One year later. The wall still stands. The fear still prevails.

Exactly one year ago, I returned from an amazing, life-changing, perspective-broadening trip to the Holy Lands of Israel and Palestine. Together with members from Dumbarton United Methodist Church, this trip allowed me to trace the steps of the individuals most revered in shaping the Jewish and Muslim faiths, as well as my own Christian faith. Walking and praying in the churches and places commemorating where Jesus was born, where he performed miracles, and where he was crucified and buried provided me with a renewed spiritual and scriptural grounding of my faith. Equally formative were the discussions I was able to have with Palestinian Christians, who, despite the injustice and oppression they currently face in an Apartheid life under Israeli control, spoke not of their anger with God or those who oppressed them, but instead of their hope and faith in a loving God who will guide them in achieving peace in the region and also calls them to work towards justice between Israel and Palestine as well as within their own communities.

Many of the experiences I had, many of the confrontations I experienced and many of the sights I had seen I have been able to share with my family and my friends through anecdotal stories, through sharing pictures, and through simply joining conversations on the Israel-Palestine conflict within the past year.

In skimming through my journal recently, I came across one more story that I would now like to share. The following is my final journal entry from my time in Israel. This was written one year ago today as I sat alone at the gate of the Tel Aviv Airport reflecting on my last hours in Israel and in the Tel Aviv airport before boarding my plane to return to Germany:

"At first they didn’t ask where I had gone and I got a five – a pretty regular screening number at the airport (for a young female traveling alone. Out of a six-point numbering system, with six being the highest possible security level, I could possibly pose a threat.) Then, they found my Palestinian flag bracelet that I had purchased, and I was questioned by the shift supervisor – where had I been? How long had I stayed? Do I know anyone here in Israel? Where did I buy the bracelet? And Why?

I lied. I told them that I had purchased the bracelet in Bethlehem even though I had bought it in Hebron. (Hebron is a Palestinian city strongly divided and is seldom a tourist destination; if I had told them that the bracelet was purchased in Hebron, the security screening would have been even more intense than it already was.) When the supervisor asked why I had purchased this, the only response that I could think of was “I don’t know.” What was I supposed to say? That I support Palestinian independence? That I wanted to stand in solidarity with Palestinian Christians? That I recognize the 1948 agreements on the green zone? And the independence of Palestine?

Then I was a security level six with special gunpowder tests and a thorough and complete search of everything that I had with me, as well as a body scan. Once they stopped asking me all these questions, I was less angry. It was actually somewhat entertaining to watch them ponder what Elephant and Junior could be filled with and test their trunks before sending them through the scanner on a special ride.

When I was taken to my body scan and pat-down, the girl (she couldn’t have been any older than me) who took me was much nicer. And clearly the questions she asked me were to make conversation rather than to pose me as a threat to Israel. The woman being searched next to me talked on her phone about how she was being humiliated.

I did not feel humiliated. I felt their fear. But the more the female security guard talked to me, I could tell that she did not see me as a threat. I was cooperative and didn’t ask questions. I talked to her as I would anyone else – even when they made me pull my pants down to my knees because my jeans button kept beeping.

I did not feel humiliated. But I felt their fear and was glad to be screened for the Palestinians who go through such scrutiny and for the many Muslims and dark-skinned women and men who were also waiting for extra security screening, likely simply because of their religion, the color of their skin, or their nationality.

The security officers phrased this scrutiny, full search and private pat-down as a courtesy: “Now that we have already completed your body scan and baggage search, you don’t have to wait in line for check-in or security.” Wonderful. The security officer left me with my boarding pass and carry-on baggage and let me walk through passport control myself (Generally, with a security level 6, you are escorted to the passport control booth until you are stamped out of Israel).

Now I see the extent to which Israelis live in a constant state of fear – a state of fear that I would argue is unjustified nonetheless.

How can I turn my frustration and understanding of Israelis fear of Arabs and their fear of being oppressed into effective action to work towards justice and peace? How can I help Israelis and others in the United States become better educated about the reality of the system (in place in Israel and Palestine) and work to decrease the fear that these individuals and groups face everyday whether because of history, faith, race, or politics?

What can I do to fulfill my call to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God and with my fellow sisters and brothers in faith and love?”

One year after returning from this trip of renewing my connection with my global brothers and sisters in Christ, I continue to believe that God is at work peacefully molding Palestinians towards hope and faith amidst conflict and pain as well as moving Israelis from fear to faith and trust in God. This experience and these lingering questions renewed and continue to renew my call as a Christian, in the words of one tour guide, “to act and respond in the footsteps of Jesus – in the footsteps of justice.”