WAWA Blog June 20, 2008: Part 3 of my first 16 Days In Israel Palestine
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next morning, Jack took a cab to Ramallah and saw the Wall in full
frontal, brutal view. On his left was twenty feet of abominable
concrete; on his right, there were rows of bankrupt businesses. Jack
wondered how many U.S. tax dollars were spent on the abomination that
was clearly destroying the Palestinian economy. David,
from the Upper Galilee, popped into Jack’s mind. “Back off, man; it’s
enough; back off!” Jack thought the same about the wall, and then got
lost in thought until his cab pulled into the Palestinian Authority’s
compound, where Arafat had been held captive and is buried now. Jack
was amused at the reception he received from the soldiers when he
arrived at the Headquarters. Nobody asked for any ID or to look in his
briefcase. “This is surreal; the IDF are equipped to the teeth, and the PA’s guns look like toys,” Jack commented. Tony
responded. “They often don’t even work.” Tony Nassar had been waiting a
half hour for Jack at the guard gate and had made the arrangements for
Jack to interview President Abbas’s chief of staff. Tony was a law
student and paralegal at the law firm President Abbas used for personal
business. Jack had made contact with Tony through the Palestinian
Christian Yahoo Group. Tony was twenty-four years old and supported his
widowed mother and young sister without a thought for himself. He told
Jack that although most of the family had already moved to America, he
would never leave Palestine. Jack
was ten minutes early for his appointment with Rafiq Husseini, chief of
staff to President Abbas. An unnamed soldier escorted Jack to the
conference room and another brought cool water and hot tea. A moment
later, Dr. Husseini greeted Jack with a warm smile and told him, “We
have lost more than 1.1 million fruit-bearing trees in Palestinian
territories. Trees are about food, the environment, and life. Ancient
trees have been demolished by tanks, and we thank the Olive Trees
Foundation for Peace for addressing the need to replace them and
rebuild the faith of our people. Palestine has always been tolerant to
people of all religions. The Jews came here out of Spain along with
many Arabs--and then came Zionism. When one wants to take over another,
war happens. President Abbas is a very bad politician; he does not lie!
He is ready to move on from the past. We have quit crying over our
losses; we must move on. Live and let live is the motto of this
administration. We can not carry on a battle; it must stop. Peace can
only happen with peace, not force. President Abbas has promised, ‘We
will do whatever it takes to show the world we want peace.’ We need
America to help us. The best thing would be for Americans to come and
see the truth of the situation for themselves. I encourage Americans to
come and see the Wall; it has nothing to do with security, but
everything to do with grabbing water and more land. When Americans
understand the real situation, things will change for the better. The
humiliation at the checkpoints is beyond belief. It can drive anyone to
desperation. We condemn all terrorism, but resisting occupation is
necessary.” That
night, Jack walked through the checkpoint from Ramallah to catch a cab
back to the Ambassador Hotel. He cringed when he saw the watchtower’s
small window lit up, and considered how easy it would be to be shot at.
The ground was rocky, uneven, and littered with debris. Jack’s
crepitus arthritic knees crackled more than usual as he navigated the
uneven ground, and he thought, Thank God for that full moon; at least
there’s a little light in this darkness. How do old people get around
in this environment? I imagine there must be a lot of broken hips, or
else they never leave their homes. Jack’s
passport was investigated by a dull-eyed female with boredom etched
deep in her young face, and he wondered, What am I going to do with all
I have seen and heard? These experiences can’t just be for me alone,
but what am I going to do with them? The
next day, Jack met Mordechai Vanunu at a seafood restaurant. As soon as
they ordered, Jack asked, “So, what was your childhood like?” Vanunu thought for a long time before he responded. “It was normal--it was normal--it was normal.” “What is normal?” “I
was born in Marrakesh, on October 13, 1954. I was the second oldest of
eleven; the first seven of us migrated from Morocco in 1963 after the
Zionists came and convinced the neighborhood that Israel was the
Promised Land. Instead of the land of milk and honey, we were banished
to the desert of Beersheba.” “Wait, I have never been to Marrakesh; tell me about it.” “Did you ever see that Doris Day movie, The Man Who Knew Too Much?” | “Is that the one where she sings ‘Que sera, sera’?” “That’s
the one. The beginning is exactly where I grew up. I was about eight
years old when I would wander all over the bazaar all by myself. I had
a few friends at school, but always went to the bazaar alone. I
preferred to be alone to observe; I was always watching everyone. I was
always alone, but never lonely. We lived in a small neighborhood of
Melah. It was a few hundred years old, with a wall and a gate just like
the Old City. Some people painted their homes many colors, and the
streets were narrow and had no names. I remember this very tall, black
Muslim Arab, who would fill a sheepskin with water from the town well.
