On this page:
BREAKING THE SIEGE WITH DIGNITY
A TALK BY CHIEF RABBI, JONATHAN SACKS
TAKE LIGHT, GIVE LIGHT
BAN THE LORD’S PRAYER
THE PAINTINGS OF RUTH GOODHEIR
HOPE, RESPECT, EQUALITY, PEACE:
THE BELLAHOUSTON GRAFFITI PROJECT, GLASGOW
BREAKING THE SIEGE WITH DIGNITY
Dignity is a 20-metre, 8-berth motor yacht, built of wood and about 30 years old. I was privileged to be on board on her maiden voyage to break the Siege of Gaza. This was the second actual sailing of the siege-breaking Free Gaza Movement, the first being in August, when two elderly and slow fishing boats took over 30 hours to do the 240-mile trip from Larnaca, Cyprus. Dignity, a faster boat, was able to do it in half the time.
Aboard Dignity were 23 passengers and 4 volunteer crew. Several on board were making their second trip, including the skipper and all the crew. The leader, Huwaida, is a Palestinian-American, and among the others were an American human rights lawyer, an Italian opera singer and an Israeli freelance journalist who opposed the occupation of Palestinian Territory. There were several other doctors and human rights workers. We came from Italy, Spain, Greece, Ireland, England and Scotland and Palestine. Among us was Mairead Maguire, joint winner of the Nobel Peace Prize 30 years ago in Northern Ireland. We were all united in our anger at the continued brutality and injustice of the Israeli occupation of the West Bank, the Siege and blockade of Gaza and the failure of our governments to call Israel to account.
The beauty of the Free Gaza Movement’s plan is its openness and simplicity. Israel had been informed of our intention but their permission was not sought. All on board were listed on the Free Gaza internet site. The boat with its cargo of 3 tonnes of medical supplies were examined by the Cyprus Customs and declared to be entirely peaceful.
We arrived off the coast of Gaza in the early morning and were met, as expected, by two Israeli warships. Contact was made by radio, we were asked the name of the boat, its port of registration, last port of call and where we were bound, all of which they already knew. Huwaida informed them that we were bound for Gaza.
There was no further conversation and we continued onwards, the City of Gaza emerging from the slight haze of the eastern horizon. About 6 miles offshore, we met some local fishing boats, who gave us a wave, and a little further on a small flotilla of fishing boats came out towards us full of waving and cheering people. Dignity entered Gaza Harbour to an amazing welcome from many small boats and from people on the harbour jetty. She was only the second vessel from abroad to sail into Gaza Harbour in 41 years.
For three nights and four full days we went throughout the length and breadth of the Gaza Strip trying to absorb all we saw and heard. Gaza is a piece of flat land about the size of Kintyre (say, 30 miles by 5 miles) teeming with 1.4 million people, half of whom are under the age of 18. Two-thirds of the population are from refugee families driven from their ancestral lands, which were taken from them by Israel in 1948, and which they can still see beyond the wall.
Israel’s settlements inside the Strip were withdrawn in 2005 but their iron grip on the borders continued and has been tightened since 2006 when elections produced a result they were not expecting, a majority for Hamas. Since then the European Union, a major contributor of aid, has withdrawn much of its funding. The Siege in the last two years has severely limited the entry of much essential medical equipment and supplies, including food, fuel and spare parts. Citizens of Gaza can neither enter nor leave without special permission, which is almost impossible to get. With us had come Dr Mustafa Barghouti from Ramallah, who had been prevented from visiting Gaza from the West Bank. He is an independent MP widely seen as the man who could bring unity between Hamas and Fatah.
On our first evening there, Dr Barghouti and the senior Catholic Prelate of Gaza called a meeting in the Ecclesiastical Residence to which came the leaders or senior members of all the political parties, including Hamas, Fatah, Islamic Jihad, Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine and several others. Each made a short speech of welcome to us on the theme of unity: if we could come and show support for the people of Gaza – surely they could settle their own differences. It was quite obvious there was no oppression of Christians by the Moslem majority and the priest was treated with much respect.
The borders of Gaza were marked by a wall of stone, barbed wire and frequent watch towers. Above it flew tethered observation balloons. Within sight of the wall, for about half a mile, Israel had laid waste to the land to give an open field of fire. We saw the ruins of smashed farmhouses, the families living in shacks further back, unable to get to their land. Most of this land had been agricultural: orchards, fields of grain and market gardens. It had been known as the Garden of Palestine. Its loss to cultivation has added to the widespread nutritional problems.
