The stamp, issued by the Palestinian Authority, depicts two shepherds
tending their flock of gentle-faced, black-eared sheep, on a hillside.
There are palm trees silhouetted against a navy blue evening sky, in which
golden stars are beginning to appear. It is a peaceful scene.
But the contents of the letter are not peaceful. For the first time since
we have been corresponding, Daoud has lost his nerve. It amazes me that
it has not happened before.
‘We were under siege for days, the Israeli soldiers open fire everywhere,
some people died, others were injured, they shelled our houses and destroyed
many. They shot even our water tanks and pipes, and crushed cars. We were
hidden in the kitchen, and we got out only in a miracle.
‘Thanks God and our Lord Jesus Christ. We went to stay for 11 days
at Beit Sahour at the house of my wife’s sister. We thank Our Lord
to be alive.’
I met Daoud in September 1989 in the course of an unforgettable pilgrimage
to the Holy Land. In Bethlehem, after visiting the Church of the Nativity,
we went to the Canavati stores, to buy little figures for the crib, hand-carved
in olive wood. Daoud was one of the people serving us. I noticed him because
he walked with a lurching effort, dragging a crippled foot. He spoke very
good English with a strong Arab accent. We had a few minutes of conversation
as he wrapped our purchases in thin brown paper.
I sent a Christmas card that year. In February he replied, ‘God
with you, protect you and your family. Next time I invite you to visit
us, my wife Ibtisam, my son Fadi and my daughter Lina’. We’ve
been writing ever since.
The Gulf War created the first serious drought of tourists. Daoud wrote,
‘Every morning I am going to search for a job but no place to work
in because the War damaged everything. In God we trust and praying for
a peace to have a better life’. Eventually the tourists did come
back and during the nineties his letters were more optimistic.
Over the years he never missed sending a card at Easter and Christmas.
‘We never forget you, hoping to see you again one day in Jesus’
town Bethlehem, your friend and his family …’ I discovered that
they go to Mass at the Church of the Nativity in Manger Square, only three
minutes from their home. He was pleased to tell me that Fadi and Lina
were getting high marks at school.
Sometimes the letters contained beautiful little gilt-edged cards of the
Baby Jesus in the Holy Manger, decorated with the colourful dried petals
of flowers from the Holy Land. We exchanged news of our families. In mid-2000
he wrote with sympathy, ‘We were so sad about your father’s
death. We wish for him to be in Heaven. It is difficult for you now without
your lovely parents. Me and my wife have our parents still alive. They
are everything in our life, better than money and anything else’.
Daoud writes as though God was in the next room. Even at the worst of
times he says, ‘Thanks God for all our gifts’.
By Christmas 2000 ‘these hard and unsettled days’ had degenerated
severely. No tourists came. The streets were dangerous. ‘I staying
at home now and pray to my God one day to have our normal life and job
as before’. In the last few months of virtual warfare the letters
finish with ‘God help us’.
Daoud’s are not the only letters I receive from Israel. I also hear
from Esther and Gideon, old journalist friends in Jerusalem. I have stopped
asking them about the political situation. It seems so intractable, so
painful for all involved. I have sometimes thought of putting them in
touch with each other—my Jewish friends and my Arab Christian friends.
They live so near each other and both long for a peaceful land in which
to raise their children. But I know that, from this distance, I cannot
appreciate all the complexities of their long and terrible conflict. I
have asked them what I can do to help and they both say just remember
us and pray for us and pray for peace.
By the time we climbed back on the bus after our visit to Bethlehem,
all those years ago, we were unusually quiet, full of our wonderful day
in the little town where Jesus was born. It was early evening as we drove
the few miles back to Jerusalem and a single star rose in the cerulean
sky.
Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world. Have mercy on us; grant
us peace.
