Meet the Palestinians Who Went Off the Grid to Keep Their Homes

THE ROAD WAS bumpy—full of deep holes and harrowing possibilities for slippage down a roadside slope. My heart raced as I considered the possible headline back home: Bus tumbles down Israeli slope—50 Americans killed by Palestinians. Yes, that would likely be the headline, but it wouldn’t tell the story.

As our bus rolled through this stretch southwest of Bethlehem, my heart raced as Amal Nassar explained that the area had been declared property of the Israeli state decades ago. Since then, Israel built smooth roads, but we weren’t allowed on them. To the right of our bouncing bus was an adjacent highway reserved for Israelis—Palestinians are restricted from driving on these Israeli highways, relegated to the old dirt roads.

Our bus wound around sharp corners, up a hill until it came to a stop. There didn’t seem to be any building structures in sight so I wondered why we’d stopped. Nassar explained that the Israeli government had set large boulders in the middle of the road to block traffic from reaching her family’s farm, so we would have to hike the rest of the way.

We stepped off the bus and onto a dirt road strewn with rocks and trash—old tires, plastic bags, plastic bottles. When the Israeli government claimed the land, it ceased basic services such as trash pick-up, electricity, and running water to Palestinians in the area. It was an effort to make life so difficult that the Palestinians would choose to leave—in modern human rights terms, the world calls this ethnic cleansing. Nassar explained that many families have chosen to leave. Once they are gone for three years, the Israeli government claims that their property has been abandoned and that the state then has legal grounds to claim the power of eminent domain over the land.

AMAL NASSAR IS co-owner of Daher’s Vineyard, a farm that has been legally owned by her family for 100 years—since 1916. The land was claimed by the Israeli government in 1991 and has been tied up in court proceedings ever since, according to the farm’s website.

Since then, the Nassar family has transformed its family farm into the Tent of Nations, a place of multiethnic and interfaith dialogue, work, and learning. The Tent of Nations is also a place of creative nonviolent resistance to unjust state encroachment on Palestinian land.

As we came closer to the farm entrance, there was no more trash, and we began to see rocks with messages painted on them. The first one read: “We refuse to be enemies.”

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We walked further up the path and approached the main house, which sits atop a hill overlooking massive Israeli settlements on all sides. The house is a humble dwelling—simple and rustic. A black water storage container crowns the roof. A cable floats from the roof of the house to the roof of another building that holds massive solar panels. The Tent of Nations is resisting removal by living 100 percent off the grid. When the government shut off electricity, the family installed solar power. When the government shut off running water, the family installed compost toilets to produce bio gas. Using plastic bags picked up from the roads to their farm, the women weave baskets and sell them.

Amal’s brother, Robert, guided our group into a cave. This is the place where his family used to live. It was the home of his father, and his father’s father before him. Now this cave has been transformed into a place of dialogue toward common understanding.

Robert said that there are four choices for how his family can deal with the systematic oppression they face from the Israeli government: 1) violence, 2) being resigned to victimhood, 3) running away (it’s mainly Christians and educated Palestinians who have this option), and 4) refusing to fight and refusing to hate—acting differently because of their belief in the Son of Justice.

I boarded the bus overwhelmed by what I had witnessed. This humble family is living it. They are living what we preach and write about all the time. They are living the good news of the gospel. We do not have to be enemies. Reconciliation is possible. Resistance to violence against other and self is possible.