Hear in the Holy Land | Bethlehem | II
Meet Walter, the Nonviolent Peace Activist from…Vancouver!
My trip has been fantastic, and I’ll be looking back with great pleasure on all the nuances of human connection I’ve experienced for a long time after I get home. I’ve been travelling alone, and while the lack of travelling companionship along the road has had its challenges emotionally and logistically, for the most part I’ve had plenty of really meaningful encounters with people of all sorts—AirBnB hosts, hostel staff, other hostel guests, restaurant and shop owners, super-friendly cabbies, fellow transit-riders, random people on the street, baristas, priests… and so on and so forth.
In short, this trip has really come to life thanks to the people along the journey. They have been my travelling mercies—both as sources of comfort and as signposts in a strange land.
But…
As the countless exotic and wonderful conversations have passed by, I really haven’t been able to help but want for some familiarity—and going to some Westernized restaurant for more recognizable fare just can’t be expected to satiate the desire (I was tempted to go to a McDonald’s in Tiberias once. The temptation was short-lived).
So when I met Walter Brynjolfson, a Trinity Western grad who grew up in Langley, I felt something from deep within me exhale out a long sigh of relief.
Walter has been living in Bethlehem for about a year now, and, despite his skin complexion and limited Arabic (though personally I was pretty impressed), it seems like he’s already made himself part of the woodwork here. He knows so many of the locals walking along the streets it’s staggering, and his confident level of social engagement with the community is rather surprising.
More to the point of this write-up: Walter is enrolled in a graduate-level peace studies program at Bethlehem Bible College, and his propensity for incarnating theory into practice is truly admirable.
Protest Art, for Instance…
When I first met Walter, I was down by the separation wall, looking at the various pieces of art that had been sprayed onto its bland, grey canvas. As I wandered along the wall, I ran into an excited group of people who were lugging around big paint rollers and awkward lengths of cardboard. One of them had a shiny, professional-looking video camera complete with one of those cool fuzzy microphones that look like Cousin It. So I stopped at a distance to observe. Then I noticed a familiar face.
At this point, I should note that several people back home had made a very similar recommendation to me for my time in Bethlehem; they all said something like, “You should connect with Walter Brynjolfson!” Someone had passed me his contact details, so I reached out while still in Vancouver. We connected briefly on Facebook, and made plans to get together when I got to Bethlehem.
And here he was, materializing in front of me as a member of this little gang of graffiti-artists, wielding a can of spray-paint like some rebel-without-a-cause. Except he definitely did have a cause.
Some of you may recall that in May 2014 Pope Francis visited Bethlehem, and that during this visit he asked the driver to make an unexpected stop as they passed by the wall. He walked up to the wall, put his hand on it, and spent a moment in prayer—you can read about his trip here if you’re interested.
The image of the Pope praying at the wall, only to later urge all believers to pray for peace and justice during a speech at Manger’s Square became a moving media sensation—and it was also a much-needed boost of encouragement for the dwindling Christian community in Palestine.
How is this relevant to Walter? Well, when I first met him he and his comrades were preparing to preserve the memory of the Pope’s wall-side prayer by spray-painting a stencil of him in the exact spot he prayed two years ago (the stencil also happened to be designed by my friend Jenny, another Vancouverite).
They had already tried to do this once, earlier in the day, but an Israeli soldier atop one of the watchtowers threw a stun grenade at them mid-spray, causing them to scatter. Oddly enough, I passed by this part of the wall in the window of time between their efforts, noticed a partially drawn image, and took a photo (see the before/after below).
Upon recognizing Walter in the fray, I got his attention and introduced myself; his eyes lit up with recognition: “Corey!” he exclaimed loudly, spread his arms wide, and gave me a huge hug.
I could have died in those arms.
Okay, that’s maybe too excessive and intimate an expression for the occasion, but still—to hear my name called out enthusiastically from a Vancouver accent, to sense that there was someone before me who grew up on common ground (literally), and to receive his immediate brotherly love: well, after two long weeks of foreign unfamiliarity and continual newness, it felt pretty darn great. Another moment of human encounter I shan’t soon forget.
