Santa Lucia, Honduras, 1 September 2003 Dear friends in our supporting churches: Amal has two daughters, age five and six. She recently undertook a journey with them, but only after making them promise they wouldn’t call her “Mama” along the way. Let me explain. Amal is a Palestinian from East Jerusalem, and because of the arbitrary political divisions imposed on Palestinians by the state of Israel, she has a different category of citizenship than her husband, who is from Nablus, a town in the northern part of the West Bank. Because Amal’s home was “annexed” by Israel in 1967, whereas her husband’s town was “occupied,” they have different legal status, and are not supposed to live in each other’s communities. But love won out over imperial edict. They got married and settled down in Nablus, and now have two little girls. I met Amal in August when I traveled to the occupied Palestinian territories for three weeks. She told me the anguish she’d felt at not being able to travel with her daughters to East Jerusalem to visit her parents. Because they’d have to pass several Israeli military checkpoints en route, at each showing their identity papers, Amal was afraid the Israelis would find out about her marriage and she be jailed for living in Nablus. She has made the trip several times clandestinely, hiking through the mountains and hiding from the Israeli patrols, but she didn’t want to subject her daughters to such an ordeal. With her parents pressing to see their granddaughters, Amal finally decided to make the trip with her girls in July. They rode a bus between checkpoints, at each dismounting to walk to where their papers were checked. They traveled with a group, and Amal carefully coached her girls not to call her “Mama” at any point during the trip. If questioned by the soldiers, they were to say she was their aunt. Amal told me her daughters remained tight-lipped and solemn during the day-long trip. When they finally arrived at their grandparents’ house in East Jerusalem, the girls finally spoke, asking Amal, “Can we call you Mama now?” Describing what’s happening in the middle east and the obstacles to reconciliation and peace in that troubled region is not an easy task. Yet at times one experience cuts through the chatter and sums up simply what the middle east would look like if each family were allowed to live “under their vine and fig tree, at peace and unafraid.” I pray that the day will come soon that Amal’s daughters can call her “Mama” wherever they may be. Amal’s experience is not simply a romantic story, however, devoid of political meaning. As I spent hours at checkpoints under the arrogant gaze of snipers, observing the daily humiliation and beating of Palestinian men and women, or as I sat for several mornings with a family in Beit Hanina waiting for the bulldozers to arrive to demolish their house, or as I walked through ancient olive groves that had been ripped up to build a giant wall that steals much of the best farmland and water sources from Palestinian villages on the West Bank, I never forgot that much of the Israeli military repression of the Palestinians is bankrolled by U.S. tax dollars. I also never forgot that this was the land where Jesus walked, and during my travels I was able to visit many of the “holy sites” of his life and ministry. Yet Christian faith in the Holy Land is about more than pilgrimage points. A vibrant Christian presence continues to survive, despite all odds, although the Christian community–subject to the same persecution as Muslim Palestinians–has dwindled in numbers in recent decades. Those who remain and keep the Gospel light burning in the Holy Land–the “living stones” of the Christian community–are courageous and articulate, and daily struggle with surviving under Israeli occupation. I had never been to Palestine before, though there is an interesting link to there from Honduras. In the early 20th Century, thousands of Palestinian Christians came to Honduras, fleeing repression and forced conscription under the Turks and then later the forced removal from their villages by Zionist settlers. Because the early immigrants arrived here with Turkish identification papers, they became known locally as “Los Turcos.” They have prospered here, and are today an essential part of Honduran economic and social life. In many ways, they symbolize the hope that remains for Palestinians in the Holy Land if the U.S. ever decides to force the Israelis to leave them in peace. Back home in Central America, busyness characterizes all four of our lives. The kids have begun another school year, Lucas in 10th grade and Abi in 8th grade. We daily marvel, and at times fret, about the changes in their lives as they mature into young adults. And we particularly struggle with Abi’s difficulties at learning. She had some educational testing done in the States this summer, and we’re working with her school here to implement the suggestions that emerged from that. Lyda continues as dean of the Honduran Theological Seminary. Unfortunately, being dean brings a job description that goes beyond simply teaching, which is Lyda’s biggest joy. She’s also involved in administration, personnel management, fundraising, student and staff counseling, institutional relations, developing a building plan, and a hundred other details that go with keeping a small but creative seminary alive and functioning. She’s working on a plan to place a Honduran as dean, but that’s a ways off, in part because of financial difficulties (despite all that wonderful money you raised for the marathon). Meanwhile, the exciting ministry of the seminary continues, with students being challenged and empowered for ministry in some of the more hopeless urban and rural settings, places where courageous witness to the Gospel of love and justice is badly needed. I’m editing photos and writing stories from the middle east trip, which I did on behalf of Action by Churches Together, of which UMCOR is a member. When the photos and writing are ready in a week or so, our website will have a link to where you can find them. I also continue to be involved in preparations for the October conference on the pastoral challenges of immigration, which we described in a recent letter. As always, we write to thank you for your generous support of our ministries here and elsewhere. As your congregations take on new life after the summer holidays, please know that we pray for your well-being and for the Holy Spirit to give us all a renewed sense of mission both at home and afar. Peace, Paul Jeffrey and Lyda Pierce Missionaries in Central America