It was 3am when they came barreling into town – Israeli jeeps and tanks preempting the dawn and hollering menacing messages over their loudspeakers. ‘Wake up you Arab dogs’ they would exclaim as our team gathered to prepare our nonviolent direct response to the impending threat of violence.  What do we do?  Planning a course of action as a member of the International Solidarity Movement entails its own process, one that not always dovetails with the ethos of being a member of the body of Christ.  For those of us who have been led to Palestine by our love for Jesus, for God and for humanity, we inexorably find ourselves asking, like Christoper Dickey in his article in Newsweek, what would Jesus do in Palestine?  As followers of Jesus, our answer is crafted from the loving words and actions of the Good Shepherd who is both Jewish and Palestinian.

Side by side with self-proclaimed atheist anarchists, I found myself at times unnerved by the cavalier attitude of tank-chasers and the hostility of those who sought to provoke violence for the sake of their own aggrandizement.  This is not to devalue or dismiss the legitimacy of others’ motivations for being there but to honestly convey my own perception of existing ranks within the organization.  In fact, it was on this day that despite the disparity in our spiritual and political motivations we were able to act in concert for the betterment of the Palestinian people.  Why? Because we let love be our guide.  We assessed the situation and determined that our highest priority were the humanitarian concerns of those Palestinians who were unable to access food and essential provisions because of the curfew.  The team member in charge of facilitating communication was an Israeli-Jew fluent in Hebrew and English.  In all humility, he put himself in harm’s way on behalf of people he never met because he believed that those who shared his religion and ethnicity were perpetuating a grave injustice.  To me, this is what Jesus did during His time, and this is what Jesus would do today.

A nonviolent revolution is well underway in Palestine, one in which native Palestinians protest,  boycott and divest alongside Israeli and international partners.  We strive for the end of military occupation, to end the appropriation and destruction of Palestinian land, an end to the bloodshed and adherence to international law.  Yet for all this to happen one very important thing must happen.  Israeli Jews and Arab Palestinians must come to love and respect each other.  I heard Palestinians tell me that the conflict will only end when the Jews were pushed into the sea and obliterated.  I saw first hand how ruthless Israeli Jews and settlers could be towards Palestinians.  This is why I believe that recent efforts like those of B’Tselem are on target to address the conflict at its roots and are aimed at creating understanding, respect and tolerance amongst those at war with each other.  The conflict must be transformed by building bridges that showcase culture, through dialogue, by sharing hopes, dreams, tears and aspirations.

In short, Jews and Arabs must fall in love with each other.  Barriers and walls, rockets and arbitrary detentions only dash the hopes of a lasting peace built on a foundation of respect for mutual sanctity.  Palestinians must continue to tell their stories, for the very right to tell their own history is under threat.  In the midst of such an asymmetrical conflict, we must stand in solidarity with those who are in jeopardy of losing it all.  And, like Jesus, one who perfectly embodies a Jewish-Palestinian identity, we must call into unity and awareness all who are blinded by hate, power and greed.  We can and will do this with the simplicity of our impartial loving concern.

“I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous to our liberties than standing armies.”

- Thomas Jefferson

“History records that the money changers have used every form of abuse, intrigue, deceit, and violent means possible to maintain their control over governments by controlling money and its issuance.”

- President James Madison

For 9 years, Daniel Suelo has lived without using money.  Dwelling in a cave outside the desert town of Moab, Utah, Suelo (as he likes to be called) has chosen to live a life beyond the bounds of commercial civilization, seeking to embody what he refers to as a moneyless “Gift Economy,” one which he believes is exhibited already in Nature.

On his website Living Without Money, which he maintains at a public library in town, Suelo notes:

All creatures, all the universe, outside the walls of commercial civilization live moneyless. That’s why nature outside civilization’s constricts, is perfectly balanced. Yet no nation on earth, even with its PhD economists, can even balance its budget.

As I perused the recent article about Suelo published in Details Magazine, I could not help but feel a profound sense of respect and admiration for him, for he comes off not as an angry, radical pariah fueled by bitterness or self-righteous indignation, but rather a peaceful and gentle spiritual pilgrim seeking to tread a genuine path of Truth.

