Priest
Stands Up To The Wall
By Larry Fata
writing from Jerusalem
04June 2004
Electornic Intifada
"No!
These are my guests, and this is my house!" The admonition is delivered
to Israeli soldiers attempting to stop a group of Palestinian women
crossing the grounds of a monastery. The messenger is Father Claudio
Ghilardi, a Passionist priest from Italy. His message is clear: at least
as far as the monastery grounds are concerned, he will not permit the
harassment of Palestinians by soldiers. The soldiers desist as long
as Father Claudio is present. The Palestinians continue on their way,
attempting to cross the monastery and reach Jerusalem on the other side.
The continuation of their journey depends on whether soldiers are waiting
at the exit, but at least they were able to get this far, thanks to
Father Claudio's intervention.
Father Claudio
cuts an elegant figure in his long black robe and matching black beret.
He seems weary on this particular day, however. He relates how he has
been chasing Israeli border police off the grounds and dealing with
soldiers all morning. The source of his weariness can be seen looming
in the distance; it is Israel's "separation wall." An ugly
concrete behemoth standing about 30 feet (nine metres) tall, dwarfing
the much smaller but more aesthetically pleasing stone monastery walls,
the "separation wall" stands poised to invade, as the two
gaping holes in the monastery wall attest.
For now, work has stopped only a few feet from the monastery grounds,
thanks in part to the interventions of both the Italian consul and the
Vatican apostolic nuncio, but much damage has already been done. And
Father Claudio does not think that this reprieve will last for very
long. "This is not a barrier," he exclaims. "This is
a border. Why don't they speak the truth?"
The Santa Marta
dei Padri Passionisti monastery is located at the confluence of East
Jerusalem, Abu Dis and Al-Izariyyeh (Bethany), the latter the biblical
home of the sisters Mary and Martha and their brother Lazarus.
It seems that the Israeli authorities want to build their wall right
through the monastery grounds, in contravention of the 1997 agreement
between the State of Israel and the Vatican respecting ecclesiastical
property.
Not only will the people of Bethany, Abu Dis and parts of East Jerusalem
be cut off from the rest of Jerusalem economically, but the 2,000 Christians
living in the vicinity of the monastery will lose their spiritual centre
as well.
Father Claudio's
church, named for St Martha, is now empty. The faithful are not allowed
to come to the church because it is situated on the Jerusalem side of
the grounds. They can enter the monastery on the Bethany side but are
not allowed, when soldiers or police are present, to approach the Jerusalem
side where they could conceivably exit. Many of the Christians who used
to fill the church come from the bordering towns of Abu Dis and Bethany,
and most lack the permits to enter Jerusalem. Due to these conditions,
Father Claudio celebrates mass where they are allowed to go in a church
belonging to the neighbouring Comboni sisters' convent on the Bethany
side.
The monastery forms
the centre of a Catholic "complex" that includes three nearby
convents. The Sisters of Charity run an orphanage for 45 children; the
Comboni Sisters have a school for 38 elementary-aged students; and the
Sisters of Notre Dame de Douleurs in Abu Dis have a rest home for 74
elderly Bedouins. The convents and the people they serve will be cut
off from each other and from Father Claudio.
On top of all the
religious and property issues, there is the matter of the archaeological
importance of the grounds. The monastery is the site of some large cisterns
dating back to Roman times and 12 large tombs belonging to members of
the early Jewish-Christian community, with inscriptions in Aramaic.
Some of these finds have been disturbed or damaged by the activities
surrounding the construction of the wall. "When they came, they
damaged these sites," Father Claudio says. "The government
does not respect the history of this land a history that is important
to the Jewish people as well."
Much has been said
by the Israeli government about its need for a wall to stop terrorist
attacks within its pre-1967 borders. Much has been written criticizing
the placement of the wall in some places deep within the West Bank,
de facto annexing much Palestinian land. Israel has stated that the
"separation fence" or "barrier," as the government
prefers to call it, is necessary to separate Israelis from Palestinians.
