9/11 Twenty Years Later (9 December 2001) 

Friends crossing the divide following the 2017 Manchester Arena bombing.

This is the third, and last, republication of my responses to the 9/11 events and aftermath.  As I read this I am struck by the final paragraph: in the first post I remarked on how the attack hit me, personally, as an American. Just three months later I became aware of the gulf that had opened between me and 'home' in my responses. Twenty years later that gulf has become fixed in the cultural warfare of the US in these times. It continues to be painful to me.

It has been a long time since I have written in this forum. The last messages were written in the immediate aftermath of September 11, in first attempts to come to terms with that horrendous event, and the subsequent reactions and responses. 

It is not that there has been nothing to write about. Life goes on, and there have been things I have thought about relating to you. But, they seemed somewhat trivial in comparison to the events going on in other places. I could not write without acknowledging those large and momentous events. And, I could not think of what could be written. 

I posed the question last time of what it would be like if the Western response, and our own, were to be based on the Love Command. That thought has become a part of my daily thinking and prayer. I have had occasion to preach a number of times in the past couple months—in chapel, and in different churches including Longsight—and have pursued that thought in my preaching. It has been a part of my deliberation in committee meetings of the church. It has stuck in my mind and heart as the main question for Christians today. If this ‘war against terrorism’ is not to become a war of Muslims versus Christians, then Christians must live and act as Christ would have us. I have been trying to articulate how that might have feet put to it. It is not easy. It does not mean trying to create warm feelings for terrorists; but it does have to mean putting the other’s good above our own. 

This is a defining moment in history, and critical for the gospel in relation to the Muslim world. How will they see Christ in these times? 

Another reason for not writing has been not knowing how to start up again. The feedback I received, directly and indirectly, to my first attempts to articulate my feelings and attitudes threw bright light over a new facet of our lengthy sojourn outside our native land. A chasm seemed suddenly to appear between my perspective and that of so many of you ‘back home’, that had not been so clearly visible before. Suddenly, it seems, we have found ourselves speaking different languages; or, at cross-purposes. This has been an unexpected and painful by-product of September 11. Is the chasm real? Can it be bridged? Have we been ‘gone’ too long? 

Well—I am still Dwight.

9/11 Twenty Years Later - Part 2

Children of Longsight, 1980s

The previous post republished first responses following the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center in New York. Here, I repeat my follow-up in view of responses to my message. [21 September 2001]

Last week’s letter, unsurprisingly I suppose, has evoked more response than average. These have varied from affirmation of similar feelings, to disagreement, to incomprehension. What has interested me most has been the silences from people whom I might have expected to hear from... It seems the last paragraph was the most provocative. I wrote it as a signal—it was to voice concern in a direction that I was not yet ready to speak or write about, because it was still basically a concern without clear form. But, it was a signal with a desire to slow down the inexorable and overwhelming vocabulary of warfare that I was hearing. It has been interesting to read from some of you with your suggestions of what you think I might have meant by my rhetorical questions! So, I think I must return to this today. To begin, I cite that last paragraph:

Thoughts now turn to what will happen next. I fear the rhetoric of war which comes readily to lips right now. Violence has been done. Those men of violence will understand and expect violence in return. They will be prepared for that. What if America, as a Christian nation, reacted contrary to expectation, and responded in Christian love? I wonder what that would mean for us. I wonder what would happen. This was a theological question. One person asks me if I believe America to be a Christian nation. I do not. The question is, ‘what if...?’ But if, as others have written to me, the US now has a professing Christian in the White House, it seems that the question is reasonable. How should a Christian president act? What part does the Love Command (‘You will love the Lord with all your heart...and your neighbour as yourself’) have in such leadership?

Does the Love Command apply only in individual situations (where it is difficult enough)? Does ‘turn the other cheek’ apply in the one-on-one context? Is there one Christian ethic for personal piety, and another for nations who have been attacked by people who hate them? I know that asking such questions risks sounding pompous. But, they need to be asked. ‘War’ has been the first, and primary, response. Is no other response conceivable? 

