I'm still on the Palestine of Jesus course. It's been intense, as most travelling-group-immersion courses are. Often at the end of the day we're so wiped out from all we have seen and reflected on that we have to read our itinerary to remember where we've been! The course instructors are all too happy to remind us that the course is usually 14-days long and ours is only 11...somehow this doesn't relieve our aching feet. It has however, made the idea of composing blog entries less appealing, hence the 5-day backlog.
We were given an 'optional' day on Saturday of heading to Masada, Qumran and the Dead Sea. I opted to go on this excursion and I'm so glad for it.
We descended over 4,000 feet from Jerusalem to the Dead Sea. Refugees have fled to the desert, hermits sought solitude, Herod built a (nearly) impenetrable palace and the Essenes dedicated themselves to religious devotion.
We started by heading to Masada. Masada was taken by Herod the Great following the murder of his father Antipater in 43BC. When forced to leave Jerusaelm in 40BC he took "his womenfolk" to Masada for security atop a 1,400 foot high mountain top. They stored food in large rooms, had elaborate ritual baths and hot rooms (like a sauna), a ballroom and it was all decorated with frescos and mosaics. After the Jews rebelled against Rome in 66 and Jerusalem was destroyed, Jewish rebels took refuge at Masada. According to survivors who relayed the story to 1st century historian Flavius Josephus, when Romans reached Masada, rebel leader Elazar Ben-Yair reminded the refugee community of their resolve neither to serve Rome nor any other God. They commited suicide. The men drew lots to choose who would kill the others--the Romans found hundreds of corpses.
The view from atop the ruins were stunning and the mere thought of people building a fortress atop of mountain in the middle of the desert was astounding.
Next, we had lunch at Qumran. We were given an hour to eat in the cafeteria and have a tour around the gift shop. Both of these were packed with tourists. The caves and ruines overlooking the Dead Sea...basically deserted, save us. Unbelievable!
My guide book says the remains "are not especially impressive." Sure, there are more ritual baths to see, dining rooms and a cold room. But knowing the Dead Sea scrolls were found in the caves in front of us was pretty spectacular.
A hot day in the desert, we then cooled off with a float in the Dead Sea. What I gathered from most course participants was the disenchantment...while glad to have experienced the Sea, they almost verge on disgust at the idea of ever repeating it. With the exception of getting some splashes of water in my mouth and eye (with contract lenses in---you don't know the pain!), I thought the hour was delightful. Nothing like feeling weightless or giving yourself a free, full-body exfoliation after weeks of walking stones.
What I was surprised about was how many people were at the "beach." And it was literally a public beach. Being there on Saturday, the beach and shore were filled. Most of us had imagined just our group, floating off shore on our own. Shocking to learn, the shore of the Dead Sea is shrinking at an alarming 1m per year, landing it on UNESCO's protection watch list.
** Pictures...are from the drive to Masada and from atop Masada. My pictures from Qumran and the Dead Sea float are to come but I've had some incredible trouble with my camera lately **
This one to the right is cool - it's literally of the cubbies that the carrier pigeons/doves lived in. Which cubby they lived in depended on where they were sent.
After my birthday visit to Bethlehem, which I describe as slightly traumatic, I was hesitant to return today. I worried I would feel as sad as I did the first time: sad about the wall, about the looming settlement, about the abandoned homes and the devestated economy.
Clearly, none of that has changed in two-and-a-half weeks. But I tried to remember Donna's comment that on her return visit, she found it easier to find the beauty of the town.
We set out for a full day this morning at 8am. We went to Ein Kerem to visit the Church of the Visitation (commemorating Mary's visit to Elizabeth during which John the Baptist lept in her womb), to the church commemorating John the Baptist's birth, to Shepherd's Field (where traditions says the shepherd's watched by night for the star which led them to Bethlehem), and into Bethlehem for a visit to the Church of the Nativity and the underground caves.
The drive to Ein Kerem is stunning. You leave Jerusalem behind and fall into green hills, up which we climbed to the Church of the Visitation. This church might have been on the most well-groomed grounds I've seen so far. Blooming gardens bursting with colour. I've never seen this before, but people carved their names into the cactus stem.
Now, I would LOVE to show you pictures of the day. However, stupid as I am, I diddled with my camera on the bus on the way back to the College, pressed "format" and gone forever they all were.
Sigh.
However, I end this third blog entry of the day, with my reflections offered at Shepherd's field:
I invited the participants to close their eyes and consider two things.
1. Contrasts. It seems we are being inundated by contrasts. I asked them to consider some of the ones we have experienced this week so far
- The Israeli-Palestinian perspectives on the political and religious conflict
- The religiously- and culturally-distinct quarters of the Old City
- The joys and sorrows of the people we encounter.
- The Eastern and Western Christian traditions represented
- The three major monotheistic religions represented
- A man in a suit with a Powerpoint presentation with facts and figures and a man in jeans and motorcycle jacket who speaks off the cuff, both with messages.
As we explored Bethlehem, I asked them to consider some of the contrasts between the story of Jesus' birth 2000 years ago in this town and the twon we see before us today:
- The contrast of Kings of cities and the King of Jews, against shepherds in a field and a baby born in a cave/barn.
- Of Herod's fear (in Matthew's Gospel) and the terror of the shepherds (in Luke's Gospel) against the joy of the wisemen and the joy of "all who heard" the Good News.
- Of the centre of the universe: Jerusalem and the holiest of holies: the Temple, against a small, rural town.
- Of the city that saw the birth of a Messiah who would tear down social barriers and turn over the tables of the Temple money changes, against the walls that now divide and separate this town from Jerusalem.
- Of the commoness of the birth to parents of simple-to-meager means, against the greatness to come.
