Pink Café for Girls

typical men's cafe in West Bank

When we were in Ramallah a few days ago, our dear young friend, Adam Streeter, told us about his morning routine of sitting in cafes to surf the net. As we drove by a few of his favorites, he mentioned that a few of them were “men only” cafes. This was a rather astonishing revelation as I had never heard of such a thing even though I had lived in the West Bank for several months. He clarified that women were not legally forbidden but that culturally, a gal would have to have guts to walk into one and sit down. 

the newly opened Pink Cafe in Beit Sahour

So imagine our surprise when a few days later in Beit Sahour, Mary Ellen and I stumbled across the “Pink Café” This is a girls only café where women can gather without the judgment or distraction of men. We enjoyed the quiet and fast internet connection. This café had only opened a day or two before and so we were among the first wave of customers.

inside the Pink Cafe

Not sure if I really like the idea of separate social spaces for men and women. Last week, one young man I know from East Jerusalem invited me to his wedding, an appealing invitation particularly since I am considering attending a conference in Bethlehem around that time. But then I realized that I wouldn't know anyone there because I would be in the women only section. I still can't quite get my head around the fact that at Muslim weddings here in this part of the world, the men celebrate separately from the women - including the bride and groom!

Ah, the joy of different cultures. 

I love the fact that women are creating their own social spaces. In a culture where men are the primary ones who go out for coffee, it is wonderful to see women in the "pink."

sign for the bathroom - don't hold it!

Blowing in the Wind

“What are your plans for today?” 

“Not sure. We'll just let the wind blow us where we are supposed to go!”

Manutiser, our checkpoint friend

Mary Ellen and I must have this conversation with the locals at least once or twice a day. In a place that is so fraught with tension and political vulnerability, I think most people are surprised that we are not anxious to control what we are doing and who we are seeing. And, of course, most travellers pack their schedules from early morning to late at night in order to squeeze in every bit of touring they can.

Not so with us. We came here to relax and renew. We find the easier, slower pace inviting and it gives us a chance to experience the people and culture in a whole different way. As each day unfolds, we are amazed at the people we have met and the experiences we have had. I wouldn’t trade our "blowing in the wind" for anything.

Take yesterday as an example. We started the morning with an invite to breakfast at the home of Khlil Nshash, the checkpoint coffee guy. As we were parking the car, we ran into Manutiser, one of the Palestinian kids who sells stuff at the checkpoint. Earlier in the week, as we waited to cross into Israel, he had teased Mary Ellen about being from China even though we told him she was from Japan and the Philippines. I’m not sure why he thought this was so amusing but we laughed along with him. Recognizing us from our earlier checkpoint conversation, he asked us where we were going and before we knew it, he had walked us to Khlil’s front door. When Khlil didn’t immediately answer, he dispatched one of his friends to climb the wall to wake up the family.

Khlil and his children

It was Friday morning, the only day that Khlil sleeps in from his usual pattern of waking at 4 am to prepare coffee to sell. His days are long as he usually returns home well after 9 pm every night. Bleary-eyed, he warmly welcomed us into his home. Soon we were surrounded by his three children, his new wife, and received warm greetings from his sister and his parents.

Khlil and his family live in Azzeh Camp, the smallest of the refugee camps in Bethlehem. Like Aida Camp, it is right next to the Wall. Unlike Aida, this small wedge of humanity (less than 1,800 residents) is as close as one can get to the weekly Palestinian protests that take place right next to the Wall. That means marching, chanting, and rock throwing by the Palestinians and tear gas, arrests, and often live fire on the crowd in response by the Israelis. But Khlil is as resilient as anyone I know. Every time I see him, he tells me how happy he is and how grateful he is to Allah for his life and his family.

Khili's middle daughter

As we lingered over the first course of slightly sweetened Arabic coffee, Khlil caught us up on the latest news in his life. He showed us around his ever expanding real estate holdings. It seems that if you save all your shekels and live very simply, you can purchase one apartment after another in the camp. He now owns four. Granted, prices are way down (a few thousand dollars for a 3 bedroom apartment) due to the proximity to the checkpoint, but this has enabled his extended family to live next to him. And now with this fourth apartment, he can experience a bit of income stability from the very, low rent he will collect. 

arabic breakfast

Over the second course of hummus, labne, cucumbers, tomato, olives, zatar, olive oil and pita, we were treated to a spontaneous sermon about love. Khlil sees all people, regardless of their religion or race, as one people under God. He wanted to be sure that we understood that the recent attacks in Paris or Beirut or Egypt or any other terrorist act perpetuated by ISIS were not part of Islam as he knows and practices it. He was adamant and passionate. For him, Jewish, Christian and Muslim people are all human beings and therefore must be treated with respect and love. It was not lost on us that this belief was tested each and everyday as he confronts the injustices perpetuated by the Occupation. Just last year, a military dog viciously attacked him when the Israeli Defense Forces mistakenly invaded his home in the middle of the night. But he holds no ill will. His faith calls him to gratitude and love.

The next course was the tea course.  We shared photos of our kids and bits of our life back in the States. He was delighted to learn that I was going to be a grandma. He remembered my daughters when they visited Bethlehem three years ago. We soon excused ourselves only to see the disappointment on his face when it became apparent that we weren’t staying for lunch as well.

Mary Ellen eating knafeh, a unique Palestinian treat!

