Biden’s Timing: Undercutting Bibi

/124 Comments/in , /by

There are many things that explain the timing of President Biden’s decision to drop out of the race. Most importantly, after staying reasonably steady with Trump in the polls, the combined weight of the Democratic firing squad, and — probably — some bounce from the shooting attempt on Trump had started a real hemorrhaging in Biden’s polling. He had to drop when he did to stave off a collapse in the polls.

His former colleagues in the Senate were prepping to move en masse against him. He had asked Chuck Schumer for a week to consider Schumer’s warning, and time was up.

His COVID diagnosis likely gave him a few days to reflect on the decision before him.

Biden almost certainly didn’t base his timing on Bibi Netanyahu’s visit this week (though he deferred explaining it for a few days, which may put that address after Bibi’s). But the timing is wildly auspicious.

While he remains a wildly successful President, Biden dropped out of the race because his age prevents him from running effectively. They are different skills. His age benefits the former but hinders the latter.

But Biden’s policies on Gaza were the primary thing that cut what otherwise might have been a natural lead on Trump. It’s not that Biden is popular. It’s that Trump is so unpopular a Democrat should start out ahead. Or should have, before Israel started slaughtering Palestinian civilians. Some of the activists that have most aggressively targeted Biden are claiming credit (inaccurately, but they should claim credit anyway) for his decision to drop out.

And among Biden’s most stubborn beliefs was not that he was the best candidate to beat Trump, but that he could reason with — that he could moderate — Bibi. It was a foolish belief born of a lifetime of dealing with the man. It was perhaps a naive blindness to the way that Bibi has repeatedly shivved Democrats in the back, not least when Trump first partnered with Russia during the 2016 transition to undermine Obama’s effort to rein in West Bank settlements.

I’ve long expected Bibi’s visit to be part of some partisan attack on Biden, replete with a continued unwillingness to consider ceasefire deals because Bibi is less worried about Israeli and US hostages than he is about retaining power. I fully expect Bibi to yoke his own political future to that of Donald Trump.

But the timing of the visit, coming as it is when Kamala Harris will be more focused on making calls and wooing endorsements, undercuts much of the power of it.

While the Vice President is scheduled to meet with Bibi, separately from Biden, I can’t imagine anyone will expect her to play a major role in this week’s events.

And that provides her space.

I don’t expect that she’ll disavow Biden’s failed Israeli policies, least of all when he is still pursuing a ceasefire. At least not yet.

But because Bibi’s visit will occur when everyone expects Harris to be focused on other things, it’s about the one way that she’ll get a pass on the inevitable centering of Israel in US politics.

Kamala does have distance from Biden on Gaza. She was the person to whom many activists have expressed their dismay. And that distance gives her options going forward.

In virtually every other scenario, Kamala would be tied to a Biden policy that has been deeply unpopular among Democrats. But because of the timing, she may be able to keep that distance.

Update: Some of the Biden staffers who quit over his Gaza policy are speaking favorably about Kamala.

Update: Kamala refused (er, um, declined) to preside over Bibi’s joint session.

There are Heroes, and Then There are Heroes

/77 Comments/in , , /by

Hugh Thompson, Jr.

Memorial Day has its roots in the US Civil War, and has expanded to include remembrance of all those who have served their country and have died. In various places, the remembrance may focus on a particular conflict, like the Civil War and Carbondale, IL. It might also center on a location, like Arlington Cemetery or the Pearl Harbor Memorial. It might focus on recipients of the Medal of Honor. In a lot of places, Memorial Day is a big deal.

But on this Memorial Day, with the protests on college campuses in the US and around the world related to the unfolding events in Gaza and the West Bank, my thoughts go to Hugh Thompson, Jr., Glenn Andreotta, and Lawrence Colburn. They were three members of the US Army, who received the Soldiers Medal on March 6, 1998 for their actions 30 years earlier as they flew a mission on March 16, 1968.

