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In Palestine, olive trees are members of the family. So, when Adnan was cut off from one of his favorite olive trees after the Separation Barrier was built, and he wasn't going to be able to water it or care for it, he was beside himself. If it was going to die, he decided, he would make it a quick death and not have it suffer day by day. So he cut it down.
So he told his wife, and asked her what she
thought it meant. She said,
However one views the politically-charged history of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, it is clear that the Land carries the scars as much as the people do. Hundreds of thousands of ancient olive trees – over 350,000 since 2000 alone - have been destroyed to make way for settlements, roads or walls. Citris groves have been razed to the ground, thousands of dunums of agricultural land destroyed. You can stand next to the uprooted olive trees and practically feel their bleeding. You can look over the citrus tree groves razed and destroyed in Gaza and hear the sound of creation wasted. One writer who came to investigate the situation put it this way: In Palestine, the violence has targeted the entire landscape. A trail of devastation stretches as far as the eye can see: a jumble of demolished buildings, leveled hillsides and flattened forests…
Nowhere do the words from St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans ring with more sincerity: For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. Romans 8:20-23 We here in this land wait for the real-world redemption from the bondage of occupation and the futility of destruction of land, creation and human dignity. Despite the common belief that people living here have been fighting for thousands of years, it is not really true. What is true is that this small but significantly-located patch of land has been trodden over, fought over and occupied by outside forces throughout history. But of those actually living here in the past few centuries – Muslim, Christian and Jew – most Palestinians lived side by side together on the land without significant conflict for many years. As a rule, Palestinians didn't think of the land as something to be possessed, it was a part of us. It was not something to be possessed or controlled any more than the air we breathe or the sun that shines. We owned the land often as communities, and together with God's grace we sought to live an abundant life with family, friends and neighbors. The problems surfaced when people took the land away from those living on it using religion, politics or power to do it. The spirituality intertwining the people and the land was shattered by the misuse of religion to possess and control the land. We Palestinian Christians found ourselves in the strange and painful predicament of having our own sacred scriptures used against us. My family, Christians for centuries, could not believe this was happening. Surely this couldn't be, that the God we believed in and worshipped would actually intend for us to be driven off our land? Surely the God of justice, peace and compassion for all would not want this? Indeed, this is not the God I know through Christ, nor is it the God I know through the Hebrew Scriptures. To use the Scriptures to justify the power and privilege of any one people over another is to treat the Bible as a one-act play when it is in fact a complex narrative. And this narrative tells the story of a God of justice, compassion, reconciliation and healing for all people, even the whole of creation. Theologian Walter Bruegemann points out that the Hebrew word "erets" was used in the scriptures for both "earth" and "land," one meaning the broader, idyllic creation that belongs to no one but God and the other also owned by God but inevitably intertwined with people, ownership and history. In the real world, these two notions must be held in constant tension, as Bruegemann points out: "`Erets' as land is always conflictive and at issue. It cannot be otherwise, because owned land is characteristically not peaceable. For when one owns land, one must do so in the presence of the many who do not own the land and who have been denied ownership, very likely by force and violence or by legal manipulation. Serious land theology is always about power and counterpower. None who owns land has an absolute or obvious claim." The God of Israel created the land and the people to live in a covenant of faith and shalom/salaam, with justice, equality, righteousness and commitment to God and one another. When the people of Israel became enslaved by the Egyptian monopoly on power and privilege, God brought them out of bondage into freedom and promised to lead them to a new land of their own. The Exodus is God's clear "no" to oppression and poverty at the hands of the powerful and the wealthy. When Israel became rich and powerful in its own land, God sent prophets to remind Israel of it's calling to be a compassionate, just and righteous society. They were meant to be different from other nations by the way they lived in this covenant of justice and peace. They were to be a light to all nations and a blessing to all people. This time the words similar to those from the Exodus were not so welcome when heard by the unjust kings of Israel: Is this not the fast that I choose? Today, we - and our land - are literally dying for peace, healing and justice. We must find a way, together, to beat our swords into ploughshares and live or we will die in a devastated land alone. Walter Bruegemann notes that Isaiah's call is as relevant today as it ever was: Is that not what the arms race is all about? The debate of our time is over how many weapons one has to have to keep from losing the land. Into the discussion intrudes the awareness that such self-defense may in fact be a way to lose the land, not to guard it. The royal ideology always believes there is a way to keep the land without the Torah. But the Torah is uncompromising in its conviction that those who covet the land (in violation of Torah) are going to lose it. This is the debate we have been living for over 50 years, facing the Israeli occupation in the name of security. This occupation has proven a sin against God, humanity and creation because it robs people – both occupier and occupied - of human dignity and turns God's creation into something to be manipulated and misused as an instrument of oppression.
From Abu Ghnaim in 1997 to Har Homa in 2002.
Now, an ugly new violation of creation is tearing
apart our land, cities, communities and families: the new separation
wall. Standing next to this almost 30 foot monstrosity, one
can hear the words from Ray McKeever's song lamenting the destruction
of creation: "Even the stones will cry out for justice. Yet we as Christians remember that this same cry from Christ on the cross, though it seemed to go unanswered on Friday, had an answering cry on Sunday: "Alleluia, Christ has Risen! Hope lives and despair is defeated!" Though we live in a Good Friday world, Easter hope is alive within and around us, swirling in the mystery of suffering and resurrection in our Risen Savior. We believe and trust that this resurrection power that we can neither control nor explain reaches through the suffering to reconcile, heal and give new life. We believe this Savior calls us to a new vision, of a new heaven and earth, where all are invited, all tears are wiped away and all wounds are healed. Walls and barriers are broken down by the only true power of God's love and reconciliation that draws all things together in heaven and on earth. This is what gives us the hope we need to begin again every morning. Like Adnan, we can see chutes of new life that God is bringing into this blessed but battered land. We see the hope in the children and the schools, shaping and growing bright young people dedicated and committed to bringing Christ's compassion and reconciliation to their world. We see people of faith seeking to work together to help make religion a power for reconciliation and healing rather than intolerance and extremism. We see churches and communities growing deeper and more compassionate despite the forces that seek to drive them apart. We know the power of being uplifted in prayer by people all over the world, and we join in that prayer for all of the Body of Christ around the world. Martin Luther was asked once what he would do if the world were going to end tomorrow, and he said he would go out and plant a tree. If he had been Palestinian, he would have made sure it was an olive tree. Rooted in the steadfast love and presence of God, may we all, people of faith and courage, continue to plant seeds of hope wherever we are, so that all may know and share in the blessing and fruit of God's creation. Amen.
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Five
months later, when he was allowed to go back to his land, he
found that new branches were growing out of the stump. He got
down on his knees, kissed the ground, and was apologizing to
it, saying "I'm sorry, if I'd have known, I wouldn't have
cut!" His wife, following behind him, thought he had finally
lost his loose grip on reality. "Are you mad!! Who are
you talking to?!" 
A
concrete-and-asphalt ugliness now mars some of the most beautiful
views in the world. Hillsides have been carved up for bypass
roads to Israeli settlements. On either side of the road Palestinian
homes have been destroyed, olive trees uprooted and orange orchards
razed, on behalf of enhanced visibility. All that remains is
a no-man's land topped by watchtowers.
I
live near Abu Ghnaim, once a beautiful green hilltop of pine
trees and olive groves. In the relentless march of concrete
and settlements, most of the land was confiscated from people
in nearby villages to create the Israeli settlement of Har Homa.
Though built for 20,000, it only currently houses 2,000. It
is still expanding down the hills toward more Palestinian homes,
and some of our church's families are under constant threat
that their house may be demolished. 