The main hospital, Al Shifa, is in central Gaza and we were shocked at the conditions there. It had been a modern sophisticated hospital, which had now run out of basic drugs such as antibiotics and painkillers. Essential equipment was deprived of spare parts; of the 36 dialysis machines, only 25 were usable. A brand-new scanning and radiotherapy unit, completed 18 months previously, had never treated a patient, as the necessary radioactive isotopes had not been allowed through. A surgical wing remained half built, no further building materials being available. So men, women and children had been denied what we in the West take for granted. The Medical Director of Al Shifa told me that about 270 people had died for these reasons, or because their transfer to specialist units in the occupied West Bank, Jerusalem or Cairo had been blocked.
Additionally, malnutrition was widespread, particularly among children, the under-fives most affected through lack of milk. What did come in was mostly brought in through the tunnels under the Egyptian border at Rafah.
We saw many small factories and workshops idle for lack of supplies and equipment. Quite a few fishing boats still went out but they were subject to daily harassment by Israeli gunboats, which used water canon and sometimes machine guns. Several fishermen had been killed and many more injured. Some of the Internationals went out in the boats, hoping their presence would be a deterrent, as it was to some extent. Among them were two Scots, Theresa McDermott (who suffered a water canon attack) and Andrew Muncie (who was kidnapped by a gunboat, taken to Israel and then deported).
We met many students; over 500 had acceptances to European or US universities, often with scholarships. They had been denied exit from Gaza and were unable to take up the places offered to them. We heard stories of standing all day at the border crossings only to be turned away with a ‘Try tomorrow’.
Perhaps most striking of all was the presence, almost wherever we went, of large numbers of children, usually smiling, waving and obviously loved and well cared for. They all seemed to know the words ‘You are welcome’. I was made to feel more welcome here, by more people, than anywhere else in my lifetime.
Each evening there was a concert. On our third and last night, one of our number, Guiseppe Fallisi, brought tears to many eyes with an aria sung in Italian, partly to the melody of ‘Amazing Grace’ and describing the long struggle of the Palestinians for peace with justice.
During our brief stay, I saw no ‘terrorists’. I saw farmers who could not cultivate their fields, fishermen, workers with no work and shopkeepers with half-empty shelves. I saw the staff of hospitals unable to treat all their patients, and I saw grieving families. I saw a brave, determined, spirited people showing astonishing resilience, determined to survive their hardship. It reminded me a bit of my wartime childhood, but we have had peace at home for the last 60 years, while they have endured dispossession, military occupation, siege and hardship.
On 30th December, shortly after the present military assault on Gaza started, Dignity set sail again carrying doctors and medical supplies on a completely peaceful mission. Ninety miles from Gaza, in international waters and without warning, it was rammed during the night by an Israeli warship, severely damaged and forced into port in Lebanon. Last night (14th January) a replacement boat set sail with the same peaceful intent.
Jock McDougall (15th January, 2009)
Jock McDougall: 'Born 1930, graduated in medicine 1954, visited Near and Middle East while a naval surgeon (National service). Very concerned about the dispossession of Palestinians and the violence of Israeli attacks in Lebanon and Palestine, more so since the invasion of Lebanon in 1982, the apartheid wall, and the Siege of Gaza. A general practitioner in Edinburgh until I retired. Sail among the islands of Argyll every summer.'
Photo of rammed Dignity © Hassan Bahsoun
'Voyage 4' photo © Angela Godfrey-Goldstein
For more information on The Free Gaza Movement
freegaza.org/
To read an article on the ramming of Dignity:
www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/dec/30/israel-gaza-aid-ship
A TALK BY CHIEF RABBI, JONATHAN SACKS
In November 2008, Chief Rabbi, Jonathan Sacks delivered a Gifford Lecture at the University of Edinburgh entitled 'Why Does Faith Survive?'.
A streaming of the lecture is available here: www.hss.ed.ac.uk/giffordexemp/2000/details/ChiefRabbiSirJonathanSacks.html
TAKE LIGHT, GIVE LIGHT
'We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.'