Thompson commanded a observation helicopter at the time, tasked with locating enemy firing positions and then directing US forces in response. As their helicopter came over the village of My Lai, they observed no enemy fire, but were shocked to see US military forces killing obvious Vietnamese civilians. At one point, Thompson maneuvered his helicopter between civilians and US forces on the ground, so as to protect the Vietnamese civilians, and he ordered Colburn, his door gunner, to open fire on the US forces if they tried to prevent him from protecting the civilians. Colburn, without hesitation, concurred. Andreotta, the crew chief, was shocked to see the atrocities committed by US forces, and helped locate other civilians who had been shot and needed medical care. As Thompson described it,

Glenn Andreotta—if there was a hero, I don’t like that word, but if there was a hero at My Lai—it was Glenn Andreotta, because he saw movement in that ditch, and he fixed in on this one little kid and went down into that ditch. I would not want to go in that ditch. It’s not pretty. It was very bad. I can imagine what was going through his mind down there, because there was more than one still alive—people grabbing hold of his pants, wanting help. “I can’t help you. You’re too bad [off].” He found this one kid and brought the kid back up and handed it to Larry, and we laid it across Larry and my lap and took him out of there. I remember thinking Glenn Andreotta put himself where nobody in their right mind would want to be, and he was driven by something. I haven’t got the aircraft on the ground real stable. He bolted out of that aircraft into this ditch. Now he was a hero. Glenn Andreotta gave his life for his country about three weeks later. That’s the kind of guy he was, and he was a hero that day.

For their actions in 1968, Thompson. Andreotta, and Colburn received the Soldier’s Medal, given to “any person of the Armed Forces of the United States or of a friendly foreign nation who, while serving in any capacity with the Army of the United States, including Reserve Component soldiers not serving in a duty status at the time of the heroic act, distinguished himself or herself by heroism not involving conflict with an enemy.”

That last phrase — not involving conflict with an enemy — is central to why these three received the Soldier’s Medal and not the Medal of Honor.

Thompson’s medal was awarded with this description:

Soldier’s Medal, Hugh C. Thompson, Jr., then Warrant Officer One, United States Army:

For heroism above and beyond the call of duty on 16 March 1968, while saving the lives of at least 10 Vietnamese civilians during the unlawful massacre of noncombatants by American forces at My Lai, Quang Ngai Province, South Vietnam. Warrant Officer Thompson landed his helicopter in the line of fire between fleeing Vietnamese civilians and pursuing American ground troops to prevent their murder. He then personally confronted the leader of the American ground troops and was prepared to open fire on those American troops should they fire upon the civilians. Warrant Officer Thompson, at the risk of his own personal safety, went forward of the American lines and coaxed the Vietnamese civilians out of the bunker to enable their evacuation. Leaving the area after requesting and overseeing the civilians’ air evacuation, his crew spotted movement in a ditch filled with bodies south of My Lai Four. Warrant Officer Thompson again landed his helicopter and covered his crew as they retrieved a wounded child from the pile of bodies. He then flew the child to the safety of a hospital at Quang Ngai. Warrant Officer Thompson’s relayed radio reports of the massacre and subsequent report to his section leader and commander resulted in an order for the cease fire at My Lai and an end to the killing of innocent civilians. Warrant Officer Thompson’s Heroism exemplifies the highest standards of personal courage and ethical conduct, reflecting distinct credit on him, and the United States Army.

Thompson and his crew did not act against a foreign enemy, but against members their own US military. The Soldier’s Medal, therefore, was as high an honor as they could receive — but the fact that it took 30 years for the DOD to admit that they deserved it is a stain on the US military. (Stars and Stripes has a great writeup of My Lai and the aftermath, written at the death of Larry Colbrun – the last of the three heroes, and it includes the push it took to get the DOD to award these medals.)

All this came back to mind as I read a Guardian piece yesterday about a prison camp run by the Israel Defense Force:

Prisoners held at an Israeli detention camp in the Negev desert are being subjected to widespread physical and mental abuses, with at least one reported case of a man having his limb amputated as a result of injuries sustained from constant handcuffing, according to two whistleblowers who worked at the site.

The sources described harrowing treatment of detainees at the Israeli Sde Teiman camp, which holds Palestinians from Gaza and suspected Hamas militants, including inmates regularly being kept shackled to hospital beds, blindfolded and forced to wear nappies.

