Season's Greetings from the land where Jesus lived.
Not many words are needed. View the slideshow for some photos of Christmas Eve in Bethlehem. As someone said, it is a "carnival" for sure, but it's also a time for thousands of people to come together in a land that is suffering so that they can share joy and community and remember an event that still brings hope into their lives. I would not have missed it.
I hope that the feast or festival you observed this year gave birth in you to new resolve, purpose, and intentions to create the world you wish to inhabit.
Peace. Shalom. Salaam
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Joy and Pain
Sometimes it's hard to maintain your balance here. This is a diary of the last few days. Each day has an accompanying slideshow at the right.
SUNDAY: I visited a Palestinian refugee camp for the first time - Jalazon Camp outside Ramallah in the West Bank. There are about 20 camps in the West Bank with a total population of about half a million. There are about 14,000 people in Jalazon Camp.
The camps began when people left their homes in what is now Israel during the war for Israeli independence in 1947-'48. They consider themselves refugees, as does the UN (www.un.org/unrwa) and they have been in the camps for these 60 years, so two generations have now grown up in the camps. They are small towns, not "camps" in the way we might think of them. They have schools, businesses, homes, shops. They are variously administered by UNRWA, the IDF, or themselves depending on various factors. In other words, no one is really in charge and the people there do the best they can which isn't that well. Health care and schooling are poor. Very near Jalazon is an Israeli settlement. If you go too close you will be shot at. The school in Jalazon has a third story but it's not allowed to be used so that the settlers can't see it. So the usable space in the school is too small and children have to go to school in shifts. The last shift gets out after dark. See the photo in the slideshow of children walking home at dark.
Rather than me try to describe the camp, look at the slideshow. The photos are poor quality because I took them from a car and because it was getting dark, but I hope you can see what life might be like there. Although unemployment is high, many people there work. So why have they stayed there all this time? Why not move out and get on with it? They will tell you because they are refugees and they wait for the time when they are allowed to return to their homes.
I kept asking myself, What kind of place is this? The answer came: it's a ghetto. The ironies get piled on top of each other here.
MONDAY: A return trip to Gaza. In the morning I saw some children at our hospital there. They all had anemia and malnutrition. Two had burns. Two had post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD is endemic in children here because the children see the conflict up close. Soldiers entering homes and destroying them. Many have seen their relatives shot. Many have fathers, brothers, uncles in prison.
I went to Gaza with two Australian friends. One used to teach in Gaza and we had lunch with some of her former students. It was a delightful lunch at a restaurant overlooking the Mediterranean. It's easy to forget Gaza is a coast town and would be a really nice vacation spot under different circumstances.
What a wonderful group of young people I was able to meet then! All working (relief workers, teachers, journalists, interpreters). But each has this story: They want to pursue graduate studies or attend a seminar somewhere or advance their career in another place with more opportunity. None has. Despite many attempts, none has been allowed to leave for further education.
How does it benefit anyone to keep these bright, enthusiastic, committed young people under-educated, and the children impoverished and in poor health? But I put those thoughts aside for awhile that day to just take in this completely different perpective on Gaza and enjoy good company. It was an experience I will always remember. A Gaza full of life and hope that afternoon.
A few hours later, after we left, there were 3 air strikes in Gaza. The strikes were directed against people believed to be involved in shooting the missiles out of Gaza and into nearby Israeli towns. The people in those towns are suffering, as well, and some have been killed and injured. I'm thankful that none of my new friends was hurt in the strikes.
TUESDAY: Today my friend Jill took me with her to help with the Christmas party at the Holy Child Program in Beit Sahour, just near Bethlehem. It's a program for children 5-13 who have behavioral and psychologic problems, mostly from traumatic stress. They come to the center when their family and/or school is no longer able to cope with them. After 1-3 years, they are returned to school and most of the time back into healthier lives.
They put on a program for us, including a wonderful rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas. Then Santa visited! Toys for everyone! Take a look at the slideshow.........there's something about that Santa...............
Finally, we all had some birthday cake for Jesus.
It was a day of joy and life, energy and songs, laughter and happiness. Surely there will be more such days for this place, inshallah.
SUNDAY: I visited a Palestinian refugee camp for the first time - Jalazon Camp outside Ramallah in the West Bank. There are about 20 camps in the West Bank with a total population of about half a million. There are about 14,000 people in Jalazon Camp.
The camps began when people left their homes in what is now Israel during the war for Israeli independence in 1947-'48. They consider themselves refugees, as does the UN (www.un.org/unrwa) and they have been in the camps for these 60 years, so two generations have now grown up in the camps. They are small towns, not "camps" in the way we might think of them. They have schools, businesses, homes, shops. They are variously administered by UNRWA, the IDF, or themselves depending on various factors. In other words, no one is really in charge and the people there do the best they can which isn't that well. Health care and schooling are poor. Very near Jalazon is an Israeli settlement. If you go too close you will be shot at. The school in Jalazon has a third story but it's not allowed to be used so that the settlers can't see it. So the usable space in the school is too small and children have to go to school in shifts. The last shift gets out after dark. See the photo in the slideshow of children walking home at dark.
Rather than me try to describe the camp, look at the slideshow. The photos are poor quality because I took them from a car and because it was getting dark, but I hope you can see what life might be like there. Although unemployment is high, many people there work. So why have they stayed there all this time? Why not move out and get on with it? They will tell you because they are refugees and they wait for the time when they are allowed to return to their homes.
I kept asking myself, What kind of place is this? The answer came: it's a ghetto. The ironies get piled on top of each other here.
MONDAY: A return trip to Gaza. In the morning I saw some children at our hospital there. They all had anemia and malnutrition. Two had burns. Two had post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD is endemic in children here because the children see the conflict up close. Soldiers entering homes and destroying them. Many have seen their relatives shot. Many have fathers, brothers, uncles in prison.
I went to Gaza with two Australian friends. One used to teach in Gaza and we had lunch with some of her former students. It was a delightful lunch at a restaurant overlooking the Mediterranean. It's easy to forget Gaza is a coast town and would be a really nice vacation spot under different circumstances.
What a wonderful group of young people I was able to meet then! All working (relief workers, teachers, journalists, interpreters). But each has this story: They want to pursue graduate studies or attend a seminar somewhere or advance their career in another place with more opportunity. None has. Despite many attempts, none has been allowed to leave for further education.
How does it benefit anyone to keep these bright, enthusiastic, committed young people under-educated, and the children impoverished and in poor health? But I put those thoughts aside for awhile that day to just take in this completely different perpective on Gaza and enjoy good company. It was an experience I will always remember. A Gaza full of life and hope that afternoon.