It was as remarkable morning to what turned out to be a remarkable day. At every turn, we received the best of Palestinian hospitality. A spontaneous invite to a wonderful lunch and lingering conversation at Issa Gharib's home (one of our tour operators) meant enjoying delicious maqlubah with his extended family. Later in the evening and hankering for sweets, we then jumped in the car in pursuit of Fawaniss, a restaurant that we had heard boasts the best knafeh in Bethlehem. Bustling and crowded on this weekend night, a lovely Palestinian women and her 13 year old daughter invited us to join them at their table. Yet another surprising encounter and conversation. All that before we ended the day with coffee in a small gift shop overlooking the huge Christmas Tree in Manger Square with my friend Adnan.  

I like blowing in the wind when I’m here. No agenda, no expectations. Just an openness to enjoy what unfolds.

what’s around the other corner?

Traveling with Mary Ellen is a gift. She often tosses out a phrase or two that gets lodged in my soul. One afternoon, she was describing the discipline of spiritual photography which poses the question, “what does your contemplative eye see?” Over the next few days, this question became one that we often asked one another, particularly when overwhelmed by sites and sounds of this holy place.

One such site was the traditional spot where John the Baptist conducted his baptizing ministry. These days, the Jordan River is not very impressive. All we could see was a narrow, muddy stream. It’s hard to imagine that Joshua would have needed to part the river to let the ancient Israelites cross into the Promised Land. So there we stood on the bank, well before 8 am, the only ones looking out on this ancient and historic river and asked:


“What does your contemplative eye see?” 

I find this question shifts the way you perceive what’s before you.  You look around with an openness to detect what God might be saying to the soul. You begin to notice what is being stirred up at a more profound level.

The question begged for a few minutes of silence before responding. Mary Ellen then pointed to the bend in the river, the exact spot where my inner eye had been drawn. Her next question named what I was thinking.  “What do you suppose is around the corner?”

It is no surprise that this new question prompted several conversations over the next few days about call and discernment. We spent quite a bit of time talking about the way God placed each of us in our current calls: I to Sunnyvale Pres and Mary Ellen to Fuller Seminary. We pondered how the life of faith that often calls us to trust what is unseen and unknown around the corner. Last winter, both of us stepped into positions that were much bigger than our previous jobs but ones that have required us to trust more in the One who called us there than to have absolute assurances about what is next. 

As we return from the Holy Land, I want to keep open to what’s around the corner. At this age and stage of life, risk is not something I find easy to embrace.  But the alternative would be to be stuck seeing only muddy water and not open to the adventure that God has ahead.

Songs from the Spirit

On our first night in Galilee on my last pilgrimage, a few of us decided to venture out and explore Tiberias. As the only one who had been there before, I was pointing out various landmarks when we came across St. Andrew's Church near the promenade. I mentioned that previous groups had worshiped there and I suggested seeing the various murals that cover the pillars.

As we made our way through the garden and up to the door, we heard the most glorious music. We stepped inside this little chapel by the sea and there we saw and heard a very unusual sight. There were about seven people all sitting in a semi-circle, each with an instrument.  Someone was on a drum, another on the piano. There was a guitar of course. The surprise was a man on a soprano sax, a really outstanding player. The rest were singers who played various percussive instruments. Spellbound, we listened to them sing Christian worship songs in Hebrew. Had we stumbled on some sort of Messianic worship team? After all it was mid-week and there was no congregation to speak of.

So we stood respectfully in the back and took in the sight and sounds of passionate and moving worship from our brothers in Christ. They looked like they came from all backgrounds and walks of life.  One was a solider in uniform, his gun resting nearby. Another looked Arab.  Most were odinary Israelis. With eyes closed and faces turned upward, their voices together expressed their deep love for God.

On this Thanksgiving Day, it is this vision of Israel/Palestine that offers me hope.  I am grateful for each and every pocket where love of God and of each other is apparent.

Mornings at Masada

The Bethlehem 300 Checkpoint at 3:30 am 

It is no small feat to be at Masada at sunrise but Mary Ellen and I managed to leverage our lingering jet lag into a very early drive. At 3:30 am, we set out from our hotel to see what activity we could detect at the Bethlehem checkpoint. 

To our surprise, vendors had already set up shop and were selling food to the many, many men who were crossing into Israel to work. I guess we shouldn't have been that astonished as minutes earlier we had snagged pita at one of my favorite bakeries (yes they were open at 3:30 am!).

MEA at the wheel

With Mary Ellen at the wheel, we headed out to Jericho via the Valley of Fire, the only route open to the Palestinians who wish to travel between points south, east or north in the West Bank. Somehow, Jericho did not look inviting at 4:30 am so we decided to go to Masada. To be honest, nothing looks wonderful that early in the morning. I think the decision to forgo coffee at the checkpoint was now catching up with us. 

I've seen all these amazing photos of Masada at sunrise but ours was a bust. No dramatic color, no memorable sun peeking over Mt. Nebo, no “Jesus Christ is risen today” type moment to mark our early morning trek. Disappointing but no matter, we were content just to be together.

overlooking the dead sea from the masada parking lot

Friendship is one of those things that transcends moments of disappointment.  That morning, we enjoyed our giggles at the absurdity of our early morning adventure, our newly developed practice of taking silly pictures even if it meant stopping in middle of the road, and our deep conversation shrouded by darkness.  The memories we created that morning will stick with us forever.