Do not mistake me. I am not saying that there must not be justice for the victims of this crime; nor that the criminals are not worthy of punishment. I am asking whether war is the way to justice. 

It might be thought by some, as was written to us, that I can say such things because, ‘You are a lot safer in Britain’. Well, in 1996 the Manchester city centre was decimated by the largest IRA bomb to be detonated on the mainland. Only one person died (thanks to a ‘thoughtful’ warning from the IRA), but the city is still rebuilding from the damage. We live in the district of Longsight—in which at least 45 per cent of our neighbours are Muslim, with at least three mosques in short walking distance. So, the likelihood of warfare that encompasses terrorism and the Muslim world is not far away from us here. I am not simply an ‘armchair manager’. 

I also have a deeply personal involvement. We have a ‘Saturday Club’ in our church for local children, with leadership including a Muslim and a Catholic. Yesterday all the children attending were Muslim. I played ‘piggy in the middle’ with boys named Omah and Mohammed. Islam is not a distant ‘threat’, it is people I know. It includes friends of many years. 

The message I hear from these friends is that they are horrified by the attack on New York and Washington; that this is not Islam. But, they also believe that a violent response will only be adding another wrong—and two wrongs... 

Two messages I have received this week help to explain what I want to say. The first comes from India, in a message by an Afghani in exile:

...Let me now speak with true fear and trembling. The only way to get Bin Laden is to go in there with ground troops. When people speak of “having the belly to do what needs to be done” they’re thinking in terms of having the belly to kill as many as needed. Having the belly to overcome any moral qualms about killing innocent people. Let’s pull our heads out of the sand. What’s actually on the table is Americans dying...Will other Muslim nations just stand by? You see where I’m going. We’re flirting with a world war between Islam and the West. And guess what: that’s Bin Laden’s program. That’s exactly what he wants. That’s why he did this. Read his speeches and statements. It’s all right there. He really believes Islam would beat the west. It might seem ridiculous, but he figures if he can polarize the world into Islam and the West, he’s got a billion soldiers. If the west wreaks a holocaust in those lands, that’s a billion people with nothing left to lose, that’s even better from Bin Laden’s point of view. He’s probably wrong, in the end the West would win, whatever that would mean, but the war would last for years and millions would die, not just theirs but ours. Who has the belly for that? Unfortunately, Bin Laden does. Anyone else?... What is this Afghani saying? He is saying that the attack on the US is precisely designed to get the West to react as it is—with war. This will be just what Bin Laden and others want. The rhetoric of warfare in the US right now, which declares how ready Americans are to die for freedom, and how we will fight for the American spirit, is just what the ‘terrorists’ want. Once bombs are exploded on Muslim soil, many more will rise up to fight against the West. So far, the terrorists are succeeding!

The second message comes from my daughter-in-law, who sent this from a friend who is sharing the Gospel with Muslims in Turkey.

…Most Muslims do not read and have not read the Koran. They are not aware of what the Koran says or instructs them to do. However, Muslim people need to decide if they agree with their holy book, the Koran. The God, of the Koran, takes delight in the death of Christians, Jews, or anyone that comes against Muslims. There is a blessing granted for any Muslim who kills a Christian or a Jew. In light of this past week, I believe, in love, we can confront this issue with Muslim people. I stress, that it must be in love. This is an extremely difficult time for everyone and the motive of the heart must be one of love. The Lord of the Harvest loves the people of the Middle East, Jew and Muslim. He desires to reap a harvest of many from this part of the world. I believe that even in the midst of the horror of death that we all witnessed, that the Lord Jesus wants to extend an invitation for eternal life. This is the approach that I will be lovingly taking with the Muslim friends that I have made. Many of you don’t even know any Muslims, but you can pray for them. Those of you that do have Muslim friends, please extend your hand of love towards them. Many of them are afraid and need Christians to take them in. Please stand against individuals who want to harm Muslims, just because of their religion. But this is the time to confront in love and challenge Muslims about what do they really believe.