A few hours later, after we left, there were 3 air strikes in Gaza. The strikes were directed against people believed to be involved in shooting the missiles out of Gaza and into nearby Israeli towns. The people in those towns are suffering, as well, and some have been killed and injured. I'm thankful that none of my new friends was hurt in the strikes.
TUESDAY: Today my friend Jill took me with her to help with the Christmas party at the Holy Child Program in Beit Sahour, just near Bethlehem. It's a program for children 5-13 who have behavioral and psychologic problems, mostly from traumatic stress. They come to the center when their family and/or school is no longer able to cope with them. After 1-3 years, they are returned to school and most of the time back into healthier lives.
They put on a program for us, including a wonderful rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas. Then Santa visited! Toys for everyone! Take a look at the slideshow.........there's something about that Santa...............
Finally, we all had some birthday cake for Jesus.
It was a day of joy and life, energy and songs, laughter and happiness. Surely there will be more such days for this place, inshallah.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Innocence
Yesterday the Red Cross said there is a humanitarian crisis in the West Bank and Gaza.
Duh.
Also yesterday, more missles out of Gaza and an air strike into Gaza. More people died.
All this talk about peace lately and we seem to move farther away. As I live here and try to listen carefully, I hear conversations about two kinds of peace. The one we hear most about in the news is the I-have-the-most-weapons-and-there-are-more-of-me-so-you-have-to-do- what-I-tell-you kind of peace. "Sure, I want peace as long as I still have the power."
The other kind of peace is what most folks here want. But even that conversation quickly moves toward blame and recrimination. So many people have been hurt so much for so long. It's completely understandable, but it gets us nowhere does it. We keep blaming, hating, and arguing about who started it, lying to each other, and denying the other's existence. Just making more past that the next generation can recriminate about.
At last Sunday's sermon, we heard about two Greek words that carry so much of the gospel message. Kenosis (Self-emptying) and metanoia (turning in a different direction). When can we empty ourselves of our rancor and bitterness and move in a new direction. When can we say there are no innocents here, not really. We have all behaved badly for a very long time. When can we talk about reconciliation and forgiveness, not just "peace."
Excerpts from Janet Morley's "There is no innocence in prayer":
"I came to your holy land, like Moses to the desert, seeking a pure encounter,
a cleansing, a pilgrimmage,
a new sense of direction.
There are no pure experiences, no unmixed feelings,
no beauty that is not woven with pain.
I wanted truth.
I find several incompatible truths.
My hands are also full of blood:
the blood of my country's history - our promising of one land to two peoples;
the blood of the holocaust
when Christians tried to wipe out Jews.
There is no innocence in prayer,
no innocence in religion,
no innocence in the desert -
just nowhere else to go to avoid the tenacity of evil,
or carrying my share of history, of present pain,
my share in the struggle for peace.
For, if your disciples keep silent,
these stones will cry out loud."
Duh.
Also yesterday, more missles out of Gaza and an air strike into Gaza. More people died.
All this talk about peace lately and we seem to move farther away. As I live here and try to listen carefully, I hear conversations about two kinds of peace. The one we hear most about in the news is the I-have-the-most-weapons-and-there-are-more-of-me-so-you-have-to-do- what-I-tell-you kind of peace. "Sure, I want peace as long as I still have the power."
The other kind of peace is what most folks here want. But even that conversation quickly moves toward blame and recrimination. So many people have been hurt so much for so long. It's completely understandable, but it gets us nowhere does it. We keep blaming, hating, and arguing about who started it, lying to each other, and denying the other's existence. Just making more past that the next generation can recriminate about.
At last Sunday's sermon, we heard about two Greek words that carry so much of the gospel message. Kenosis (Self-emptying) and metanoia (turning in a different direction). When can we empty ourselves of our rancor and bitterness and move in a new direction. When can we say there are no innocents here, not really. We have all behaved badly for a very long time. When can we talk about reconciliation and forgiveness, not just "peace."
Excerpts from Janet Morley's "There is no innocence in prayer":
"I came to your holy land, like Moses to the desert, seeking a pure encounter,
a cleansing, a pilgrimmage,
a new sense of direction.
There are no pure experiences, no unmixed feelings,
no beauty that is not woven with pain.
I wanted truth.
I find several incompatible truths.
My hands are also full of blood:
the blood of my country's history - our promising of one land to two peoples;
the blood of the holocaust
when Christians tried to wipe out Jews.
There is no innocence in prayer,
no innocence in religion,
no innocence in the desert -
just nowhere else to go to avoid the tenacity of evil,
or carrying my share of history, of present pain,
my share in the struggle for peace.
For, if your disciples keep silent,
these stones will cry out loud."
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Side"burns"
Yesterday I had my first haircut here. I went to the shop around the corner from where I live, owned and operated by Rame.
First, of course, I was offered tea (chai) or coffee (qahwe). No interaction of any kind happens here without the hospitality of tea or coffee. Arabic coffee will wake you up real fast! The specialty tea here is with mint (chai bi nana). Am amazing refreshing beverage; I'll make it for you when I get back. I had chai bi nana bi suker, bidun halib (with sugar, without milk).
ok, then we started the haircut. I was relaxing with my eyes closed when something cut me a little on the face. I looked and Rame was using a kind of thick floss-like material, one end in his mouth, to cut the random hairs guys get on their face. ok. I closed my eyes again, then heard a familiar sound I couldn't quite place and then felt warmth around my ear. I looked and Rame was burning other hairs with a cigarette lighter. Yeah. It didn't hurt, just some warmth. Oh well, when in Rome...
More trimming, wash and some gel. All done. Looks pretty darn good, if I say so
Chai bi nana: no charge
Haircut: 35 shekels (little under $9)
Sitting in a chair with a Palestinian man with a razor and lighter, and learning something about trust: Priceless
First, of course, I was offered tea (chai) or coffee (qahwe). No interaction of any kind happens here without the hospitality of tea or coffee. Arabic coffee will wake you up real fast! The specialty tea here is with mint (chai bi nana). Am amazing refreshing beverage; I'll make it for you when I get back. I had chai bi nana bi suker, bidun halib (with sugar, without milk).
ok, then we started the haircut. I was relaxing with my eyes closed when something cut me a little on the face. I looked and Rame was using a kind of thick floss-like material, one end in his mouth, to cut the random hairs guys get on their face. ok. I closed my eyes again, then heard a familiar sound I couldn't quite place and then felt warmth around my ear. I looked and Rame was burning other hairs with a cigarette lighter. Yeah. It didn't hurt, just some warmth. Oh well, when in Rome...
