Palestinian Christians, Diplomacy, the Church and the war on Iran: John Snobar (Pt. 1)

Bishop Justin:
Kia ora, John — greeting you in the language of our land, Aotearoa New Zealand. Thank you so much for being present in this conversation. I’ve heard a lot about you. Once you start having these conversations around Gaza, Israel, and Palestine, you discover a whole world of incredibly interesting people you end up engaging with.

So, John, we deeply appreciate — from the Church of Aotearoa, the Anglican Church — you giving us your time. And I know I haven’t even let you say anything yet; I’ve taken all the time! But John, perhaps you could help people understand why I’d invite you into this conversation about Israel and Gaza. What’s your background? Your history? Where are you coming from, and what do you bring to this conversation?

John Snobar:
Thank you so much for having me on your show, Justin. And congratulations — I looked through some of the excellent people you’ve interviewed, helping to give voice to the Palestinian Christian perspective. It’s a perspective that’s often missed in discussions of the conflict, and I’m happy to lend mine.

My name is John — my Arabic name is Hanna — so I tend to go by John. I am the newly appointed Director of Advocacy for Palestinian Christians in Australia. The organisation began about five years ago to help platform Palestinian Christian voices within the Australian Church. I work closely with clergy, laity, and church leaders to ensure that the Palestinian Christian perspective on the conflict and the land is heard.

Palestinian Christians are, of course, the first Christians. We trace our lineage back to the first church. I often say my ancestors were present at Pentecost. My family history in the church is significant, including my grandfather, the Right Reverend Dr Ibrahim Haddad — the first Palestinian Anglican Archbishop of Jerusalem, whose golden jubilee of installation we celebrate this year.

I’m also involved with an Australian pilgrimage company, ChristianPilgrimage.com.au, that brings people to the Holy Land. Before these roles, I served as an Australian diplomat in Cairo and Islamabad until late 2023, when I felt I could no longer serve a system that remained silent in the face of what the International Court of Justice called a plausible case of genocide against the Palestinian people. I resigned publicly from the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. Although I maintain relationships from my diplomatic work, I made my views clear: Australia was taking a morally bankrupt position on the conflict. There was a values gap between the work I felt called to do and what I could do in good conscience inside the system.

Since then, my journey has been one of reflection, prayer, and discerning the path ahead — which led me to the role I now hold with Palestinian Christians in Australia. I’m very pleased to be here. Thank you again for having me.

Bishop Justin:
Before we move on, I’m interested in the connection between your family and the Anglican hospital in Gaza — the Al Ahli Arab Hospital — which our churches in Aotearoa continue to support financially. Is there a family link?

John:
Yes, that’s right. The Al Ahli Arab Hospital in Gaza — which has suffered significant damage from Israeli attacks in the latest wave of conflict — has a deep personal history for me.

Originally, the hospital was owned and administered by the American Baptist Convention until the late 1970s, when an American nurse, Mavis Pate, was killed there due to Israeli violence. After this, the Baptists withdrew. My grandfather, then Bishop of Jerusalem, was devastated. The hospital was the only Christian institution in Gaza serving all people — Christian, Muslim, or Jewish. He refused to let it close.

He immediately travelled to Gaza, where discussions were underway to hand the hospital over to a political faction, Fatah. But he insisted: it must remain a Christian hospital. The hospital had originally been founded by the Church Missionary Society — Anglican — later becoming Baptist. He believed strongly it should continue under the Anglican Diocese of Jerusalem.

He lobbied intensely within and beyond the Anglican Communion. Israel initially refused to allow new medical equipment into Gaza and attempted to impose taxes on the church — but my grandfather resisted, arguing churches were exempt. The medical equipment sat at the border for months until Israel finally relented.

He renamed the hospital Al Ahli Arab Hospital — “Arab Community Hospital” — to honour the Arab identity of Palestine and its indigenous people. He saw his mission as ensuring a Christian hospital remained in Gaza to serve all, regardless of faith. He was later honoured for this work, though I think the greatest honour for him was simply preserving a Christian institution for the people of Gaza.

