‘If you prick us, do we not bleed?’

You’ll remember the bombing in Gaza last summer – right? Also, the Second Intifada, and First – perhaps? And, of course, you’ll remember the bombing of Manchester City Centre and the bombs in Hyde Park and the ongoing Troubles in Northern Ireland and the planes striking the Twin Towers and… and…  shall I go on?

I test your memory because I am aware of how easy it is to forget.

I used to forget that my father served in Northern Ireland when it was not safe to do so. His coming and going was the norm for us. It was only when I travelled to Belfast myself in 2003 that I realised what a challenging place it must have been to be (and still is for some). (You can see something more of my reflection on this theme in a Sermon I preached on Remembrance Sunday last year.)

Though I was not much more than a child when they took place, I do remember, when I care to, the Hyde Park bombs, the Manchester bombing and the way in which the fact that these attacks had come onto the mainland somehow made ‘us’ (the rest of the people of Britain) suddenly take them so much more seriously. How soon, how easily, we forget.

There are, however, those who will never be able to forget – because of the mental, emotional, psychological and physical scars they bear. I am reminded of this by the child I met today – the child whom I shall call H.

H is a bright young man and, amongst his many skills, he is able to ask and answer questions in English and, when bored of adults ‘showing off’ his ability to do this, is able to make it more than plain that enough is enough. (Quite right!) Today H was studying the Urinary System – drawing and labelling pictures, as well as describing and discussing how it all worked. As a break from the intensity of the one-to-one situation (now two-to-one as I was there) the board game version of Angry Birds was brought out. (I had previously confessed to the teacher that I had Angry Birds on my phone until a couple of weeks ago. The time I spent playing on it was not a good thing and there are far more instructive ways of spending my time so I deleted it though!) in addition to some Biology and a game or two, there was some dictation and a bit of spelling. Before needing to come to the hospital, H was always top of the class – and I can see why. So why is H here at the hospital in Beit Jala?

H has been here since last summer. He was out with his brother when a bomb fell on the shop where they were buying bread. The shop was in Gaza. H’s brother died instantly whilst H sustained injuries to his lower legs. Following on from surgery there has been a lengthy period of Physiotherapy. H is now able to get around independently with a crutch – but he still requires supports on both his lower legs. Standing up is a bit of a challenge but he gets on with it. Seeing H as he is reminds me of the conflict last summer – a conflict that I haven’t forgotten but that does seem ‘of the past’ as time moves on and so does life and so do we all. H, however, as with all who suffer during any conflict – in whatever kind of way, whilst getting on with getting on, carry mentally, emotionally, psychologically and physically the memories.

As I have travelled through today – and through the past days reflecting on issues in the news to do with IS in particular – words that have come to mind are those from Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice and a speech given by Shylock: ‘If you prick us, do we not bleed?’ (You can find the Scene from which it comes here.) Shylock is speaking of the treatment of Jews – and he speaks too of revenge, alas. Perhaps we could all do well, before taking up arms, before speaking bitter words, before deciding we are better than others, perhaps we could all put these specific words of Shylock into the mouths of those we are about to attack in whatever way: ‘If you prick us, do we not bleed?’ If we did this, maybe it would make a difference – maybe. As ever, it takes courage to see others as human when they are different or distant or nameless to us. H bled, as did his brother, as did and as do so many others in current war zones and trouble spots. Seeing H today reminds me that I should not forget and that is certainly no bad or untimely thing.

A few days with my forebears in faith

Over the past few days I have been trying to become better acquainted with the different ‘quarters’ of the 'Old City' of Jerusalem. Yesterday and today it has been the turn of the Jewish Quarter. It is not a part of the Old City that I know very well, and thus it is a place that I have always felt that I needed to be more careful in – specifically with regard to my attire and behaviour. I have also been careful as to when I have visited – ensuring it is not the Sabbath, for example. I think, on reflection, it is about my seeking to be courteous and polite. It is true that there is a particular part of the Jewish Quarter that is home to more Orthodox and Conservative Jews, and the Guidebooks recommend that this is certainly not an area to drift into in a car when it is the Sabbath as you are likely to get stones thrown at your vehicle. As I have walked around over the past few days though, it is possible to see where to be or not to be – just as it was in the Muslim Quarter (ie anywhere near an entrance to the Temple Mount that was not the official entrance during the official hours available to non-Muslims for visits).