More trimming, wash and some gel. All done. Looks pretty darn good, if I say so
Chai bi nana: no charge
Haircut: 35 shekels (little under $9)
Sitting in a chair with a Palestinian man with a razor and lighter, and learning something about trust: Priceless
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
On the Ground
I have been wanting for some time to try to describe what it's like day-to-day in this place of conflict, yet I have found that surprisingly difficult to do. First, because it's easy to accelerate very quickly to stridency and partisanship and I don't want to do that; I don't think that's why I'm here. Second, my experience as a foreign, especially American, visitor is very different from what it's like to actually live here. Finally, my perspective is unavoidably skewed. Everyone here lives within a context. Mine happens to be as a volunteer with a Christian church, so nearly all my experience so far has been with Palestinian people. I have made some new Israeli friends and hope to be able to experience more of that context, but for now I have a biased perspective. So with all those caveats, here goes.
I don't think you can understand anything here - in this context at least - without understanding checkpoints. They undergird so much of life. Checkpoints are "security" facilities operated and maintained by the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces). There are around 500+ at any time in the Occupied Territories. Some are large concrete, steel and glass permanent structures, some are concrete roadblocks, some you drive through, some you have to leave your vehicle and walk through. There are "flying checkpoints" that are put there for one day only.
At the checkpoints, you have to show your ID card, or passport, to soldiers. (All Palestinians have to carry an ID, showing where they live and their religion. Yes, their religion) In some checkpoints there is x-ray scanning. All require some waiting - sometimes 10-15 minutes, more likely longer, sometimes 3-4 hours. Most are out of doors so it can become quite cold or hot. They close at night, so you better not have to go anywhere at night. Sometimes checkpoints are closed for days because of "security" reasons. This happens alot at Erez crossing, the single checkpoint into and out of Gaza.
Most of the soldiers are quite young. They have big guns. They have absolute authority. Many are not nice - I have been taunted myself ("You are Christian?" Yes. You hate Muslims? No. Who do you hate? No one. Come on, everybody hates someone.") The soldiers sometimes play solitaire on the computer while people wait. They take 2-3 hour lunch breaks while people wait. But some soldiers recognize what's going on. Check out http://www.breakingthesilence.org.il/.
As an American, I can get through checkpoints. Palestinians often cannot. Sometimes a permit is required as well as the ID. A permit takes several days to obtain and specifies where you can go and how long you can be there. So if you live in Ramallah and want to visit your spouse in Bethlehem, you might or might not be allowed to go even if you have an ID and permit - for "security" reasons. (Some married couples have to live in different cities because one doesn't have the right permit). A doctor at one of our facilities in East Jerusalem lives in Ramallah. He has been coming to work every day for 15 years to work with the handicapped children at the center and some days, a soldier will not let him through for security reasons. He cannot go to work that day. (The doctor is being treated for hypertension.)
The thing is, nearly all these checkpoints are within the Occupied Territories, not at the Israeli-Palestinian border. It's difficult to understand how checkpoints within Palestine make Israel more secure. It's difficult to understand how not being allowed to go to work or to the hospital makes someone else more secure. No, there are no exceptions for medical care. A mother in labor with twins is held at a checkpoint because it's afterhours. Her premature twins die. A man with an acute myocardial infarction dies while waiting his turn at a checkpoint. Such episodes are not folktales, they are well documented by the many observer and advocacy groups here.
Believe me, this wears you down quickly. I have found myself becoming very passive, submissive and angry after only my short time here. You learn that to resist means the folks behind you will only have to wait longer. You learn that making trouble makes soldiers angry and they will take it out on the next Palestinian. I can always get through - I pay for those uniforms and big guns after all. Palestinians cannot always get through. So I shuffle along, look at the ground and avoid eye contact and hope no one is ugly to me.
Post-Script: I went to Nablus yesterday. Nablus is the largest city in the northern West Bank, about 250,000 people. It is viewed by the IDF as a hotbed of militancy so it's been pretty much locked down for several years. There are 8 checkpoints surrounding Nablus so it's hard for people there to get out, especially young men. The only checkpoint open these days is at Huwarra, one of the most notorious checkpoints in the West Bank because of its crowds and long lines, discomfort, and adversarial soldiers.
I was travelling with a companion from Canada. Leaving Nablus, as we approached Huwarra we saw crowds and could see it was going to be at least an hour wait, likely more. We had stood in line just a few minutes when a young Palestinian man behind us asked where we were from. We told him. He told us we didn't have to wait in line; as foreigners we could just walk up to the soldiers, show our passports and they would let us through. We couldn't see through the crowd where he was telling us to go, so he left his place in line and took us there. We went on and he was right. The soldiers barely looked at the passports, waved us on, and said Have a Nice Day.
We still had three other checkpoints to go through and the trip to Jerusalem, about 40 miles, took 2.5 hours but was only that quick because of the expedited pass at Huwarra.
I wasn't going to write about this episode because it didn't provide the anguish and angst I wanted to convey. As I reflected on the event, though, it actually tells more about what it's like on the ground here in Palestine. Driving away, my companion and I realized we had had a Christ-sighting. This young man had a long wait ahead of him, and even after that he would have a poor chance of getting out. But he asked us, who represent the two imperial powers of the world that most account for the hardship he experiences every day, what he could do for us. He offered us his hospitality and generosity. That happens here all the time from this kind, gentle, generous people.
If you're looking for Christ in your life in this season of Advent, come to Palestine. He might me standing behind you at the checkpoint at Huwarra.
I don't think you can understand anything here - in this context at least - without understanding checkpoints. They undergird so much of life. Checkpoints are "security" facilities operated and maintained by the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces). There are around 500+ at any time in the Occupied Territories. Some are large concrete, steel and glass permanent structures, some are concrete roadblocks, some you drive through, some you have to leave your vehicle and walk through. There are "flying checkpoints" that are put there for one day only.
At the checkpoints, you have to show your ID card, or passport, to soldiers. (All Palestinians have to carry an ID, showing where they live and their religion. Yes, their religion) In some checkpoints there is x-ray scanning. All require some waiting - sometimes 10-15 minutes, more likely longer, sometimes 3-4 hours. Most are out of doors so it can become quite cold or hot. They close at night, so you better not have to go anywhere at night. Sometimes checkpoints are closed for days because of "security" reasons. This happens alot at Erez crossing, the single checkpoint into and out of Gaza.