Mother Teresa
I sat on the aeroplane full of anxiety for the sixteen days ahead. What was I doing? Whose idea was this? Or more to the point, how did I let myself have this idea? In front of me I could see the sixteen other members of our team, mainly young people and young adults from Richmond Team Ministry, contentedly watching movies and chatting. I, on the other hand, was full of terror for all of our lives, and for the sense of trust everyone had placed in us. God help us. I don’t think I have ever felt so inadequate for any task.
We were heading to Pune, India to engage in voluntary work with the Deep Griha Society. We would spend a week in the urban slum projects and a week in a rural orphanage called City of Child. We had spent the year fundraising for the trip, raising over £15,000 to give directly to the NGO …
‘I’ll die if I don’t have a fizzy drink soon’
It was our circle time, our daily meeting to talk about practicalities and about how we were all feeling. This was a comment from one of the young people in the group. I sighed to myself. How do we hold our privilege? We were staying in a rural orphanage. We were recipients of real hospitality and generosity. People were going out daily to buy us mineral water so that we would not have to drink the contaminated water the orphans drink. The group was fed up with drinking lukewarm water. They wanted coke. I simply felt torn in every direction. How can we hold these things together? An awareness of our privilege. A gracious acceptance of hospitality. The dissatisfaction of the group …
A rich, painful, beautiful glimpse of India
So, which stories do I tell you? Our team in India worked hard and gave their all. We painted a stunning mural in the rooftop classroom in the Bibwewadi slum. We drank chai in people’s homes in the slums, met newborn infants, embraced HIV-positive children and saw community work in action. We ran a pioneering community outreach programme in Deep Griha’s newest project, the Vidyanagari, or City of Knowledge: Over one hundred children came from the local community to workshops designed and run by our group – the day was a tremendous success, and the first of many to come. We lived and worked alongside the children at City of Child: they taught us Bollywood dances and songs about Jesus; we taught them English, games, sports, crafts and music. We brought T-shirts for them to design. They coloured them beautifully and wore them with pride. We built roads, painted stones, painted gates, dug with pickaxes and planted trees while they were at school. We ran a carousel of activities for them in the evenings after school. We experienced village life, temple worship, a school assembly … We ate with our fingers curries of simple home-grown vegetables. We washed in buckets of cold water. We sat through a cricket tournament in the pouring rain, and I had to present the winning team with the trophy. We were each given a garland of jasmine and marigolds when we finished our volunteer work. We experienced a rich, painful, beautiful glimpse of India …
‘Didi!’
One day, while standing on the perimeter wall to paint the top of the mural in the rooftop Deep Griha classroom in the Bibwewadi slum, the children in the alleyway below me were calling to me and waving. ‘Didi!’ (meaning ‘Big sister’), they shouted, laughing. In that one moment, all that mattered was giving my attention to those children. To wave and smile and hear their laughter and giggling and playfulness. There was no result in this exchange. No task to accomplish and no grades given. It was simply about human beings meeting each other. Human beings in impossibly different power relationships; human beings with shockingly unjust differences in wealth and status; human beings who do not speak the same language and who do not even know each other’s names. But I was a stranger and I was welcomed. I was called ‘big sister’. I was loved and met in my full humanity. For me, it was a sacrament, and it was Jesus that I met and received in those children.
Our call to follow Jesus is about putting down our paintbrushes to wave and smile at Indian children we will never see again, in a moment of divine communion where Christ comes in a group of strangers.
It is about holding together the unbearable contrasts of our privilege and wealth, and the poverty of our sisters and brothers, who give so much more in every respect.
It is about refusing to be overwhelmed and looking the truth in the eye.
It is about knowing that what we are doing is only a drop in the ocean, but holding steadfastly on to the foolish belief that every drop matters.
One young person who went to India said: ‘Although we have only done something very small, I hope the work we did will leave a lasting contribution to lots of people. It has been the most challenging, rewarding and enjoyable trip of my life.’
Another said: ‘I don't think it was just the children I helped who learned something new. I think that I also learned from the children and adults there as well.’
One of the orphans at City of Child summed this up in the T-shirt he designed. He drew a picture of a lighthouse, the Deep Griha logo. Underneath he wrote four words: Take Light, Give Light.
Lotte Webb, Youth and Schools Worker, Richmond Team Ministry
Deep Griha, meaning ‘Lighthouse’, is an independent charitable organisation working to better the lives of people in the slums of Pune. Through a range of family welfare programmes, encompassing education, health, awareness building and self-help projects, DGS helps thousands of beneficiaries within Pune and several nearby villages.
www.deepgriha.org
Photos from Deep Griha:
flickr.com/photos/deepgriha/collections
BAN THE LORD’S PRAYER
It might do us all good if we Christians gave up saying the Lord’s Prayer. Perhaps for a year – or maybe just for Lent. But definitely take a break from it.
