Two Hours and 50 Minutes at a Checkpoint
Solidarity Delegation, Reflection #10
By, Rev. Marietta Macy
Two hours and 50 minutes. Tonight we waited, along with dozens of Palestinians, two hours and 50 minutes at an Israeli checkpoint inside the West Bank. INSIDE the West Bank. Between one Palestinian town and another. After spending the day in Nablus, our group was on our way back to Ramallah, the same way we had come that morning- when we were stopped in a long line of traffic leading up to an Israeli checkpoint. After waiting some time with absolutely no movement, a small scout group (5) of us volunteered to walk up to the checkpoint with our Palestinian host and see what “security protocol” was the hold up, to see how the Israeli soldiers were treating people and bear witness to this daily form of torture inflicted by Israeli apartheid.
It was not a short walk and as we passed other cars, we struck up conversation. We got some well wishes, some worried warnings, hope that the checkpoint would be opened for “the Americans.” As we got closer, one car shared news that there were some young teenage boys getting pulled from their cars and arrested by the soldiers so we talked less and continued walking, now thinking to be witnesses to their human rights being so brutally violated- knowing even if we got there it wouldn’t stop the soldiers.
When we got near the checkpoint we didn’t see any signs of the boys, so I’m not sure whether that happened and they’d been taken away or if it was just a rumor; either way it’s more likely than not (and I guarantee that happened somewhere else in occupied Palestine today). We followed the guidance of our Palestinian host who was with us. Protocol for approaching soldiers is generally to stop at some reasonable distance and wait to be called closer to talk to them, which was our intention. So we stopped a few hundred yards away and then only took an occasional step forward. Even in the dark the soldiers could see us in car headlights and took notice, coming out from behind their concrete bunker to both get a better look at us and show their weapons. I saw them call to the other soldiers on the checkpoint, speak into their radios, and within a couple minutes an armored personnel carrier showed up with at least four more even more heavily armed soldiers who got out to join the others.
As these soldiers took up positions at the checkpoint, one of them raised their rifle to look at us through their scope. Like some sick video game or war movie, as he drew up on us the red laser sight went up my body, across my white sweatshirt, and to my friend’s head right behind me- flashing on her glasses. They waved us, presumably away, but they were not clear and never gave real directions. I thought about how when I was last here in May an Israeli solider had committed suicide by checkpoint after serving her enlistment term in the West Bank, doing the same work as these soldiers. Who better to know all she had to do to guarantee a quick death was dress all in black and walk up to a checkpoint shouting, “Allah akbar” and as she planned her life was over. To be “safe” we backed away and slowly turned to head back toward the bus, sharing news and laments with the people in cars still waiting along the way.
After returning to the bus and sharing the story with the rest of the group, I needed some breathing room and stood outside the bus to take in the strange beauty of the waxing moon and stars shining since it was well dark by then. One Palestinian man who’d joyfully made it through the checkpoint the other way stopped to see if I was ok or if I needed help, even though he had been speeding (finally) toward home for the night. I struck up a conversation with the men in the van behind our bus and Omar, who sells fruits and vegetables, gifted me a box of strawberries and we enjoyed the chance to practice his English and my Arabic. Three ambulances passed us over the course of our time waiting; two were turned back from the checkpoint, all appeared to have patients in them or were on their way to answer a call because their lights were on.
Israel sells the West and Americans specifically, on the lie that checkpoints, permits, and walls are about security… they are not. They are about arbitrarily restricting movement and freedom for a particular group of people and they’re not even pretending like security is the case anymore. Not once in our time observing at the checkpoint did I see them check anyone’s ID. By the time our bus finally crossed through, they were waving everyone by; our bus could have been filled with anything or anyone and they didn’t care. The only reason for this whole delay for hundreds of people was so that during rush hour Israeli drivers on their way home from work wouldn’t have their roads clogged with Palestinian traffic; doing their best to erase the Palestinians in every way from the desired Israeli reality.
I don’t know who was closer to death tonight, us or the people who needed those ambulances, or the boys who may have been taken hostage by Israeli soldiers for no reason. Us or any Palestinian, any night, on any part of their own land, in their own homes, in their own beds. All I know is that my life isn’t worth any more than theirs and I despise living in a world that thinks it gets to decide that.
Rev. Marietta Macy
Rev. Marietta Macy (she/they) was first introduced to the subject of Palestine and Israel while serving as a Youth Advisory Delegate for the PC(USA) General Assembly in 2004 and has stayed connected ever since. She graduated from Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary in 2014 with her M.Div. and from 2013-2019 she served in various roles on the Steering Committee of the Israel/Palestine Mission Network of the PC(USA) including as Co-Moderator.
Having grown up on a farm in rural southern Indiana, she recognized a shared language of kinship with the land expressed by indigenous Palestinian farmers which has greatly shaped her theology of creation and our place in it. Serving as a Christian educator for most of her professional career with children, youth, and youth adults, she now serves as Associate Pastor of Christian Education at First Presbyterian Church in Charleston, West Virginia.
To get the chance to learn from Rev. Macy, join us for the Hosanna Preaching Project!