He would carry it around his neck and sell water to those who did not
want to fetch it themselves. My father ran a successful grocery store,
and my mother was a seamstress. She would see a picture of a dress in a
magazine and then would copy it for herself. My mother’s family had
moved to Israel in 1956, and they sent me and my sisters and brothers
clothes and things. We also got support from JOINT, a Jewish
organization from the United States that sent us jeans and boots.” “Did you have fun?” “It
was fun to watch the gymnasts perform at the bazaar; I would watch them
for hours. I wouldn’t go home until after dark, and we lived in an
apartment quadrangle. There were four families on each of the two
floors, and we shared the rooftop and courtyard. There was no
electricity, no running water, and no sewer. My very first memory is of
when I was four years old and my mother had to run downstairs for a
while. She told me to keep an eye on my newborn sister, and as soon as
I was alone, I found out the difference between girls and boys. I was
still four years old when I began wondering, What is above the sky?
What is the end of the end? “I
grew up in an Orthodox Jewish home, but rejected it all by the eighth
grade. When I went to the University, I became an existentialist. When
I was eight years old I stole some money for the first and last time.
My father would take my older brother Al and I to his grocery store
whenever we weren’t in school. Al would always go into the back and
play with boxes, but I stayed up front, and listened and learned. One
Friday afternoon, my father told me to watch the register, as he had to
run out somewhere. There was one hundred shekels in the money box, and
I put it in my pocket as soon as he left. When he returned, the first
thing he did was look into the box, and then he asked me, ‘Where is the
money? Did you take it?’ “I
saw no way out and, in my panic, I lied and said something stupid. ‘No
no, I didn’t take it; go ahead and check my pocket.’ He did, and he
found the money and began to beat me with a belt. He wounded me a
little in my head. That was the day I learned not to steal, but it was
not until the next day when I learned not to lie. The next day at
school, the teacher demanded that we all uncover our heads. When I did,
the teacher saw my wound, and he sent me to the principal, who asked,
‘What happened to you?’ I didn’t want to admit that my father beat me,
so I told him some Arabs had beaten me up. He called the police and my
lie made a lot of trouble for some innocent guys, and I have never lied
since then.” “So, you were always a good boy?” “Yes, I was a good student and stayed out of trouble.” “Have you always been stubborn?” Vanunu
thought for a very long time. “When I was thirteen years old, I got mad
at my parents and decided I would punish them. I began my first hunger
strike and it lasted three days. My parents acted like they didn’t
care, and it was not until I got very weak that I got their attention.
I also remember getting really mad at my mother before a Jewish
holiday. I had new clothes I wanted to wear on Friday night, but she
insisted that I wait until the next day. We locked horns, but she had
the power and won in the end. I fumed the entire evening.” “So, this was when you had been in Israel for about five years?” “Yes,
in 1963 the Zionists came to my village and encouraged everyone to
migrate to Israel. There was no family discussion; my father just told
us we were leaving, and six months later, we boarded the train to
Casablanca and got on a World War II military ship. The ship kept going
up and down, and everyone was crammed into an open space; people
everywhere kept throwing up. After four days, we arrived in Marseilles.
