Building Bridges
Tuesday morning, I was awed at the power and personal strength it may take to make one step toward meeting another person. Especially if that person is your enemy.
Labeeb is a Palestinian Christian who, one day, was travelling outside of the country. On the airplane, he sat next to a Jewish army officer. For many Palestinians, soldiers are deeply resented; they are the occupying force. Almost everyone has a story of a soldier holding them at gunpoint for no real reason other than the soldiers suspicion. Despite this animosity, Labeeb struck up a conversation with the man and learned something of his life.
And his hurts. The officer had lost a son more than 15 years ago in a skirmish in Gaza. As the conversation continued, the officer asked Labeeb for a favor: "would you bring me a stone from the place whee my son was killed?" Israeli's use stones to remember, to honor the dead; they leave them at graves as silent markers of honor and remembrance. As I listened to this request, I expected Labeeb to refuse. How could Labeeb help one who was a leader of the occupying force honor his son who was killed in a raid on his fellow Palestinians.
Yet, on his next trip to Gaza, Labeeb went to the place where the officer said his son was killed and picked up a hand sized stone. He bought a beautifully decorated box, found in many Judaica stores, and placed the rough stone inside the box. Then, he planned a trip to the officers home and, presented him this gift in honor of his son. When the man opened the box, he burst into tears and cried for a son he lost over 15 years ago. Over tea, Labeeb listened again as the man shared his pain and love for his lost son.
I wonder of the impact this act of kindness might have had on the Jewish Army officer. For one you might fear, a stranger, to show this act of compassion must leave a deep and lasting memory that may change his heart. But Labeeb did it because he wasn't about resentment and biterness, hatred or violence, but because he wanted to be a man of peace, a witness to the Prince of Peace, born right here in Bethlehem.
Labeeb is a Palestinian Christian who, one day, was travelling outside of the country. On the airplane, he sat next to a Jewish army officer. For many Palestinians, soldiers are deeply resented; they are the occupying force. Almost everyone has a story of a soldier holding them at gunpoint for no real reason other than the soldiers suspicion. Despite this animosity, Labeeb struck up a conversation with the man and learned something of his life.
And his hurts. The officer had lost a son more than 15 years ago in a skirmish in Gaza. As the conversation continued, the officer asked Labeeb for a favor: "would you bring me a stone from the place whee my son was killed?" Israeli's use stones to remember, to honor the dead; they leave them at graves as silent markers of honor and remembrance. As I listened to this request, I expected Labeeb to refuse. How could Labeeb help one who was a leader of the occupying force honor his son who was killed in a raid on his fellow Palestinians.
Yet, on his next trip to Gaza, Labeeb went to the place where the officer said his son was killed and picked up a hand sized stone. He bought a beautifully decorated box, found in many Judaica stores, and placed the rough stone inside the box. Then, he planned a trip to the officers home and, presented him this gift in honor of his son. When the man opened the box, he burst into tears and cried for a son he lost over 15 years ago. Over tea, Labeeb listened again as the man shared his pain and love for his lost son.
I wonder of the impact this act of kindness might have had on the Jewish Army officer. For one you might fear, a stranger, to show this act of compassion must leave a deep and lasting memory that may change his heart. But Labeeb did it because he wasn't about resentment and biterness, hatred or violence, but because he wanted to be a man of peace, a witness to the Prince of Peace, born right here in Bethlehem.
posted by Michael Kooy | 9:29 PM
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