Bishop Justin:
What a legacy. I can imagine how proud you must feel — that in the 70s, your grandfather had both the vision and courage to ensure the hospital’s future. And now, decades later, its presence still matters so deeply. It makes me think about how we stand on the shoulders of giants — and what courage is required of us in this generation.

Before we end this section, I want to ask: when advocating and educating churches in Australia about Palestinian Christians, what are the common challenges you face?

John:
There’s a deep divide within the body of Christ around Palestine and the State of Israel — shaped by theological misunderstandings (sometimes intentional), powerful foreign interest groups, and an imbalance of historical understanding. Some Christians know Jewish history well but know little of Palestinian Christian presence and identity.

I’ve had many positive engagements with bishops, clergy, and laity — but not all are easy. Some of the dominant eschatology in churches leans heavily on End Times theology, and there is widespread confusion between biblical Israel and the modern State of Israel. The word “Israel” itself has multiple meanings — Israel the person (Jacob), the tribe, the land, the spiritual people of God, the modern state — and these confusions shape people’s responses.

For me, what matters most is restoring the visibility of Palestinian Christians as living stones — guardians of the faith whose lineage goes back to the first Christians. Many Christians don’t realise that Palestinian Christians are descendants of the Jewish followers of Jesus who refused to fight the Romans, and therefore were not exiled. We remained — guarding the holy sites, the traditions, and the life of the church.

In many ways, my calling is to reclaim that place, leaning on the legacy of many Palestinian Christian leaders — theologians, priests, scholars — who have contributed deeply to the global church. Palestine is an invitation to faith, to enemy-love, to confronting the hardest teachings of Jesus in real life.

Part two

Bishop Justin:
Kia ora and welcome back, John. We’ve had a little break, but I’ve remembered the profound thought I forgot in the last session! When you were talking about Palestinian Christians and their responsibility — almost as guardians of the land and its history — it resonated with our context in Aotearoa. We’re a nation founded on a treaty between Māori and the settlers, and the Church was, in many senses, the midwife of that treaty. We translated it, advocated for it, and vouched for it. So we too carry a unique responsibility for what happens here.

What I’m hearing from you is that Palestinian Christians have a similarly unique responsibility — to steward history, land, and faith. I want to thank you for the work you continually do in that space.

When we first set up this conversation a few weeks ago, there was no invasion or bombardment of Iran. But just over a week ago, everything changed — Israel and the U.S. went to war with Iran. I’m interested: how does this development fit into our conversation? And particularly as a Palestinian Christian, how do you understand what’s unfolding?

John Snobar:
I might begin with my former profession — diplomacy. Diplomacy is the art of conversation and the work of reaching agreement with adversaries. Historically, monarchs and heads of state sent envoys to negotiate peace, and those envoys were protected. Diplomacy is built on honour — on the idea that agreements between sovereign states mean something.

The present conflict — the war the State of Israel and the United States are waging on Iran — is, at its core, a story about the failure of diplomacy.

It begins with the original JCPOA, an agreement that sought to limit Iran’s nuclear material in exchange for normalised relations. The international community widely praised it as a diplomatic success. But during President Donald Trump’s first term, one of his early actions was to tear up that agreement. That act signalled dishonour — a refusal to uphold what had been negotiated in good faith.

From there, things spiralled. Negotiations resumed last year, but shortly after, Israel and the U.S. launched a 12‑day surprise attack on Iran. Then, a year later, came another attack, culminating in the killing of Iran’s Supreme Leader. These actions reflect a pattern: a belief that international law and diplomatic norms do not apply to certain powerful states.

As a Christian, this concerns me deeply. Our faith calls us to seek peace, to reconcile with our adversaries, to avoid violence when possible, and to act with honour. Those values were present in the original JCPOA — and absent in recent decisions.

