Now that we're back in the USA after our travels in Palestine and Israel, I am frequently asked, "How was it?"
It was painful to see the separation between Israelis and Palestinians and to witness the oppression of the Palestinian people.
It was sad to witness the security measures at every turn, even at the Dome of the Rock and Al Aqsa Mosque, the Muslim holy sites in the Old City of Jerusalem.
It was inspiring to see the efforts of grassroots Palestinian leaders to bring hope out of despair in refugee camps, in the Golan Heights, in the harassed city of Hebron, and in the Palestinian National Authority headquarters in Ramallah.
It was unforgettable to walk where Jesus walked, to sail in a boat on the Sea of Galilee, and then to be invited to baptize Laura Shawn Pinnsonault in those same waters. Laura was one of our group members who decided to begin her new life in Christ at age 31.
It was joyful to dance with strangers who invited us to join their Palestinian Christian wedding reception in a hotel courtyard in Nazareth.
It was beautiful to be accompanied on the journey by my 20-year-old daughter Rachel, by wonderful church members, and by new friends we made along the way.
Hope abounds! Palestine and Israel live in the midst of brokenness, yet faith, hope and love will never die . . . in fact, these are the powers that carry us forward into God's new future. I give thanks that the wind and fire of the Holy Spirit push us in the paths of justice.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
News from Nazareth
Our Mideast travels have taken us from Bethlehem to Haifa to Nazareth in the last two days, and we had two experiences that help us identify with the experience of Palestinians here. Our bus driver Hassem is Muslim and our tour guide Ibrahim is Greek Orthodox, and both are Palestinian. We drove through a security checkpoint on the way to Taybeh, and the young Israeli soldier randomly told us that we were not allowed to use the road that would take us there directly. We had to take a lengthy detour on a much smaller road, which made us 45 minutes late. Yesterday, we went through a checkpoint as we left the West Bank and entered Israel, and an Israeli officer walked through the bus with a surly look and examined each of our passports.
Palestinians have to get used to these delays and harassment techniques, and we got a little taste of how that feels. We have also heard stories from our tour leaders and local residents that remind us for some Palestinians, the Occupation of their land makes them feel they are living in an open-air prison.
Fortunately, there are light moments. We enjoyed meeting with a Bahai leader and seeing the gorgeous gardens of the only Bahai temple in the Mideast. We talked with a Sufi Muslim Sheikh in Nazareth, and as he was singing one of his traditional songs, the church bells from the beautiful Church of the Annunciation nearby began to play. We stayed in a hostel overlooking the city of Nazareth last night and in the courtyard there was a lovely wedding reception going on. They invited us to join in the dancing, and along with mostly Palestinian/Israeli songs, we also danced to Elvis Presley and "YMCA." It really is a small world.
Today we drive to the Golan Heights to meet with a Druze religious leader and then will go back to Tel Aviv. This is a rich religious and cultural journey, and each night we spend time reflecting on how we can act on what we have witnessed when we come back home next Monday.
Peace, Shalom, Salaam.
Palestinians have to get used to these delays and harassment techniques, and we got a little taste of how that feels. We have also heard stories from our tour leaders and local residents that remind us for some Palestinians, the Occupation of their land makes them feel they are living in an open-air prison.
Fortunately, there are light moments. We enjoyed meeting with a Bahai leader and seeing the gorgeous gardens of the only Bahai temple in the Mideast. We talked with a Sufi Muslim Sheikh in Nazareth, and as he was singing one of his traditional songs, the church bells from the beautiful Church of the Annunciation nearby began to play. We stayed in a hostel overlooking the city of Nazareth last night and in the courtyard there was a lovely wedding reception going on. They invited us to join in the dancing, and along with mostly Palestinian/Israeli songs, we also danced to Elvis Presley and "YMCA." It really is a small world.
Today we drive to the Golan Heights to meet with a Druze religious leader and then will go back to Tel Aviv. This is a rich religious and cultural journey, and each night we spend time reflecting on how we can act on what we have witnessed when we come back home next Monday.
Peace, Shalom, Salaam.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Not So Little Town of Bethlehem
We arrived in Bethlehem yesterday, to discover that it is no longer a little town. Bethlehem is now a Palestinian community, which is about one percent Christian and 99 percent Muslim. We are learning about the realities of life in the Holy Land today, and there are disappointments and surprises at every turn.
What we have learned in the last two days is that there are two separate classes of people in the West Bank of Palestine: there are Jewish residents and settlers and there are Palestinian Christians and Muslims. They live in two different realities, two different worlds, even though they are side by side.
Yesterday, we visited a Palestinian refugee camp inhabited by families who have been displaced from their homes since 1948. That was the year the Jewish homeland was created, and hundreds of families have been waiting more than 50 years to reclaim their homes and properties. In the meantime, one group has organized a theatre and arts group for families who are stranded in these camps.
