Faith in the face of Futility

Or: the joy of international connection!

For the past couple of weeks I’ve been spending my days with the same 6 fellow volunteers on a farm near Bethlehem in Palestine. Five of them are from Europe and in their 60s and 70s, and the other is my age and from Australia, and all of them are delightful and impressive and committed and kind. Two of them have lived in income-sharing intentional communities. Three of them are active with Extinction Rebellion, participating in big direct actions in European capitols. One of them has waved a Palestinian flag from the Sydney opera house. One is a Christian theologian by training, another an electrical engineer, another an interior designer. Another spent a big portion of his life as a squatter. I, as you know, am a farmer.

We all live on the farm, each in our own private unheated-but-online cave, with a shared kitchen, washing facility, and composting toilets. We’ve settled into a pattern of making our own breakfasts, sharing lunch usually provided by the Palestinian family whose farm we’re supporting, and then often sharing a light supper of leftovers in the meeting cave after dark. So we have had a lot of time to get to know each other!

With more and more intimacy we’ve delved into ever-deeper conversations about why we’re here. Frankly, this project that we’re supporting seems futile. The Israeli settlers are expanding their construction to right next to the farm, just over the fence (on Palestinian owned land), in defiance of law and even Israeli court orders. (huh—an interesting parallel with what the President of the United States is up to). Tonight, new street lamps, 20 feet from the fence, went on for the first time: the illegal settlement construction is on the grid while this Palestinian farm is not given the opportunity to be!

It’s very stressful, because the family who owns the farm is familiar with the settler playbook: they’re dreading a day that the settlers confiscate the farm, declare it a closed military zone or some such, because it is too close to the “facts on the ground” of settlement construction, regardless of the fact-on-the-ground that this farm has been here, owned by the same Palestinian family, for more than 100 years.

Though it feels futile, hard to imagine that this farm will still exist in five years, nevertheless we are here now. And we have to acknowledge that, had international accompaniment not been present on this land for the past 20+ years, this farm would be gone by now. So what we are doing does have a purpose, even though when we look into the future we don’t see much hope.

Years ago, when I was being trained with Christian Peacemaker Teams, I remember the director saying, “We are not called to be effective. We are called to be faithful.” I remember this often, and it orients me in an important way when I’m not able to see hope. I can still have faith, and I don’t have to judge my actions based on what they accomplish, but rather based on the values they embody.

I find it interesting that so many of the volunteers here are climate activists—some of them even got connected to this farm through meeting people at Extinction Rebellion actions! Climate activism has a similar flavor of futility to trying to keep Palestinian farmers on the land: momentum is dramatically, terrifyingly against us. And yet, if we have a belief in the possibility of humans living well with each other on this finite planet, it is clear where to stand, in both cases.

It’s an honor to act in faithful solidarity alongside this radical and diverse group of people, and to become globally connected through acquaintance with the particularities of individuals. I’m reveling in the dipthongs of Dutch and the question that has yet to be resolved, “is this sarcasm or is this an Australian accent?” It’s fun to see where my new friends see U.S. Americanness in me (my skill at shuffling cards, for one), and where they compliment me with a “you’re not like most Americans!” (I’m quiet, alright?) It’s also a delight to do mental math on the fly to communicate in Celsius, kilometers, liters, and grams—it’s the least I can do when everyone’s communicating in English for me!

All of life happens one day at a time. Standing with faith in a seemingly-futile place is feeling like a worthwhile way to spend my days. I feed the ducks, I saw up firewood, I pick rocks out of the garden soil, I make food and do dishes. If nothing else, our presence here keeps up the faith and the fight of the Palestinian family we’re supporting, and I think I speak for all of us internationals that being able to be part of the struggle for a free Palestine in this simple way is far more meaningful than we even hoped.

The Iowa Writers’ Collaborative

I’m proud to be part of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. Each Sunday, Julie Gammack shares a roundup of articles that collaborative members have written in the past week. Check out the most recent roundup, here.