This was a great place, but we had to leave for Israel. The next boat
was bigger and modern, and the journey was smoother. When we arrived in
Israel, the Interior Minister assigned us to Beersheba, but all the
rest of our family had been assigned to Nazareth, and we wanted to go
there, too. We had no choice, and home was a small hut in the desert.
There was nothing in it and we had nothing much with us. After a few
days, my mother left for Nazareth; it was chaos, and we had nothing to
do to occupy us. "Outside,
there was only desert, but I walked a few hours everyday so I could be
in the Old City. I started exploring around a Mexican-looking town,
never talking with anyone, but always watching everyone. Three weeks
later, my mother returned, and then my uncle, Joseph, arrived and took
us up north to see some more newly arrived family. We stayed for two
months, and then moved into a new apartment in Beersheba. I went to the
fifth grade and met a few friends, but they were strange people. They
were Romanians and a lot of Middle Easterners, who used bad language
and seemed cheap to me. Even the school supplies were inferior to those
I had had in Morocco. Even the ice cream was not ice cream; it was just
ice, and there was no Pepsi. "I
didn’t like it at all, and wondered why I had to be there. There were
only Jewish people around; I never saw an Arab or Palestinian then, and
the old mosque was uninhabited. My mother had babies every two years. I
preferred to be alone, but I was never lonely. Even when I walked with
my father on Saturday to pray, I didn’t talk, but I wondered about God
and truth. My father became even more orthodox as I turned away. I
couldn’t accept all the teachings and decided I would not accept any of
them. At fourteen years old, I began to doubt, and by sixteen, I left
Judaism for good. I didn’t know if God even existed, and I didn’t even
care. I decided I would decide for myself what is good and what is bad;
I didn’t need anyone telling me the rules. For me, it was about doing
to others what I wanted them to do to me; I didn’t need any other rule.
I was sent to Yeshiva, the Jewish boarding school in the Old City. I
experienced a great disconnect from God. I didn’t talk to anyone about
any of it. I kept everything within and continued to wonder about
finding my way, my direction, and the purpose of my life. I have always
searched for answers. "I
kept my mouth shut about not following the faith and excelled in
secular studies. With everything else, I just went through the
motions--in the eleventh grade, two friends and I were listening to the
radio. It is a big sin and crime to use electricity on the Sabbath. The
rabbi caught us and called my father to come get me, and when we had
almost reached our house, I smelled that he was going to beat me, so I
ran the five meters back to school without looking back. The next day,
the rabbi sent me for an intensive week of Jewish studies. I was angry
for the entire week. After that, I returned back to my boarding room.
My two friends and I had become outcasts; we were forever ignored by
the other students. The isolation became very comfortable, and I began
walking in the desert alone every night without any fear. I would just
walk around and imagine that I would find my way, and have some
success.” The Army and Leaving Israel “I
passed all my classes except for English and Hebrew studies. At
eighteen years old, I had my mind and health checked by the Israeli
army doctors and was assigned to be a pilot. But I failed the hand-eye
coordination test and was assigned to the Navy, instead. Three weeks
later, they sent me to the Engineering Unit, where I learned about land
mines, bridges, and explosives. I started training with fifty others
and was the most unenthusiastic of the bunch. I stood back from it all
and saw it as if it were just playing stupid games. Mostly, everyone
else was serious, but I just didn’t care; all I could see was the
futility. The day I left home for the service, my mother walked me to
the bus. She gave me all the Jewish stuff--you know, the phylacteries?
