From the River to the Sea

I’ve had conversations recently with people both inside and beyond our congregation about the phrase “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” which has been invoked in the activism happening for Gaza in the last few months, and which has been used in Palestine for decades. The upcoming 25 Mile March for Peace and Liberation in Gaza is using the phrase as a part of its title. Because I had not heard it except in the context of a rallying cry for the civil rights and just treatment of Palestinians in the place where they live, it seemed - and seems - to me a poetic and evocative expression of that longing.

I have, however come to nuance my understanding. What many of you probably already know is that at least some Jews experience “from the river to the sea” as deeply harmful and antisemitic. Because it has been used by Hamas - even included in its charter - with a meaning that includes the complete annihilation of the state of Israel and its citizens, it is associated only with violence, terrorism and destruction. In other words: destroy all Jews living between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean.

Contemporary activists and politicians like Rashida Tlaib, who continue to employ the phrase assure detractors that, “From the river to the sea is an aspirational call for freedom, human rights, and peaceful coexistence, not death, destruction, or hate.” This is certainly the way I have been understanding the call of the phrase.

I have become more circumspect about how I understand “from the river to the sea,” because of how evocative it is in both Jewish communities and those advocating for Palestine. I may not use that language in my own advocacy, but I am part of Mennonite Action. And because Mennonite Action is endorsing the 25 Mile Walk and because they continue to use “From the River to the Sea” in their title and publicity, I thought I would share their language about how they understand that call and cry for freedom from the river to the sea.

The following is in the intro to the sign up, written by organizers who include Jews and Palestinians as well as many other diverse identities:

When we say "Freedom from the River to the Sea," we call for universal freedom and safety for everyone from the Mediterranean Sea to the Jordan River. We call for universal access to food, water, shelter, education, and medical care. We call for freedom of movement and freedom of expression regardless of religion or ethnicity.

When we say "Freedom from the River to the Sea," we long for true liberation for all peoples beyond false borders. Our conscience calls us to forcefully and unceasingly demand an end to the continuing Israeli expulsion of Palestinians. We know that there is no military solution. True safety and freedom must be collective. We unequivocally call for Palestinian self-determination from the river to the sea. We call for an end to Israeli apartheid, Zionism, nationalism, and settler colonialism.

We are walking toward the world we yearn for: Indigenous sovereignty restored, land held as sacred, not as property, and an end to all systems that exploit, extract, and kill. We are walking for peace, life, and liberation, from every river to every sea.

Come walk with us!

Don’t Carry it All

I don’t know how all of y’all are feeling about this present moment in geo-politics and life in the world. It feels heavy to me. Really heavy. So when I was looking for something to open our worship committee meeting this past Monday and stumbled on the opening line of a meditation by Howard Thurman I knew it was the one I needed.

“In these turbulent times,” Thurman begins in the essay “Life Goes On.” And though writing over 70 years ago, he could as soon have been writing about this year. Or almost any year at all.

Indeed, he says about Meditations of the Heart, the collection of essays of which this one is a part

 “they are addressed to some of the deep and insistent needs of the human spirit, which needs know no age, clime, culture or group…Their purpose is to focus the mind and heart upon God as the Eternal Source and Goal of Life.”

In this essay Thurman holds in balance the reminder to focus on gratitude for the little gifts of bird song and the gleam of stars, and yet to not shrink from “the evilness of evil.” I found this reminder of the importance of returning my gaze to God’s gifts around me in balance with the overwhelm of war and injustice in the world to be a helpful and hopeful boost.

One of the reasons I really appreciate Thurman’s work is that I know he was writing for a community, writing for beloved people who carried the weight of the world’s evils and their own struggles and joys together. He wasn’t theorizing but encouraging a particular people to share the burden. And again that knowledge gives me hope.

The Portland band (and one of my favorites) The Decemberists have a song that has been buoying me up this week with that same reminder. While their lyrics can be a little obtuse, there is clarity in the lines:

Here we come to a turning of the season
Witness to the arc towards the sun
The neighbor's blessed burden within reason
Becomes a burden borne of all in one…

Let the yoke fall from our shoulders
Don't carry it all, don't carry it all
We are all our hands in holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun

Don’t carry it all! Together we share the joy and the burden of responding to the great weight of the world. Together we share the joys and responsibilities and sorrows the small spheres of our lives.

—-

Here’s a youtube link to the song but the whole album is worth listening to. They recruited Gillian Welch on the harmonies, which makes it extra awesome.

Lent Through Your Senses

I’m all about small steps and short accessible faith practices to give meaning to time and bring reminders throughout our days of God’s presence in our lives. I discovered the following practice in the “Lent at Home” guide for 2024 from Mennonite Education Agency. It’s intended for Lent, but could absolutely be used any time of year and any time you have a moment (or more than just a moment) to spend outside.

When I get all wound up or anxious or I’m trying to do too many things at once, I will occasionally turn to a simple centering practice of the senses: still my body and name 5 things I see, 4 things I feel, 3 things I hear, 2 things I smell, and 1 thing I taste. Author Talashia Keim Yoder’s suggestions below remind me of that practice. I appreciate both the simplicity and how kid-friendly this way of engaging in Spirituality is.

During the days of Covid lock-down, my kids and I would go on walks - so many walks! - and try different things to make it more engaging. One of the practices we had, in addition to scavenger hunts and chalk obstacle courses (two other faves) was to test what we could notice with all our senses. Encountering God through the sound of birds rustling in the tall grass, the smell of apple blossoms, or the damp air on our cheeks. May you continue to find connections to Creator and the created world in this season!

—-

Jesus began his ministry with forty days in the desert, and this practice is an invitation to step into the desert with him throughout Lent. Many of us see this time in the desert as a time of starvation, hardship, and temptation, but that’s a quite narrow view! In an interview on “The Bible for Normal People Podcast,” a member of the Chickasaw Nation Chris Hoklotubbe reframes the desert time from a Native perspective. Jesus was on a 40-day spiritual quest! It was Jesus’ extended Sabbath that prepared him for his ministry. Hoklotubbe thinks that perhaps it was on his quest that Jesus came up with some of his musings like, “Consider the lilies of the field…”

So, here’s your quest. Find a moment every day during Lent to be outside in a spirit of openness. It’s okay if somedays it’s only for two minutes! When you’re outside, take in what you discover through your senses. If you want more guidance, try this:

1. Start with your breath. Breathe in and out, counting to 3 on your breath in and 6 on your breath out. Do this until you feel centered.

2. Touch: What do you feel on your skin? Is it warm or cold? Breezy or still? Damp or dry? Notice the ground holding you up, the gravity that keeps you rooted.

3. Smell: What does it smell like today? Can you identify particular scents?

4. Taste: Stick your tongue out. Can you taste the air today?

5. Listen: What do you hear? Can you isolate and identify particular sounds?

6. Look: Where do you see life around you? Where do you see dormancy? What colors do you see? Other creatures? Pay some attention to the margins - what do you see where what is cultivated meets the area that is not?

Maybe once a week you want to carve out time for a longer desert quest. If you have young children, this can be a helpful part of the daily rhythm with an extended family quest each week.