Most of the soldiers are quite young. They have big guns. They have absolute authority. Many are not nice - I have been taunted myself ("You are Christian?" Yes. You hate Muslims? No. Who do you hate? No one. Come on, everybody hates someone.") The soldiers sometimes play solitaire on the computer while people wait. They take 2-3 hour lunch breaks while people wait. But some soldiers recognize what's going on. Check out http://www.breakingthesilence.org.il/.
As an American, I can get through checkpoints. Palestinians often cannot. Sometimes a permit is required as well as the ID. A permit takes several days to obtain and specifies where you can go and how long you can be there. So if you live in Ramallah and want to visit your spouse in Bethlehem, you might or might not be allowed to go even if you have an ID and permit - for "security" reasons. (Some married couples have to live in different cities because one doesn't have the right permit). A doctor at one of our facilities in East Jerusalem lives in Ramallah. He has been coming to work every day for 15 years to work with the handicapped children at the center and some days, a soldier will not let him through for security reasons. He cannot go to work that day. (The doctor is being treated for hypertension.)
The thing is, nearly all these checkpoints are within the Occupied Territories, not at the Israeli-Palestinian border. It's difficult to understand how checkpoints within Palestine make Israel more secure. It's difficult to understand how not being allowed to go to work or to the hospital makes someone else more secure. No, there are no exceptions for medical care. A mother in labor with twins is held at a checkpoint because it's afterhours. Her premature twins die. A man with an acute myocardial infarction dies while waiting his turn at a checkpoint. Such episodes are not folktales, they are well documented by the many observer and advocacy groups here.
Believe me, this wears you down quickly. I have found myself becoming very passive, submissive and angry after only my short time here. You learn that to resist means the folks behind you will only have to wait longer. You learn that making trouble makes soldiers angry and they will take it out on the next Palestinian. I can always get through - I pay for those uniforms and big guns after all. Palestinians cannot always get through. So I shuffle along, look at the ground and avoid eye contact and hope no one is ugly to me.
Post-Script: I went to Nablus yesterday. Nablus is the largest city in the northern West Bank, about 250,000 people. It is viewed by the IDF as a hotbed of militancy so it's been pretty much locked down for several years. There are 8 checkpoints surrounding Nablus so it's hard for people there to get out, especially young men. The only checkpoint open these days is at Huwarra, one of the most notorious checkpoints in the West Bank because of its crowds and long lines, discomfort, and adversarial soldiers.
I was travelling with a companion from Canada. Leaving Nablus, as we approached Huwarra we saw crowds and could see it was going to be at least an hour wait, likely more. We had stood in line just a few minutes when a young Palestinian man behind us asked where we were from. We told him. He told us we didn't have to wait in line; as foreigners we could just walk up to the soldiers, show our passports and they would let us through. We couldn't see through the crowd where he was telling us to go, so he left his place in line and took us there. We went on and he was right. The soldiers barely looked at the passports, waved us on, and said Have a Nice Day.
We still had three other checkpoints to go through and the trip to Jerusalem, about 40 miles, took 2.5 hours but was only that quick because of the expedited pass at Huwarra.
I wasn't going to write about this episode because it didn't provide the anguish and angst I wanted to convey. As I reflected on the event, though, it actually tells more about what it's like on the ground here in Palestine. Driving away, my companion and I realized we had had a Christ-sighting. This young man had a long wait ahead of him, and even after that he would have a poor chance of getting out. But he asked us, who represent the two imperial powers of the world that most account for the hardship he experiences every day, what he could do for us. He offered us his hospitality and generosity. That happens here all the time from this kind, gentle, generous people.
If you're looking for Christ in your life in this season of Advent, come to Palestine. He might me standing behind you at the checkpoint at Huwarra.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
"Il Yoom" - Today
Today is yoom ilaribaa; ie, Wednesday in my poorly done phonetics. "Day the fourth". Saturday is sabbath day, then the next five days translate to first day, second day, etc. Until Friday which has a name similar to the word for mosque.
I haven't been here long enough yet to know what a typical day is. I'll tell you what today was like. Up around 6:30. A couple cups of coffee in my flat, then to breakfast in the Guest House. A buffet of juice, cucumbers, olives, tomatoes, yogurt, hummus, pita bread, boiled eggs, cold cut meats and cheese, scrambled eggs, corn flakes, coffee and tea. Sounds good and it is, except it's exactly the same every day. Exactly....Every......
I like to come to the Guest House for breakfast because there's always interesting guests here to talk to. Just now there is a Spanish choral group who did a classical concert the other night. Really good, really beautiful music. There's also a group of Americans here with Global Outreach. I guess they're on a tour to see what's really going on here, then to carry the message back. Have you noticed the recurrent theme that what we're told in the States about the situation here has nothing to do with reality? So these groups who come here, listen and learn, and have their consciousness raised are great to see.
After breakfast, to the office space I use to "work". So far most of what I'm doing is working on some projects to raise money and support for the health care facilities in the Diocese. This can mean working on grant proposals, being in touch with possible donors, researching and networking with funding sources, arranging visits of interested people etc. We have a group coming from Australia at the end of this month and I'll be with them while they visit all the facilities.
A break for lunch and to check on how the installation of the heater/air conditioner is going in my flat. (It's in but won't be hooked up to electric till tomorrow). "Bukra" (tomorrow) is a good word to know.
Then to the market to get some things I need. This is one of my favorite things to do. The markets are busy all the time. I love hangin' with the locals, stumbling all over my bad, bad Arabic. I'm getting better, though, at not being afraid to try. Everyone is really nice about correcting me and teaching me something new. I bought bread, milk, yogurt, M&Ms, and soup.
Back to the flat for a little reading ("Love in the Time of Cholera" recommended to me by a dear friend) and short nap, then back to the office for another couple hours. This particular work is pretty dry. Doesn't really feed the soul. Mentors tell me that's not unusual, that the ministry in mission sometimes comes outside the "work" that one is assigned to. Along that line, I spoke today with the priest at the cathedral here about how I can help him. He's the only one here. His face lit up. So I'm going to take on some sacristan-like responsibilities with him and for him. That sounds more like mission, doesn't it? I'm looking forward to that. I think I can help him during some services and also take on some of the morning and evening prayers that are done here every day.
Dinner was chicken schnitzel and mac & cheese. The M&Ms for dessert. Well, not much you can do with a hot plate and little toaster oven, both looking vintage 1964 or so. Between the walking everywhere and these meals, I better lose some weight here! Now I sit in the Guest House reception area where there's wireless internet so I can write this.
This won't be every day. Some days will be travelling to visit our facilities, some days off like days off anywhere, some days I hope visiting other parts of the country.