The leather straps for the head and left arm? I put it all aside until
I got my first leave, and then I returned it all home and never said a
word about it. I never spoke with my parents about rejecting their
faith. "When
I was in prison, my mother came to me and told me that I was suffering
because I was a Christian. I know I caused them a lot of pain, and they
have suffered because of my case. I forgive them, even though they
rejected me and my Christian faith. I have always thought for myself
and made up my own mind. As a young boy, I thought too many of the
rules of Judaism were of no use–like the rule that says you can’t mix
meat and cheese together. Well, the first time I did, nothing happened,
so then I began turning on the lights on Saturday. I tried to
experience everything that had been forbidden. That first Yom Kippur I
didn’t fast, didn’t pray, and felt totally free for the first time in
my life.” “Ok, so did you start having fun?” “No, still no fun, but
I finally met some secular Jews, traveled freely as a soldier, and
served in the occupied territories near Bethlehem. I would make treks
of fifteen miles through villages, and I felt how poor the people were
under occupation and how they suffered without reason, except for the
reason of injustice. In the 1970s, Israel built many fortresses and
spent lots of money on equipment, but nothing on the people I saw, who
were oppressed and under occupation. I got really mad and upset every
time I thought about how much money they wasted, but I kept my mouth
shut and kept it all to myself. After a year, I finished my training
and was assigned to train more soldiers. For me it was all futility and
waste; I saw these children become soldiers and thought, What a
complete waste. When the Yom Kippur War broke out, I was home on leave.
I returned the next day to my station near Ramallah. Soldiers with less
than a month of training got called to go with me to the Jordan Valley.
There weren’t enough trained troops, and we were lucky we didn’t see
any fighting and got to return to base after three days. After a few
months, we all went to Syria and the Golan Heights. When Kissinger
coordinated the cease-fire, the Israeli army destroyed the area before
leaving there. I was promoted to First Sergeant, and they wanted me to
re-up. I said no. “I
began my studies at Tel Aviv University when I was twenty-one. I
studied physics until the army called me up for thirty days’ reserve
service. When I returned to school, I couldn’t catch up. I worked in a
bakery at night and attended class all day. This was the first time I
met Palestinians as human beings. I began attending political
demonstrations inside the university. It was all about equal human
rights and respecting all others. By the time I was twenty-three, I
began working at the Dimona. It was suppose to be a textile plant, but
I was hired for the control room. At the time, I had no idea what it
was in control of. “I
really didn’t even want the job; I tried to get them not to hire me. On
the application, they asked if I knew any Palestinians. As I had an
acquaintance, I said yes, hoping it would disqualify me from
employment. They accepted me anyway. I watched them as closely as they
watched me. I began studying philosophy and geography, and read
literature.” | “Did you listen to music? Did you know the Beatles and Bob Dylan?” “Sure,
but I prefer classical. And I began wondering more about life and
politics. I decided to become a hermit and vegetarian. I lived alone,
but never was lonely. It wasn’t ever fun, but I enjoy the quiet. I was
never sad, but never happy, either. After a year, I got bored with the
routine job at the Dimona and wanted to leave. I went to Beersheba
University and studied economics for a year. I became involved in
university politics and in student unions. I was all about protecting
Palestinian students’ rights. I sided with Palestinians more and more,
and was invited to help establish a group of Palestinian and Jewish
students for peace and justice. This was also the time I found out that
it was dangerous for me to speak the truth. I was being watched, but I
continued to express myself anyway. After six months, I got called in
by security at the Dimona, and they asked me, ‘Can you imagine why you
are here?’ “I
answered, ‘My university activity?’ They then questioned me about all
my contacts and told me to stop, because I was in danger. I told them I
would try, but I knew I would continue on, because it was the right
cause and I would not hide my thoughts. “After
five months, they called me in again and demanded that I stop my
activities. A few months later, the chief security man took me to the
Tel Aviv Secret Room, where the Israeli army security officer grilled
me. They told me I could get fifteen years in prison if I didn’t stop
my university activities. I left the meeting and walked to a
Palestinian bookstore, knowing they were watching me. That night, I
wrote in my diary, ‘1/85. I should have finished this job at Dimona
before now. Time to quit.’ “I
finished the university with a BA in philosophy and geography, and made
plans to leave Israel and begin a new life in America. In August of
1985, I was put on a list of people who should be dismissed from the
Dimona. They were laying off 10 percent, but when they told me I was
going, I confronted them with ‘Why are you dismissing me? I am a good
worker; you are getting rid of me for political reasons, aren’t you?’