I have visited six particular sites over the past two days: the Jerusalem Archaeological Park & Davidson Centre, the Hurva Synagogue, the ‘Alone on the Wall’ Exhibition, the Burnt House, the Herodian Quarter/WohlArchaeological Museum and the Western Wall Tunnels. In visiting each of them, I have journeyed through the history of this city and the people who have lived here – with particular reference to the Jewish people.

The Jerusalem Archaeological Park & Davidson Centre abut the Temple Mount and Western Wall – quite literally. I can quite understand why the Muslim authorities are so sensitive to the excavation work that is going on as it right against the foundations of the Temple Mount. Regardless of who one thinks should have ownership of the Mount, the work that is going on will mean that one group will feel either that the other is seeking to interfere with what is rightfully theirs or impede access to what is rightfully theirs. The work that is going on at the base of the Mount (hidden underground and away from sight, it is true) presents in microcosm the very problems that are at the root of the underlying anxiety that rests in the air of the City of Jerusalem: ‘You have what is mine and I want it back’ vs ‘You want what is mine and I am not going to let you have it’. I believe these statements, although quite simplistic, are at the heart of the conflict between Jew and Muslim. It’s not just about the Temple Mount – it is about the whole of this land. Christians don’t even begin to have look in with regard to the dispute over ‘land rights’ – they are a faith group that is diminished by both authorities in the land (and in the city in particular) and many Christians have left Palestine and Israel because it is such a difficult place to be.

The Archaeological Park is a site in the open air, and one wanders around the stones realising that some of them are almost two thousand years old. Some parts have been uncovered for some time and, with their uncovering, new insights have been gleaned into the way in which the Temples of our Jewish ancestors (First and Second Temple periods) were built, decorated, used and revered.

Some of the stones are massive – seriously massive. Imagining how they were quarried, and then brought to the top of this mountain – and how long this took, with building and decorating added on is seriously mind-boggling. Just walking around this place, knowing that my forebears in faith walked in this place too, I find really moving(Jews as forebears of Christians). They came to worship in this place, just as I travel to worship in my church or in a church here in Jerusalem. Worshipping God is important to me, therefore I make an effort, I put time aside, I find others with whom to share the space and time so that we are a community and household of faith together.

In the Burnt House and Herodian Quarter, the visitor is transported back in time to the time of the destruction of the Second Temple – 70AD (or CE if one is using current time denotors). The charred remains of homes are visible, indicating the torching of the city, and in the Burnt House, the remains of a severed arm were discovered during the excavations of the area carried out in the years just after the Six Day War of 1967. Underneath the ground of the area surrounding the Hurva Synagogue (itself a building rebuilt twice), excavations during this period revealed many homes and gave up stories to connect us in our present day to the days of those in times past.

Stone vessels indicate that one of the homes belonged to a family who took ritual cleanliness seriously. Not for them clay or wooden vessels that could be tainted, rather, for their household the vessels must be of stone that could not be tainted in any way.

In another house, the remains of perfume bottles were found, with pessel and mortar for crushing the ingredients that would be used to release the scents. Glass objects, sealed underground for two thousand years, revealed following only after a period of intense bombing, a period that led the Jewish Community here to ask how its past could be honoured, whilst its future be developed (and ensured). These two places in particular give vivid insight into the past, and some small insight into why emotions related to this City of Jerusalem run so very high for all who live here. Honouring the past – and those who lived, fought for and died here – of all faiths – whilst developing the future is a complex business.

I have come away from each of these six experiences – individually and as a whole – inspired, moved, challenged, confused. However, this is what faith does, this is what thinking does, this is what being truly alive does – and I am glad for it. My, how I pray there were a way forward that enabled the people of this city to live in peace and free from harm.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem,
they shall prosper that love thee.
Psalm 122: 6

The road to hell...

... is paved with good intentions, or so they say.

It is amazing how, in trying to do the 'right thing' and make everyone happy, it is so easy to offend and upset the people who  you would least like so to do.

I have just about managed to avoid offending someone terribly today, whilst seeking to pacify someone else, and it has pained me terribly that I casue offence. I should go with my gut reaction I guess, but on this occasion I let the demands of other people get in the way.


I heard someone say once, 'if you see conflict, walk towards it'. Here I didn't see the conflict coming, but I have walked towards an apology, with alacrity. In doing so, I am hopeful that a right and peaceful relationship will be restored.