of the crowd, I see about 100 men and boys walking in front of me, and about that many again waiting at the entrance to the village. I see a smaller group of boys and girls (these are the first girls I have seen all day) who are carrying flags of Hamas and Hizbollah, they are wearing school uniforms and chanting "Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!" Their tinny voices are a distinct contrast to the (now) hoarse and deep chants coming from the men in the procession. Zeyad tells me that these children are classmates of the deceased. Seventh Graders.

Eventually, we gather around his final resting place. People are pushing and shoving, arguing and trying to get close so they can get a glimpse of Muhammad for the last time. I finally see the body clearly. His legs are wrapped in black flag with gold Arabic writing: the flag of Islamic Jihad. The rest of his body is covered in a Palestinian flag. His face, framed in the white section of the flag, is the only part of his body that is visible. The men are still pushing and shoving to get closer to him, and the arguments are growing louder. They are kissing and patting his face as the stretcher is lowered toward the tomb. His father climbs into the 8'x4'x4' cement tomb and arranges the boy's body for the last time, covering him with the flag as if tucking him into bed at night. He emerges from the tomb and is immediately surrounded by a crying, hugging, kissing, shouting mob of people.



I watch in silence as the Imam preaches a sermon in Arabic. The only word I understand is Filistiini (Palestinian). The crowd starts to disassemble. For me, everything is different now. For the family, life will never be the same. For most people, both here and everywhere, nothing has changed.

Basem

Why did God . . . ?

Tonight, I am giving a devotional lesson for 10 children with disabilities. I have decided to talk about the fact that we are created in God's image, and (tonight) to focus on the intentionality with which God has created each of us. The fact that He has gifted us differently and that He has created us as individuals.

My heart is heavy because I, myself, am unsure of why God would choose to have children born with disabilites. These children's lives are difficult enough, the fact that they have Down Syndrome, or Autism, or any other disability (which they are born with) makes their lives that much more difficult. I know the theological answer to why disabilities exist: Sin entered the world, and the entire fabric of creation has not been right since. However, that does not tell me why Ismael cannot speak, or why Ahmed lashes out violently when he is surprised. It does not help me deal with the actual existence of pain that is BORN into the world.

I am not talking about suffering that humans inflict on one another, or even natural disasters that kill and injure indiscriminately. I am talking about children who are born with a physical or mental difficulty that the rest of us do not have to deal with. I know I can talk about the idea that God has gifted each of us (including people with disabilities) and has created us intentionally. I even know that I can believe it to be true, but right now, I don't feel like it's true . . . this bothers me.

Basem

PS. Continuing the cheerful mood from above, here's a heartwarming story.

The Politics of Victimhood

Once upon a time, political leaders used their positions to inspire those they led to greatness. Whether it was King David, reminding the Israelites that God was with them, or Winston Churchill's famous declaration that surrender was never an option, people who we refer to as great leaders usually shared that trait in common.

Unfortunately, today, political leaders choose to convince their people that they are victims and should react based on that identity. This trend knows no racial, geographic, or socio-political bounds. Here are some examples.

Yassar Arafat: Many are familiar with the corruption and scandal that plagued his leadership, but his connection with the Palestinian people was often one of victimization. He would tell the Palestinians that they were at the mercy of Israel, that all ills that existed in Palestinian society were due to the occupation, and that the United States, Europe, and even (occassionally) Arab nations were complicit in victimizing Palestinians for their own purposes.

Benjamin Netanyahu: Not the only Israeli PM to resort to the politics of victimhood, but the one with whom I am most familiar. He often referred to Israel as existing in a sea of Arabs all bent on their destruction. He reminded Israeli's of how Jewish people had been poorly treated throughout the world after the Diaspora, and used this victim mentality to advance his political agenda.

George W. Bush: I'm sure that most of you (if anyone is reading this, that is) have heard President Bush refer to the idea that if we were not fighting the terrorists in Iraq, we would be fighting them in our own streets. This is a clear attempt to link his policies with the memory of 9-11 and the feeling of victimization that most Americans felt at that time.

Both Ends of the US Political Spectrum: You may have to take my word on it in this case, but both the right and the left consider themselves to be oppressed and victimized minorities, a position which their leaders mention often. When I was a card carrying member of the GOP right-wing, I often heard complaints from the leaders of the movement about the "liberal, secular press," the "liberal, secular courts," and the "liberal, secular justabouteveryoneandeverythinginpower." Now that I have moved leftward, I hear the same (albeit with different adjectives complaints about the exact same institutions. My efforts to point this out to people on either the right or left are rarely fruitful.

Now to clarify, many of the above people and parties have legitimate complaints. Most often, the politics of victimhood is used when their really are victims to represent. My quarrel is not with the facts, but with the way the facts are manipulated to turn people from the real issues and toward an emotive response. If I am discussing with you what is the right course of action to take now, and you bring up a past hurt that you feel will tug at my heartstrings, you are not engaging in open, honest dialogue. What you are doing is committing a non-sequiter, and avoiding the real issue.

When an animal is injured, it's behavior is often irrational, violent, and often counterproductive. People react the same way when they think they have been injured. It is this violent, irrational reaction that many politicians rely on for their power. By capturing the sentiment of a sub-group, they can harness their fear and anger into power, fame, and (of course) money for themselves.

In the US, when political parties and factions resort to the politics of victimhood, it is often laughable as extremists who are upset they did not achieve everything they wanted to. However, when the politics of victimhood takes over an entire people (or two entire countries who are at war with one another) the results are not quite as humorous. Obviously there is more at play in the Middle-East than the politics of victimhood, but they, as much as any other single thing, are preventing real peace from happening.

When you hear someone using the politics of victimhood, I encourage you to think about what argument they are making, and if the vicitm argument doesn't hold water. Let 'em know.

Basem

The New American Dream

Sometime in the course of the last few days, I've come to realize that the Bethlehem sky fills with clouds almost every night. It seems odd to me that I have never realized it before. A simple fact, and yet hidden from me. It must be because I am new here.

The darkness of the night sky, along with my sleepiness, worked together to keep me ignorant. My environment and my own desires allow me to remain blithely unaware.

The clouds don't change my life anyway. And can I even do anything about them? Heck, are they really even there? After all, it's very dark when they roll in and just twilight when they leave. Maybe they are just imagining them.

No one really cares about the clouds except for those noisy meteorologists. What do they know, they're always exaggerating and acting like they've got some big, important story to tell us.

As long as I sleep in, I won't see the clouds at all. They surely won't matter in that case. I'll set my alarm for 9 or so. Sweet dreams.

Basem