The union protected me, and after two months, they told me they were
transferring me to a less secure area. “I
told them I would stay where I was, or else I would resign. They said,
‘Okay, resign.’ And I did. I had already shot the two rolls of film. I
worked the night shift and had lots of time alone. I found the keys to
the restricted areas in the shower room. I left the film in my locker
for a few days before taking it out of the Dimona. I knew they were
watching me. I left Israel in January of 1986, and went to search for
someone to share my story with. I didn’t develop the film until six
months later. I was waiting until I found a newspaper that would cover
the story. I met a Canadian author on my way to Greece, but nothing
came of it. I traveled to Athens, Bangkok, and then went to Russia. I
was 32 years old in a Moscow hotel, wondering if I should tell my story
to the Red Army. I decided to leave, instead. The reason I had arrived
there was that before I left the Dimona, I had checked out the
Palestinian Communist Party to see how the communists worked. I was
curious and wondered if they would help me once I left Israel. But when
I witnessed the poverty and nothing but military cars everywhere, I
decided to get out of there. “I
went to the Far East and met some people who had run away from
Chernobyl, and I told them about the Dimona. Two weeks later I arrived
in Sydney and stayed for six months. I went to St. John Anglican church
and became friends with the people I met there. I got a job driving a
taxi and met a freelance journalist named Gervevo; I told him my story,
and he was enthusiastic to help me get it out. He thought I wanted to
make money on it, but I told him I just wanted to prevent a nuclear war
and contribute to a positive change in the Middle East. Then I met
Peter Hounam.”
Baptism by Fire “I
really had no clue what I was doing by getting baptized a Christian; I
just felt like I had to do it. It was my way to become a new being. It
wasn’t until after my trial that I started to read the New Testament.
While I was in prison, I would read aloud for a half hour, twice a day.
I would read the entire New Testament and begin it again when I
finished the Book of Revelation. I did this for myself, as well as for
my captors--not so much the prison guards, but the ones who watched me
on camera twenty-four hours a day. Once I covered up the camera that
spied on me and was punished with one month in solitary, without any
books or radio; no contact with anyone anywhere was allowed. It was
just them, watching me, constantly watching me.” “Who are they?” “The Shen Beet, you know, like the FBI and the Mossad, like your CIA— they
were watching me. They tortured me by keeping a light on in my cell
constantly for two years. They told me it was because they were afraid
I would commit suicide, and the oppressive camera was for my safety.
They recruited the guards and other prisoners to irritate me. They
would deprive me of sleep by making loud noises near my cell all night
long. “I chose to read them 1 Corinthians 13: 4-8, instead: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not
self-seeking, it is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of
wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with THE TRUTH! It
always protects, it always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.
Love never fails. “For
the first five years, twice a day I would loudly pray by reading Bible
verses. I would also read the Anglican service from the Book of Common
Prayer. I did it twice a day, everyday, for five years. I began to see
I had become like a machine. I knew if I continued I would lose my
mind. So after that, I only prayed in silence. Although I knew I was
driving them nuts with my loud praying, it was driving me nuts, too. I
changed my routine. I was allowed outside every day for two hours; I
had been jogging around in circles for the two hours, but now I changed
my routine. I began to alter that and all my routines so I would not be
like a machine. I refused to eat when they brought my food in. I would
decide everyday what time I would eat and what I would eat. I chose a
different time everyday to do anything. The camera was there to learn
my behavior so they could manipulate me. I knew I had to constantly
change my routine. I began reading more books about health, nutrition,
history, philosophy, and literature, and kept my prayer life quiet.” “When
you were baptized in Sydney, just a few months before you were abducted
and tried, you took the name John Crossman. Was that because of St.
