“Do you see me?” he asked.
He shared a brief glimpse into life as a Palestinian Christian living in the West Bank – the hardships of military rule, the reality of water rations, the acceptance of violence as the norm. He broke down and cried, as he told us of his mother dying of cancer in a hospital bed that he was unable to visit for political reasons. He bravely told us – a room of Americans – the pain he feels as an Arab, being automatically assumed to be an enemy. The pain he feels as a Christian, living in a predominantly Muslim area, of being pre-judged on a daily basis. The pain of a people group – and of a world – glancing your way yet quickly looking away …for they think they know you and your story, they presume the ugliness of your world might be too much for them to bear. The pain of not being seen. Read More