For a foreign visitor like me, there's a constant dynamic of ordinariness over and against the exotic, edgy reality of being here, in this bizarre incredible place. It's hard to describe this thing. You quickly fall into a routine, of course, but catch yourself up every now and then to realize, My gosh I'm in Jerusalem!
Part of life here, both the ordinary and extraordinary, is security. More about that next time.
I haven't been here long enough yet to know what a typical day is. I'll tell you what today was like. Up around 6:30. A couple cups of coffee in my flat, then to breakfast in the Guest House. A buffet of juice, cucumbers, olives, tomatoes, yogurt, hummus, pita bread, boiled eggs, cold cut meats and cheese, scrambled eggs, corn flakes, coffee and tea. Sounds good and it is, except it's exactly the same every day. Exactly....Every......
I like to come to the Guest House for breakfast because there's always interesting guests here to talk to. Just now there is a Spanish choral group who did a classical concert the other night. Really good, really beautiful music. There's also a group of Americans here with Global Outreach. I guess they're on a tour to see what's really going on here, then to carry the message back. Have you noticed the recurrent theme that what we're told in the States about the situation here has nothing to do with reality? So these groups who come here, listen and learn, and have their consciousness raised are great to see.
After breakfast, to the office space I use to "work". So far most of what I'm doing is working on some projects to raise money and support for the health care facilities in the Diocese. This can mean working on grant proposals, being in touch with possible donors, researching and networking with funding sources, arranging visits of interested people etc. We have a group coming from Australia at the end of this month and I'll be with them while they visit all the facilities.
A break for lunch and to check on how the installation of the heater/air conditioner is going in my flat. (It's in but won't be hooked up to electric till tomorrow). "Bukra" (tomorrow) is a good word to know.
Then to the market to get some things I need. This is one of my favorite things to do. The markets are busy all the time. I love hangin' with the locals, stumbling all over my bad, bad Arabic. I'm getting better, though, at not being afraid to try. Everyone is really nice about correcting me and teaching me something new. I bought bread, milk, yogurt, M&Ms, and soup.
Back to the flat for a little reading ("Love in the Time of Cholera" recommended to me by a dear friend) and short nap, then back to the office for another couple hours. This particular work is pretty dry. Doesn't really feed the soul. Mentors tell me that's not unusual, that the ministry in mission sometimes comes outside the "work" that one is assigned to. Along that line, I spoke today with the priest at the cathedral here about how I can help him. He's the only one here. His face lit up. So I'm going to take on some sacristan-like responsibilities with him and for him. That sounds more like mission, doesn't it? I'm looking forward to that. I think I can help him during some services and also take on some of the morning and evening prayers that are done here every day.
Dinner was chicken schnitzel and mac & cheese. The M&Ms for dessert. Well, not much you can do with a hot plate and little toaster oven, both looking vintage 1964 or so. Between the walking everywhere and these meals, I better lose some weight here! Now I sit in the Guest House reception area where there's wireless internet so I can write this.
This won't be every day. Some days will be travelling to visit our facilities, some days off like days off anywhere, some days I hope visiting other parts of the country.
For a foreign visitor like me, there's a constant dynamic of ordinariness over and against the exotic, edgy reality of being here, in this bizarre incredible place. It's hard to describe this thing. You quickly fall into a routine, of course, but catch yourself up every now and then to realize, My gosh I'm in Jerusalem!
Part of life here, both the ordinary and extraordinary, is security. More about that next time.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Advent
The Christian liturgical calendar is divided into periods of time corresponding to events of Jesus' life. We just began the season of Advent. It is the season for remembering the historical time before Jesus' birth; awaiting new life for us today; and for some people, waiting for an anticipated Second Coming.
The word derives from the latin for "coming" so it is a time of anticipation, waiting, expectation. It asks for patience, but also for alertness for signs of new life, new discoveries, new realizations. It also recalls us to trust and hope.
On Saturday I went on a tour cosponsored by Al Quds University here and UN-OCHA (Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs). It was a tour of The Wall around Jerusalem. Do you know about the wall? It's also known as the Security Fence or the Separation Barrier. Its construction was begun about 2002 by the Defense Ministry of Israel, which by the way receives a great deal of your tax money as foreign aid. Its stated purpose was to provide security against suicide bombers from the West Bank. Now the wall forms an almost complete physical barrier between Israel and the West Bank. Maybe this is the model for what some folks in the US want on the Mexican border. Our tour was confined to the area around Jerusalem. It is the area that gets alot of attention because of the importance of this city and its future status in peace negotiations.
One side says the wall is necessary for protection against a people who are bent on violence and destruction. The other side says the wall is a method of apartheid and racial cleansing. It seems to me as a newly arrived outsider that there is a grain of truth in both sides but no more than a grain. It is far more complex than that and does injustice to the situation to reduce it so.
I encourage you to learn more about this wall. And rather than come up with all kinds of wacky references from Google, why don't you start with some documents and maps from the UN who are actively involved in monitoring the situation?
But all that aside, there is the matter of living with the wall. Look at the slideshow photos and the web album.
The Wall is only one part of the SECURITY question here. A later blog will offer some reflections on that. For now, I invite you to be aware of this, learn more about it, and ask how life must be for your brothers and sisters when things like Walls are part of life.
Sunday marked the beginning of Advent and we had our Church Christmas Bazaar. Some photos of that are included in the slideshow. Life goes on in the shadow of the Wall.
I think it is always Advent here in this place. Always hoping, always waiting for new life and new opportunity. Patience as well, amazingly enough, although sometimes it's hard to distinguish patience from resignation. I hope it's really mostly patience.
"For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us." (Ephesians 2:14)
The word derives from the latin for "coming" so it is a time of anticipation, waiting, expectation. It asks for patience, but also for alertness for signs of new life, new discoveries, new realizations. It also recalls us to trust and hope.
On Saturday I went on a tour cosponsored by Al Quds University here and UN-OCHA (Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs). It was a tour of The Wall around Jerusalem. Do you know about the wall? It's also known as the Security Fence or the Separation Barrier. Its construction was begun about 2002 by the Defense Ministry of Israel, which by the way receives a great deal of your tax money as foreign aid. Its stated purpose was to provide security against suicide bombers from the West Bank. Now the wall forms an almost complete physical barrier between Israel and the West Bank. Maybe this is the model for what some folks in the US want on the Mexican border. Our tour was confined to the area around Jerusalem. It is the area that gets alot of attention because of the importance of this city and its future status in peace negotiations.