According to the two sources, the facility, located approximately 18 miles from the Gaza border, consists of two distinct sections: an enclosure where up to 200 Palestinian detainees from Gaza are confined under severe physical restrictions inside cages, and a field hospital where dozens of patients with war injuries are handcuffed to their beds and often deprived of pain relief.

One whistleblower, who has worked in the facility as a prison guard, said detainees were forced to stand up for hours, or to sit on their knees. The source, who spoke out at risk of reprisals, said several detainees were beaten with truncheons and not able to move their heads or to speak at the facility.

“The prisoners are detained in a sort of cages, all blindfolded and handcuffed,” the source said. “If someone speaks or moves, they are immediately silenced or they are forced to stand with their hands raised above their head and handcuffed for up to one hour.

“If they are unable to keep their hands raised, the soldiers attach the handcuffs to the bars of the cage. Many of the detainees had infected wounds that were not being properly treated.”

[snip]

The prison guard’s statements are corroborated by a second whistleblower who spoke to the Guardian and who was part of the medical staff operating in the field hospital in Sde Teiman.

“There were about 15 patients in total, they were all handcuffed and blindfolded,” he said. “They were naked, wearing diapers and were covered by blankets. Most of them appeared to have obvious war injuries, some had undergone amputations and others underwent major abdominal or chest surgery. They were practically naked except for a diaper.”

The member of the medical staff added: “I understand that it is difficult to treat a patient accused of heinous crimes, but it is the job we have chosen and as physicians we should recognise that every human being has a right to appropriate healthcare regardless of their backgrounds.”

There’s a lot packed into that article, and the link under “the facility” in the excerpt above is a big deal. It goes to the Association for Civil Rights in Israel, which says this about the conditions in this camp (emphasis in the original):

The testimonies of innocent people held in the Sde Teiman Military Base and released after being interrogated painted a horrifying picture of inhumane prison conditions, humiliation and torture. The detainees are held in a kind of cage, crowded, sitting on their knees in a painful position for many hours every day. They are handcuffed at all hours of the day and blindfolded. This is how they eat, relieve themselves and receive medical care.

Detainees at the facility were physically punished by tying them to a fence for hours with their hands raised. Those whose hands were tired and took them down were beaten. In addition, soldiers at the facility beat detainees, extinguished cigarettes on them, urinated on detainees, and deprived them of food, toilets, and sleep. Additional evidence of the inhumane conditions in the detention facility arises from requests from doctors, who serve in the hospital established at the base, for the purpose of treating detainees. They testify that detainees’ arms and legs are routinely amputated due to handcuffed wounds, lack of medication, inadequate medical care, violence suffered by detainees, and lack of food.

I have no complaints about those who have received the Medal of Honor for their heroic actions in the face of enemy fire. But folks like the heroes of My Lai and the anonymous guard and medic at Sde Teiman publicly confirming what released prisoners have said about the actions of the Israeli Defense Force are even more heroic. It’s one thing to stand up to “the enemy,” but standing up to your brothers and sisters in arms when they violate basic humanitarian norms — putting your own bodies in the path of their weapons — is truly amazing.

Enjoy your BBQ this weekend — a tradition that has been part of Memorial Day since the beginning (at least in Carbondale) — and a raise a glass to Thompson, Andreotta, Colburn, and all those who defend civilians, even in the midst of war.

Because that’s when civilians are most in need of protection.

A New King Arose Who Did Not Know Moses

/105 Comments/in , , /by

Organizational Chart of Pharaoh’s Egypt in the days of Moses

It’s hard to understand what’s going on in Israel, Gaza, and throughout the Holy Land without a grasp on the religious background. My knowledge of Islam is scant, but my knowledge of Judaism is better because the Hebrew scriptures lead into my own Christian tradition. And what I know of the Hebrew scriptures brings me great grief as I look at what is going on in Gaza, the West Bank, and throughout Israel.

The first two books of the Torah — Genesis and Exodus, in more common parlance — tell two grand stories central to the Jewish people, and by extension, to my own Christian brothers and sisters as well. Over the last several years, and especially since the Hamas attack in early October, these two stories have been echoing through my head, especially with respect to Benjamin Netanyahu, his far-right cabinet, their supporters in Israel, and the dangerous political path they all are following.