Even if one accepts
the government's argument that the wall is necessary for Israel's security,
most Palestinians can't understand why it has to go through this area.
"There are no Jews here. It's not going to separate Jews from Palestinians.
It will separate Palestinians from Palestinians," comments Emad,
who currently holds a Jerusalem ID and can make the short walk to get
to work, but will be unable to do so if the wall through the monastery
is completed.
And what will the
wall do to the dwindling Christian community in the Holy Land? Christians
once made up a thriving and healthy 10-15% of the Palestinian population.
They now are officially only 2%, and some say that the actual figure
is closer to 1%. Building a wall right through the monastery, separating
Christians from their church and community services, will only cause
the further exodus of Christians from the Holy Land.
"We have lived
here for over 100 years, under Turkish, British, Jordanian and now Israeli
governments, and no one ever tried to stop the people from coming to
pray. This wall will stop people from coming to church to pray. Why?
It is scandalous," protests Father Claudio.
Israel has denied
charges that it is trying to force the churches out, but its recent
policy denying most visa applications for clergy and lay church workers,
making it difficult if not impossible for the churches to continue their
work, will also cause erosion in the Christian community here.
Despite difficulties,
Father Claudio vows to stay
Driving along the
eastern slope of the Mount of Olives on our way to see Father Claudio,
we pass Beit Fage (Bethpage), where Jesus stopped to eat some figs on
his way into Jerusalem. It is from here that Christians begin their
Holy Week celebrations on Palm Sunday, following in the footsteps of
Christ as he descended from the top of the Mount of Olives and into
the Old City of Jerusalem. Soon, Bethpage will be cut off from many
of the Christian communities outside Jerusalem because of the wall,
making the Palm Sunday procession an endangered tradition for the local
population.
Upon arriving in
the area known locally as "Bawabe," we can immediately see
part of Father Claudio's problem. A temporary concrete wall blocks the
road that used to connect East Jerusalem with Bethany. There is a small
opening where, today, a soldier is checking IDs. This wall runs perpendicular
with the monastery, meaning that part of the property is on what would
be the Jerusalem side of the wall and part on the other side. The wall
is covered with graffiti: "Love God, love people;" "Peace
comes by agreement not separation;" and "God leads us to peace."
Going towards Bethany and Abu Dis is not a problem, and the soldier
pays us no mind, nor does he pay any mind to the Palestinian students
crossing on their way to Al Quds University or the many other Palestinians
going in that direction. But he checks all the IDs of the Palestinians
coming into Jerusalem. Those without the blue Jerusalem ID or the proper
permits are not allowed passage.
There is a sea of
taxis and mini-vans that serve as shared taxis here, on both sides of
the Bawabe wall. There are also makeshift stands selling everything
from fruit and vegetables to shoes and t-shirts. These entrepreneurs
try to take advantage of the foot traffic Israel has created with its
plethora of checkpoints; it is a booming cottage industry of sorts in
an area that has an unemployment rate of 60% or higher. We make our
way through the crowd, to enter the seeming oasis of peace and tranquility
that is the Santa Marta dei Padri Passionisti monastery.
The grounds are
actually a beehive of activity. There are soldiers all over the place
attempting to stop Palestinians, and Father Claudio is intervening on
behalf of his "guests." Members of the Ecumenical Accompaniment
Programme in Palestine and Israel (EAPPI) are acting as witnesses and
advocates. All this in a beautiful pastoral field dotted with olive,
almond and pine trees that, at this moment, is simply pandemonium.
Mostly, the Palestinians
trying to cross are people who work in Jerusalem but don't have the
proper permits. There are also people crossing to get medical attention,
since facilities in some parts of the West Bank are few and far between.
This morning, Father Claudio was woken up at 4 a.m. by the sounds of
tear gas being fired by border police in what is essentially his back
yard. Soldiers have been maintaining a constant presence on the grounds,
and recently, the border police have started making regular appearances
as well.