One side says the wall is necessary for protection against a people who are bent on violence and destruction. The other side says the wall is a method of apartheid and racial cleansing. It seems to me as a newly arrived outsider that there is a grain of truth in both sides but no more than a grain. It is far more complex than that and does injustice to the situation to reduce it so.
I encourage you to learn more about this wall. And rather than come up with all kinds of wacky references from Google, why don't you start with some documents and maps from the UN who are actively involved in monitoring the situation?
But all that aside, there is the matter of living with the wall. Look at the slideshow photos and the web album.
The Wall is only one part of the SECURITY question here. A later blog will offer some reflections on that. For now, I invite you to be aware of this, learn more about it, and ask how life must be for your brothers and sisters when things like Walls are part of life.
Sunday marked the beginning of Advent and we had our Church Christmas Bazaar. Some photos of that are included in the slideshow. Life goes on in the shadow of the Wall.
I think it is always Advent here in this place. Always hoping, always waiting for new life and new opportunity. Patience as well, amazingly enough, although sometimes it's hard to distinguish patience from resignation. I hope it's really mostly patience.
"For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us." (Ephesians 2:14)
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Now, Voyager
Some of you will recognize this post's title from the 1942 Bette Davis tear-jerker. Bette is a timid, neurotic, mother-dominated, frumpy spinster who decides to break away and go on a cruise by herself. She sees the world, learns to live on her own, makes wonderful new friends, and finds love. But the love she finds is not completely available; he is married. So Bette decides to accept the situation. In the movie's signature line she says she won't ask for the moon because the stars are enough.
The title comes from a short Walt Whitman poem: "The untold want by life and land ne'er granted, Now voyager sail thou forth to seek and find."
The untold want. It can take us to hard places sometimes. It can get us in trouble. It can make us realize what we left behind when we sailed forth. It puts me in mind of Dorothy's search for the Emerald City that was right in her own backyard. (I don't get to see movies here, can you tell?)
It isn't always easy being here. In fact, most of the time it's not easy. Sometimes it's almost unbearably hard. Unbearable loneliness, unbearable frustration, unbearable uncertainty. On good days I love where I am and who I'm with and write interesting blogs and take neat photos. On bad days I don't. On those days I wonder why I'm here and whether I should stay. I'm learning how to get through the bad days better: I walk somewhere near where I know someone will have a friendly smile, I read emails from dear ones, I check on how the Spurs are doing. Sometimes I pray; not as much as might help. Finally I go to sleep, trusting and knowing, after all, that there is a safe harbor for me if I need it.
Have you ever been playing in the surf and you see a nice big wave coming that you decide you'll jump or ride in? Then the wave proves much more powerful than you thought and you're thrown down to the bottom and spun around so you don't know where the surface is? You panic for a moment, but then spring up to air. It's like that alot for me here. Fortunately I've kept managing to find the surface.
But why is this all about me? Isn't doing mission supposed to be about God's work? Shouldn't that be all that matters? I don't know, maybe so. But Jesus was pretty good at doing God's work and look how much time he spent on those poor confused bumbling disciples. I bet they missed their friends and families, and wished they were back on their fishing boats sometimes, too!
The voyage is hard; and darn it, I still want the stars and the moon.
The title comes from a short Walt Whitman poem: "The untold want by life and land ne'er granted, Now voyager sail thou forth to seek and find."
The untold want. It can take us to hard places sometimes. It can get us in trouble. It can make us realize what we left behind when we sailed forth. It puts me in mind of Dorothy's search for the Emerald City that was right in her own backyard. (I don't get to see movies here, can you tell?)
It isn't always easy being here. In fact, most of the time it's not easy. Sometimes it's almost unbearably hard. Unbearable loneliness, unbearable frustration, unbearable uncertainty. On good days I love where I am and who I'm with and write interesting blogs and take neat photos. On bad days I don't. On those days I wonder why I'm here and whether I should stay. I'm learning how to get through the bad days better: I walk somewhere near where I know someone will have a friendly smile, I read emails from dear ones, I check on how the Spurs are doing. Sometimes I pray; not as much as might help. Finally I go to sleep, trusting and knowing, after all, that there is a safe harbor for me if I need it.
Have you ever been playing in the surf and you see a nice big wave coming that you decide you'll jump or ride in? Then the wave proves much more powerful than you thought and you're thrown down to the bottom and spun around so you don't know where the surface is? You panic for a moment, but then spring up to air. It's like that alot for me here. Fortunately I've kept managing to find the surface.
But why is this all about me? Isn't doing mission supposed to be about God's work? Shouldn't that be all that matters? I don't know, maybe so. But Jesus was pretty good at doing God's work and look how much time he spent on those poor confused bumbling disciples. I bet they missed their friends and families, and wished they were back on their fishing boats sometimes, too!
The voyage is hard; and darn it, I still want the stars and the moon.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Around the 'Hood
I live in East Jerusalem. The designation is important here. One of the three major issues that peace needs to deal with is the status of Jerusalem. Who does it "belong to"? East Jerusalem is predominantly Arab and is more or less considered part of Palestine, although it is not necessary to pass a check point to get here. West Jerusalem is clearly Israel. The two sides are very different.
I live in a mostly commercial area. The other day I went strolling and found an area with all kinds of useful shops - a hardware store even! The streets are usually busy and full of life and all kinds of interesting shops and people. I love walking around here. I've bonded with my favorites, of course: the ice cream shop, the money changer I use (the owner used to live in Ft Worth!), my favorite little restaurant, a laundry, a really great book and office supply store. Not too far away is the place where I'll be studying Arabic in January.
I love the people whose community I share. Quite handsome, and I have found them always polite, amazingly hospitable, friendly, and so easy to laugh. They love jokes and laughing. Sadly, there is high unemployment, so there are always alot of young people about. Music is heard everywhere on the streets. It's a very energetic place.
There are sort of 3 days of weekend here and it took me awhile to plan accordingly. Friday is the Muslim day of prayer, so in my area most shops and businesses are closed. Saturday is the Jewish Shabbat which is not so noticeable here but most of West Jerusalem is closed on that day. Sunday is Christian sabbath, but there are very few Christians left here - less than 2% of the population now - so it is only noticeable to a few probably.
The Old City is just a few blocks away. It's become one of my favorite places in the world. As we see it now, it dates from about the 15th century or so. It's not as it was in Jesus' time. The Jerusalem he knew was to the south of the current Old City. In fact, inside today's Old City is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, aka Church of the Resurrection, which commemorates the traditional site of Jesus' crucifixion and burial - events which by their nature had to be outside the city in his day. There are four quarters of the Old City: Muslim, Christian, Jewish, and Armenian. Each has a distinctive feel.
