King of the Road

The world regularly turns upside down when you're on mission.

I'm teaching this summer at a nursing school in the West Bank. The administration of the school gave me a car to use during the course, which is a tremendous luxury and takes about an hour off the travel time I would have using public transportation. But I felt guilty about having such a luxury, so I decided to share it by giving rides to the people who frequently are walking in the West Bank.

So now after passing the checkpoint, I look for hitchhikers.

Until now, I've never, ever, not once picked up a hitchhiker. You know, dangerous.....you never know who...blah blah blah. But here, it's just folks who don't have cars. I've had some wonderful experiences. An old man I've picked up 2-3 times (elderly men are known here as "hajj" in tribute to the likelihood they might have made the Hajj to Mecca at some time. Women are "hajje") who talks a blue streak. A young boy of 16 on summer break. A family of mom, dad, and two small children. It's been a wonderful chance for me to spend some time with people I might not otherwise encounter. We speak Arabic - they're thrilled when I can maintain at least a simple conversation - and they always, without fail, invite me in for tea or coffee. It's been a real treat for me and I'm grateful for this car and the chance it gives me to encounter life here in a different way.

I wonder what makes us do these things when we're on mission? Where does this come from??!!

A retired American priest who's been here for at least 20 years was recently leaving for the States for awhile and wasn't looking forward to it. Too easy and comfortable. He was explaining all this and looked at me and said with a smile and twinkle in his eye, "Some of us like danger."

I've thought about that and I think he's right. But I don't think it's that kind of danger. I don't think it's just that we're adrenaline junkies. I think it's the danger of stepping into new experiences and daring to forego comfort, convenience, and the familiar. The danger of wondering what's on the other side of what we think we know. To become friendly with what's alien. To allow yourself to discover that the people you thought were violent and dangerous are in fact gentle, generous, and funny. And the people you thought were meek, humble, and peaceful in fact have a monstrous streak in them. To look at yourself being scared and grumpy when you're cold and tired and don't understand anything anybody is saying. And to see yourself, also, waiting at the checkpoint, when you have a choice, with those who don't.

In the Gospels, Jesus calls his disciples and they just go. I used to wonder what they expected when they did that? Now I think they didn't expect anything. I think this mission business doesn't have room in it for expectations, for measuring things that way. I think it's more about just walking on, following who/whatever called us, full-faced into what lies ahead. Not wondering who or what we'll meet there, but just meeting them. Learning that the alien which we've so carefully crafted our lives around (race, nationalism, religion) really isn't. That we can meet someone on a hot dusty road in the Occupied West Bank, find a way to communicate, and wind up sharing tea.

I've learned that on the road this summer. It's been wonderfully dangerous.