I commend the author on the depth of this work. It is not a superficial study; it is a serious, rigorous academic project rooted in a vast array of western and interdisciplinary resources, shaped by a distinct political science gestalt. The author has shrewdly framed Palestinian Christian Theology (PCT) within a high-level academic conversation involving both post-Holocaust and postcolonial studies.

I value the friendship and the discussion opportunities with the author despite our differences. I want to acknowledge the "spices" the author brings to the table through her unique identity. As a Jewish-Israeli scholar, her engagement with PCT creates a fascinating, layered encounter. It acts as a cross-cultural "mirror" that allows Palestinian theologians to see how their work and identity are perceived from a specific and highly relevant vantage point. Most importantly, her contribution paves the way for engaging Christian-Jewish dialogue within a Palestinian context, shifting the center of gravity from western academic circles to a direct, local encounter. This is a significant contribution to our "Comparative Theology" goals.

The book meticulously charts the evolution of PCT through several key dimensions. I will offer a quick summary of the chapters. Chapter one, The Historical Context, traces the emergence of PCT in the 1980s, framing it as a response to internal identity crises and the rising "Islamization" of the Palestinian national struggle. Chapter two, Theological Crossroads, explores how PCT is situated between "Post-Holocaust" theology—which often centers on Jewish-Christian reconciliation—and "Postcolonial" theology, which focuses on global liberation. Chapter three, The Hermeneutical Battle, analyzes how Palestinian theologians attempt to "mind the gap" between faith and history, seeking to deconstruct Zionist biblical interpretations while reclaiming their own historical heritage. Chapter four, The Strategic Narrative, examines the concept of "Witness," arguing that theologians use the image of "Living Stones" to assert their authenticity and moral authority to the western Church. The book concludes by highlighting the "two discourses" used by these thinkers—adjusting their premises for western Christians in English while speaking differently to the Arab-Muslim world in Arabic.

It is precisely because of this shrewd organization and content that I must offer a critique. The author’s gestalt transforms Palestinian Theology from an emotionally loaded discourse rooted in empathy and suffering into an "objective" academic discourse. This is the transformation of poetry into prose. In our context, theology is a "cry from the rubble." By subjecting it to a clinical, academic objectivity, the book risks stripping away the heartbeat—the empathy—that makes this theology a living reality. Empathy is not a bias to be removed; it is a necessary hermeneutical tool for understanding the oppressed. It is not a bias to be removed for the sake of modern objectivity, but a necessary hermeneutical tool especially in light of the shift from epistemology to ontology. Without it, the "Living Stones" are treated as "objects of study" rather than "subjects of a lived struggle." When the human cry is sanitized into academic prose, the western reader may understand the argument, but they will fail to encounter the people who are under systemic oppression.

The decision to center the book in western academic categories results in many significant omissions. On one hand we encounter the prominent presence of the Holocaust, in which the word "Holocaust" occurs 89 times, and the omnipresence of the lexeme "Jew" which occurs 364 times. On the other hand, we feel the cruel absence of the word “Nakba” which occurs only 9 times and a total silence on the Wall, checkpoints, and the rising crime in Israel proper. Even the mention of Nakba was mainly within a reference to a Palestinian author and not to a direct engagement of its effects. Most strikingly, despite the book’s release in a time of unprecedented catastrophe, the genocide in Gaza is almost completely absent, except by a short quotation from Munther Isaac at the beginning of the book. To discuss Palestinian theology today without the weight of Gaza is to discuss a body without its most recent and deepest wounds. By limiting PCT to the 1967 lands through the so-called lenses of Ateek and Raheb, the book marginalizes: Palestinians in Israel proper omitting the systemic oppression and the alarming rise of crime and violence within our 1948 communities. It overlooks the Palestinian diaspora and the cry of the refugees to return to their homes. By focusing only on English-writing male clergy, it eliminates the voices of women, the laity, popular songs, and the "Christ at the Checkpoint" movement.

These are not just academic gaps; they represent a worldview. By omitting the daily realities of occupation (walls/checkpoints) and the systemic struggles of Palestinians within Israel (crime/inequality), the book risks framing PCT as a reaction to western theological dilemmas rather than a unified, authentic cry for survival that spans from the Galilee to the West Bank and across the globe.

Indeed, the author shrewdly observes that Palestinian theologians often speak "two languages"—one for the West in English and another for the Arab-Muslim world in Arabic. She frames this as a paradox or a strategic adjustment of premises. I want to clarify that this is not duplicity, but the essential work of contextualization. It is not a matter of hiding; in an age where anyone can use AI to know exactly what is being said in any language, there are no more excuses for such a narrative. As theologians, we do not change the Gospel message, but we must translate its implications for audiences with vastly different "universal premises." In the West, we must speak to the premise of post-WWII guilt. In the East, we speak to the premise of Arab-Muslim solidarity and survival. This is not a "strategic construction" of identity; it is a missionary and pastoral effort to make the "Word become flesh" in different cultural contexts.

Finally, I agree with the author’s conclusion that the Palestinian theologian acts as a guide in the "desert" of crisis. However, I want to leave this review with a final thought: For the "Living Stones," our theology is not an academic exercise in competing for status. It is a prophetic imagination that seeks to look beyond the "rubble." Our goal is to maintain a presence that demands justice and humanization for all—both Palestinian and Israeli. If we are to have a true "Comparative Theology of Religions," it must be one that doesn't merely study the "prose" of our arguments, but also hears the "poetry" of our pain and our hope for a shared future that is rooted in justice, equity, peace, and love.

Maayan Raveh, Under the Olive Tree: Palestinian Christian Theology from the 1980s to the Present. Waco: Baylor University Press, 2025.