A wall, mostly built by Suleiman the Magnificent, completely surrounds today's Old City. There are about 8 gates into the city. It's easy to think of the Old City as just commercial but in fact about 30,000 people live there.
Some photos of the area I live in are on the slideshow. Click on the slideshow and you will go to the web album where they're posted for captions and easier viewing.
I'll be doing alot more exploring and will do my best to write about it, with photos.
I live in a mostly commercial area. The other day I went strolling and found an area with all kinds of useful shops - a hardware store even! The streets are usually busy and full of life and all kinds of interesting shops and people. I love walking around here. I've bonded with my favorites, of course: the ice cream shop, the money changer I use (the owner used to live in Ft Worth!), my favorite little restaurant, a laundry, a really great book and office supply store. Not too far away is the place where I'll be studying Arabic in January.
I love the people whose community I share. Quite handsome, and I have found them always polite, amazingly hospitable, friendly, and so easy to laugh. They love jokes and laughing. Sadly, there is high unemployment, so there are always alot of young people about. Music is heard everywhere on the streets. It's a very energetic place.
There are sort of 3 days of weekend here and it took me awhile to plan accordingly. Friday is the Muslim day of prayer, so in my area most shops and businesses are closed. Saturday is the Jewish Shabbat which is not so noticeable here but most of West Jerusalem is closed on that day. Sunday is Christian sabbath, but there are very few Christians left here - less than 2% of the population now - so it is only noticeable to a few probably.
The Old City is just a few blocks away. It's become one of my favorite places in the world. As we see it now, it dates from about the 15th century or so. It's not as it was in Jesus' time. The Jerusalem he knew was to the south of the current Old City. In fact, inside today's Old City is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, aka Church of the Resurrection, which commemorates the traditional site of Jesus' crucifixion and burial - events which by their nature had to be outside the city in his day. There are four quarters of the Old City: Muslim, Christian, Jewish, and Armenian. Each has a distinctive feel.
A wall, mostly built by Suleiman the Magnificent, completely surrounds today's Old City. There are about 8 gates into the city. It's easy to think of the Old City as just commercial but in fact about 30,000 people live there.
Some photos of the area I live in are on the slideshow. Click on the slideshow and you will go to the web album where they're posted for captions and easier viewing.
I'll be doing alot more exploring and will do my best to write about it, with photos.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem
I went to the English-speaking service at the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer in the Old City yesterday. There is a marvelous interdenominational spirit here and because the Christian community is so small, both native and expat, everyone sort of knows everyone else.
One of the readings for yesterday was from Jeremiah chapter 23: "Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! says the Lord. Therefore, thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, concerning the shepherds who shepherd my people: It is you who have scattered my flock, and have driven them away, and you have not attended to them...Then I myself will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the lands where I have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply. I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them, and they shall not fear any longer or be dismayed, nor shall any be missing..."
You don't have to be here very long to hear this as having nothing to do with sheep! Nor does it take much listening to people's stories to know that all sides here can legitimately feel scattered and unattended.
Folks here don't think much of the Annapolis meeting. They believe it is a show. But cynicism and sarcasm will get us nowhere. So I invite you to consider the prayer for this meeting being offered by the Council for Middle East Peace. You can find the entire prayer at http://cmep.org/documents/2007_Congregational_prayer_for_peace.pdf
Part of it says, "Oh God of mercy and compassion, Embrace our Israeli and Palestinian brothers and sisters. They have endured profound loss and sorrow. They are fatigued by fear and anger. Mend their broken hearts and failing spirits. Ignite in them sparks of hope. Comfort them and guide them onto the road of peace."
Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem.
One of the readings for yesterday was from Jeremiah chapter 23: "Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! says the Lord. Therefore, thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, concerning the shepherds who shepherd my people: It is you who have scattered my flock, and have driven them away, and you have not attended to them...Then I myself will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the lands where I have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply. I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them, and they shall not fear any longer or be dismayed, nor shall any be missing..."
You don't have to be here very long to hear this as having nothing to do with sheep! Nor does it take much listening to people's stories to know that all sides here can legitimately feel scattered and unattended.
Folks here don't think much of the Annapolis meeting. They believe it is a show. But cynicism and sarcasm will get us nowhere. So I invite you to consider the prayer for this meeting being offered by the Council for Middle East Peace. You can find the entire prayer at http://cmep.org/documents/2007_Congregational_prayer_for_peace.pdf
Part of it says, "Oh God of mercy and compassion, Embrace our Israeli and Palestinian brothers and sisters. They have endured profound loss and sorrow. They are fatigued by fear and anger. Mend their broken hearts and failing spirits. Ignite in them sparks of hope. Comfort them and guide them onto the road of peace."
Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Promise in Gaza
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the US and marks my first week on this mission. In just that one week, it has already been a rich rollercoaster. I wonder what else is in store?
On my first Sunday here I attended church at St George's, the cathedral of the Diocese, pictured to the right. Sunday services are offered in English, Arabic, and both. Sunday I attended the bilingual service. It was a full house and the combined voices and languages in corporate prayer and song is a pretty amazing thing.
The Gospel reading was from Luke chapter 21 where Jesus speaks the dire prediction that the Temple and Jerusalem will be destroyed and brothers and sisters will betray each other. It is a story of uncertainty and suffering. Then he provides the promise: for those who live the life he embodies, not a hair will be harmed and souls will be gained.
Then yesterday, I visited Gaza. Only one day there and it's hard to know how to say it all. This blog will unpack the experiences in coming posts. But what should I say to you now? Should I tell you about the pervasive destruction and damage to virtually every structure? About the visible despair in people? About the children with observable evidence of malnutrition? About the current restrictions that allow no fruit but bananas to enter the area? About the previous restriction that allowed no milk in for several weeks? About the proscription of 80 medicines that are not allowed to enter the area? About the rubbish everywhere, some of it burning, some of it partially burned? About the resulting smell? About the family we visited who live in a cemetery? Live there. About the patients who lie in hospital and die because the necessary medication or surgery is not available and there is no possibility of leaving to go where they can get it? None. About the "security" measures on entering and leaving that may or may not provide security but that cannot fail to dehumanize, anger, and frustrate? About the man who said, "Dreams are forbidden in Gaza"? About the many people who told me that living in Gaza is living in prison?
What is there to say about a place of such suffering and uncertainty? Where is the promise in Gaza?
In a situation so complicated and so overlaid with conflict upon conflict, it's hard to know where to look for promise. But as I spent the day listening and learning, it seemed to me that the promise begins in the people there who still - somehow, incomprehensibly - laugh easily and share their tea, their stories, and their hospitality. Who ask for little except fairness and some compassion. Who want to be allowed to work, take care of themselves and their families, and have food to eat.