I asked them to reflect on the humbleness of the story here in Bethlehem and to remember God's concern for His people. To remember His love transcends social status and vocation
I asked them to reflect on the joy found in the knowledge that God loves all people regardless of national boundaries or secular or religious statehoods and that love cannot be contained by a wall.
2. Why do we come to Bethlehem. Mary and Joseph were mandated. The shepherds were curious. The wisemen were sent.
Why do we make pilgrimage to Bethlehem?
We come to contemplate the events of a story.
We come to experience the inbreaking of God to our lives.
We come to ponder in our hearts the Word made flesh and to be amazed.
We come to praise God for all that has been revealed to us.
We come to identify with Jesus the man, the story He left us with, and hopefully find ourselves within it.
Wednesday night and Thursday night we heard speakers on the Palestinian and Israeli perspectives (respectively) of the religious-cultural conflict.
The contrasts were obvious. Xavier, the Palestinian Liberation Organization representative, arrived in a suit, with a powerpoint presentation prepared, a published communications document to leave with us and offered facts and statistics to support the claim of abuse of power, subjugation and occupation on the part of the Israelis. We nodded in agreement, shook our heads in disbelief and shuffled in our chairs in discomfort and anger and the injustice and the difficulty of bridging peace when physical barriers continue to be built.
Yakir, the Israeli representative who volunteers for Kids4Peace, teaches at Hebrew University and continues to work in the special "body parts retrieval" forces for the Israeli military, arrived in sneakers, well-worn jeans and a motorcycle jacket, and admitted he forgot the information packets in his office. He opened by asking each of us what kinds of questions we have so he could build his talk based on them.
And we didn't hold back. We asked about the Holocaust, about the "security" wall, about the military presence and training, about the threat of terrorism, about the blatant oppression and appearance of aparteid, and about the possibility of peace and the existence of hope.
He was humble, honest, forthcoming and his main point was very giving: we need to stop pointing our fingers and saying we act the way we do in response to what 'they' do, and instead, turn the finger on ourselves to ask what we're doing that makes 'them' have such a reaction. He acknoweledged the use of the Holocaust by some Jews as a crutch on which to defend their actions, and stated his generation (he looked to be in his mid-30s) are sick of hearing about it/talking aobut/and dealing with the fallout of the trauma of it. *That said, in no way did he advocate forgetting or disprespecting the horror of the event*. He described (but did not condone) the rationale of the settlements. He also spoke of the future and why he works with Kids4Peace to help educate and expose both Israeli and Palestinian children to the reality, so that the future generations see each other as human and as those vulnerable to pain, so they can work to forge peace.
During Q&A, I thanked him for his candidacy and humility in the face of some tough questions and I vocalized how I was pointing my finger at myself: That I had come into the presentation with obvious bias. I took the political tour of Jerusalem led by a Palestinian and we heard the Palestinian perspective the night before. It is impossible to ignore or disagree with. We can witness the effects and touch the reality of the oppression of the wall. I figured there was no way I was going to sympathetic to his cause. I was wrong.
In reflecting over dinner tonight about the difference of Xavier and Yakir, we figured their clothing and presentation styles were intentional. Xavier, coming from the lets say, disadvantaged side of the conflict, "dressed the part" to meet us as equals. Yakir, dressed down, to humble himself, to be 'one of the people' and show his humanity--an important contrast to the military and police uniforms we often immediately identify with the Israelis.
Both Xavier and Yakir offered some great insights into the conflict from how they see it--opening our eyes, our minds and our hearts. They gave us something to reflect on and something to take away/home.
The agenda for day 2 of the Palestine of Jesus course: we were sent out in “family” groups of 4 to tour one prescribed quarter of the OldCity. I had anticipated (and admit had sort of dreaded) all 27 of us would head out as a large group, following Andrew (our leader) who would be holding one of those umbrellas in the air so we’d know where to follow.
We chose our own groups, so typically mine ended up being the “youth” group. Mind you, “youth” implies we’re all over 30. This is my group at Holy Sepulcher/Resurrection (L-R: Scott, Andrew, Michelle).
Our mission for the day was to describe the quarter, its boundaries, its neighbours, find a high place from which to look out from and a low place to explore. We were to look for a religious shrine other than the faith of the quarter we were in and any excavations viewable. Most important, we were to engage: meet the people, talk to them and ask them about life in the quarter. Our aim was to discern joys and sorrows of the quarter. Lastly, we were to find a symbol that represented our experience in the quarter.
So, my group was sent to the Christian quarter. Scott and Andrew struck a conversation with a shop keeper right off the bat. He was Muslim and said his family has owned the shop for three generations—joking, his father would kill him if he sold it. We learned most of the shops in the Christian quarter are owned by Muslims. Most of the Christians have left Jerusalem, either to avoid the political conflict or simply because they can gain a different life in Europe or North America. We saw this as a sorrow. However, in the same breath, he talked about how well the Christians and Muslims get along (at least, until unrest breaks out). This we saw as a joy.
We spent some time in the Church of the Resurrection/Holy Sepulchre, but did not explore extensively. We stuck mainly to the tomb, although I did take a look around the small Armenian chapel. Behind the Church, inside the Christian quarter, is the Muslim Mosque of Omar, a sign of mutual respect and inter-faith support. Joy.
Rather than spend 16 shekels each to climb to the top of Church of the Redeemer, the Lutheran church (which I’ve already done), we decided our high point in the quarter would be above the Ethiopian chapels where the monastic quarters are. We stood looking at the rooftops noticing the network of pathways through the quarter.
A brief walk around found us in Queen Helen Coptic Orthodox Church. The chapel is small and attended by a very friendly and chatty priest named Michael (but pronounced differently). He seemed excited to learn we were clergy and a seminarian. We chatted briefly. Underneath the chapel is a cistern. Before you enter there’s a sign that says you should sing when you get down to the bottom. So we descended. And it was deep and damp and dark and had stellar acoustics! We sang two taize songs. A fabulous moment and a total joy.
