Tent of Nations: Olive trees, bombs in the distance, and the most beautiful sunsets
by Becca Tyvoll
The subtitle of this blog is made up of a few phrases that capture my time at the Tent of Nations family farm in May and that are filled with intermingled emotions – hope, grief, wonder, sadness, and anger. Hovering over them all is a transcendent peace that speaks to the legacy of Bishara, the family’s grandfather, whose vision for shalom on the farm felt tangible in our spirits.
I think of the will of God as expansive, like a blanket covering the whole earth, the entirety of our lives… it’s almost inescapable, like a rain cloud ready to burst above us. If we carry on our daily lives, we will undoubtedly be found by it, as long as we are attentive.
I received a WhatsApp message from Daoud Nassar on Palestinian Land Day, Saturday, March 30 (which also happened to be Holy Saturday, the day before Easter) that read, “On land day, we continue to work the land and focus on my father’s dream.” I felt the Holy Spirit tugging at my heart as I read the message and saw the picture he sent of himself and his brother tending to the land… what was God inviting me into?
Daoud and his brother Daher own the Tent of Nations farm that sits on a hilltop outside Bethlehem and is surrounded by five Israeli settlements. The settlement bloc seeks to expel the family from the land so that another settlement can be built there. The Nassars have been fighting a legal battle within the Israeli legal system for 34 years to re-register the land in their name, and they have an upcoming hearing on July 2 in the Israeli Supreme Court (hearings have often been cancelled at the last minute, delayed, paperwork ‘lost,’ etc.).
The Nassar family lives out the difficult path of nonviolent resistance to injustice – pursuing justice through radically remaining on and cultivating the land that has belonged to their family for over 100 years.
This farm and the people living on it have faced an existential threat for decades, and with the current war, this threat is greater than ever. Since October 7th, there’s been an increase in settler attacks on the farm and a visceral sense that full annexation of the land could take place at any moment while all eyes are fixed on the horrors in Gaza.
Less than a month after receiving Daoud’s message, I found myself sitting with him and his wife Jihan in the offices of my Virginia Senators, asking for their support to protect the farm. Then a few weeks later, our small but mighty group from Peace Catalyst International joined others on the farm after attending the Christ at the Checkpoint conference.
There was something so powerful about sharing the experience on the farm with others who came at the same time we did – a group of seminary students from New York, along with members from a local church community in the U.S. Midwest. To see others who placed the same value on coming to the farm at this time and in this way, to also devote themselves and their resources to being in solidarity with the Nassar family, felt so affirming. It felt as though our individual and collective presence on the farm had been divinely orchestrated – to have the conversations we had, to learn each other’s stories as we did, and to share in something so meaningful that created a sense of fellowship as almost nothing else can. It made me reflect on the true essence of mission – to come together across all different backgrounds and work together for a common vision or purpose.
The low, thunder-like booms in the distance were at times accompanied by shaking of the mountain, rattling our metal ‘tents.’ I imagined the shaking was caused by ‘bunker-busting’ bombs, the 2,000-pound bombs paid for by my U.S. tax dollars. It gave us the visceral realization that the Netanyahu government is not only killing people in Gaza, they are also destroying the land itself. This made our small contribution to our Palestinian friends who steward and cultivate this land feel all the more meaningful.
Watering baby olive trees was life-giving and gave us a deeper sense of the long-suffering of those who remain in the land, a forbearance that is so intertwined with planting, tending, and harvesting. These baby olive trees were planted after an entire orchard of them had been burned by an attack from neighbors. It reminded me that resilience is not a cheap word for those who have no other choice but to suffer, but rather a commitment beyond ourselves that connects us with everything else in creation whose fate is at the mercy of those with ‘power.’ It’s a commitment to replant and rebuild again and again and again, even in the face of horrific violence… as long as those who suffer are here, there remains a choice to continue cultivating, living, and resisting in hope. It’s also a reminder of the paradigm shift that Jesus provides regarding power. Our time on the farm helped me reflect further on this new paradigm – what is power and where does it come from? Jesus blessed the meek, and His ministry affirmed the true power of continuing in faith, even and especially in the face of harm and destruction.
As I think about what true power is in this context, I wonder, is it the towering settlements that overlook the farm, or is it the Nassar brothers tilling the same soil tilled by their great-grandfather over 100 years ago? Is it watchtowers and security fences, or is it a tractor and a chicken coup? Is it an expensive modern home, or is it a cave that’s been host to countless songs of worship and hope among a hundred-thousand visitors? Is it an endless water supply that’s been siphoned away from neighbors, or is it rainwater carefully collected and preserved for use over time? I’m inclined to see power in a whole new light after just 5 days on the farm.
This realization about the nature of true power doesn’t take away from the need for our solidarity and advocacy, but it further illuminates what we are protecting – it’s not only the protection of one family’s farm, it’s the protection of so much more. The Nassar family represents countless Palestinian families whose homes and land have been taken from under them with little or no warning, without law, and without justifiable reason; and those whose homes are now at great risk of being taken at any moment. Though this threat existed long before October 7, it is greater than ever as the horrors of genocidal violence continue in Gaza. It’s also about protecting a way of life that affirms faithful nonviolent resistance to injustice.
What can we do?
Scroll down to the bottom of this page or go to The Telos Group for action steps you can take to help the farm.
In conjunction with direct advocacy, the greatest need is for more people to go and stay on the farm for two weeks or longer to provide a protective presence. You can learn more about volunteering on the farm here.
This blog was originally posted at https://sunrisesinpalestine.wordpress.com/2024/06/20/tent-of-nations-watering-olive-trees-bombs-in-the-distance-and-the-most-beautiful-sunsets/