The book of Genesis tells the stories of origins – the origin of the world, and the origin of the people of Israel as God’s chosen ones. Genesis ends with the story of Joseph and his brothers, ten older and one younger. The short version of the story is that Joseph was his father’s favorite, so much so that his older brothers were filled with anger, jealousy, and envy. One day, while the brothers were away from home, they beat Joseph and sold him into slavery in Egypt, then told their father that a wild animal had attacked and killed him. While in Egypt, Joseph came to the attention of the pharaoh, and interpreted a dream of pharaoh’s that foretold seven years of great harvests, followed by seven years of severe drought. Pharaoh listened, and stored up grain in the good years, and he named Joseph as the administrator of the grain program. When the drought arrived, Joseph’s brothers back home were caught in it, and came to Egypt to find grain. Joseph recognized them, but they did not recognize him. When Joseph finally revealed himself to them, they feared he would take revenge. Instead, Joseph offered forgiveness. “What you intended for evil, God intended for good.” Joseph told his brothers that while they let their anger rule, God was using Joseph to prepare for the great famine, and thus save his whole family. Because of Joseph’s great service to the pharaoh and all of Egypt, Joseph and his brothers were invited to stay in Egypt, and they did. Genesis ends with reconciliation between the brothers, the forebears of the twelve tribes of Israel.

Where Genesis was about the Lord and the relationships between the insiders, the brothers (and later, the tribes), Exodus is about the Lord and the relationships between the Israelites and the aliens, the non-Israelites. Exodus takes up the Genesis story generations later, when the Israelites had grown numerous in Egypt and “a new king arose who did not know Joseph.” Instead of continuing to respect what Joseph had done long before, the new king feared all these foreigners and ordered them enslaved. The Lord chose Moses to lead them out of slavery, and after a grand struggle (the ten plagues sent to torment Pharaoh), they left Egypt and entered the wilderness, moving toward the Promised Land. God gave Moses the ten commandments, and Moses spent the wilderness years teaching the newly-liberated children of Israel what it means to live as God’s people.

As the Lord spoke with Moses throughout these wilderness years, the Lord had a refrain for Moses and the children of Israel: “Remember that you were a slave in Egypt.” God was not simply reminding them that things were rough in the past. Instead, God was telling the children of Israel how they are to live in the the present and the future, saying in essence: “You used to be slaves, and I didn’t bring you out of slavery so you can become slave owners yourselves.” For example, consider the Lord’s words from Deuteronomy 24 (New Revised Standard Version, with emphasis added):

17 You shall not deprive a resident alien or an orphan of justice; you shall not take a widow’s garment in pledge. 18 Remember that you were a slave in Egypt and the LORD your God redeemed you from there; therefore I command you to do this. 19 When you reap your harvest in your field and forget a sheaf in the field, you shall not go back to get it; it shall be left for the alien, the orphan, and the widow, so that the LORD your God may bless you in all your undertakings. 20 When you beat your olive trees, do not strip what is left; it shall be for the alien, the orphan, and the widow. 21 When you gather the grapes of your vineyard, do not glean what is left; it shall be for the alien, the orphan, and the widow. 22 Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt; therefore I am commanding you to do this.

You are not to be oppressors, said the Lord to Moses and the people, but you are to treat others as you were *not* treated when you were slaves in Egypt. Remember your heritage, said the Lord, and therefore care for the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the alien.

Can you see why passages like these have been echoing in my head in these last few months?

There is a difference between protecting yourself and taking vengeance, and Netanayhu and his allies have been confusing the former for the latter. Around 1200 were killed by Hamas last October and another 200 or so were taken hostage. In return, Israel has killed tens of thousands, leveled entire neighborhoods, forced hundreds of thousands to leave the rubble and seek new homes, and plunged the entire Gaza strip into hunger. Throughout the West Bank and often with explicit support of political leaders in Jerusalem, Israeli settlers have become more brazen in attacking their non-Jewish neighbors, taking their homes and land in violation of Israel’s own laws and international treaties to which Israel is a party.