When we came out of the cistern Andrew, Scott and I decided to have a drink, while Michelle went to check out a fabric shop. Second sorrow of the day: not asking the price of the freshly-squeezed OJ before drinking it! We were robbed blind. My fault—as the person who’s been here for a month, I know better!
This is the coptic priest at the cistern. He smiled and laughed up until the picture, when he became very pius!
This was quickly and pretty much completely, overshadowed by the joy of Bilale Abu Khalid. While we drank our very expensive OJ, Michelle struck up a conversation with Bilale, the fabric store owner. When we joined her, he repeated all he’d told her: about his store, the different fabrics, the different type of garments he makes for people from all three faiths. He showed us his Christian liturgical robes—Michelle bought a white chasuble and stole—and a velvet coat with gold embroidery. Bilale is one of five stores (in the world, I believe) who sells the quality of silk he has. A magazine article about Bilale’s store noted the custom orders he has filled for dignitaries and celebrities, including Michael Jackson and Elton John. He served us tea, coffee and lemonade (the best lemonade I’ve ever had!)—a true sign of Palestinian hospitality! As we left Bilale’s store for lunch, promising to return (and actually meaning it), we asked him for a place he recommends us to eat. He walked us over to a friend’s restaurant—the same one I ate at my first day in Jerusalem—spoke to the owner and told us lunch was on him. We protested, obviously, and we attempted to pay for our lunch after we ate—but it was on him. Bilale was above and beyond hospitable and was absolutely the entire group’s favourite part of the day. Our complete joy.
We wandered through the shops filled with pottery, cheesy t-shirts and religious souvenires and found ourselves at Jaffa Gate. Having spent about four hours in the Christian quarter, we decided to explore our neighbours, the Armenians. Although we found St. James Cathedral, it was “closed for the week”. However, after Scott struck up a conversation with the guide about his wife being Armenian, we happened to still be lingering as the clergy and seminarians processed for evening service. We were motioned to follow and did.
The thing about the OldCity…just when you think you’ve entered a door to a specific building, it leads to another corridor and a whole other network of homes, convents or schools. This is what we followed to reach the Holy Arch Angels Chapel (Armenian) where we stayed for the lengthy service (a feast day, so the service was longer).
I admit I thought of Kevin Flynn during the service--watching seminarians who were openly asking each other and looking around for instructions on what to do next--thinking Kevin's head would have exploded!
A few more thoughts/events/situations that popped up this week:
- My newly-made friends Anne and Donna, Canadian anthropologists working at Trent University and the University of Toronto, who I spent much of my first three weeks here with departed on Monday.
- I travelled the Armenian quarter this week and stumbled across St. Mark's Church, a Syrian Orthodox Church said to be built on the same spot as the apostle Mark's house. I found it at 4pm and returned at 5pm for an evening service. It was beautiful, despite my not understanding a word. I did not take pictures inside the church because (honestly) not having taken the time to figure out my camera properly, I couldn't be sure my flash wouldn't go off and they asked for no flash.
- In between finding the church and returning, I wandered the quarter. A shop owner recommended I climb to the roofs and take a view of the city from the quarter, which I did.
- I admit, I blatantly lied to said shop owner, who asked if he could take me out that night, saying I have a guy at home. phft. I attribute this lie to the equivalent of my saying to other shop owners "no I can't come see your store today, I'm meeting someone" when I am not interested in shopping for something I don't need. I try to be polite!
- While I was on the roof, a group of unarmed Israeli soldiers came up. They were being trained (hence the lack of ammunition) and the guide that was pointing out sites to them. This is probably the only picture of the Israeli military I will attempt to take.
- In my wandering I reached a corner and saw a Jewish man leave a house. As I passed the house, I heard from inside, two children crying and what I assume was their mother saying, in perfect English: "well, do you want Daddy to come back?!" I stood off to the side of the window out of sight and listened for about a minute to the exchange. It was, in a word, horrible and heartbreaking.
- Then distracted in my wandering, I ended up in a dead end. Reading a plaque on a wall outside a house I heard a "hello." I responded with "hello" and a man came out the door. He almost immediately upon seeing me asked to cover up my cross chain because it was offensive to him. I did so, a) because I don't want to be antagonistic and b) I'm in a dead end street with a guy who's offended by my cross! He chatted for about 10 minutes and while I never felt unsafe, I couldn't be sure he was 'all there'. In the end, he told me I should go to a book store and find some literature on "Gentiles" because I am still young enough to "live right."
- I had dinner with Fr. Bob, Deb and Joshua (who's last name I did not get) but who runs Kids4Peace. This is an interfaith organization initiated with the help of St. George's, that supports Israeli, Palestinian and North American youth to learn about each other. They provide summer camps in which Israeli and Palestinian youth travel to the US for a week and spend time together learning about each other's faith and culture and customs. There is a Canadian branch and I would be highly supportive of any parish or individual or group that decided to support this effort to .help youth foster peace and reconciliation.
- Josh shared stories with us of his experiences working with the youth. Among them: the Muslim and Christian students have names nicknames for each other: Bells and Buckets. You figure it out. We didn't learn what they call the Jewish children.
- Yesterday, I toured the Tower of David. It is a fabulous way to get a grasp on the last 5000 years of regional history. It was ridiculously hot out (about 38 degrees), so the air conditioned exhibts were a welcome distraction.
In speaking with Fr. Bob before coming to Jerusalem, he strongly recommended I take the Palestine of Jesus course through St. George's College. I am especially grateful that my diocese agreed to support me in this.
In some sort of freak coincidence, I am taking the course this week for nine days, mainly with clergy from the Diocese of Toronto under Bishop Philip Poole. Our last day of the course is July first and I've heard rumour the Canadian Ambassador is joining us for breakfast.