These are profound words from a young woman. This is not the time to condemn, but to reach out in love. 

So, I come back to my earliest questions. If Christians, even in government, live by the Love Command, it must surely mean seeking ways to reach out positively, in love, to those Muslims in every Arab nation who live now in fear of American missiles. It would seem, to me, to mean that we would say, ‘You want war, but we refuse to accept.’ Can you imagine that? 

Instead, we will pursue the best for those who are now suffering warfare. We would pursue justice, not through violence, but by the rule of law and the ‘Bill of Rights’ we hold dear—applying them to non-Americans as to Americans. Then, people in Muslim countries would learn the meaning of ‘Christian’ through love instead of through bombs. 

That is my, ‘What if...?’

Reflections on these posts will follow.

On 9/11 Twenty Years Later 

I wrote the following on 16 September, 2001, in 'The Occasional' -- an early email 'blog'. There is little I would say differently, other than to phrase the reference to Palestinians differently. 

We have all listened to and read thousands of words this week, describing and evaluating the horrifying events of Tuesday. I have been reluctant to add to that great outpouring. For one reason, as seen on the news so often already, there seem no adequate words for people to express either what they have seen, or how they feel about it. For another, I have had no words. 

[My wife’s] reaction in adverse situations is to want to talk to someone. She wrote home to family as soon as she was able, to say she just wanted to be home and with them all right now. And that is a common thread for Americans over here—the desire to be there rather than here, not because we can do anything but because we just need to be with. 

My reaction has always been different than that. I am one who closes down all functioning systems that do not contribute to my attempt to make sense of what has happened, and to find a way forward. This week it has been difficult…to avoid some people who wanted to talk a lot when I needed silence. Even now I am reluctant to speak or write. 

Through the week, there have been key moments, as I am sure for all who have been able to follow events … One moment was an interesting self-discovery. On Wednesday there was an interview on TV with a man standing in a long queue to give blood. When asked if he had lost anyone, he replied that although he had not, he still felt like the attack had been on him, and he had to be out there trying to help, too. I, too, felt like it was an attack on me. Throughout this week, I have heard many others here describe the same feeling—not Americans, but British, and otherwise. This is not just an attack on America, it is felt deeply by Europeans as an attack on all of us. 

Yet—the self-discovery was that I felt this way precisely because I felt it an attack on me as an American. I have reeled physically under the after-shock of violence. 

 There was an early moment of pain, like a knife slicing through my body, when I saw pictures of Palestinians dancing in the streets with joy. Because our Christian friends in Israel are Palestinians, I have long been ‘on their side’ in the need for the greater world to understand what they are suffering; this picture hurt. But, that moment was healed by the picture of Yasser Arafat giving blood to send to America. The symbolic value was priceless. … 

Another moment which brought me close to tears was the service of mourning at Westminster Abbey, which was called by the Queen. The outpouring of support and friendship was moving. The service included the singing by the whole congregation of the Star Spangled Banner. Even hardened political commentators expressed their emotion at the poignancy of the words under these circumstances. 

This was one very big example of what has been the most personal aspect of coping with this week. I was taken by surprise on Wednesday morning when a (fairly large) woman at college came up and threw her arms around me, in sympathy for me at this time. That was only the first instance of what has happened to … me all week. Just as Americans want to go out and do something tangible to help the recovery effort, so people here want to be able to express their feelings in a tangible way. So, they look for an American, so they can say how much they are affected by this outrage. 

At first I was bemused when it happened: why tell me? When I realised the intent, it became harder to deal with—it moved me; but even as I was comforted, it brought emotions to the fore again. [My wife] found it very difficult on Wednesday, working a twelve hour shift. She had to do her job at the same time that every patient and colleague wanted to talk to her about the subject. Then, on Friday all of Europe stopped for three minutes to honour the dead, and grieve for America’s loss. The streets went silent, shops stopped trading, and even young children stood still. 

We, then, have been recipients on [America’s] behalf of this outpouring of care and sympathy. We now pass it on to others. This letter has been focused on our situation. In such vast matters, the specific and the personal seems the only way to explain how we are doing. We add our testimony of pain. 