There is a non-trivial segment of the Israeli political world that does not remember that they were slaves in the land of Egypt, and that the Lord does not want them to be slave-owners. The far-right in Israel, who claim that Israel should possess everything from the Jordan to the Mediterranean Sea, is particularly firm in demanding that non-Jews of all stripes have no rights and no place in this land, because this is the land God promised only to them. Slowly but surely, the rights of non-Jews in Israel have been circumscribed, limited, and even taken away, such that the South African-born Israeli journalist Benjamin Pogrund, a Jew, has begun describing Israel using a word he long opposed using: apartheid. As he wrote last August — before the Hamas attack:

Israel 2023, South Africa 1948. I’ve lived through it before: power grabbing, fascism and racism – the destruction of democracy. Israel is going where South Africa was 75 years ago. It’s like watching the replay of a horror movie.

In 1948, as a teenager in Cape Town, I followed the results of the 26 May election on a giant board on a newspaper building. The winner-takes-all electoral system produced distorted results: the Afrikaner Nationalist party, with its smaller partner, won 79 parliamentary seats against 74 for the United party and its smaller partner.

But the Nats, as they were called, in fact won only 37.7% of the vote against the opposition’s 49.2%. Although the opposition received more votes, the Nats said they had a majority and could do what they wanted.

In the Israel of 2023, I’m reliving some of these same experiences.

[snip]

We deny Palestinians any hope of freedom or normal lives. We believe our own propaganda that a few million people will meekly accept perpetual inferiority and oppression. The government is driving Israel deeper and deeper into inhuman, cruel behaviour beyond any defence. I don’t have to be religious to know that this is a shameful betrayal of Jewish morality and history.

What was it that the Lord said to Moses and the children of Israel? Oh, yes: “Remember that you were a slave in Egypt . . .”

Pogrund remembers, and his whole piece is worth reading. Sadly, the events of the last five months have made it even more true than the day it was written. I read his piece when it first appeared last August, but these words from near the end continue to echo in my head even today:

We are at the mercy of fascists and racists (both carefully chosen words) who cannot, and will not, stop.

I write about South Africa and Israel because I know both of them, 53 years in one and nearly 26 years in the other. Neither is unique. The same pattern of rightwing repression has happened in our time in Hungary and Poland, in Asia, Africa and Latin America, and earlier in Europe in the 1920s and 1930s.

I did not want to write this article. It was torn out of me, addressed to Israelis because the rightwing government is taking the country into institutionalised discrimination and racism. This is apartheid. South Africa under apartheid was straightforward: white v black. Israel is complex. The 21% Arab minority has the vote. Everyone pays the same national insurance and enjoys the same benefits – medical and social welfare. In hospital, I, a Jew, share a room with Arabs and we are cared for by the same Jewish and Arab doctors and nurses. Everything is open: beaches, park benches, movies, theatres, restaurants. The apartheid label is correct, but caution and thought are needed about comparisons.

In Israel, I am now witnessing the apartheid with which I grew up. Israel is giving a gift to its enemies in the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement and its allies, especially in South Africa, where denial of Israel’s existence is intense among many black people, in trade unions and communist and Muslim circles. BDS activists will continue to make their claims, out of ignorance and/or malevolence, spreading lies about Israel. They have long distorted what is already bad into grotesqueness, but will now claim vindication. Israel is giving them truth.

I didn’t want to write this post, either. But I look at and listen to the Jews who are protesting the actions of the Netanyahu government and their supporters, who sound more and more like the biblical prophets of old, calling the leaders of Israel to account. I look and I listen, and I could no longer remain silent. The complexity of Israel that Pogrund wrote about last summer is disappearing, faster and faster each day.

Because Bibi Netanyahu is the new king who did not know Moses.

______

Image h/t to Pastor Daniel Erlander, from his excellent book Manna and Mercy: A Brief History of God’s Unfolding Promise to Mend the Entire Universe.

 

 

The Christmas Story is a Very Political Story

/44 Comments/in , , /by

Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church, Bethlehem, West Bank

I know that title will irritate many, especially on the theological and political right, but don’t get angry with me. Get angry with Luke.

Luke’s story is built around contrasts, and those contrasts begin with the Roman Emperor Augustus. You don’t get more political than starting your story like this:

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered.