Our itinerary, because I am freakishly excited is roughly as such:
* Today: Lecture on Jerusalem: Yesterday and Today (a quick, one-hour zip through the history of the city), a view of the outside of the city, including the 3 mountains (Mt. Moriah/Temple Mount, Mt. Zion and Mt. of Olives), 3 valleys (Kidron, Hinnom, Tyropean) and the three domes (Dome of the Rock, Holy Sepulcher/Resurrection and Dormition Abbey). A (very windy) roof-top visit to Abraham's House (a Catholic convent open to pilgrims of all faiths) and a quick stop on Mt. Scopus to view the Judean dessert.
* June 23: The Old City: the four quarters, Reports on Explorations, The Peace Process - A Palestinian Perspective, with Xavier Abu Eid
* June 24: Al-Haram Ash-Sharif, Al Aqsa Mosque and Dome of the Rock, the Pool of Bethseda, Reflection, the Western Wall and Southern Wall Excavations, Lecture on the Peace Process - An Israeli Perspective with Yakir Englander
*June 25: Ein Kerem (traditional site where John the Baptist was born), Churches of the Visitation and the birthplace of John the Baptist, Bethlehem and the Shepherd's Fields, Reflection (by yours truly), Basillica of the Nativity, discusison of the cathedral
* June 26: Optional day to Masada and Qumran and the Dead Sea. You know I'll be opting "IN".
* June 27: Galilee: Meditation in the Desert, Visit Beth Shean / Scythopolis, afternoon by the Sea of Galilee
* June 28: St. Peter's Primacy, renewal of Baptismal vows by the Sea of Galilee, Depart for Mt Beatitudes, option to Church of the Multiplication of Loaves and Fishes (I will opt in)
* June 29: Depart Mt. Tabor (site of Transfiguration). Travel to Nazareth, visti the Basillica with reflection/ the Greek Church of St. Gabriel. Lecture on the Church of the Resurrection/Holy Sepulcher
* June 30: Church of the Resurrection/Holy Sepulcher, Mt. of Olives, Dominus Flevit, Garden of Gethsemane, Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu
* July 1: Way of the Cross (Stations of the Cross) at 6am to avoid the people). Breakfast with the Canadian Ambassador
At home, I'd been working for the Privy Council Office as a media analyst so I was (embarassingly) excited when Fr. Bob invited me to sit on an interview with two Dutch journalists.
Some of the questions revolved around:
* the Christian presence in the Holy Land, which is quickly diminishing (less than 2%). Fr. Bob discussed Bishop Suheil's preference for a more pastoral than political response, namely in his desire to continue encouraging indigenous Christians to remain in the region. Bishop Suheil is less likely to burn political bridges than to try to reinforce or rebuild as needed, and to work with the civil authorities as an ambassador on behalf of Christians. It is through this means that the diocese can continue supporting and providing supplies to organizations, hospitals and schools.
* Why Bishop Suheil did not sign the recent Kairos document. Fr. Bob explained that only the people who write a document sign it. Bishop Suheil joined his ecumenical partners (heads of Christina churches) in "endorsing" the document, which he believes adds to the strength of the religious community speaking with one, unified voice.
* As we would discuss of our parishes at home, questions about demographics of the parish were raised: the population of the two congregations at the Cathedral, the aging population, the tansient nature of parishioners in the English congregation... Fr. Bob noted that Bishop Suheil is trying to bridge the gap between young families fleeing the region. The difficulty in an Arab country, in which Sunday is a work day, was also raised.
* The demographics of the school followed, with note that while the schools are Anglican-run, the majority of students are Muslim. In Jerusalem, there are 600 elementary students in the diocesan-led school and 300 high schoolers (note the difference!), with only about 60 to 70 of those students being Christian. The emphasis is not on evangelism or conversion, but co-operation, mutual respect and appreication for other's faiths and culture. The students focus on the aspects they share, rather than those that differentiate them.
* Of Christian Zionists, Fr. Bob called them an "enigma," adding indigenous Christians do not understand why they would be in support of policy that has a negative affect on Christians living here.
* Of attempts to foster peace and reconciliation, Fr. Bob noted it is referred to "the Peace". He noted the heads of the churches are respectful despite sometimes heated converstations. They are learning the Council of Religious Institutions of the Holy Land is a place of trust and are starting to be more honest with each other. Fr. Bob acknowledged reconciliation and forgiveness is key, which is extremely difficult among such brokeness.
In addition to stressing the need for indigenous Christians to remain in the region, when asked what his final message to Western Europe was, Fr. Bob called for prayers for the political circumstances of the region and the promotion of a just peace, for people to come visit, witness and return to share what they learn and how they have been moved, and (obviously) for ongoing funding to assist in the ministry of the diocese.
Canon Robert Edmunds (aka Fr. Bob) and his wife Deborah returned from vacation on Tuesday and I was finally able to meet them. Fr. Bob is Bishop Suheil's chaplain, is in charge of the Cathedral and responsible for the English congregation, as well as being my advisor for the summer. Deb is the Bishop's assistant. I spent most of Wednesday with Fr. Bob, discussing the workings of the diocses, the cathedral, his role, what my role can entail, etc... We sat with Bishop Suheil for about half an hour, who was very eager to have me not only involved in the English congregation but also with the Arabic-speaking congregation. He has extended invites to several functions being held at by the diocese and seems a relaxed, progressive man.
As a woman in a diocese that does not yet, but is prepared to engage in the conversation of, ordaining women, liturgically my role can include: Altar Guild responsibilities, being an altar server/crucifer, reader or offering prayers of the people and leading Morning or Evening prayer. All of this I have been engaged in so far.
I can, and will, be able to lead reflections (short sermon-like talk followed by group discussion) during course at the College. I am preparing to do that this week when I return to Bethlehem.
