Dear Freshmen Members of the House of Representatives

Dear Freshmen Members of the House of Representatives,

I’m sorry to have missed you!

Upon reading the newspaper this morning, I realized that we were in Israel/Palestine at the exact same time. For many of you, this was your first trip to the Holy Land. It was mine too. I understand that the purpose of your trip was to “see the region first hand and meet with key Israeli and Palestinian leaders.”  It sounds like we had similar objectives— yet, we never ran into each other! I get the feeling we had two very different trips and I worry that your “first hand” experience might be limited to a perspective offered only by those funding your trip. While the leaders I met weren’t all government officials, they did have first hand experience as people directly impacted by the lack of peace and justice in the region.

I missed you in Silwan, the Palestinian village just outside of the Old City in East Jerusalem. There, I met a group of teenagers who shared stories about life under occupation. As I climbed over the rubble of a recently demolished Palestinian home, I heard about the increased amount of Israeli settlers that are moving into the neighborhood. Many of these settlers believe that the land belongs to the Jewish people. They come with the help of subsidies and bring with them ideology, armed guards, and barbed wire.

Like teens in the United States, they text on their cell phones, tell jokes, and wear Nike sneakers. Unlike most teens in the U.S., their future is uncertain. One boy had been arrested fifteen times since he was nine years old. Accused of throwing stones, he bore scars on his head after being dragged through the street by Israeli police. Another girl told us about her younger sister: she brings her toys to school because she is afraid her home might not be there when she gets back. Together, the teens recounted how a 14 year-old, Mohammed, was kidnapped in front of his home and burned alive by Israeli settlers one year ago. If he lived in the United States, he would have been a freshman. The resilience these teenagers exhibited was inspiring. When asked, “what do you want for your future?” They replied with one word, “freedom.”

I missed you in Nablus, the ancient home to Jacob’s Well where Palestinian Christians, Muslims, and Samaritan Jews live side by side. It was here that I visited and stayed in a refugee camp. I heard stories from young people who were now third generation refugees. When asked, “Where are you from?” They would reply with the name of a city they had never actually been to. “Jaffa” and “Haifa” were common answers. I met a man about my grandfather’s age who told us that many families still have the keys to their house and deeds to their property. Because of the occupation, he has been living in a United Nations-run refugee camp since the early 1950’s.

You might have heard about this region because it was in the news this week. It’s near the village of Duma, where an eighteen month-old baby named Ali and his father Sa’ad were killed after Israeli settlers firebombed their home. The boy’s four year-old brother and mother are still in critical condition. I wish I could say this was an isolated incident, but I can’t. The reality for Palestinian families is that Israeli settler violence is real. The United Nations reports that there have already been 120 cases in the West Bank since the beginning of 2015.  As a father with kids the same age, my heart heard the international call for an end to Israeli settlements in a new way this week.

I missed you in Bil’in, where 60% of the Palestinian land has been annexed by Israel and is home to the separation wall that has destroyed homes, olive groves, and lives. Though the International Court of Justice has deemed this wall illegal, it stands tall separating Palestinians and Israelis today. Along with a few people from the village, I walked at sunset to the sounds of construction up to a vista where I could see this separation at play. Our Palestinian friend Iyad pointed out the area where his grandfather’s land used to be before it was swallowed up by the wall. On one side of the wall was an Israeli settlement that looked like a suburban-gated community. I saw beautiful red-pitched roofs being placed by construction workers and new paved roads being developed. It looked like a nice place to raise a family.

On the other side of the wall, I saw freshly planted olive trees that were planted to replace the more mature trees destroyed by bulldozers. I saw flat-roofed homes with black barrels on top that held water reserves because on this side of the wall, the water was only available two days per week. I saw a playground, not unlike one I would take my daughters to back in Oregon that had been rebuilt after it was bulldozed once. Like many of the newer buildings, it had another demolition notice because it was built “illegally.” On this side of the wall, it’s almost impossible to get building permits. For families, this area is under constant threat of being razed.

It’s easy to miss by design. With the help of USAID, miles and miles of roads were constructed to make it easier for us to bypass Palestinian villages. It’s hard to even find a sign for these communities! With the help of military checkpoints and Israeli-only access roads, we can remain separate from the injustice that is occupation. Because your itinerary is being kept a secret, I wonder if your “first hand” look has bypassed the stories and cries of the Palestinian people. If this were the case, I’d love to invite you to be a part of the next Interfaith Peace Builders delegation.

It’s estimated that the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) spent over one million dollars on your congressional delegation (about $18,000 per person).  While I can’t promise that same kind of money, if you’ll cover the airfare, I know some Palestinians with a soft mattress who would love to host you for tea, maqluba, and a few stories.

Sincerely,

Rev. Ron Werner Jr.