Second Sunday of Advent: An Advent Journey of Courage
December 8, 2024
Malachi 3:1-4 Luke 1:68-79 Philippians 1:3-11 Luke 3:1-6
May the way of peace guide our path during this Advent Season.
And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give his people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins. Because of the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to shine upon those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. (Luke 1:76-79)
Changing Perspectives Takes Courage
Christopher Huth
In 2015, I moved back to Lebanon. It had been nine years since I had last seen the country when my family and I were driving with our belongings packed up between us from Beirut to Berlin. We had moved away toward the end of the 2006 War, and Israel had bombed the only commercial airport in the country. I was six years old and did not know what was going on. All I knew was to stay away from windows, hide under tables when told, and that I couldn’t go out to see my friends. It was under these circumstances that I left the country in which I formed some of my earliest memories.
In those nine years I was gone, I moved back and forth between two Western diplomatic outposts for my father’s work, Berlin and New York City. My understanding of the world was shaped extensively during this time, especially as my obsession for history was taking over, and I started asking more complex questions about the state of the world. It seemed that everywhere I turned, the United States and its Western allies were saving the world from the dark forces that seek to destroy, exploit, and violate human rights and dignity. This was the time under President Obama, a time when Bin Laden had successfully been brought to justice, the United States sought to end its military operations in Iraq, and the Taliban was on its back foot. I was inspired and wanted to make a difference in the world, a positive difference that would have direct consequences on the ground. I thought, what better way than to join the United States Army?
I was 15 years old when I moved back. My father had received a new post and once again, I found myself in the Middle East. I attended the American Community School, which offered an international high school curriculum. That semester we studied history from the First World War until the Second Iraq War in 2003 from a fairly Eurocentric perspective. My classmates, however, were far from Eurocentric. As Lebanese, they had seen the chaos, destabilization, illegal invasion, misuse, and disregard for international law Western powers had brought to the Arab world. Nowhere was this more clear to them than in the continued occupation of their southern neighbor’s land, Palestine.
Yet I was still ignorant. In debates about the Vietnam, Afghan, and Iraq Wars, as well as any other number of bloody conflicts in which the U.S. was involved, I staunchly defended America. America was fighting the communists, the dictators, the terrorists; they had to be fought, and we were doing the whole world a favor by doing so. As you can imagine, my sentiments were quite unpopular among my classmates. I acknowledged some of the atrocities committed but excused them by saying that no state or military is perfect and that the intention behind the involvement in the conflict was always a good one.
Yet there were some glaring signs I could not ignore. Every time I drove through the beautiful country to enjoy its relaxing beaches, towering mountains, or rich history, I would drive past Palestinian refugee camps. Camps filled with tens of thousands of people who had been pushed off their land at gunpoint and never allowed to return to their homes. Camps of people who had lived there for over 70 years and who still owned the keys to their front doors in which foreigners now lived. Camps that simply would not exist without U.S. complicity in Israel’s project of ethnic cleansing.
And so I started to learn. I learned about the Nakba, the forced displacement of more than 750,000 Palestinians from their homes in 1948, I learned about the Naksa, where over 200,000 Palestinians were pushed from their homes in 1967, I learned about 1982 when the Israeli invasion of Lebanon killed tens of thousands of people, I learned about 2006—the very war which I had experienced as a child. I learned and learned about Palestine, about Iraq, about Yemen, about a seemingly never-ending list where the West and its allies were committing atrocity after atrocity… and so I changed.
I graduated high school in Lebanon in 2017 and, the following year, moved back to New York City to start college. I re-founded the Students for Justice in Palestine chapter on my campus with a Palestinian classmate, a club that has now grown to one of the biggest on campus. I have long given up on my dreams of entering the U.S. Armed Services, and instead, have achieved a Master’s in International Peace and Conflict Resolution. After October 7th, in light of the inaction from our university, one of my Jewish classmates and I organized group dialogue sessions open to anybody to come together as a community and talk about the situation in the Middle East. Upon graduating, I was blessed with a job offering at Churches for Middle East Peace, doing the work I was always eager to do. Today I find myself here, working on ending the very atrocities I may have been defending a decade ago.
Christopher Huth is the new Project Coordinator for the Executive Director and Communications Coordinator at the CMEP Office in DC. He pursued a double major in Political Science and History at Brooklyn College. While there Christopher joined many social justice groups particularly concerned with Armenian and Middle Eastern issues. In 2022 he moved to Washington DC to pursue a Master’s in “International Peace and Conflict Resolution” from the School of International Service at American University. During his studies, he interned with the Institute of World Affairs where he helped implement a conflict resolution and violence prevention program before ultimately graduating and joining CMEP.
Response by Tiana Coleman
Holding tightly to an idea is easy to do. Sometimes we can go to great lengths to defend
our beliefs, even if we are presented with contrary evidence. I have a friend who would often quietly listen to me as I stated my thoughts with such certainty. And then, when she did
respond, she spoke gently but directly by asking me questions, presenting a different way of looking at the situation, or helping me to understand what the other person might be experiencing. Proximity coupled with humility enables us to be a part of someone’s lived reality.
As we move closer in proximity to others, we are able to be present to their perspective and their pain. For each of us, this can be the beginning of our transformation and movement toward solidarity.
In Luke 1:76, Zecharias prophesied these words over his son, acknowledging his son’s
role in preparing the way for Christ:
“And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him.”
Verse 79 continues with John’s role as a preparer, and one who leads us toward peace:
“to shine on those living in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.”
In this season, we are invited to enter in and let our minds and hearts be moved by the brokenness we see all around us. It is no small task. Yet, the way toward peace requires that our feet be guided. And that our words and actions follow.
Tiana Coleman is a pastor in Uptown Chicago, a student at North Park Theological Seminary (NPTS), a wife, and a mother of two wonderful teenagers. Tiana is also deeply committed to justice and reconciliation.