I cannot be a Eucharistic assistant or preach. While I do miss preaching and think it would an excellent experience to do so while in Jerusalem, I made peace with this "taboo" before coming.
Bishop Suheil primarily attends/celebrates with the Arabic congregation, which has about 150 congregants, some of whom can make it on Sunday and many who cannot due to logistical reasons. The English congregation is about 20 people, mostly ex-pats. The bulk of attendance fluctuates on account of tourists and pilgrims staying at the Cathedral Guest House or College.
Although I'm at a cathedral, the parish feels rural in terms of size and in a way, function. It is run by a small staff of about 10, some of whom are volunteers, and it is hard for duties not to cross over at times. Programming like adult ed or Sunday school are not set up partly due to lack of regular/predictable attendance, partly due to lack of volunteers to run them. While pastoral care at the parish level is undertaken with the Arabic congregation by Fr. Zahi, it is infrequently required by the English parishioners since they are primarily transient.
Specifically important to the Bishop are education and health care. The diocese includes 27 parishes and supports 33 institutions, including hospitals, clinics, kindergartens and schools, vocational training programs, as well as institutions for the deaf, the disabled and the elderly across Jerusalem, Gaza and the West Bank.
Fr. Bob and I discussed the ability of our visiting some of institutions during my stay, meeting with the staff, students and patients as appropriate.
What was interesting to learn about the workings of the diocese: communication is...carefully limited? between parishes and the diocese. While clergy are in touch with the Bishop's office, what we in N. America would consider necessary in terms of regular parish council, deanery meetings, clergy conferences, etc, don't quite happen in the same sense. Clergy in charge of parishes seem to hold projects/ministry close to their hearts, only the basics of which are shared.
Another observation, about funerals: a mother and a father of two staff members at the Cathedral died in the last week. In addition to the funerals being held at the Catheral, a separte "family" gathering is provided. The "family" being the Catheral staff and parishioners who wish to offer they respects to the deceased's immediate family. Done on a different day than the funeral, it echos the sense of community and friendship (family) firmly rooted in the Arabic culture.
One afternoon this week I was sitting outside with some of the College staff watching the grounds staff move a dirt pile into the gardens. One of the staff, a Muslim man, walked away to a quiet area beside the College, wrapped a towel around his waist and stood still for a moment. We wondered out loud for a moment what he was doing with the towel, as he turned east toward the Dome I love so much, knelt and then bowed to the ground.
It was humbling and beautiful to witness.
Last evening as I was preparing to lead Evening Prayer, I invited a Cathedral visitor to join me if he was interested. He looked tired and weary from heat. He thanked me for the invitation but said “I think I’m all prayed out.”
At Evening Prayer, I never know how many people will join. It could be just me, it could be me and one other person, or a group could be staying at the Guest House and it could be a full house. Whenever it looks like it will be just me, I catch myself momentarily embarrassed, thinking: I’m going to feel ridiculous if visitors start wandering through the Cathedral while I’m saying prayer by myself in the Chapel. I always get over it—I don’t skip evening prayer because I’m alone. And I quickly get over my hesitation as I immerse myself in the liturgy. It’s quite lovely to say prayer in the Chapel out lout by myself.
Yet, tonight, as I led Prayer alone, I caught that slight hesitation. I reminded myself of the staff member who prays five times a day, even if tha tmeans outdoors at work and my hesitation quickly subsided.
I’m learning a deeper appreciation for and dedication to my own prayer life. I’m conscious when I’m tired and hot and culture-shocked of the Muslim people I live and work with who announce their calls to prayer over loud speakers, walk down busy streets with their prayer rugs under their arms, and who when all else fails, will kneel and bow in the garden they are building.
Saturday I joined Abu Hassan of Alternative Tours on his politcal tour of Jerusalem. The tour, which is scheduled to last 3 hours, but lasted 6, focused on historical, geographic, political, and socio-economic aspects of Israeli policies in East Jerusalem. It covered the separation barrier, the Israeli checkpoint regime, and the issue of settlement and home demolitions as well as their impact on the Palestinian people's lives.
To say this wasn't a heartbreaking day, or that it didn't fill me with anger, or that I made it through the entire tour without tears would be a lie. I have dreaded trying to put into words this experience, knowing I probably won't do it justice.
I couldn't possibly do the history of the first and second intifadas justice by attempting to explain them here. Basically, I refer to “East Jerusalem” as those areas of Jerusalem which were captured in 1967 and which are inhabited by Arabs.
Israel has surrounded East Jerusalem with a security barrier. It separates East Jerusalem neighborhoods from the West Bank suburbs, all of which are under the jurisdiction of Israel and are the cause of much criticism. They are 9-foot tall cement walls topped with barbed wire. They are ugly both in appearance and in what they represent.
The tour began with a bit of history about the first and second intifadas. We quicly moved on to viewing sites, particularly travelling across East Jerusalem, viewing where refugee camps are set up, where essentially illegal settlements have been established (according to UN agreements) and where the security wall is built through the city, through neighbourhoods and through families.
While I sadly do not have a good picture of Shuafat refugee camp to show you (I was distracted and didn't take a picture), what I was told is it was established in 1967 after housing was demolished in what is today the Western Wall plaza (open concrete space in front of the Western Wall). The residents' homes were bulldozed and they were told the camp, then made up of tents, would be temporary...just a few weeks. Fourty-three years later, the people have moved out of tents into rustic houses. What I could see is the houses are a grey contrast to the white stone buildings surrounding it. They look as though a stiff wind would topple them like a Jenga tower.
We were told over 35,000 residents live in a one square kilometre compound. The community having grown after 43 years, cannot expand. The land upon which they live is designated by the Israeli government as "green area" (public land).