Maybe your church is different but in our services we go rattling through the Lord’s Prayer like a high-speed train. Fortunately there is the ‘for ever and ever’ bit at the end that reminds us to slow down before we crash into the buffers of the Amen.
The words are so familiar it is easy to recite them while thinking of what we are having for tea or whether there is any milk in the fridge. Or just about anything. Perhaps if we stopped saying it for a while we might come back to it with renewed respect.
There is a story of an old Catholic woman who went to her priest and told him she was having terrible trouble saying the Lord’s Prayer. When he asked what the problem was, she said she always got stuck on the first word.
When this wise woman thought about the meaning of that first word, she was suddenly lost in wonder and amazement at the love of God that allows us to say ‘Abba, dear father.’
And so she never managed to get to the next bit.
Of course, the next few lines of the prayer are all summed up in that one word Abba. If God who made the universe is really our dear friend and father, how can we possibly not hallow his name; and seek to do his will; and work for his Kingdom?
How can we stand aside and do nothing while his children live in poverty in our own towns and cities and starve in their millions in other parts of God’s world?
How can we spend so much time worrying about the ridiculous institution of the church while God is out there in the world, pleading with us to join him in bringing justice and love to his creation?
On second thoughts, maybe that’s exactly why we do rush through the Lord’s Prayer: why we hardly give its words a second thought. Because taking it seriously is a very scary and challenging option. And we do not go to church to be scared or challenged. Do we?
David Rhodes
David Rhodes is an Associate of the Iona Community, and author of 'Advent Adventure' and 'Sparrow Story: The Gospel for Today' (SPCK)
www.spck.org.uk/cat/show.php
THE PAINTINGS OF RUTH GOODHEIR
Artist and Member Ruth Goodheir, who lives on the isle of Skye, has recently completed a new collection of paintings. About the paintings, Ruth writes: 'They are all about blessing and transformation, although there are some very dark ones too …' Following are four paintings from a series in Ruth's new collection entitled 'The Word Is Made Flesh'.
THE WORD IS MADE FLESH
The Creative Energy was made flesh;
it pitched its tent among us
and we saw its glory,
the glory that is as the only Child of the Creator,
full of grace and truth.
From John’s Gospel
God is not only fatherly. God is also mother who lifts her loved child from the ground to her knee. The Trinity is like a mother’s cloak wherein the child finds a home and lays its head on the maternal breast.
Mechthild of Magdeburg
Enough for me to keep my soul tranquil and quiet like a child in its mother’s arms, as content as a child who has been fed.
From Psalm 131
We believe that God is present
In the darkness before dawn;
In the waiting and the uncertainty
Where fear and courage join hands,
Conflict and caring link arms,
And the sun rises over barbed wire.
We believe in a with-us God
Who sits down in our midst
To share our humanity.
We affirm a faith
That takes us beyond the safe place:
Into action, into vulnerability
And into the streets.
We commit ourselves to work for change
And to put ourselves on the line;
To bear the responsibility, take risks,
Live powerfully and face humiliation;
To stand with those on the edge;
To choose life
And be used by the Spirit
For God’s new community of hope.
(Written by Jan Sutch Pickard and Brian Woodcock, after a demonstration at Faslane nuclear submarine base)
Paintings © Ruth Goodheir
Ruth's collection will be exhibited at Holy Rood House in Thirsk during Holy Week.
If you would like to see more of Ruth's work, explore her website:
www.ruthgoodheir.net
HOPE, RESPECT, EQUALITY, PEACE:
THE BELLAHOUSTON GRAFFITI PROJECT, GLASGOW
More powerful artwork – this time by students of Bellahouston Academy in Glasgow.
Find out more about the Bellahouston Graffiti Project and the Iona Community's involvement at the link below:
www.glasgowsouthandeastwoodextra.co.uk/10175/Graffiti.4183623.jp
The Bellahouston Graffiti Project is looking for funding and contributions to continue its good work. If you can help, please contact the Iona Community Youth Department: Iona Community, 4th Floor Savoy House, 140 Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow G2 3DH, Scotland, UK. tel: 0141 332 6343/fax: 0141 332 1090. Thank you.
