#fastforgaza
Morning Prayer for My Fast
Psalm 52
Why do you boast, O mighty one,
of mischief done against the godly?
All day long you are plotting destruction.
Your tongue is like a sharp razor,
you worker of treachery.
You love evil more than good,
and lying more than speaking the truth.
You love all words that devour,
O deceitful tongue.
But God will break you down forever;
he will snatch and tear you from your tent;
he will uproot you from the land of the living.
The righteous will see, and fear,
and will laugh at the evildoer, saying,
"See the one who would not take refuge in God,
but trusted in abundant riches,
and sought refuge in wealth."
But I am like a green olive tree
in the house of God.
I trust in the steadfast love of God
forever and ever.
I will thank you forever,
because of what you have done.
In the presence of the faithful
I will proclaim your name, for it is good.
Refuge of the refugee, Hiding place of the poor, Love eternal:
Let this fast be my silent cry for the hungry.
Let this fast be my humble turn toward solidarity and Christ.
Let this fast touch the heart of even one with decision-making power.
Let this fast be yours, that I might hunger and thirst for the justice you desire.
In the morning hour, I pray.
Amen and Ashe.
21 May 2025, Morning
Midday Prayer for My Fast
Psalm 143
Hear my prayer, O Lord;
give ear to my supplications in your faithfulness;
answer me in your righteousness.
Do not enter into judgment with your servant,
for no one living is righteous before you.
For the enemy has pursued me,
crushing my life to the ground,
making me sit in darkness like those long dead.
Therefore my spirit faints within me;
my heart within me is appalled.
Answer me quickly, O Lord;
my spirit fails.
Do not hide your face from me,
or I shall be like those who go down to the Pit.
Let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning,
for in you I put my trust.
Teach me the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul...
Guardian of the starving child, friend of the grieving mother:
Break open the hardened hearts, mine, theirs, ours:
Pry our fingers from every trigger,
Disable every drone and warplane,
And tear down the walls that keep food from your people.
Amen and Ashe.
21 May 2025, Midday
Eveing Prayer as the Fast is Broken
While I tired a bit as the day went along, there were activities and people keeping my spirit fresh and engaging my mind. At Wi'am, Diala and I sat together for a good hour, exchanging Arabic phrases for English ones, learning a bit about one another's families, a good start to a bit of tutoring for me. Later, Tarek and I set out, by bus, for the Tantur Center and their monthly Taize service at 6. Though Tantur itself (West Jerusalem) is just a mile or so from home (Bethlehem), the annexation wall stands between here and there, Palestinians cannot pass, so a 45 minute bus ride is necessary. Tarek could go, we thought, because he is Palestinian-American and has a passport and visa to confirm this.
Twenty minutes into the ride, we were stopped at the Israeli checkpoint on the high speed settler-only road. This was expected, but always odd. With a couple of dozen passengers, Tarek and I stepped off the bus and waited in line to have our papers examined by young Israeli soldiers (carrying, across their chests, the prerequisite gaudy machine guns). And while they would have let me continue to Jerusalem, Tarek was not permitted to reboard and complete the trip. According to these soldiers, and whatever sad system they enforce, a Palestinian-American (even though he has an American passport) can only enter "Israel" through a pedestrian checkpoint--and not through a bus checkpoint. Of course, the pedestrian checkpoint closes, these days, at 1 pm--so that wasn't an option for Tarek or for me today.
So--like so many others--we turned around, on foot, reverse-climbed the on-ramp in the direction of home, and waited for our ride. No Taize tonight. No Tantur tonight. And so it goes. Restrictions. Maddening delays. Families separated by walls. Pregnant women unable to get the care they deserve and need. Apartheid. What we experienced tonight was minor in the great scope of all this--but a reminder of what it is, how it works, and what it means to good people.
And then, Gaza. Projections of 14,000 children at risk of starvation in just the next couple of days. An international response that seems calculated only to assuage some of our guilt, but not to bring injustice to an end, or apartheid to its knees. God, have mercy.
As I break this first Wednesday fast tonight, I watch Zoughbi laughing with a mother and her young children, waiting in line for kebabs from a favorite stand. His laughter is genuine and true, there is a bright fire of joy in her eyes. And she seems to be enjoying the banter as much as a human being possibly can. Even her children, clinging to her dress, brighten and giggle along. The juxtapositions of daily news and daily life, suffering and kindness, are stunning. And all I can do is give thanks and suck in my tears. These people are full of life, beauty and compassion. They love their communities, their families, their traditions--with as much love as I've ever seen in a people. And they are being treated like criminals, animals even, and enemies of decency.
Spirit of the Living God, Christ of Compassion, Holy One:
Draw near to all who suffer tonight, in Gaza, in Palestine,
wherever they are and whoever they may be.
Touch their hearts with your eternal love,
which knows no beginning, no end.
And stir now in the hearts of the powerful and warlike,
burn through their anger and fear,
so that all that remains is mercy and love.
And with these, build the world a new.
Amen and Ashe.
21 May 2025, Evening