But back to the story…
Walter and his crew were about to go back to finish what they started, knowing full well that they might get hit by another flash-bang—or worse, tear gas or rubber bullets: such ammunition is not uncommonly spent around here. But first, Walter got everyone’s attention and reminded them that, though they were protesting the wall in a technically illegal way, they were going to continue to protest in a Christ-like way—not with hatred but with attitudes of love, not with aggression but with nonviolence. He exhorted the team to act with resilience, and to strive to finish the job even if they were assailed with further deterrents.
Then Walter invited me to join in. Because I really had no idea what I would be getting myself into (I pieced a lot of this together after it all went down), I respectfully declined; electing instead to follow along at a distance, I watched as they walked courageously back up to the unfinished project.
I watched as they all walked calmly up to the wall and finished their work. I was a bit worried for their safety—but nothing happened. They finished and walked away unmolested.
The videographer, it turns out, worked for the Associated Press. While the piece wasn’t purchased by any media outlets in the end, they still released this story on YouTube just a few days ago:
Peace Parcels
Watching that video, you might be thinking, “Hey, why do I recognize that white guy who was talking at the end?” Well, it could be because you know Walter personally (Occam’s Razor kicking in here). But it could also be because you saw another video the Associated Press put together for one of his other peace-building projects—one that was purchased by the news media outlet AJ+. This one was released last November and it went viral. Check it out:
I had the opportunity, alongside a few other Western visitors, to help Walter keep going with this project; he had collected a bunch of tear gas canisters that needed a thorough cleaning before any Christmas ribbons could be tied through them. So we grabbed some steel wool and got our hands dirty for an evening.
It was grubby but satisfying work, and by the end of the work session, we had added a good deal to Walter’s stock.
Resistance to Resistance
The work Walter is doing has his complete investment—mentally, spiritually, and emotionally. It’s plain to see that he has fallen right in love with Bethlehem and the Palestinian people; he so desires to see peace and justice reach the conflict here.
His participation in the long, slow work toward this end is not without its obstacles, though. There’s always the risk of coming under the scrutiny of Israel’s political watchdogs—and it’s quite possible that, thanks to his viral video above, Walter has already come to their attention. What this means for his future ability to live and study in Palestine is unclear at this point, but Walter may well be endangering it by pursuing his studies at a public and practicing level.
But more difficult than this for Walter is the local resistance— small but nonetheless still existent—to his work; some of the locals here don’t like Walter’s methods of raising awareness, and I’ve personally seen them voice their complaints openly to him. This is somewhat understandable, given Walter is working with the emptied cartridges of a type of ammunition that has come to symbolize oppression and injustice in the eyes of the Palestinian people—many of whom have seen and experienced its effects firsthand. Of course, he’s not marketing his ornaments to the local public—that would be a painful exercise in preaching to the choir.
My feeling, though, is that Walter is encountering a form of ethnic prejudice all his own, however understandable it may be. Locals can see clearly that Walter is not from Bethlehem, and that he has not grown up experiencing the realities; most of them see past this and realize the importance of what he is doing, but some of them don’t—they view him as an upstart Western social entrepreneur who is trying to make money off their suffering. In short, they don’t yet trust him. Yet.
I think that, as Walter continues to learn Arabic, as he continues to live alongside the Palestinians of Bethlehem, and as he keeps sticking his neck out with them (note that he’s already encountered the public distaste of some Zionists who have learned of his ornament project), they will continue more and more to see his deep love for them, and he’ll win over the few nay-sayers he’s encountered.
I’m very grateful for having met Walter, and for having the opportunity to participate in the good work he’s doing here. I have the distinct feeling that I have only just begun a long-standing friendship with an excellent human being. I pray that he continues to develop his vision and skillset for non-violent peace building; I also pray that his relationship with fellow Bethlehemites—along with a trust-worthy reputation amongst them—will continue to flourish in the time to come.
