Nadia came screaming out of her bullet-riddled home, “And you call us terrorists; you call US terrorists! I hope all Americans burn in hell!”

We were unsure how to respond. A group of American Quakers visiting Ramallah, Palestine to volunteer at the Friends Schools, we had walked over to a section of the town to see the after-effects of a military strike the night before. A grocery store displayed a gaping hole caused by an artillery shell; a house was a burned out hulk; two homes had been strafed by machine gun fire – the pockmarks in the walls and gaping windows showing the intensity of the attack. There wasn’t a military target in sight. There had been no firing from the area. The neighborhood was “collateral damage” in the power politics of the region.

Nadia dramatically called us into the reality of her life and away from our being disengaged onlookers. Angrily, she described the early morning hours onslaught as she, her husband, and three little children huddled on their bedroom floor, bullets ricocheting around the room for half an hour. They assumed they would die in the hail of gunfire. But surviving the experience, the family began cleaning up their devastated home and quickly recognized the telltale imprint of American military hardware: spent shells that they knew came from American-made equipment.

And there we were, American Christians incurring the wrath of a young Muslim woman only hours after her near-death encounter. What were we “ambassadors for Christ” to do? 

Perhaps it was our pacifist upbringing; perhaps it was the default setting of those stymied for an adequate response; but we simply listened. We took in the rage of this terrorized young mother, sharing our sorrow and empathy, grasping for meaningful words. The question actually did occur to me – “What would Jesus do?” 

Whether Jesus would have calculated the average military expenditure of United States taxpayers or not, we did. We expressed our condolences to Nadia and hurried off to an appointment, shaken and earnestly conversing about what to do.  Having heard earlier in our visit from Israeli and Palestinian peace workers that each American gives an average of $25 annually for the weaponry that almost killed Nadia, we knew what we had to do. We each contributed that amount and more to a fund to help Nadia’s family rebuild.

A Palestinian teacher at the Friends Schools delivered the money to her, but we heard no response for several days. We worried that she may have looked on our donation as blood money. Maybe she was offended by the thought that we were buying her forgiveness. Perhaps she wanted nothing to do with Americans or Christians.

Finally, on our last day in Ramallah, we got a phone call from Nadia asking if she and her family could come thank us in person.  Relieved, we invited them to our closing supper. Apologizing to us for “venting” during our earlier visit, she laughed with us and her family, as we exchanged mundane stories of daily life and the challenges of parenting. Then she paused, asking “Are Quakers Christians?” We answered “Yes, just not always very good ones!”

“I thought so,” Nadia responded, “but I didn’t want to offend you.” She then reached into a bag and handed each one in our group a little Christian token: a Crusader’s Cross, a crucifix made of olive wood from Bethlehem.

A Muslim woman, nearly killed by weaponry supplied by the country of a group of visiting Christians, chose to express her gratitude with Christian souvenirs. We Quakers remained silent about our symbol-impairment, simply breathing a prayer of gratitude and amazement.

What might it mean truly to be ambassadors for Christ, carrying Christ’s reconciling love into the world? What might it really mean to act as envoys for the Kingdom of God? It certainly should mean no less than acting out the basic constitution of that Realm, the “Magna Carta” of the Kingdom – the Sermon on the Mount. Living authentically. Loving even our enemies. Seeking to bring peace. Focusing on eternal truths.

It might mean no more than responding to that light and life which John’s Gospel says is in all people. We could do worse than seek to act as Christ did with the marginalized and excluded. In her hysterical fear and anger, Nadia merely wished for us to burn in hell. Many in the world live in a hell of alienation, oppression, and helplessness. As Christ’s emissaries, we can model the gift of God’s love by seeking to remove the occasions of war, violence, and hatred.

During our visits in Israel and Palestine, we have witnessed this possibility many times, not only in the transformation of our relationship with Nadia and her family but also in the transformation of broader interactions. Palestinian Muslims and Christians have warmly welcomed Jewish members of our group into their homes; Israeli rabbis have joined with Palestinians to rebuild homes and replant uprooted orchards. Each time, a little seed is sown that may eventually blossom into the fullness of the reign of God on earth.

Perhaps, if we seek truly to be representatives of Christ’s ways, we may overcome evil with good; and if we are lucky, there may even be some Christian tokens in it for us!

By Max Carter, Director of Friends’ Center, Campus Ministry Coordinator, Guilford College, Greensboro