John of the Cross and his The Dark Night of The Soul? “I haven’t read him.” “Not
many have, and even fewer understand what he was talking about. John of
the Cross was a Spanish poet and mystic who wrote about the
contemplative life and the divine union of the soul with God in this
life. He was an ardent disciple of Theresa of Avilla’s reforms, which
greatly agitated the church hierarchy during the time of the Spanish
Inquisition. He received a great deal of abuse for his thoughts and
spent a lot of time in prison, writing.” Vanunu
went silent again. Jack wondered if he stirred up too many bad
memories, but asked, “Tomorrow is my last day before I fly home to
upstate New York. Now I have to get to Notre Dame for the Interfaith
Peace Conference. Will you take a hike with me up to the Mount of
Olives tomorrow evening and tell me exactly how you became a
Christian?” Vanunu
agreed, and Jack paid the tab, said goodbye, and walked to Notre Dame
Cathedral for the satellite-linked interfaith conference for peace. Dan
Rather moderated from D.C. as Jack sat in the audience in Jerusalem.
The interfaith panel comprised moderates attempting to reclaim the
battlefield of ideas from extremists on both sides. Rev. Theodore
Hessburgh, president emeritus of the University of Notre Dame began the
evening with a pledge: “The peace of the world begins in Jerusalem.” Dr. Tsvia Walden, of the board of directors of the Peres Center and Geneva Initiative, offered a plan: “There
is a need for a third party in the negotiations that could enable both
sides to trust each other. There are more people in this region
interested in making concessions; they all want peace so desperately.” The coordinator of World Bank emergency services to the PA, Rania Kharma, commented, “We
all need to be the bridges to our leaders and carry the message that
only justice, equality, and human rights will bring peace. Give people
justice, and they will reward you with peace.”
Sheik Imad Falouiji warned,
“Religions must go back to their origins. God commands us to love each
other and live together. This Holy Land was given to all people. This
land is on fire. There is an occupation that must be removed. The
language of peace cannot succeed without justice for all.” Jack remembered President Bush’s second inaugural promise: “In
the long run, there is no justice without freedom, and there can be no
human rights without liberty...All who live in tyranny and hopelessness
can know the United States will not ignore your oppression or excuse
your oppressors. When you stand for liberty, we will stand with you.” The bishop of Jerusalem, Rt. Rev. Riah Abu Assal, recaptured Jack’s attention as he stated,
“Peace is an act. Blessed are the peacemakers, not the peace talkers.
Peace is possible in the Holy Land. The root cause for the lack of
peace since 1967 is the occupation. For peace to make progress in the
Middle East, we need to deal with the root cause. Religion was not
meant to bring death. All those involved in searching for peace should
commit themselves to work for justice and truth.” After
the conference, Jack walked alone to the Ambassador Hotel and wondered,
These past fifteen days have changed me. I learned more in this short
time through experience than from years of reading. I don’t know what I
am going to do with this knowledge, and I don’t have a clue if You want
me to do anything at all. The words of Thomas Merton keep coming to
mind: "Oh
God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of
me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know
myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not
necessarily mean that I actually am. But I believe that the desire to
please you does in fact please you. I hope I have that desire in all
that I am doing. I hope I will never do anything apart from that
desire. And I know that if I do this you will always lead me by the
right road, although I may know nothing about it, and I will not fear."28
The next morning, Jack
met Sami and George at the Bethlehem office of the Holy Land Trust and
learned more about their education and training for all segments of
society, and about how direct nonviolent action against the occupation
is done in Palestine. He learned about the Holy Land Trust’s many
opportunities to participate in fact-finding missions and travel
encounters to meet Jews, Christians, and Muslims working together for
peace and justice. Jack took a picture with Sami in front of a poster
that looked, at first glance, to be an eye chart, but read, “END THE
OCCUPATION.” Jack
asked Sami for a poster of his own, and told him, “I am already
planning on attending TIKKUN’s teach–in to Congress next year on Israel
and Palestine. I think I will take this eye chart with me and see how
good the eyes of Congress are.”
