Into the Firing Zone

 I learned that my friend, Mark, died when I was in the South Hebron Hills of Palestine last week.  I was walking into Firing Zone 918 with a delegation from Christian Peacemaker Teams, into land that was taken by the military for training purposes, but was still the home of several thousand rural Palestinian farmers.

Mark’s friends called me in the firing zone, and told me that at his death he was surrounded by friends who loved and held him as he passed to the other side.

Mark was a theatre professor, and a brilliant man.  A few years ago, he directed a version of the play, “My Name is Rachel Corrie,” based on Corrie’s journals.  Rachel Corrie was a student and member of the International Solidarity Movement, a group that opposed the demolition of Palestinian homes in the West Bank and Gaza strip.  She put her body in front of a bulldozer, acting as a human shield against the destruction of a Palestinian home, and was killed.

After the tears of the news subsided, I lifted my head up and saw the beautiful desert landscape.  The hills of South Hebron were stunning, especially as the sun was setting.  The colors of the sky were transformed from blue to bright pink, orange and yellow.  The distant sun reflected off the rocks, and they sparkled.

All along the bumpy path of the firing zone were ebenezers, places where people had stacked rocks to show the way.  Some were regal and solitary, and others were short and seemed to multiply along the side of the path towards the tiny village of Al Fahkeet.

I saw these markers on the way, and thought of Mark’s journey toward shalom, towards wholeness and completeness after a long period of illness.  All was being made clear for Mark now, and he could rest at his journey’s end.

Our journey in life is a journey toward shalom–towards ultimate peace and wholeness.  And all along that journey we meet people that show us the way.  Sometimes they are landmark people–they are those big markers on our journey.  Sometimes they are among a group of people that leave smaller markers on the path.  But everyone we meet has the potential to change us.

So, it seemed appropriate (and perhaps a little funny) that I was walking through a military firing zone in the West Bank of Palestine, a place that Rachel Corrie loved, a place that Mark taught me about in his art.

The trip to the beautifully dangerous Firing Zone 918 has changed me.  And so has my friend Mark.  Both have told me of the good and terrifying things of life–the beauty of the landscape ahead, and the danger of violence and oppression.  So, what else could I do but place my own ebeneezer on the trail?  I left a vibrant bracelet in an olive tree, a colorful sign of hope for the next traveler on this rocky path that says, “You are not alone, friend.  You are going the right way.  Sometimes the hard way is the most illuminating.”