Some of what we saw on the tour. The security wall. Strategically, the tour shows how the wall separates not only Israelis from Palestinians, but also Palestinians from Palestinians. The picture with the (20) sign and the house to the left was one we stopped at and ascended to the roof for a better view. The wall divides two Palestinian neighbourhoods, and one family in particular. The mother-daughter duo, while previously living basically next door to each other, must now take an hour and a half to visit eachother, passing through security. Apparently, the logic of this division of suburbs/families is seen as creating a dominion over Palestinian lands and making life in the land so undesireable that people leave.
This was a picture I took outside the apartment of the mother separated from her daughter. Children, reslilient as they are, sitting with their back to the wall playing with water guns.
While we spoke often on the tour of how today's children will prove part of the solution of the future, we also heard about the disparity between Israeli and Palestinian-granted resources. Residents of East and West Jerusalem (governed by one mayor) pay equal taxes. However resources and infrastructure funding is dispatched unevenly.
78% of water resources come from wells from the Palestinian controled-West Bank but are distributed and regulated by the Israeli government. Palestinian homes are fitted with roof-top water tanks to protect against periodic water cut off.
I have written of the garbage on the streets... this is along the highway just outside the Kolandia checkpoint...suggesting perhaps further disparity among resource management: garbage disposal and pickup is starkly contrasted between East and West Jerusalem, even with settlement (Israeli) and territory (Palestinian) within East Jerusalem.
The education system is hampered by lack of resources, funding and inability to obtain documentation giving rights of citizenship. Many children are unable to attend school due to refusal by the government to allow the construction of new buildings, even if apparently, the Palestinians fully-fund the projects.
We went through a checkpoint. Our guide has Israeli license plates, and while the guard looked into the car, we were not stopped. Coming back across the checkpoint, we were again lucky not to face any extended delay.
Abu Hassan (our guide) did note that at the Kolandia checkpoint on the way to Ramallah has seen 15 Palestinians killed, 9 of whom where under 12, since 2000. 120 women have given birth while waiting to pass through the checkpoint, with ambulances being refused passage, some/many of whom died.
Later in our tour, we stopped in Sheikh Jarrah, an area within momentary walking distance from where I live in East Jerusalem (Palestinian territory), in which 28 Palestinian families have been evicted from their homes by Israeli settlers.
What I saw and what made me cry: This family in the picture to the right, has been evicted from their home last year (shown below, notice the Israeli flags hung from the windows and the candles perched on top of the hosue). They sit across the street from the home in protest. To the right of the father (bearded man in stripes and white hat) were about 10 Israeli police monitoring for order and peace.
Notice what hangs from the tree: a Superman doll.
The man sitting on the couch behind the Superman doll is from an NGO that provides an accompanier 24-hours-day in support of the Palestinians evicted.
We also visited a house directly across the street from this one that is divided into two apartments. We were told an 85-year old Palestinian woman lived in the front apartment, her son in the back. She was evicted. The family erected a tent with some of her possessions inside as a sign of protests. She now lives with her son.
After speaking with a family member and returning to the front of the house, we faced an Israeli settler standing in front of the 85-year old's former home, with a smirk on his face. He laughed as we passed by.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a strong impulse to wipe the smirk off his face.
I did not take pictures of him or the police. It wouldn't be prudent.
Today's sermon by Dean Stephen Needs of St. George's College focused on "be still and know that I am God."
Twenty-four hours after this tour of security walls, settlements and evicted families, I had a tough time remaining still. Rather than ascend to the roof of the Austrian Hospic for a view of the beauty of the city, I took a strole through the Old City and got lost among stores, bartering merchants, tourists and my thoughts. I am having an incredibly difficult time making sense of what is called "democracy" and finding immense sympathy for the side of the story I've seen and heard so far.
I wrote last week about my first encounter with the children at Spafford Children's Centre in the Old City. I returned today with Anne for a second time. This notion of a "very easy to do" task or trivial manner continued to strike a nerve in me.
The centre received a donation and poster/letter from school kids in Scotland. The director of the Spafford Centre suggested it would be nice idea for the children to respond with some art work of their own.
Anne asked the kids to draw a self portrait of themselves, write their names in Arabic and English, along with their age. On the adjacent side of the page, we painted one hand in blue and made a hand print. Photos of each child that I took will be printed out and attached to their artwork.
For North American kids, this is a task we might give kindergardeners or grader one's. And for all intents and purposes, that is what one might think the age group of the children at the centre to be. In reality, we had children aged 1 (closing in on 2) up to 13. An observer might not be able to tell the difference between the artwork of the 5-year-old and the 13-year-old. The self portraits were rudimentary, and the children often copied images from their neighbour's drawing, unable to pull upon their own imaginations or self images.
After this task was completed, the children were free to do their own artwork. Stickers are quickly consumed by outstretch arms and amid voices of "Miiiiissss...Miiiisss". Older children snatch stickers out of my hand intended for other kids (receiving reproach for their impatience and demands they hand it over to the intended recipient while awaiting their turn...I'm hard core, man).
Of the thirty-odd some children who joined us today (they come and go as they please, no accountable monitoring for them by the volunteers), only one produced artwork of something perceivable: she used feathers and coloured paper to make a sun and palm tree. Mostly, stickers are peeled as quickly as received and stuck to a page haphazardly, feathers and glitter are glued in random splotches depicting nothing more coherent than much colour. Of course, these kids could be future modern artists in the making, who am I to question?!
Impatience is a virtue for these children. They loose attention span quickly and resort to asking "Miiissss" to help them complete a task (like making pom-poms from yarn). They are heartbroken and frustrated when their project doesn't come out as planned, or as often happens, it breaks or is 'pinched' by another child.
For anyone who thinks arts and crafts is mere "child's play," I think these children would disagree.
I know. This is a very long-winded entry. There was a lot to process post-visit.