Luke introduces us to the Roman emperor, Augustus, and his governor in Syria, Quirinius, doing what emperors and governors do: issuing orders. Here, the orders are related to the chief function of emperors and governors everywhere: collecting money. “We need to know how many folks live where, so we know how much we can expect to raise in taxes, and how many soldiers and tax farmers we will need to send out to collect it.” So the imperial orders get issued, and the ordinary people do what they do when emperors and governors issue orders: they do what they are told.

Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

Enter Joseph and Mary, some of the countless ordinary folks to whom the orders were given. They do what they have been told, and head off to the ancestral home of Bethlehem, where they can’t find a place to stay and are forced to move into a stable. But this doesn’t matter to Augustus and Quirinius. All that matters to them is that their orders are carried out, regardless of the inconveniences or costs to the ordinary folks. All hail the power of the Senate and People of Rome!

And in that stable, Mary gives birth. Not in a hospital, not in their own home in Nazareth surrounded by family and friends, but in a stable surrounded by animals. To Mary and Joseph, what matters is the new life that has entered their lives under difficult circumstances. To Augustus and Quirinius, the only thing that matters is the count: add one more to the census for the newborn. More people, more taxes to collect.

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.

Then Luke brings more of the folks on the bottom of society into the story: the shepherds. And make no mistake: shepherds were definitely on the bottom. The simple fact that they were out in the field at night, tending their flocks, ought to tell you just how much on the bottom they were. Rain or clear, cold or hot, shepherds were out in the fields, tending their flocks. If you are a storyteller wanting to describe the extremes of power and privilege, emperors and governors are at one end of the spectrum, and shepherds are at the other.

So far, this is an ordinary tale of ordinary life in an empire. The folks on top have the power and the money and give the orders, and the folks on the bottom do what they are told.

But not tonight.

Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.

But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

Here, finally, is the real contrast that Luke has been building toward: Augustus and his minions on the one hand and God on the other, standing with shepherds and ordinary folks. The messengers of Augustus announce the census, issue the orders, and prepare for the tax collections to come. The messengers of God, on the other hand, announce the birth of a savior, the Messiah, the one whose birth signals a new age.

Note that the angels came to the shepherds, not to the emperor or the governor. The messengers of good news came to those on the margins of society and those at the bottom of the socio-economic ladder, proclaiming that all the power and wealth of the emperor is no match for the power and love of God. In their joy and excitement, the shepherds became angels—messengers of God—themselves, going to the stable where they told Mary and Joseph about what they had heard and seen.

Like I said, the Christmas story is a very political story.

+    +    +

Lots of families display a creche in their homes, showing the stable with its animals, the shepherds and their sheep, the wise men and their camels and gifts, and the holy family with the babe lying in the manger. These nativity scenes come in all shapes, sizes, and styles, from the realistic to the symbolic, from the pious to the kitschy. Many churches have their own nativity displays, and some go so far as to have a “living” nativity scene outdoors on the church lawn with members in costume.

The image at the top of this post is from Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church in Bethlehem – part of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Jordan and the Holy Land. (You can click on the picture to get a larger version.) NPR did a story this past week on the churches of Bethlehem and how the fighting in Gaza has changed this holiday season there. Toward the end of the piece is this:

A short walk from the Church of the Nativity is the Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church. There, the Rev. Munther Isaac and his congregation chose this year to make a statement about the killing of so many children in Gaza.

Using broken cement and paving stones, they placed the baby Jesus in the center of a pile of debris from a collapsed home, inspired by television images of children being pulled from the rubble, Issac says.

“I always say we need to de-romanticize Christmas,” he says. “In reality, it’s a story of a baby who was born in the most difficult circumstances and the Roman Empire under occupation, who survived the massacre of children himself when he was born. So the connection was natural to us.”

Issac says he’s surprised at the international interest that his church has received as a result of its display of baby Jesus amid the rubble.

Broken cement and paving stones, with the baby Jesus wrapped in a keffiyeh. Of all the creches I have seen, the one sitting to the side of the altar at Christmas Lutheran in Bethlehem tonight is by far the most powerful.

Peace to you, my friends, at this celebration of the birth of the Prince of Peace, and peace to those who work for peace — peace in our families, peace in our communities, and peace in our world.