I loved my time in Israel and Palestine. It opened my eyes to the culture and politics. It also opened my eyes to the stories I read that guide my faith and life. It made me think about who we are, what we do, and the bonds we share or often choose to deny. It also crushed many of my preconceived notions of what I knew about the world.
This may be a two pronged assessment to some but it is an interesting perspective. People are people everywhere you go. I was fascinated by the offensive and abrasive manners of the most religious members of the communities I encountered in Israel and Palestine. It would seem that the most religious should be the most compassionate and polite. It was quite the opposite. It appeared the most devout and orthodox were truly the first to cast an offensive look or gesture, cut lines, even snatch food out of your hands (no, this is not an exaggeration). The politics in the region may be less centered in religious intolerance and perhaps most centered in the inability to act as people of God. Worship is a wonderful thing but practice is certainly key in any religion. It isn’t a mechanical practice but an action we take in life. The most compassionate and loving people I encountered were the most authentic. They were not always the best dressed (sometimes they were), they were not always the most pious, they were not even the ones that had the best manners, but they were authentic in their acts of kindness.
My last night I asked our driver about coffee while we were having our last meal. Our driver was a Palestinian Muslim, who loves Elvis Presley. He was my favorite person I met there. We met authors, scholars, priests, community leaders, etc but our bus driver expressed everything I needed to know about my trip in his actions throughout. I pray I can see him again someday. During our last meal I asked him how to brew the coffee I had purchased to bring home (their coffee is VERY different from ours). He asked me what kind of coffee it was, Jewish or Arabic? I told him arabic and he explained the difference. After his explanation of the difference he gave me his slant on why arabic coffee is brewed in the manner he described. Now, much of what he told me I already knew of desert bedouin culture but he told it in a far more beautiful way than I had ever heard. He said that Arabs brew coffee by pouring the finely ground substance into a boiling pot of water. They then boil the coffee for 10 minutes and pour it into a small glass (like a juice glass) not a large mug like we do in the states. He then informed me it is only to be shared after meals. He then explained its health benefits which I wont go into detail over since they involve the finer points of digestion.
The beauty of his explanation was in how this method of brewing coffee came to pass. He said that the English came into Palestine (not always the warmest relationship either, they are the first to assist in establishing Zionism in Palestine) and when they were invited into Palestinian homes the Palestinians wanted to make them feel welcome. He claims they knew the English loved tea and he said that the Palestinians wanted to share their coffee with the English. They began to brew their coffee as most English brew tea but with the grounds in the water. The result is a very strong and sweet cup of coffee. It is a potent concoction. In his explanation he described why it was so important to make others feel welcome. He explained that Arabs come from a bedouin people who required the mercy of others to survive. He said this was a proud history (all of which I knew). Then he explained that when someone is welcomed into your home, all that you have is theirs. He claimed that while it is rude to not accept everything that is offered it is of equal concern if the host does not offer items that are pleasing to one’s guest. It was for this reason that they attempted to brew coffee that they believed the English would enjoy. He told me that if I came to his house that the only desire he would have would be to ensure that I was pleased with everything I had received. He then smiled and told me that this was why he loves driving his bus and showing us his homeland.
As we departed Jaffa (same port city Jonah left to go to Nineveh, ironically, modern day Mosul, Iraq) after a short tour of the old city and shoreline as well as dinner we passed through a checkpoint. The checkpoint was guarded by Israeli police who asked our driver to pull over. With the airport in sight a heated argument ensued between our driver and the police. All of my fellow travelers and I were confused and concerned. We had never seen him so upset. He was given a sheet of paper I would assume was a ticket as he stormed back onto the bus. Upon reaching the airport I attempted to assist him in unloading all of our bags. We all felt rushed and I felt cheated. More then ever I wanted to thank him for all he had done and for his gracious effort as our host. I approached him as I passed him next to the door of the bus. I told him I hope I can bring my wife with me the next time. I told him if I did I wanted to take him to lunch. I told him I wish he and his family all the blessings in the world and that I was thankful to have made a new friend. He was still angry and very upset (more than I could imagine him being). He shook my hand and as I retracted it I put my hand to my chest, bowed my head, and said Salām as I had done so many times in Iraq. He gave me a half smile for my effort in the midst of his anger and then gave me a hug. He looked at me and told me to please come back. He then returned to his angry and upset mood.
It took me the plane ride home to figure out why that felt so empty. In the middle east you don’t hear a lot about thank you cards or other ways of saying thank you. I remembered my Hebrew Professor discussing this issue. He said there isn’t really a word for thank you because the closest thing would be “good job doing what you are supposed to do”. There is no need to show thanks because kindness and hospitality are the expectation in Bedouin cultures. Thank you is therefore a foreign sentiment. The whole thing made me sad. I realized why my time in Iraq was difficult (not finding fault or being political). Almost every time we entered a home we were offered tea and extended every courtesy. Yes there were exceptions but there were exceptions in Israel as well. We would alway respond to these acts of hospitality by searching for weapons, sometimes damaging property and belongings. Now, I am proud of my service and I was the member of a two man search team (we were the ones who always fulfilled this task). One of my best friends and I searched homes and we did it with as much courtesy as we could muster. We even had a few Iraqi’s who acted as if they liked us more when we left then when we initially came into their home. But there were times we had no choice but to break doors, cabinets, and other belongings or structures. I realized that gratitude is displayed in the act of fellowship with the host, enjoying the moment with the one hosting. We never enjoyed the moment with our host, we would just search.
I get a lot of criticism for it in seminary, but I am not a pacifist. I don’t think I ever will be. I believe we all (Abrahamic monotheistic faiths) practice a religion of peace, love, and justice. How those measures are achieved is not always through pacifism. I do believe that we must learn to offer hospitality more often, however. Thank you needs to become a word foreign in everyone’s vernacular. Not foreign because we lack gratitude but foreign because we take joy in the act of hospitality together. War, hate, anger, and violence are unavoidable that is the nature of original sin. But just if we would spend a little more time offering our hospitality over a glass of wine, bread, or even a good cup of coffee maybe then we would have a little less.
سلام ,שָׁלוֹם ,Peace
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