Not Home in Bethlehem

Part of the Honeymoon of the Heart series, originally published October 10, 2012

"My home is yours," he said as we walked down the cement stairs leaving his mother, sister, sister-in-law, and five of his eight nieces and nephews behind. Walking out with a bag of freshly-baked bread, I know he meant it.

What a complex juxtaposition. "My home is yours" coming from the heart of a man who passionately protects and stands for his people, a man who, by his own admission, has never been able to set foot in the village his heart calls home.

He led us through the refugee camp, sharing information and history like the well-seasoned leader that he is. In 1948 his grandparents were forced out of their land and given a temporary space in this refugee camp in the West Bank. Now, this home his heart longs for has been converted into an American land preserve, "a place where people can go and bar-b-que outside" he says.

His homeland, his grandparents' village--never returned, never re-established, but protected land none-the-less.

This camp, the largest of almost four dozen camps throughout the Middle East, houses more than 13,000 people in just under 1/2 square kilometer (which equals about a tenth of a square mile). The camp has 45-50 children in a classroom, two schools, and just 25 teachers at each school...statistics that leave many of the 7,000 children without an education. The people are provided one doctor, and that doctor sees more than 250 patients a day, averaging 34 seconds per visit. At the same time, trained doctors, nurses, engineers, teachers, and other educated citizens live here unable to get jobs because of the stigma attached to having refugee status.

Meanwhile, a UN referendum sits in a dusty binder somewhere, promising to return the displaced Palestinians to the villages they once called home. A referendum written, but to this day never yet placed into action.

"My home is yours" he said as we left his United Nations-issued apartment. Tonight as I left my new brother in the camp that is his not-quite home, I can't help but remember his gracious words and think to myself, "wouldn't the world be a much nicer place if we would all say the same?"

Praying for the peace of Jerusalem,

--R