Thoughts now turn to what will happen next. I fear the rhetoric of war which comes readily to lips right now. Violence has been done. Those men of violence will understand and expect violence in return. They will be prepared for that. What if America, as a Christian nation, reacted contrary to expectation, and responded in Christian love? I wonder what that would mean for us. I wonder what would happen.

Once more, Israel/Palestine (cont.)

Part 2: The Intifada and me 

The Separation/Security Wall on the ancient road from Jerusalem to Bethany.

The photo was taken days after its erection.

There are two key dates in the conflict between Jews and Palestinians that serve as fixed points for understanding the present: the creation of the state of Israel in 1948, and the Six-Day War in June, 1967. The first was a culmination of events set in motion by the British Balfour Declaration (1917) of intent to establish a Jewish state in Palestine, while also promising Arabs self-rule from the Ottomans. For Jews this became Independence Day; for Palestinians it is the Nakbah, ‘Catastrophe’. The second date marks the beginning of the Occupation, following Israel’s crushing defeat of the surrounding Arab states that had launched a joint attack on them. That occupation continues to this day on the West Bank, Gaza, the Golan Heights—54 years later. 

My first visit to Israel was in early 1988 for an academic conference. I arrived into the midst of the first Intifada, the ‘uprising’, which was triggered by, among other things, the building of Jewish settlements on occupied land. It began with children and youngsters throwing stones at soldiers, and striking shopkeepers closing down their shops for days at a time in show of solidarity. While in Jerusalem I stayed in the home of a young Arab woman who had attended my church in Manchester while a student there. Now she and her husband lived on the Mount of Olives. Because there were big demonstrations in Jerusalem during Friday prayers every week, and danger of violence, they counselled me to get out of the city and go to Bethlehem for the day. A Palestinian worker from Beth Sahour (the home of Shepherd’s Field, of Luke 2 fame) who had also spent the night at their home became my host for the day. We did not escape incident, however. We arrived in Nativity Square to see Israeli soldiers (IDF) welding shut those shops that had closed for that day’s strike, as men poured out of the mosque—just opposite the Church of the Nativity—at the conclusion of mid-day prayers. The tension was, as they say, palpable. My host suggested we leave the area, and he took me to his home. That is another story. 

The conference, on the 40th anniversary of the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, introduced me to Jews of all stripes: religious and secular, Israeli and Diaspora. I had the privilege of being invited into the home of one of these fellow-scholars, who were sympathetic to the Palestinian people and cause. Their political party was not, however, in power. 

By the end of my two weeks in Israel I had, as a freedom-loving American, seen enough of the daily ‘micro-aggressions’ (in today’s terms) Palestinians met every day to wonder why it had taken 20 years before this stone-throwing ‘uprising’ touched off. I hardly had patience after two weeks of watching!

Twenty years of military occupation bore its fruit in the creation of Hamas, the Palestinian Islamic Resistance. 

In January, 2004, I spent my sabbatical term at Hebrew University, arriving in the midst of the Second Intifada. The first had ended with the 1993 Oslo Accords, setting the ‘roadmap’ for a Two-State solution to the ongoing conflict. Hope of resolution was extinguished, however, when a Jewish extremist assassinated Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, and the Palestinian extremist party, Hamas, stepped up the level of violence. This uprising had moved from stone-throwing to ‘suicide’ bombs. The trigger for the ‘Al Aqsa’ Intifada in 2000 was a casual stroll by Likud candidate for PM, Ariel Sharon, across the Haram/Temple Mount (breaking Israeli law) as a statement of Israel’s sovereignty over the holy site. There had been nearly 100 suicide bombings since then, and there were nine bombings during my time there. On 29 January I was awakened by the detonation on the 19 bus. I learned that it killed 11. This hit home not only because it was so close to where I lived; the 19 bus route terminated on Mount Scopus, at the University. When I headed home in the evenings I watched the ordinary routine of young students getting on the 19 as they streamed out of classes at the end of their day. Ordinary students, full of life, were on the 19 that morning in January. 