As a Palestinian Christian, I empathise with the Iranian people’s suffering. I also understand the historical roots of Iran’s current regime — which emerged partly due to Western interference decades ago. Palestinians share the longing for self‑determination. We too live under a system of occupation and blockade.

But ultimately, what matters is whether nations agree to abide by shared rules. What we see now is the United States and Israel acting outside the framework of international law. That world — a world without legal limits — is frightening. It is a world of chaos.

Bishop Justin:
I want to ask something diplomatically… How do non‑Western countries interpret U.S. political decisions, especially when those decisions are wrapped in Christian language? In New Zealand, we see faith and politics as related but still distinct. How do people outside the West perceive the U.S. making political decisions in the name of Christian faith?

John:
Speaking from a Palestinian Christian perspective, faith and politics are completely intertwined. Theology isn’t abstract — it shapes daily life. When someone supports Israel because of biblical prophecy, or supports demographic engineering to create a Jewish state in a non‑Jewish land, that isn’t just theory. It shapes our lived reality — our movement, our livelihoods, our education, our safety. Faith affects whether we can travel, work, worship, or even survive.

Much of U.S. policy is driven by a powerful, well‑funded evangelical Christian Zionist lobby. That lobby exports a form of Christianity that is non‑indigenous to the land — a theology that disregards Palestinian Christians entirely. I’ve seen American pilgrims visit the Holy Land, witness the occupation firsthand, even visit places like Bethlehem — and still remain unmoved by the suffering of Palestinians, including Palestinian Christians. That lack of empathy is shocking.

This emotional and theological detachment doesn’t happen by accident. It is shaped by political interests and religious-nationalistic ideologies in the U.S. I used to see it even inside diplomatic circles: prayer groups within foreign ministries where officials prayed for “the safety of Israel” while completely confusing the modern state with the biblical people.

This theological-political fusion is dangerous. It blinds people to injustice. It dehumanises entire populations. And it supports foreign policy decisions that bring devastating consequences for civilians.

Worse still, the political elites — presidents, senators, diplomats — harness this theology to justify war.

Some are now claiming President Trump is “anointed by Jesus.” I find that extraordinary. A leader’s behaviour should reflect Christ if such claims are to be made — and I see little evidence of that. This theology elevates a human leader into a kind of messianic figure, which is deeply concerning.

Christians therefore have a responsibility to challenge Christian nationalism and Christian Zionism — to reclaim the faith from misuse and to listen to the voices of the land. One of the most important things churches can do is platform Palestinian Christians, as you’ve done. Many Palestinian Christians no longer feel welcome in churches built by their ancestors because of how theology has been twisted.

Bishop Justin:
We’ll take a break and then talk specifically about Gaza. But before we pause — it strikes me that Christians can’t simply say, “Oh well, we elected this president, and he did some wild things.” What I’m hearing from you is that Christians have actively empowered the decisions leading to war. This isn’t accidental. We can’t wash our hands of it. Christians have had a role in enabling this conflict.

John:
Yes, absolutely. As Christians, our first duty is to be peacemakers. But when it comes to Palestine and the broader Middle East, we have an additional duty: to recognise how Christianity has been misused by political establishments to justify violence.

American Christians didn’t just elect a president; they empowered a system that weaponised Christian theology to support war. Meanwhile, Palestinian Christians — the original Christians of the land — suffer the consequences.

Take Bethlehem: once nearly 100% Christian in 1950, now around 10% due to settlement expansion supported by Christian Zionist theology. This is not accidental. It’s tied to dangerous interpretations of scripture exported from the West.

Christians must confront this. We must listen to Palestinian Christian voices, understand their stories, and challenge the misuse of Christianity in politics.

Bishop Justin:
We’ll take a break here, John. When we return, we’ll talk specifically about Gaza. One thing others have said — and you’ve said again — is that it is absurd that Christians around the world listen to pastors and teachers far removed from the land, often who have only visited once, rather than listening to the Christians of the land themselves. These should be our primary voices.