Hope in the Holy Land

Letter from Jerusalem

Justin Robinson OSB

Easter is a time of hope, something which has occupied me a lot lately as the season comes to a close and my three-year sojourn in a war-torn Holy Land comes to an end.

We hope for things all the time. I have a long-standing hope that Middlesbrough FC will be promoted to the Premier League, though I’m annually disappointed. Christian hope, however, involves the desire for something and the expectation of receiving it: specifically, union with God in heaven. This hope keeps us from discouragement and sustains us through times of abandonment and struggle as Christ’s victory over sin and death means we, too, will be saved from our worldly struggles to enjoy eternal life and happiness with God. This hope transforms our outlook on our present-day situation and is a graced confidence which ought to flavour the entire Christian life.

Last weekend I was in Nablus, a West Bank town which is close to my heart. I studied Arabic there before entering the monastic life, and took the name Justin in honour of the town’s philosopher-saint when I entered the monastery. I’ve been struck lately by the sense of hopelessness about the place, as my friends rather fatalistically share their outlook on the Holy Land’s situation, on their lives and on the future.

Raid

Smoking a bubbling argileh pipe, lemon and mint flavoured smoke wafts around us as my friend Issa describes the previous night’s arrest raid in his village. “We were sitting around in the café when the Israeli army arrived and detained us all. The officer said someone had been shining a laser-pen into a nearby settlement, and they were going to arrest five youths every night until it stopped even though he knew it was none of us, simply because he can,” he said.

I ask him what it was like to be detained, as he spent half an hour in custody before being released whilst five of his friends were led away into the night in the back of military jeeps. “I was afraid,” he answers, “and I was thinking about my future: for how long will I be in jail? For a month, for a year? Will I graduate this year? Will I get married?”

Nobody is safe, because if you’re a Palestinian you’re in danger. Anyone of us, even if we’re innocent”

Another friend leans-in with his rather grim assessment. Aboud tells me that “the only thing I hope for is inner peace, where I can sleep without worrying about anything. Every day I face death twice, as there’s a checkpoint on the way to and from work. I don’t even feel safe in my bed. Nobody is safe, because if you’re a Palestinian you’re in danger. Anyone of us, even if we’re innocent.”

Reeling

His village is still reeling from the shooting last year of an 18 year old Palestinian student, an event which has instilled a deep fear in the villagers. Bidding farewell to his friends in a nearby café, he was driving in the darkness to his father’s workplace when he came upon an Israeli military patrol who sprayed the car with bullets and claimed it was a car-ramming attack. The student was killed instantly, whilst his severely injured and soon-detained passenger overheard a soldier say “oops” when realising the patrol’s mistake.

I believe Christian and Muslim Palestinians alike possess a deep faith and an abiding trust in God’s providence, come what may”

“I don’t have hope for the future, I don’t know if I’m going to be alive going home today or the next day. The constant fear is exhausting and the pressure means I can’t focus on anything,” Aboud adds.

Want

The Palestinians whom I’ve come to know want the same things as anyone else: to graduate, to find a good job, to build a house and to start a family. Some might say that people here display a certain amount of stoicism in the face of life’s hardships and uncertainties, but I believe Christian and Muslim Palestinians alike possess a deep faith and an abiding trust in God’s providence, come what may. More often than not, whatever comes is rarely good news. With the words of my Nablus friends still floating around my head, on my return to Jerusalem a friend reminds me of a hadith which predicts those living in the Holy Land will live a sacred struggle until the Last Day. With this in mind, I’m reminded of all the struggles this land has seen in just the past three years that I’ve been here, and of how I arrived during a war in Gaza and will soon leave as another war rages on.

Only God only knows, but I’m strengthened in the knowledge that we are a people of Easter hope who trust in Christ’s triumph over suffering and evil”

So, I wonder if this is the way it’s going to be forever, and what hope there might be for the future in this seemingly hopeless place… I’ve concluded that only God knows, but I’m strengthened in the knowledge that we are people of Easter hope who trust in Christ’s triumph over suffering and evil, and in God’s promises of justice and peace.