By day I worked among Israeli academics, some of them people I had first met in 1988, and who remain colleagues and friends after all these years, whom I value as friends (I have always felt more at home with the Jewish scholars of faith than Western scholars of little or no faith). They were no longer sympathetic to the Palestinian cause, but were not hostile to Palestinians. 

The rest of the time I lived and shopped in the Old City. Here I lived among Palestinians—Christian and Muslim. I shared mint tea with shop-keepers (and, once or twice, a hookah, accepting their hospitality); there were few tourists, so at times it felt as though the whole economy of the Old City depended on me. I worshipped at the Anglican St George’s Cathedral, as part of the small English speaking expat community, and learned much about the challenges for Christians from the young, articulate, and pastoral Israeli-Palestinian Acting Dean who led us. I watched the ‘Security Wall/of Separation’ being built, snaking its way through the midst of Palestinian towns, often dividing families and separating farmers from their fields. In those few months I tensed very time I heard a siren; I felt dread every time I saw the wasp-like Apache helicopters passing overhead towards the West Bank. It was in this period that Israel withdrew completely from Gaza—the beginning of continuous low-level conflict that has escalated to war in 2008 and 2016, and again this May. Children born in during the period of my residence in Jerusalem in 2004 are now 17 years old. For perspective, 75% of Gazans are under 25. Young people. 

In 2016 I was able to take another sabbatical in Jerusalem. Alongside doing research at Hebrew University I also provided pastoral oversight to the Jerusalem Church of the Nazarene while the Jordanian pastor took home leave. This time I arrived at the height of the ‘Knife’ Intifada. Violence which had been largely kept to the occupied territory now came to East Jerusalem itself (occupied, but annexed by Israel). The Damascus Gate of the Old City became the venue for ‘suicide by soldier’, in which youngsters (even children) would take a kitchen knife and launch themselves at a soldier—knowing they would be killed; succumbing to the hopelessness of those who have known only the heavy hand of occupation. In just one week, five died this way. This hit at the very heart of the place of pilgrimage, in the very neighbourhood of the church I served, and on a path I have walked dozens of times over the years. The Israeli government response is always greater force. My thoughts, then as now, were that the constant pressure-cooker suppression could only lead to the lid exploding. Among both Jewish and Palestinian friends I found hope for resolution or peace to have virtually disappeared. 

And now, the storming of the Haram/Temple Mount, May 2021. Violence moves to the towns and cities of Israel where Jews and Arabs have lived together these 70 years. The clashes are, reportedly, between Israeli Jews and Israeli ‘Arabs’. The word from my friends on the ground is that the Jews were actually settlers, brought in bus-loads to these towns. This is a frightening extension of the territory of conflict. 

Every circle in the perpetual spiral of violence creates a new generation of hate, both sides clasped in a death-grip from which no one knows how to escape. ‘If you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another’ (Galatians 5:15). 

Ordinary Israelis and Palestinians have been failed by their leadership through decades. Whenever there was a serious move towards peace, extremists on each side would resort to renewed provocation to derail any such process; and continue to be successful in their effort. There is, in fact, one truth that has to be addressed: Israelis and Palestinians, Jews, Muslims and Christians, have to figure out how to live with each other. 

End of Part 2.

Once more, Israel/Palestine

I have posted on FB a number of reports from Israel and Palestine from people I know, in order to offer some ‘on-the-ground’ coverage of the current violence. The cycle of retribution continues on both sides, and the same voices are raised in the same litany of protest, and it is ‘Groundhog Day’ again. I have been a participant observer of Israel and Palestine since my first visit in 1988 in the midst of the first Intifada. I was there at the height of the second Intifada, and again during the ‘Knife’ Intifada. A lot—but by no means the majority—of anti-Israel anger is stained with antisemitism. A lot of anti-Palestinian rhetoric flows from Islamophobia. And, in the middle, a strong dose of Dispensationalist Christian Zionism. Like so many polarizing debates in these times, there is much shouting of the same arguments at the others, and little listening to the others; and virtually no reflection. In coming posts I will offer reflection.