But when I shared the gist of the article with my friend’s father, the mere thought of a man living without money generated a dismissive and mocking retort, “He is selfish. What does he do? Nothing for anyone. All he is doing is mooching off of others.”

I cringed inwardly, wanting to come to Suelo’s defense, yet not wanting to be preachy or confrontational.  The only words that occupied my headspace were not my own, they were those of Jesus.  “If you wish to be complete, go and sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me.” “You can not serve God and mammon.”

Since the day I came across these words, I have been struggling with the fear they provoke inside of me.  The fear is not so much of the hardships imposed by poverty, but more from the hypocrisy I may embody in failing to heed my Master’s call.  A big part of me believes that if I don’t sell my possessions that I can not truly be a disciple of Jesus and that I could not in good faith call myself his follower.

Many say that these words were an attempt by Jesus to generate an understanding of detachment and internal renunciation in the heart of his listeners. Granted. Yet what if he was also getting at something deeper? What if by calling us to empty our pockets He was trying to teach us one of God’s most intimate lessons in the art of loving? What if the only way we could realize genuine grace and mutual interdependence was by depending on the provision and sovereignty of the Creator?

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Palestinian youth activists Yousef Nijim and Faris Arouri, in collaboration with the Dutch NGO “Send a Message Foundation,” are engaged in a nonviolent campaign to combat the oppressive infrastructure of Israeli occupation. Setting their sites on the separation barrier which destructively meanders through Palestinian life and land, they assert their international solidarity and national identity through graffiti art. Stenciling words, images and ideals loftier than the heights of their concrete canvas, they hope to draw international attention to the plight of the Palestinian people. In an article on the Palestine News Network, Nijim notes that “The messages bond people to this place.” He believes that engaging with the Wall is the best way to resist it. “If you don’t deal with it, it won’t be gone,” he adds.

For around $40, anyone in the world can have a message or slogan painted on the wall, as long as it is not an incitement to hatred, violence or otherwise contrary to the peaceable objectives of the project. The money is used by Arouri and his volunteers for spray paint, gas for their car, and for community-development projects in Palestinian neighborhoods designed to increase youth participation in volunteer activities. According to TIME magazine, nearly 850 messages, ranging in content from the juvenile romantic to the politically poetic, have already been painted. (Check out www.sendamessage.nl to see some works in progress and to find out how you can send your own message.)

This artistic and creative approach to resisting the occupation and denouncing the wall has led to confrontation with Israeli Occupation Forces, yet Nijim notes that the army is generally reluctant to interfere with their projects. “I would say [there have been] a few face to face encounters,” he says. “But the whole project is about media, so they stay away from us.” Criticism of their work is not exclusive to Israeli forces, but also comes from Palestinians who believe they are trying to capitalize on the Wall. On the whole, however, local sentiment continues to be encouraging and supportive of the work that Send a Message is doing.

I recall the moments of my work organizing protests and demonstrations against the wall in Qalqilya and Jayyous with the International Solidarity Movement. I remember the bouts of frustration that led many youth to attempt to dismantle portions of the wall, only to be met with harsh reprisals and collective punishment by the Israeli Occupation Forces. As in Jayyous and other rural areas of the West Bank, not all portions of the barrier are concrete but rather chain link fences reinforced with steel and barbed wire. Graffiti is not an option there. Soldiers would often close the barrier’s entry/exit points and deny farmers access to their lands if they found evidence that locals were attempting to tamper with or destroy any portion of the barrier.

But Palestinians must continue to imbue their own lives with meaning in the ways that they see fit given their circumstances. And those struggling in the path of nonviolence must be even more creative, patient and enduring. The fact remains that the Wall must fall. Whether concrete or fence, none of it is morally sustainable nor can it resist the tides of justice. The writing on the wall reminds us all.