The Day as it Unfolded
I have met two Canadian anthropologists staying at the Guest House. Donna researches pilgrims and works at the University of Toronto and Anne researches olive wood/oil and teaches at Trent. They have been exceedingly gracious in inviting me along on some of their adventures, dinners or walks.
Yesterday over breakfast they said they were headed to Bethlehem for the day and would I like to join? “Yuh huh!” I said, what a perfect way to spend my birthday but to head to the town where Jesus was born.
The day was bitter-sweet. It was an eye-opener and it evoked strong emotions which meant when I got back to my apartment, I couldn’t process the day enough to blog about it.
We set off on the bus mid-morning. Bethlehem is about 8km from Jerusalem, and we faced no major traffic. The bus dropped us off at the checkpoint (my first encounter). There was no line up to get into Bethlehem. No tour buses lining the street like at Gethsemane. The Israeli guards barely glanced at my dark blue Canadian passport.
On the Palestinian side of the checkpoint (the tunnel/walls of which are graffitied with words like “racism” and “stop the genocide”), a line-up of taxis await. We were maybe 7 people coming through and the drivers were like hawks to roadkill. They swarmed around, asking where we wanted to go and shouting prices at us.
Thankfully, Anne speaks Arabic. She negotiated a one-way trip into the city (note, we’re not further than a kilometre or two away from the centre of town) for 40 shekels (about $13). This was still more than we needed to pay. A German couple was having less success and had been quoted 100 shekels, to which Anne advised them to negotiate for 40.
There was considerable confusion and yelling among the driver. Suddenly, we’re no longer going with the driver we negotiated with and we’re getting in a different cab. He immediately starts trying to renegotiate the terms…one way is not in his best interest, we would be better to use him as a tour guide and have him spend the day with us…for say, 250 shekels. Anne politely explains we have plans and we’re meeting people and couldn’t possibly commit to a time when we’d be ready to return…we really only need one-way. His response, as he smacks his head, is that he simply cannot lose the day (giving up his spot in the cab line at the checkpoint for only 40 shekels and potentially passing up a longer day tour). He tells us we “cannot be mad about this…cannot be mad about this” and returns us to the checkpoint. We’d only driven about 1000m.
Surprised, we exit the cab to mayhem at the cab line-up…more shouting, confusion and arm waving in faces (not ours, thankfully). It seemed someone had jumped their spot in line and people were none-to-pleased! Tension here was very high.
We hopped in another cab, the driver of which severely criticized the previous driver for his actions. He let us out in Manger Square.
In this picture, my back is to the Church of the Nativity (built over the grotto where Jesus is said to have been born).
There were very few tourists about. Taxi drivers descend, insisting you need a tour guide and merchants approach with jewellery, beads and rosaries begging you to purchase. Children follow you persistently asking you to buy chicklettes for just a few shekels.
We made a very quick, and incomplete, tour of the Church of the Nativity, descending briefly to the grotto among pushing crowds to view “THE place where Jesus was born” (hear my scepticism).
I say push, I mean it. It is a very small space…a cave (I didn’t stop to take pictures). People are hot and sweaty, tired from waiting in line and trying to squeeze in ahead of you a little bit of an arm at a time. Shouting erupted from one woman who felt the person in front of her took too long to appreciate her moment.
All-in-all, I’d say it was a perfect representation of Christian love and hospitality. Yup.
Interestingly, as we quickly exited the mayhem, we sat quietly and quite alone in the oldest standing church in the country. We even had space to light candles. The other tourists appeared entirely disinterested.
We then spent a lovely hour in Jack Giacaman’s store “Christmas House.” The point of the trip was for Anne to speak with him about his olive wood business as he had just opened a new store.
His pieces were lovely (yes, I purchased). He was a genuine and gracious host, offering us coffee and giving us a tour of his new workshop. I will recommend his store to anyone heading to Bethlehem.
We popped into the Church of St. Catherine, and the Church of the Mother of God (where Mary is said to have hid to escape the soldiers trying to kill the baby boys) both of which were empty. Then travelled to Shepherd’s Field in Beit Sahour (another 5 minute cab ride). The fields are traditionally identified with Ruth the Moabite, daughter-in-law of Naomi, who gleaned in the field of Boaz, Naomi’s kinsmen and as where the shepherds kept watch over their flock by night. Again, we walked the Franciscan grounds in solitary, the one tour bus we passed, boarding and leaving as we arrived.
We ate lunch at a large restaurant next to the Shepherd’s Field. We were one of among four tables in the entire restaurant. The service was splendid and the food delicious. Beer and Hookah/Sheesha (which I can now say I’ve tried and won’t have again) were shared in birthday celebratory manner. The view: overlooked an Israeli settlement and electric fence. I stared at the scene, my heart aching.
After lunch, surprisingly, not a cab in sight (they were obviously all waiting at the checkpoint). A young guy at a coffee shop offered to drive us back to the checkpoint in his early 1980’s car with holes in the door. He refused to ask a price, simply saying “whatever you feel like giving.”
Exiting the cab and entering the gate to the border, passports in hand (again, no lineup), a young boy of about 10 approached each of us in turn asking us to buy his postcards. He started at 10 shekels (about $3) and worked down. Anne and Donna held firm, but remained polite. No, shukrun (no, thank you). When he got to me, I was holding firm, likewise.
We reached the turnstile and it hit me like a brick wall…even if he wanted to follow me further…to continue his plea of “please, lady…just a few shekels to help my family,” he couldn’t. I gave him 2 shekels (not even a $1) and he was grateful.
The Disillusion
I guess I had expectedBethlehem to be bustling with tourists. But tourists often come with Israeli tour guides, who cannot come into the city and who are said to describe it as an unsafe region. The lack of people anywhere except in the grotto prove the effect the conflict is having on the city.