Demolished home near Jericho. We will come back to this

Part One: 'An eye for an eye'

I have been reading the Sermon on the Mount in the Gospel of Matthew. This reading began as a project for Lent; I didn’t make it through the Sermon in those 40 days, so have carried on. This past Thursday I arrived at Matt 5:38: 

 You have heard it said “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth”, but I say to you, do not resist an evildoer…but turn the other cheek.

My reading consists of asking lots of questions: the meanings of words, including many I think I already know; how each part fits in with its context; any echoes of Scriptures, etc. And I question my expectations and conventional interpretations. Difficult, indeed, impossible, expectations like this are the reason it is taking me so long to make progress through the Sermon. It doesn’t matter how many times I read this—and I do frequently—it sends me back to examine what I think it means to be a disciple of Jesus. 

I can no longer read this passage without recalling the conference presentation by a Coptic Christian priest in late 2016—during the height of the ISIS offensive in Syria. He spoke of being asked by Syrian Christians, expecting a second ISIS attack on their village, if they must ‘turn the other cheek’. This priest argued that Mt 5 does not apply in such a situation. I raised a question about his hermeneutic, but I had to confess that, from the safety of my peaceful country, I was not in a position to question the conclusion. Even so, I cannot escape the ‘do not resist evil’ of Jesus. 

After this I turned to the the news of the day, and to another day of Israel/Palestine violence—more rockets over Israel, and heavy ‘reprisal’ attacks on Gaza. ‘An eye for an eye’. 

This brought to memory a news conference back when Yitzhak Shamir was prime minister of Israel in the 80s and early 90s. Following reprisals for a Palestinian attack of some sort (who can remember?) was asked by a Western TV reporter whether the response could be considered proportionate to the Palestinian attack. His answer (and I can see the TV screen in my memory) was, ‘We Jews are not Christians, we do not have to turn the other cheek.’ 

And so it is. 

The verse Jesus cited appears three times in the Torah—in Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy. In academic terms it is called Lex Talionis—the ‘law of retaliation’. The like-for-like penalty text is so graphically brutal to the modern Western mind, that we shrink at violence. But, the purpose of the law is actually to wind down that cycle. The concept of the law is that punishment for a misdeed should be based upon equivalence—and proportionality—rather than simply unrestricted and escalating bouts of revenge’—you hit me, I kill you; I kill you, your family kills my family; you kill my family, my tribe wipes out your tribe. The purpose is to restrict bloodshed. 

The Qur’an teaches the same, even referring to the law of Moses, but it also makes room for compensation in the place of blood. Here is Sura 5:45: 

And We ordained therein for them: Life for life, eye for eye, nose for nose, ear for ear, tooth for tooth and wounds equal for equal. But if anyone remits the retaliation by way of charity, it shall be for him an expiation.

There is no command to turn the other cheek, but, in light of the respective scriptures of Hamas and of Israel, both should be playing by these same rules. But today’s BBC count (which has gone up even as I write) is: 

 Of the 227 people killed in Gaza at least 63 are children, according to its health ministry, while of the 12 people killed in Israel, two children are among the dead, the country's medical service says. 

Twelve dead in Israel. Twelve too many people. In retaliation, 227 dead in Gaza. 227 too many people. 

Where did this cycle of violence begin? Israel in self-defence, retaliates against Hamas’ massed rocket attacks with guided missiles; Hamas’ rockets are retaliation for the storming of the Haram (Temple Mount) on one of the holiest days of Ramadan; Israel’s raid on the mount was a response to escalating Palestinian protests against evictions in East Jerusalem that injured many police. And the evictions were…? 

Equivalence? Proportionality? How does lobbing a rocket randomly towards a populated area count as like-for-like? How does destroying a high-rise apartment building to kill two militants count as equivalence? Gandhi is reported to have said, ‘An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind’. And no one is willing to say ‘Stop!’. 

End of Part One