Palestine is a Paradigm

This is an excerpt from Sherene Seikaly’s Nakba in the Age of Catastrophe, which definitely deserves to be read in its fullness. The wild thing is that this piece was written five months before October 7, 2023.

In the age of catastrophe, Palestine is a paradigm. It can teach us about our present condition of the permanent temporary: we are all unclear about what the future holds. We are all suspended in time with no end in sight. We are all uncertain if there is any “normal” to which we can return.  For some, this realization is a rupture.  For most, violence and dispossession are not interruptions. They are markers of the temporal and spatial suspension that make up the everyday.  

Palestine is not a laboratory. It is not a site of sympathy. It cannot be reduced to a sterile problem. Palestine is a place of abundance, an abundance of lessons about persisting in the looped and looping time of the present. Like many other struggles, Palestine reminds us, in the words of Jodi Byrd that the “post has not yet arrived.” There is no postcolonial, postracial, postZionist.  We cannot await a secular salvation or a messianic apocalypse. We are in the apocalypse. 

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Well Positioned to Comment

99 US doctors and nurses who have served in Gaza this year just sent this open letter to Joe Biden and Kamala Harris.

OPEN LETTER FROM AMERICAN MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS WHO SERVED IN GAZA

October 2, 2024

Dear President Biden and Vice President Harris,

We are 99 American physicians, surgeons, nurse practitioners, nurses, and midwives who have volunteered in the Gaza Strip since October 7, 2023. Combined, we spent 254 weeks volunteering in Gaza’s hospitals and clinics. We worked with various nongovernmental organizations and the World Health Organization in hospitals and clinics throughout the Strip. In addition to our medical and surgical expertise, many of us have a public health background, as well as experience working in humanitarian and conflict zones, including Ukraine during the brutal Russian invasion. Some of us are veterans and reservists. We are a multifaith and multiethnic group. None of us support the horrors committed on October 7 by Palestinian armed groups and individuals in Israel.

The Constitution of the World Health Organization states: “The health of all peoples is fundamental to the attainment of peace and security and is dependent on the fullest cooperation of individuals and States.” It is in this spirit that we write to you in this open letter.

We are among the only neutral observers who have been permitted to enter the Gaza Strip since October 7. Given our broad expertise and direct experience of working throughout Gaza we are uniquely positioned to comment on several matters of importance to our government as it decides whether to continue supporting Israel’s attack on, and siege of, the Gaza Strip. Specifically, we believe we are well positioned to comment on the massive human toll from Israel’s attack on Gaza, especially the toll it has taken on women and children.

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When This is Over

From Palestinian-American poet Hala Alyan. It is called “Naturalized.”

Can I pull the land from me like a cork?
I leak all over brunch. My father never learned to swim.
I’ve already said too much.
Look, the marigolds are coming in. Look, the cuties
are watching Vice again. Gloss and soundbites.
They like to understand. They like to play devil’s advocate.
My father plays soccer. It’s so hot in Gaza.
No place for a child’s braid. Under
that hospital elevator. When this is over.
When this is over there is no over but quiet.
Coworkers will congratulate me on the ceasefire
and I will stretch my teeth into a country.
As though I don’t take Al Jazeera to the bath.
As though I don’t pray in broken Arabic.
It’s okay. They like me. They like me in a museum.
They like me when I spit my father from my mouth.
There’s a whistle. There’s a missile fist-bumping the earth.
I draw a Pantene map on the shower curtain.
I break a Klonopin with my teeth and swim.
The newspaper says truce and C-Mart
is selling pomegranate seeds again. Dumb metaphor.
I’ve ruined the dinner party. I was given a life. Is it frivolous?
Sundays are tarot days. Tuesdays are for tacos.
There’s a leak in the bathroom and I get it fixed
in thirty minutes flat. All that spare water.
All those numbers on the side of the screen.
Here’s your math. Here’s your hot take.
That number isn’t a number.
That number is a first word, a nickname, a birthday song in June.
I shouldn’t have to tell you that. Here’s your testimony,
here’s your beach vacation. Imagine:
I stop running when I’m tired. Imagine:
There’s still the month of June. Tell me,
what op-ed will grant the dead their dying?
What editor? What red-line? What pocket?
What earth. What shake. What silence.

Stop the Execution

The Innocence Project put out this call yesterday to save the life of Marcellus Williams, who prosecutors now say was wrongly convicted. More details here.

With so little time until #MarcellusWilliams is set to be executed tomorrow, Sept. 24th at 6 p.m., our best tool is our voice. We must make as much noise as possible in these final hours, as public pressure can make all the difference in the moments leading up to an execution. Please, email, tweet or call Gov. Parson (@GovParsonMO) RIGHT NOW at 417-373-3400 and URGE him to step in and prevent Marcellus’ execution.

Underdog Insurgence, Whose On First?: Deciding Priority Between Jewish Right, Pagan Wit, or Canine Bites and Barks?

By Jim Perkinson (above), a sermon for St. Peter’s Episcopal Church (Detroit, MI)

And he said to her, “Let the children first be fed, for it is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” (Mk 7:27)

Note, right up front, how rapidly the subject shifts topic in this Marcan vignette. It goes from unclean spirit to bread to puppies and argues about priorities.  Pretty easy for somebody eclectic like me to open up, in response, a fire hydrant of ideas without any hoses attached.  So, my title is an attempt to organize the flow a bit. We begin (ha!) with the word “first.”

