July 13, 2009

Ten days ago many in the United States enjoyed a long holiday weekend in commemoration of the U.S. Independence Day that marks the adoption in 1776 of the Declaration of Independence from Great Britain. U.S. citizens living outside the country tend to either forget this commemoration as just another day, or use it as an excuse to have a day off from work. Because July 4 fell on a Saturday this year, those who chose to took a day off during the week instead.

I had been invited to the July 4 party at the U.S. ambassador’s house in Herzilya Petuah, a posh suburb north of Tel Aviv. The party was on Wednesday, July 1, instead of Saturday.

This event involves maneuvering through several layers of tight security: U.S. Marines armed with automatic weapons patrol the roof of the house, metal detectors and ticket scanning. There was also a parking problem that spanned several blocks in this elite, private community.

Once inside the house you are greeted by life-size portraits of people in Israel’s history: Golda Meir, Menachem Begin, even Theodore Hertzl — not very “American” in my view.

After passing through the house to the back balcony with a magnificent view of the Mediterranean Sea, which is just a stone’s throw away, you are directed to the pool-side garden. There, a different kind of sea ebbs and flows: a sea of humanity.

From the balcony it is easy to identify colorful food stalls in various corners of the huge garden: McDonald’s, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Starbuck’s, Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream, Famous Amos Cookies, and many other “classic” products of U.S. consumerism. There are also beverage stands featuring U.S. wines and beers, and the ever-present Coca Cola.

This is a see-and-be-seen event in many foreign nationals’ social calendar.

Those who arrive early enough may be able to work their way over to a table to get a paper plate filled with something to eat. This is a see-and-be-seen event in many foreign nationals’ social calendar. Those of us not on the A-list are likely to end up getting shoved to the nether regions, where we spend our time looking for the first opportunity to make our escape.

After dark, which doesn’t happen along the coast until around 9 p.m., the U.S. Marine Band begins to play traditional U.S. marching band tunes by John Philip Sousa. The music ends with “Amazing Grace” played on the bagpipes. This is a musical reminder that the majority of “Americans” are actually from somewhere else.

I did not attend the ambassador’s party this year, nor did I attend the U.S. consulate’s party in Jerusalem, which I have most years past. Actually, I forgot it was July 4.

Instead of celebrating our hard-won independence as a “citizen of the United States” — we are careful when we say “American” here because it prompts the questions: “Which part of America are you from? Canada? Honduras? Brazil?” — I was trying to get my Internet connection working. It had been down for several days.

Multiple calls to the phone company merely led to the frustration of computerized menus in Hebrew, Arabic and Russian. Literally hours of punching in numbers, only to be redirected time and again to the initial menu options, yielded only more frustration along with the knowledge, of course, that I had been able to memorize the entire menu in three languages, none of which was English. This was not a good way to be reminded that it was the Fourth of July.

During the call our conversation was punctuated suddenly by the sound of explosions.

It was not until Sunday evening, July 5, during my weekly computerized conference call with my children in the United States that I was reminded of Independence Day. During the call our conversation was punctuated suddenly by the sound of explosions echoing through my open balcony doors.

My daughter is a veteran of the U.S. Army Military Police. She is experienced in a variety of weapons, including winning some kind of award in “Bazooka Operations.” I find this extremely humorous because she’s just a wee thing. Having lived with me in Bethlehem and experienced first-hand the tear gas and nightly gun battles, she is well-aware of the potential dangers here. She immediately got concerned and asked what the explosions were.

Those of us who have lived through the “bad times” here, and then the “really bad times,” followed by this tenuous respite have ears attuned to the telltale sounds that help identify not only types of explosions or gunfire, but their direction as well. Israeli guns are modern and up-to-date. They sound like the soprano section of a choir. Palestinian weapons are antique leftovers from the British Mandate era or have been acquired illegally through the black market. They resonate with the sound of age in bass and baritone. Fireworks are easily distinguished because they usually give off a fizzle sound after the initial explosion.

I assured my daughter that she was hearing fireworks.

With the sound of fireworks and reminders of our U.S. forefathers’ fighting and dying for their freedom, it was not much of a stretch before beginning to contemplate when the Palestinians will be able to celebrate those same freedoms. They have lived for too many years under the oppressive hand of the government of Israel, which celebrates its own “independence” every May.

They have lived for too many years under the oppressive hand of the government of Israel.

For me, though, the Israel independence day evokes visions of slaughter and destruction, of forced marches and imprisonment. The U.S. Independence Day evokes thoughts of “freedom fighters” and “patriots.” Why are these terms only appropriate when referring to the U.S.’s own bloody history? Why don’t we refer to Palestinians fighting for the same rights as “freedom fighters” and “patriots,” instead of as “terrorists” and “extremists”?

”Independence Day” only helps to remind me that for every country that declares its independence, an indigenous population has invariably been forced to become victims through loss of their own independence and freedoms. Our U.S. history stands as an example of this injustice regarding Native Americans.

July 4, 2009, is history. Another year has passed without any hope for freedom for the people of Gaza, or the people who still live in refugee camps, or the people who can no longer visit their families because they live on the other side of the Separation Wall. Let us all pray that the new U.S. administration, the protestations of the international community against illegal settlements and war crimes, the pressure from the “outside,” will combine to bring the change needed so that next year we will truly be able to celebrate Independence Day: independence from oppression in all forms.

Janet Lahr Lewis

Janet Lahr Lewis is a missionary with the General Board of Global Ministries (GBGM) of The United Methodist Church. She serves as liaison between ecumenical groups and Israel and Palestine. She circulates updates about developments in the ongoing crisis and suggests courses of action people can take to address it. She educates visitors about the realities of the situation, organizes conferences, develops media campaigns, offers worship opportunities, hosts delegations to the area and oversees other special events.

Lewis is the main contact for Volunteers in Mission teams and United Methodists who wish to follow the recommendation of the denomination’s General Conference to spend a significant amount of time in the area with local Christians, acting to make those connections with United Methodist partner organizations and General Advance Projects.

A native of Cleveland, Ohio, Lewis can be reached via e-mail at Janet Lahr Lewis.

You can make an online donation to support her as a missionary of The United Methodist Church at Janet Lahr Lewis. Her Advance number is 14183Z.

More information about Lewis is available on GBGM’s Web site under Missionary Biographies.