Friends,

It was a traditional Christmas Day for the Palestinian town of Beit Sahour, just 5 kilometers south of Jerusalem, which held its annual ecumenical Procession for Peace through the streets together with many Israeli peace activists. The Israeli-Palestinian organization Rapprochement, as usual, deserves credit for organizing it.

Many of us have attended this march since the Intifada years, when the Beit Sahour residents, in a mass act of civil resistance to the Israeli occupation, refused to pay taxes to the Israeli government, which responded by confiscating cars, furniture, and valuables from their homes. The procession took on a new and optimistic spirit several years ago when the Oslo Accords granted Beit Sahour semi-autonomy together with the nearby city of Bethlehem, and Palestinian police for the first time showed up to "secure" the marchers. I remember my own mixed feelings at seeing these first Palestinian soldiers - a complex symbol of incipient sovereignty and force of arms. But discouragement grew in the following years as the peace process has been run into the ground by Israel's right-wing government capitulating to extremists.

It was not surprising, then, that this year's procession was held under the banner "A State of Palestine: By Right, not Grace". And - in reflection of this troubled process - it was also not surprising that when so many things went wrong as the march commenced, the metaphor was so obvious, it was painful.

First, 3 huge bunches of helium-filled balloons were released into the air. Two soared toward heaven, or at least toward Bethlehem, while the third caught on a telephone wire and spun swiftly around in circles, caught forever in the time warp of no progress.

Then the doves refused to take flight. Imprisoned in a big box labeled "The Israeli Occupation", the box was carried through the crowd on the shoulders of several young men from town. At the given moment, a contingent of Palestinian and Israeli dignitaries bashed in the box, and the resultant breach was expected to look like the window to freedom for the dozen terrified doves inside. They refused to leave. The dignitaries bashed the opposite end of the box, banged on the bottom, clobbered the closed sides, but to no avail. The doves stayed put. Finally, one enterprising young man reached in, grabbed a dove, and threw it into the air, to the applause of many, but the displeasure of the elders who stayed his hand from a further disruption of due process. "By right, not grace!", as the men forced open the top and eleven pure white doves finally soared into history.

And the torches refused to catch fire. In what has always been one of the most beautiful moments of the procession, one torch is lit, and then the fire passed from torch to torch, Muslim lighting from Christian, Jew from Muslim, and back and forth among the crowd - young, old, men, women - in an inspired ritual of connection and solidarity. This year, half the torches failed to ignite. Perhaps the significance of the moment was our united effort? But even half the torches cast sufficient light for the march to proceed.

Beit Sahour children in dress uniform of the Palestinian scouts movement beat their drums to lead the group from Shepherd's Field toward town. Beside me, my friend Edy said that when the Israeli scouts someday join this procession, we will know that peace has arrived. We walked in pace to the smart drumming, Palestinians and Israelis mingled, chatting with each other, torches lit and unlit, through the town and into the large yard of the Greek Catholic church school.

"Only one speech this year", we were told, as the Lutheran School choir replaced the gallery of speakers with a medley of Arabic songs. And then the skies opened and rain poured down, ordinarily a welcome relief during a terrible drought that has harmed Palestinian and Israeli alike, but we all wished it would have waited another couple hours as we pulled hoods and umbrellas over our heads. But the choir sang on, and within five minutes the rain had ended, and one Palestinian (whose name was not announced) began to speak. "We welcome all our friends," he said, and then warmed up the politics. He praised Clinton for "understanding the plight of the Palestinian children" and then blamed him for pouring destruction on Iraqi children. He called for a release of all Palestinian political prisoners in Israel. And he called for establishment of the Palestinian state by right, not grace, with East Jerusalem as its capital. This, of course, is Mideast code for two states, side by side, with Jerusalem the capital shared by both. Warm applause all around.

By then, some of us had found a ledge to sit on, and the choir launched into a rousing rendition of carols in Arabic which we enthusiastically joined in, arms around each other, and then applauded the school bagpipe band in its wailing Jingle Bells as it marched across the schoolyard. The hot coffee and baklava that followed could not have made it any sweeter.

We know that the metaphor does end well, however. That night, very very late, it rained properly.

Peace on earth to everyone.

Gila