Pilgrimage Reflection

Bill Ruhaak

The trip was called “The Living Stones Pilgrimage,” living stones being the living people of the Holy Land. That is what made this experience so special for me:  seeing through the lens of others, feeling their frustrations, their anger, their despair, and their hope, yes, HOPE!  Hope that comes through prayer and a deep faith in God, that God who spoke of faith that could move mountains—or, perhaps, tear down walls. The “wall” I refer to is the one being built by Israel. 

This wall is one of the most oppressive sights. It is 28 feet high, the appropriate color gray with added red and black graffiti, and brushed by blowing garbage. The ugly reality is that it acts as a walled-in prison, warehousing three million Palestinians. 

There are military checkpoints everywhere, which are like an extreme border crossing. Sometimes they are within a half-mile of each other. We had the opportunity to cross one on foot with the Palestinians there. It was between Jerusalem and Ramallah. We were able to glimpse their daily routine. 

Being smashed together at the checkpoint with heavily-armed guards around us, was an unforgetable experience. Surprisingly many of the people spoke English. They freely shared their stories of hours in line; sometimes they were turned back for no known reason. They want the world to know that this is their reality. They wonder if anyone cares. 

I have learned well not to let such things sink in. But I can still see their faces. I can hear their voices, even when I do not want to. 

Iyad, our Arab Christian guide, spoke very emotionally of the situation. He said, “I am so sick of it!” It is the unending loss of dignity that sickens him. He used an expression in Arabic that translates “to punch water.” As he explained, it is an expression of despair. No matter how hard or from whatever angle you hit the water it comes back to the same old position. It does not matter. We do not matter. 

A more personal story he started to tell us about was about his family’s past outings to their favorite place for ice cream. It was three miles away. Iyad added that it has been four years since they have been there. He dropped the story there until someone asked “why?” After hesitating he said, “Well, we have to go through a checkpoint.” Nothing else was said for a moment. Then he added, “I don’t like my boys seeing me asking for permission to go through. It’s not worth it.”