I am helping an American couple in Jerusalem get settled on the bus for Beit Jala. They have lots of questions and we settle down in seats next to each other to make conversation easier. I don't want to overwhelm them with information and so I take it "shway shway." (Slowly, slowly).
"How long will it take to get to Bethlehem?"
"About an hour or more" I reply. They look shocked. "But isn't it just a few miles away?" "Yes, but the traffic in Jerusalem is always horrible this time of day. And on top of that, we have to go around through the checkpoint and to another drop off point before going back to Beit Jala" I reply.
They have so many questions: What are the checkpoints about? Are there any Arab citizens of Israel? How many? Do they speak Hebrew? Do any Jews speak Arabic? How do these people communicate? What about the people in Bethlehem? Are they allowed to visit Israel? What exactly IS the West Bank?
I can tell they are kind of scared to be going to Bethlehem and I reassure them repeatedly that they will be safe and the people there are (mostly) really quite lovely.
A man in sunglasses and a cane sits down next to me and I greet him in Arabic. "Ah, your accent gives you away! You are an American, aren't you? I've been to America. Miami --the weather there is very different than ours. Also Chicago, New Jersey...."
I ask him what he thought of America. There is a long pause. "America is America," he finally replies. "Whatever you want to find in America, you will find it."
A student in a grey hijab taps me on the shoulder. She has three candies in her hand -- one for me and one each for the Americans sitting in front of me. I hand them the sweets and they look back to see her waving and grinning.
The blind man misses that, of course. A half hour into the trip, he also reaches into his pocket. "Tfadalu!" and he holds out his hands, filled with sweets.
"Ah, Bethlehem Bible College! I know Mr. Awad. He is my friend." (Everyone from Bethlehem tells me the same thing).
I think of his statement about America. I've said variations of that comment for years... If you don't carry Paris or Jerusalem in your heart, how will you find Paris or Jerusalem when you are in the city itself? And be careful how you see the world: that's the way it is.
And so on we go to Bethlehem, sucking candies together, lost in our own thoughts. The bus drives through the afternoon light shining on grassy terraces made all the more vivid from the rain. We drive under the towering separation wall and past wildflowers growing through asphalt and red signs warning us there that there is danger ahead. The bus stops and cement-dusted workers make their way down through the hills and olive groves; the land where prophets and saints once walked and where, by God, they are walking still.
That's what I carry in my heart, of course. That's what I want to see--and thus, my eyes do see. I hope my American friends on this bus with me can see the same.
As for the blind man sitting next to me, he's humming softly to himself, a small grin on his face.
Comments