That
afternoon, Jack met Rev. Attek at the Sabeel office, but Jack did most
of the talking. “I have been reading the Sabeel Documents about morally
responsible investment and nonviolent response to the occupation. This
is exactly what we American Christians should be discussing, instead of
continuing the debate over the mystery of love and marriage. Surely
everyone knows Bishop Robinson isn’t the first gay bishop; he’s just
the first honest gay bishop. What we really need to seriously consider
is where we lay down our money, and who we really serve. Just this
morning, I read an Internet report from one segment of your opposition
on the divestment issue vilifying you. Money talks and you have really
hit a nerve--good job, Reverend.” Rev. Ateek smiled and shrugged as he autographed Jack’s worn copy of Justice And Only Justice. At
5:40 p.m., Jack met Vanunu at the American Colony. They both walked as
fast as any New Yorker and maintained silence. It was not until they
had scaled the high hill to the Mount of Olives and the stoned tombs of many Jews came into
view that Vanunu spoke. “Those are the Jews expecting to be resurrected
first when the Messiah comes.” Jack
retorted, “When I was in rehab, I got hold of a very bad book. It was
called Left Behind. What got left behind was the gospel of peace and
love. These books are bad theology and poor literature. Did you know
that in America there are Christians who actually want Armageddon? They
believe they will escape the nuclear holocaust because they are now the
new chosen ones. They think they will be raptured; they think they will
be lifted out of the world. They believe a theology of escapism and
they ignore that Christ promised that ‘The peacemakers shall be called
the children of God’ and that Jesus is the Prince of Peace.” Vanunu
replied, “The time has come for the United States to see the truth of
Zionism. It began as a secular nationalist movement, not a religious
one. Then some Christians believed that when Israel became a nation, it
was the beginning of the second coming. They are deluded if they
believe peace will come through atomic weapons. Atomic weapons are
holocaust weapons. Christians should be the first people against them.
The Christians in America should be helping the Christians here.
America needs to wake up to this fallacy that Jesus will come back by
nuclear war. America needs to wake up to the fact that the Palestinian
Christians here have no human rights. Aren’t Christians supposed to be
concerned about other Christians? Aren’t Christians supposed to be
concerned about all the poor and oppressed?” Jack
had become agitated. “It is non-negotiable: all of that stuff Jesus
said about doing for the least and the oppressed. It is non-negotiable
for Christians; we must forgive our enemies, and we must love those who
hate us. Whatever we do or do not do, we do it unto God. Every time I
went through a checkpoint, saw the wall, or heard a story of
oppression, I wondered how God can stand this situation. I can’t.” At
the summit of the Mount of Olives, there is a lot of pavement, but not
many trees. Jack found one cradling a few stone steps and sat down
while Vanunu wandered about. When Vanunu appeared, Jack immediately
asked, “How was it--being crucified for telling the truth?” “My
human rights have been denied me because I am a Christian. When I was
on trial, I was treated just like a Palestinian: no human rights at
all, and cruel and unusual punishment, all because I told the truth.