Bethlehem is walled, with tall cement literally encasing homes, with security towers and barbed wire and electric fences and settlers looking down from their hilltop.
The people and their economy are devastated. They are increasingly secluded. They are desperate for whatever business they can conjure and the tension at the cab line-up proves it.
Buildings under construction have been abandoned and left incomplete. Garbage lines the street.
I felt heavy and sad in this town …my eyes forced wider to the effects of the conflict. Seeing is different from reading.
Having been to the city before, Donna said her first visit was just as traumatizing. This time, she was able to see the beauty among the chaos. I am hopeful on my next trip to Bethlehem I too will be able to focus on the beauty.
In the meantime, I will remind myself of: The non-cab driver who refused to actually charge us. The graciousness of Jack as he proudly showed us his store and workshop. Of the company of Anne and Donna, who guided me through such a broken place on my birthday. And of the reminders among ingraciousness, of what it means to be truly hospitable, forgiving, and open to the change we want to see in the world.
It took me nearly 2 hours to write the last blog entry. I did so over fatoush salad, humus, and beer at the Jerusalem Hotel, with cats wandering among feet and a bustling crowd. It was a lovely evening for reflection.
I haven't posted in a few days now, but I have been busy. Having finished photographing all 250 kneeler cushions, I have begun the task of researching the parishes for contact information. I would love to make this sound like a more exciting project, alas.... Let me just say, the Church of England appears not to be a fan of putting contact information in easy-to-locate spots on parish websites.
Birthplace of the Virgin Mary
The day I walked Rampart's Walk from Jaffa Gate to Dung Gate, I also went to the site said to be the birth place of the Virigin Mary. The series of grottos (cave-like) rooms are tiny, dark, damp and musty. I couldn't imagine living here, even if I were a foot shorter!
This is the shrine above the home.
The tombs of St. Anna and St. Joachim.
Where Mary is said to have lived as an infant.
Church of the Holy Sepulcher
Last Friday evening, I made my way to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the church believed to be built on the site of Jesus' crucifixion, burial and resurrection. The space is shared between several Christian denominations, most notably, the Orthodox, Latin (Catholic) and Armenian Churches.
Upon entering the church, the Stone of Unction, where it is said Jesus' body was cleaned and prepared for burial:
Steps to the right of this take you up to Golgotha "the place of the skull," described in the New Testament . The central chapel is Greek Orthodox (very ornate). Under the altar, you can reach your hand through a casing to touch the rock where the cross is said to have stood. Sadly, my camera was full, probably of cushions, and I couldn't take any more shots at that point (I 'borrowed' this one from online).
The tomb is in a large wooden rotunda to the left of the stone of unction and it seriously dominates the section of the Church. I did stand in line to go through and you really do not get much time inside before the monks urge you out.
I arrived at the Church around 4:30 or 5. I missed most of the Catholic service but I was perfectly positioned to watch the Armenian service, which was beautiful to listen to.
Today I joined Ann, a volunteer at St. George's College and wife of the College's program director, on her weekly volunteer time at Spafford Children's Centre in the Old City. The community centre has a fabulous history, changing over the last 100+ years from being a community of religious American colonists (the owners of which also built the American Colony Hotel, which is right nextdoor to the Cathedral/College), an orphanage, a hospital, and a school...
Now, the Spafford Children's Center provides health care (through a small clinc that offers vaccinations and checkups, follow-up appointments), special education (speech therapy, language support, learning difficulties), psycho-social services and assistance gaining access to social welfare.
Ann works with a children's program providing space and guidance for children to do crafts and play games. Many of the children are disadvantaged and are recommended to the program because they have trouble in school. Opportunity to paint, colour, and do crafts like make masks or play with glitter and stickers are simply not available at home. The crafts are messy and require both space (not likely if a family of 10 lives in a three-room apt) and disposable income.
Since the children do not learn arts and crafts in school, their hand-eye coordination is poorly developed, and outside of sibling/relatives, they do not know how to openly share. The volunteers try to instill patience (of which the children seem to have little of), respect for others and a sense of how to share.
I also received a tour by and heard the history of the Center by the director of the Centre, Dr. Jantien Dajani. While we were in the clinic, a Muslim woman holding her baby daughter appeared very distressed and had obviously been crying. Dr. Dajani explained that she had taken a trip to visit family and her husband told her not to bother returning. The Centre was trying to find a way to help her gain access to social assistance, which she would not qualify for.
I literally felt my heart break for this woman.
On our way back to the Cathedral/College we passed two little boys (maybe 3 or 4 and 5 or 6). They were playing with empty plastic bottles. Neither of us saw it coming, but one of the bottles came flying toward us, having been deliberately chucked at our heads by the older of the two. Luckily it was empty! Ann turned to say "No!" to him, at which point the youngest threatened to throw one of the two bottles he held. Again, we said "No!" quite forcefully. He did throw it. I bent down and picked it up and started to walk away with it (obviously, because that is what my response would be to a child at home who did such a thing).
As any 3 or 4 year old having his toy taken away would, he started to cry/yell. I realized the empty bottle probably WAS his toy and I couldn't bring myself to actually walk away with it. I turned around after two steps, looked at him and said "we don't throw bottles at people" and handed it back to him. He said "sorry" very quietly and walked away.
My heart broke again.
A heavy military / police presence is out around the Old City today, particularly around Herod's Gate. Anticipating of a "peaceful" protest against the flotila incident this afternoon means checkpoints are severely backed up and are refusing many people entry. Helicopters circling overhead, a sign of anticipation of trouble, suggest there is a lack of trust in the prospect of "peace."
I am a theologial student at St. Paul University. I have been accepted by the Anglican Church of Canada to participate in its Theological Students' International Intern Program. I will be working with the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem and the Middle East for three months. This blog is an attemtp to articulate and share that experience.