But the promise has to include you and me, the brothers and sisters of the people in Gaza. The powers of the world will continue to wrangle and fight, so it might be up to us. How can we help? What can we do? Should we help, should we do?
As people in the US celebrate and give thanks in the next few days, I invite you to ask whether the world you want to live in - whether the "Kingdom of Heaven" or Paradise or ideal world you imagine includes this Gaza. If it does not, what will you do??
On my first Sunday here I attended church at St George's, the cathedral of the Diocese, pictured to the right. Sunday services are offered in English, Arabic, and both. Sunday I attended the bilingual service. It was a full house and the combined voices and languages in corporate prayer and song is a pretty amazing thing.
The Gospel reading was from Luke chapter 21 where Jesus speaks the dire prediction that the Temple and Jerusalem will be destroyed and brothers and sisters will betray each other. It is a story of uncertainty and suffering. Then he provides the promise: for those who live the life he embodies, not a hair will be harmed and souls will be gained.
Then yesterday, I visited Gaza. Only one day there and it's hard to know how to say it all. This blog will unpack the experiences in coming posts. But what should I say to you now? Should I tell you about the pervasive destruction and damage to virtually every structure? About the visible despair in people? About the children with observable evidence of malnutrition? About the current restrictions that allow no fruit but bananas to enter the area? About the previous restriction that allowed no milk in for several weeks? About the proscription of 80 medicines that are not allowed to enter the area? About the rubbish everywhere, some of it burning, some of it partially burned? About the resulting smell? About the family we visited who live in a cemetery? Live there. About the patients who lie in hospital and die because the necessary medication or surgery is not available and there is no possibility of leaving to go where they can get it? None. About the "security" measures on entering and leaving that may or may not provide security but that cannot fail to dehumanize, anger, and frustrate? About the man who said, "Dreams are forbidden in Gaza"? About the many people who told me that living in Gaza is living in prison?
What is there to say about a place of such suffering and uncertainty? Where is the promise in Gaza?
In a situation so complicated and so overlaid with conflict upon conflict, it's hard to know where to look for promise. But as I spent the day listening and learning, it seemed to me that the promise begins in the people there who still - somehow, incomprehensibly - laugh easily and share their tea, their stories, and their hospitality. Who ask for little except fairness and some compassion. Who want to be allowed to work, take care of themselves and their families, and have food to eat.
But the promise has to include you and me, the brothers and sisters of the people in Gaza. The powers of the world will continue to wrangle and fight, so it might be up to us. How can we help? What can we do? Should we help, should we do?
As people in the US celebrate and give thanks in the next few days, I invite you to ask whether the world you want to live in - whether the "Kingdom of Heaven" or Paradise or ideal world you imagine includes this Gaza. If it does not, what will you do??
Friday, November 2, 2007
Al AWWAL
Al awwal. "The first" or "the beginning" in Arabic. But while this may be the first post in this new blog, it is certainly not the beginning in a journey that now turns toward the Holy Land.
My name is Harry. I'm a retired pediatrician and a newly commissioned Volunteer for Mission of the Episcopal Church, USA. In two weeks I'll begin a mission in the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem, which includes Israel, the Occupied Territories of Palestine, Lebanon, Jordan, and Syria.
This blog will chronicle the experiences of that mission: the work and play, the places and people, the secular and the holy, and the gifts and graces. It will also, inevitably, chronicle the personal reflections and impressions of this missioner. I hope that will sometimes be informative, but will try to be aware when it gets in the way. Reader comments, heartily welcomed, will help with that.
What does it mean to be a missionary in the year 2007, anyway? Especially in a church that is right now engaged in a mighty struggle to define its own community. Well, I don't know yet what it means. I invite you to follow along and see if we can all figure this out together. But I think it has something to do with the story in Luke 18:35ff. Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem for the events that will bring untold suffering to him and change the course of humankind. As he passes through Jericho he encounters a blind beggar. Jesus stops and asks the man, "What do you want me to do for you?" Imagine what Jesus is experiencing in those days, yet he takes the time to stop and encounter another. Jesus doesn't immediately heal what appears to need to be healed, he doesn't tell the man his sins made him blind, he doesn't tell him to do anything at all. He just sits with the man, lets the man speak for himself, and asks how he can help.
What I love about this story is what I think it can teach us about mission if we imagine ourselves both as Jesus and as the beggar. Jesus just being present and issuing love without setting terms, asking back, demanding, squeezing, or possessing. The beggar recognizing what is happening and letting that graciousness heal his blind, hungry neediness.
Can I do that? Can you do that? Can we help teach each other to do that? I think maybe this mission is about that.
So please visit this site frequently and send your comments.
Tfaddalu, fuutu. "Please, come in."
My name is Harry. I'm a retired pediatrician and a newly commissioned Volunteer for Mission of the Episcopal Church, USA. In two weeks I'll begin a mission in the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem, which includes Israel, the Occupied Territories of Palestine, Lebanon, Jordan, and Syria.
This blog will chronicle the experiences of that mission: the work and play, the places and people, the secular and the holy, and the gifts and graces. It will also, inevitably, chronicle the personal reflections and impressions of this missioner. I hope that will sometimes be informative, but will try to be aware when it gets in the way. Reader comments, heartily welcomed, will help with that.
What does it mean to be a missionary in the year 2007, anyway? Especially in a church that is right now engaged in a mighty struggle to define its own community. Well, I don't know yet what it means. I invite you to follow along and see if we can all figure this out together. But I think it has something to do with the story in Luke 18:35ff. Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem for the events that will bring untold suffering to him and change the course of humankind. As he passes through Jericho he encounters a blind beggar. Jesus stops and asks the man, "What do you want me to do for you?" Imagine what Jesus is experiencing in those days, yet he takes the time to stop and encounter another. Jesus doesn't immediately heal what appears to need to be healed, he doesn't tell the man his sins made him blind, he doesn't tell him to do anything at all. He just sits with the man, lets the man speak for himself, and asks how he can help.
What I love about this story is what I think it can teach us about mission if we imagine ourselves both as Jesus and as the beggar. Jesus just being present and issuing love without setting terms, asking back, demanding, squeezing, or possessing. The beggar recognizing what is happening and letting that graciousness heal his blind, hungry neediness.
Can I do that? Can you do that? Can we help teach each other to do that? I think maybe this mission is about that.
So please visit this site frequently and send your comments.
Tfaddalu, fuutu. "Please, come in."
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