The government spread slander about me, that I was a homosexual, that
I hated Jews, that I wanted fame and money. What I did was sacrifice my
life for the truth. In prison, I really began to feel like Jesus and
Paul. When Jesus threw the money changers out of the temple, it was
like me in Dimona, exposing the Israelis’ dirty secrets. I felt like
Paul, being thrown in prison for speaking the truth. “The
only real way to worship is in loving one’s enemies. It was not easy to
love my tormentors; it was only because I felt so much like Jesus
crucified on the cross, and as if I was crucified in prison, that I
could do it. It was not ever easy. I have forgiven but not forgotten
anything, and I never will. In Israel, a life sentence is twenty-five
years. Even murderers go free after seventeen. They imposed the same
restrictions on me that Palestinians receive: no human rights at all;
no phone; no visitors, except family, and only through an iron grill;
no vacation; no holidays; and no gifts. Even murderers get out for
vacations! I was locked up for eighteen years and still cannot go on
vacation; I cannot leave, and that is all I am asking for, just to
leave here. For eighteen years in prison, they even attempted to
control my thoughts on paper. I would write exactly what I wanted and
they would censor words like kidnapped and atomic bomb. They would show
me how they chopped up my letters, but I continued to write exactly
what I wanted. They held my body, but never my spirit or mind.” Jack
asked tentatively, “Have you ever considered the idea that the
anti-Christ may not be a man at all? I keep thinking how nuclear
weapons are promoted by governments as instruments of peace, but they
only bring destruction. I can’t imagine that God intended for man to
blow up this planet, but instead, to learn how to share it.” “The
only way to peace is peace; the only way is nonviolence. The only
answer to Israeli nuclear weapons, their aggression, occupation and
oppression, and the wall and refugee camps is to answer them with truth
and a peaceful voice. When I became the spy for the world, I did it all
for the people of the world. If governments do not report the truth,
and if the media does not report the truth, then all we can do is
follow our consciences. Daniel Ellsberg did, the woman from Enron did,
and I did. The United States needs to wake up and see the truth that
Israel is not a democracy, unless you are a Jew. Israel is the only
country in the Middle East where America can right now find WMDs.
America can also find where basic human rights have been denied
Christians: right here in Israel.” “In
America, we are assured inalienable rights. That means they are
God-given rights that governments cannot take away, such as the right
to worship where and how we choose. When I read that you were not
allowed to go the few miles on Christmas Eve to celebrate mass at the
Church of the Nativity, I wondered, what kind of democracy is that? I
cannot understand how a democracy could haul anyone to jail because
they wanted to go to a church in the next town. American democracy
ensures citizens the right to think and to speak out the truth as we
see it. American democracy understands that everyone has the right to a
life and to liberty--which means freedom from captivity and any
arbitrary controls. Last night, at the Interfaith Conference, I
remembered what President Bush promised at his second inauguration, and
wondered if he had thought about Palestinians when he delivered it.
"He
promised, ‘There is no justice without freedom.
There can be no human rights without liberty...All who live in tyranny
and hopelessness can know the United States will not ignore your
oppression, or excuse your oppressors. When you stand for liberty, we
will stand with you.’”
The men went silent
as they descended the Mount of Olives, and then climbed up three
flights to a rooftop restaurant where they served the fish with
skeleton and head intact, and fries on the side. After a while, Vanunu
spoke and blew Jack’s mind.
“Did
you know that President Kennedy tried to stop Israel from building
atomic weapons? In 1963, he forced Prime Minister Ben Guirion to admit
the Dimona was not a textile plant, as the sign outside proclaimed, but
a nuclear plant. The Prime Minister said, ‘The nuclear reactor is only
for peace.’
“Kennedy insisted on an open internal inspection. He wrote
letters demanding that Ben Guirion open up the Dimona for inspection.
“The French were responsible for the actual building of the Dimona. The
Germans gave the money; they were feeling guilty for the Holocaust, and
tried to pay their way out. Everything inside was written in French,
when I was there, almost twenty years ago. Back then, the Dimona
descended seven floors underground.
“In 1955, Perez and Guirion met with
the French to agree they would get a nuclear reactor if they fought
against Egypt to control the Sinai and Suez Canal. That was the war of
1956. Eisenhower demanded that Israel leave the Sinai, but the reactor
plant deal continued on.
“When Johnson
became president, he made an agreement with Israel that two senators
would come every year to inspect. Before the senators would visit, the
Israelis would build a wall to block the underground elevators and
stairways. From 1963 to ’69, the senators came, but they never knew
about the wall that hid the rest of the Dimona from them.
“Nixon stopped
the inspections and agreed to ignore the situation. As a result, Israel
increased production. In 1986, there were over two hundred bombs.
Today, they may have enough plutonium for ten bombs a year.”
The two
walked back to St. George’s Cathedral without speaking, then said
goodbye at the gate. Jack continued on in the dark, alone and silent.
28. Thomas Merton; Thoughts In Solitude
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