Christmas 2023 and Endurance
It’s been a while.
I mainly haven’t written because I haven’t had the words. Most days, I vacillate between overwhelming grief and sheer rage. I then try to land somewhere in the middle. Balance, I tell myself, and use it as fuel to educate on Palestinian narrative, amplify Palestinian voices, and point to Palestinians.
I knew after October 7th, what was going to happen to Palestinians would be bad. I told people it would make the last 75 years of occupation, oppression, and apartheid look like Disneyland.
I wish I had been wrong.
As images of Gaza spill into Advent, it is hard to reconcile celebrating the birth of the light of the world, the prince of peace, our savior while an active genocide unfolds in the Holy Land. In Palestine, the land of His birth. This year Palestinians have cancelled, because of Gaza, Christmas in Bethlehem by all the different Christian denominations. One Lutheran church in Bethlehem set up the baby Jesus in swaddling cloth laying among concrete rubble instead of the traditional manger in a stable scene.
It resonates deeply to contextualize the birth of Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us, to what is happening today. Instead of being born to questionable parents in literal shit surrounded by a bunch of shepherds and barnyard animals in the open air of night during an oppressive regime while fleeing persecution; today Jesus is under the rubble with Palestinian families huddled together for their final breaths. Imagine this happening to 20,000 people and 9,000 children, entire families being wiped off the registry?
It did. In 70 days. As the world watched.
I know it’s tempting to look away. It’s too much, it’s easy to lose hope. You called your representatives, you marched, you educated yourself; you posted on social media, and there’s no movement. I understand. It’s been 75 years of this disappointment, suffering, and deafening silence for Palestinian families. They do not have the luxury of giving up. Quite the opposite, their resistance is to exist, to teach us all how to live. They continue to find joy and compassion while grieving the never-ending losses.
After 20 years of working with Palestinian refugees, I have hope. Maybe that’s my act of defiance to believe, hold space, advocate, and learn. I have long known that using my rights, talents, and resources for others is the most meaningful part of my life.
It’s not about me.
It is about how I love.
Recently, Palestinian American writer Hala Aylan said, “We owe Gaza endurance.” Endurance is long haul love and love doesn’t give up.
So, we must continue to:
Educate ourselves on Palestinian narrative.
on international law,
on liberation theology,
on systems of power.
Learn.
Listen.
Stand in the gap.
See ourselves in others.
Speak up.
Link our freedom with theirs.
Pray.
Light candles.
Cry out.
Feel the pain of their oppression.
Deal with our own darkness.
Struggle.
Stay present.
Get uncomfortable.
Understand our complicity.
Give.
Endure for them.
Over and over and over again.