The sacred Jewish writing known as the Talmud (Brachot 40a) asserts: “It is forbidden for people to eat before they give food to their animals as it says (Dvarim 11:15), ‘I will provide grass in your field for your cattle’ and only then does the verse state ‘and you will eat and be satisfied’” (Rav Yehuda, teaching in the name of Rav, quoted by Halickman)[1]

But, but then in the Gospel of Mark today (as we read), Rabbi Jesus says: “Let the children first be fed; it is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs” (Mk 7: 27).

And those “buts” (plus a bunch more) will be central in the riff to follow here—one thing going one way, and then suddenly the same thing going another way, or even a line of anatomy curving around against itself and in “cheeky” fashion, doing so twice.  There are buts and then there are “butts.” As we shall note.

Continue reading “Underdog Insurgence, Whose On First?: Deciding Priority Between Jewish Right, Pagan Wit, or Canine Bites and Barks?”

God Calls a Remnant

By Rev. Dr. Nick Peterson, Professor of Homiletics and Worship at Christian Theological Seminary in Indianapolis. In his work, Nick explores how black faith engenders intramural care practices, which he calls “black-on-black care” – a transformative care that contends with and sometimes exceeds the constraints of antiblackness. Rev. Dr. Peterson offered this up to celebrate the 10-year anniversary of RadicalDiscipleship.net.

I traffic in primarily liberal Protestant circles where discipleship often gets a bad rap, largely due to its association with evangelical circles whose theologies frequently oppose liberation and inclusion. Still, I think it’s important not to abandon the idea or concept to its popular usage, but rather to recognize its potential to sow the seeds of God’s will on earth as it is in heaven.

We all know that Jesus called and chose his disciples—like any good rabbi, he wanted to select people who could carry forward his teachings and his orientation toward life and God’s purpose in the world. The thing is, Jesus didn’t seem particularly selective about whom he chose, or at least that’s how the gospels tell it. He was simply walking along and called men as he encountered them, and, across the board, they stopped what they were doing to follow him. These were not generally men trained in the specifics of Jewish law or religious practice. They were not of noble birth or high standing, with few exceptions. Still, Jesus chose to give the best of himself to a group of ordinary, everyday people.

Jesus calls disciples who will follow. And that’s the challenge, because following Jesus doesn’t necessarily make the path any clearer. The road of discipleship does not lead to easy living; in fact, it leads to a radical disposition. This disposition confronts suffering, pain, neglect, and oppression with truth, words of hope, and life itself. The discipline of discipleship is less about having the right answers or being a superb apologist, and more about being willing to witness pain that we’d rather not see—and remaining bold enough to believe and wait for God to show up in it.

The radical call of discipleship remains a daunting proposition because Jesus ultimately chose to show his greatest power by entering into death and waiting with it until even death surrendered to God’s purposes. The world we inhabit is death-dealing as well, because of the evil born of human hands. From our children killing each other at school and at play, to our dollars funding the bombing of children thousands of miles away—death has become a universal currency. And in the face of this, God calls a remnant, raises a witness in the world, to remind us that this is not how we are meant to live.

The ubiquity of violence and death can be so overwhelming that it may feel like our labor and waiting are meaningless. This feeling is amplified by the pressure to make a large impact, to equate witness with notoriety or platform. But God’s call has never been about winning on the world’s terms or even on our own terms. God does not call disciples to play and win the game of domination. God calls disciples to lavish love on the world until Love wins. God calls disciples to pour out mercy and grace on the neglected and the maligned, like water on thirsty ground. God calls disciples to a steadfastness that does not confuse urgency with anxiety or inclusion with passivity. The radical call of God is like the wind of the Spirit, moving where it will, connecting inspired breaths across time and space.

For the gift of the invitation to follow, we give thanks. For those whose footprints reveal new paths in this journey, we give thanks. Thank you, radical disciples, for nurturing this oasis in a dry land.

An Act of Defiance

By Miriam Barghouti, a journalist and policy analyst in Palestine

I keep forgetting to wear my helmet in the field. If I’m honest it’s because I hate it, it’s so heavy & when my peers remind me to wear it I snap back, “what? You think it’ll protect us? Didn’t Shireen (Abu Aqleh) get shot in the neck?” 

In our profession as war journalists we are required to wear bullet-proof vests with the PRESS insignia on them, and our cars are all also marked with “PRESS/TV.” 

It’s to be visible to armed groups, whether it’s the Israeli military or Palestinian resistance groups, that we are PRESS. With that, they’re all supposed to ensure our safety & not target us.

But in Palestine, being press means being a target. The gear which is meant to protect us has become a marker to attack us.

When the Israeli army is not around -even if I’m around Palestinian fighters- I actually don’t need my gear at all. 

In fact, fighters are eager to speak with us- often commending our “bravery” to dare go by them because the Israeli military does not want their stories out.

It is only when Israeli army jets, drones, & soldiers are in the skies/ground do I find us- local and internationals- wearing our gear.

The flack jacket can’t protect me from a drone strike, a bullet to the neck, to the thigh, to the shoulder. 

All of this is to explain to you- the ones we serve,- why we continue to wear our gear even though their weight causes problems for the spine and body, all while having with no real capacity to protect us (consider the journalists in GZ who have worn their gear for nearly a year, developing all sorts of health issues & still being executed- despite this they remain committed to their profession).

We keep wearing this gear as an act of defiance to maintain right for press, & flow of information.

When the only official body tasked with relaying information in real-time is targeted, documentation is blurred and the narrative becomes a debate of we said, they said. 

Censorship is not just the removal of posts from social media platforms. It is a violent, bloody, and strategic act that’s less about the messengers & more about the message relayed.

Here, is where our slaughter is the engineering of your ignorance.