Earlier this month, Palestinians organized and staged Hip-Hop Kom, a rap competition broadcast in the West Bank and Gaza showcasing the talent of local rappers. As Jordan Flaherty, writing for The Electronic Intifada, notes, “Through the use of video conferencing and projection, each city could see and hear the performances happening in the other. Five groups from Gaza participated, coming in first, third, and fourth place.” Although Gazans took the prize, the real victory goes to all the Palestinians who orchestrated and participated in the event which embodied the principles of pragmatic nonviolence. It was a subversive action, daring to unite and voice the angst of oppression over melodious beats and rhythms. It was a bold demonstration of the power of Palestinian youth and their ability to peacefully and creatively mobilize themselves in the face of violence.

I see Palestinians turning toward an art form that was birthed by oppressed black people in the US and I can’t help but notice the parallels between the groups. Hip-hop gives expression to the plight of marginalization and it vocally validates the experience of the oppressed. In the US, we are witnessing the infiltration of hip hop by forces of materialism and greed. In Palestine, the essence of hip-hop still remains close to the root of active struggle and resistance against on oppressive order. Palestinian hip-hop reminds us that the poverty of the South Bronx shares a common cause with the poverty of Jenin. It calls us back to the realization that we are all a people in struggle against the war machine. While we let hip-hop die on its native soil, a drumbeat from Palestine calls us toward a resurrection fueled by the knowledge that our country deprives and exploits its poor at home in order to make war on others abroad.

Palestinians are painfully aware that life in Palestine depends on perception and awareness in the US. Getting back to the roots of hip-hop will situate us at the interface of the international and the domestic and will put us in solidarity with local and global networks of people struggling for change and freedom from tyranny. Hip hoppers in the US must therefore take hip-hop as seriously as the Palestinians do and utilize it as a tool to organize and elevate the consciousness of the nation. We must bring the human face of Palestine to our fellow Americans but in order to do so we have to get closer to them ourselves. Can we show them that we care? Or are we too committed to rapping about money and illusory prosperity? Are we exporting our solidarity or a vain, materialistic outlook on life? Are we representatives of the status quo of imperialism and colonialism or do we chant the fires of resistance? Only we can decide.

For nonviolence to be truly waged, the practitioner must be skilled in the science of the soul, the art of self-knowledge by which his/her natural peace vibration can resonate uninhibited. Yes, we are warriors, yet our war is not against flesh and blood; we do not seek the destruction of our brethren, but rather their peaceful conversion into loving, self-realized beings. Our battlefield is that of the human heart and its stillness depends upon our constant vigilance and relentless care. We must remember that we are bearers of the original status quo, a cosmically ordained harmony and peace—the natural state of affairs. Our insurrection therefore must be against the forces which have swooned our hearts and obscured the light of our oneness as a people. Convulsive fits of violence, disrupting the natural flow, erupt when wagers of nonviolence go astray. The covetous fantasies of grandeur and excess are not exclusive to members of the multinational corporate and military elite but lie in wait for us all.

And so I wonder: Can we see the seeds of violence in ourselves? Do we see our own complicity in the great divide?

One thing is for sure. Our protests and campaigns will be effective only to the degree that we are capable of meeting hatred with love and falsehood with truth. This is our mission, individually and collectively. It is no easy task. Such knowledge can not be purchased and so we must train ourselves and stimulate our hearts with the enrichment that relationship in community brings. We must educate and encourage one another in the practice of nonviolence which is the active formation of the soul and strengthening of one’s character.

As someone who espouses nonviolence and universal Love as pillars of Truth, I often question if I have what it takes in the end. It is easy to love my friend and colleague, yet am I making efforts to Love my enemy and oppressor? Can I be true to my innermost self and manifest peace in the face of violence? Will I have the clarity of vision to see a suffering brother/sister in the eyes of a soldier of death? I have my doubts and fears yet I believe waging nonviolence is what you do in spite of them.

Right now, all I can do is stand in solidarity with those whose hearts are big enough to forgive, with those who reject violence when it seems they almost have a right to it. These prophets of peace among us light the way and set the standard.

Despite individual weakness, I am edified when I recall that simply speaking truth to power is always a service to those who have ears to hear. May the Almighty open our ears to each other’s song and may we dance thy kingdom come. Wage on.