"These people
help me when the soldiers are in the area," Father Claudio says,
referring to the Ecumenical Accompaniers. Alexandra Rigby-Smith, an
accompanier from Sweden, was working at the monastery today. "Many
of the people were scared," she said. "We tried to help them
get past the soldiers so they could go to work, the hospital, university,
to see family, etc. One Bedouin woman was shaking, she was so nervous.
We were able to get some people through, but one pregnant woman, who
was on her way to the doctor, was refused a pass. That was very frustrating."
Father Claudio tells
us that a few months ago, soldiers found explosives on one of the Palestinians
crossing the monastery. But he doesn't see that as a reason for collectively
punishing the entire community. One of the soldiers tells a member of
our group that the Palestinians dug a tunnel below the monastery grounds
to bring explosives into Jerusalem. We inspected the "tunnel",
and there is definitely an opening large enough for a person to get
through, but not much more.
For Father Claudio,
it is hardly surprising that people try any way to get to the other
side where they can find work: "The father of one family I know
with eight children hasn't worked in one month. I help them spiritually
and I give them some food. Much more than that, I cannot do."
But Father Claudio
does do much more. People see the monastery as a safe haven. The sick
come to him and he takes them to the hospital in his car, using his
status to get around the closures. He has had to rush women in labour
to the hospital as well. Were it not for him, these women would have
had to deliver their babies at home, a situation that adds to the infant
mortality rate in Palestine. The people call him "abuna" -
our father - even if they are not Christian.
But even Father
Claudio is not always able to circumvent the authorities, and he's not
immune from the troubles either. He shows us a scar on his arm. "This
was a gift from the army," he tells us. "They fired tear gas
and it hit me right here."
Father Claudio takes
us around the monastery on an impromptu tour, pointing to buildings
owned by the Latin Catholic, Armenian Catholic, Greek Orthodox and Anglican
Churches. Some of the buildings are used as low-cost housing for local
Palestinian Christians. The wall will separate all of these community
centres.
All the while our
group is walking along a dirt path between the rows of olive trees,
Palestinians are scurrying by us in the other direction trying to cross.
Soldiers are stopping them and the ecumenical accompaniers are advocating
for them. When Father Claudio comes by, he tells the soldiers not to
bother the Palestinians and, curiously, they listen without argument.
Of course, he can't intervene on behalf of every Palestinian who tries
to cross and he can't be present at all times.
"This wall
doesn't respect the human rights of the Palestinian people," Father
Claudio says. "It doesn't respect private property because the
Israeli government takes the land to build it. It is not the land of
the government, it is the land of poor people. What more do they want
from these people?"
Father Claudio gets
some help with the many caretaking chores from another Italian priest
from Abu Dis. Otherwise, he is essentially alone, but it was not always
this way. Before the outbreak of the current Intifada in 2000, there
were five priests living in the monastery with him. They all left because
of the fear and uncertainty caused by the situation. When asked if he
will be forced to leave as well, he replies defiantly: "The only
way I will leave is if they kill me. This is my home. These people are
my family."
Our tour ended at
Father Claudio's church, where the absence of worshippers is symbolic
of the disappearing presence of Christians in the Holy Land. Located
just a few hundred metres away is the traditional site where the Gospel
tells us Jesus called into the tomb of Lazarus and brought him back
from the dead. If the wall is completed, it may take a miracle of a
similar magnitude to bring back the Christian community here.
Larry Fata, a Catholic
teacher and journalist from USA is managing editor and communication
officer of the Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme in Palestine and Israel,
launched in August 2002 by the World Council of Churches. Ecumenical
accompaniers monitor and report violations of human rights and international
humanitarian law, support acts of non-violent resistance alongside local
Christian and Muslim Palestinians and Israeli peace activists, offer
protection through non-violent presence, engage in public policy advocacy,
and stand in solidarity with the churches and all those struggling against
the occupation.