Today, we met with a Jewish settler who came here from Chicago in 1982. He and his wife were motivated by the desire to be among their own people, following what they understand to be the religious imperative to live in Palestine/Israel. Since the first and second Intifadas in the 1990s, he no longer has any relationships with Palestinians and feels it is dangerous to travel into Palestinian territories -- fearing terrorist attack.
Later, we visited the town of Hebron, which is where Abraham bought land and where King David located a military camp. It has been an Arab Palestinian city for thousands of years. However, we saw four Jewish settlements in the city of Hebron and there is an active Israeli military force that patrols the souks (street vendors) and intimidates the Palestinian residents. A Christian Peacemaker Team is located here, and one of their primary missions is to escort schoolchildren safely to their classes. The tension between Zionists and Palestinians is very deep. As an example, we visited the mosque in Hebron and had to pass through three different security systems simply to tour this holy place.
Fortunately, some Hebronites are organizing to rehabilitate the city and restore the vitality of the shopping areas.
For a place where there are so many glorious houses of worship and where there is so much religious history, it is painful to see the daily conflict and division that exists here. But it is also important that we bear witness to the these issues, so that we can be advocates for the peace of Christ, the justice of God and the power of the Holy Spirit. As one theology professor said to us, "Do not forget us when you return to your home. We need your support. We need your prayers. We need you to speak for us." A' salaam aleikum, (Arabic for "peace be among you.")
What we have learned in the last two days is that there are two separate classes of people in the West Bank of Palestine: there are Jewish residents and settlers and there are Palestinian Christians and Muslims. They live in two different realities, two different worlds, even though they are side by side.
Yesterday, we visited a Palestinian refugee camp inhabited by families who have been displaced from their homes since 1948. That was the year the Jewish homeland was created, and hundreds of families have been waiting more than 50 years to reclaim their homes and properties. In the meantime, one group has organized a theatre and arts group for families who are stranded in these camps.
Today, we met with a Jewish settler who came here from Chicago in 1982. He and his wife were motivated by the desire to be among their own people, following what they understand to be the religious imperative to live in Palestine/Israel. Since the first and second Intifadas in the 1990s, he no longer has any relationships with Palestinians and feels it is dangerous to travel into Palestinian territories -- fearing terrorist attack.
Later, we visited the town of Hebron, which is where Abraham bought land and where King David located a military camp. It has been an Arab Palestinian city for thousands of years. However, we saw four Jewish settlements in the city of Hebron and there is an active Israeli military force that patrols the souks (street vendors) and intimidates the Palestinian residents. A Christian Peacemaker Team is located here, and one of their primary missions is to escort schoolchildren safely to their classes. The tension between Zionists and Palestinians is very deep. As an example, we visited the mosque in Hebron and had to pass through three different security systems simply to tour this holy place.
Fortunately, some Hebronites are organizing to rehabilitate the city and restore the vitality of the shopping areas.
For a place where there are so many glorious houses of worship and where there is so much religious history, it is painful to see the daily conflict and division that exists here. But it is also important that we bear witness to the these issues, so that we can be advocates for the peace of Christ, the justice of God and the power of the Holy Spirit. As one theology professor said to us, "Do not forget us when you return to your home. We need your support. We need your prayers. We need you to speak for us." A' salaam aleikum, (Arabic for "peace be among you.")
Sunday, June 19, 2011
A world of walls
Walls are everywhere in this holy city. A few of us started our day jogging around the walls of the Old City of Jerusalem as the sun rose over the Mount of Olives. Within these ancient stones are some of the holiest sites of Judaism, Christianity and Islam: the Western wall, the Via Dolorosa (Jesus' walk to the cross), and the Dome of the Rock and Al Aqsa, two Muslim mosques.
But there are other walls, built more recently. Yesterday we met with a Muslim professor, a priest in the Melkite Catholic Church and a leader of the Sabeel ecumenical liberation theology center. Each of them told us about walls that restrain our Palestinian neighbors from leading a normal life. They are not allowed to swim in the Dead Sea, as we did so easily on Friday. They are not allowed to travel freely on roads or to enter certain areas. They are not provided basic civic services, such as reliable water and electricity, schools and parks. . . though they do pay taxes.
Today we saw with our own eyes the wall that separates Palestinian communities from Jewish communities -- a wall that is longer and higher than the Berlin Wall, and it is still being built. As the wall twists and turns, it separates family members and makes it very difficult for Palestinians to travel to jobs and schools.
I wept as I prayed at the Garden of Gethsemane, and again at the Wailing Wall. I wept to think of the sufferings of Jesus, and I was deeply disturbed to see that Jerusalem continues to be a place of injustice and division. Each day we seek to learn ways that we can be instruments of peace and justice, building bridges in a world of walls.
But there are other walls, built more recently. Yesterday we met with a Muslim professor, a priest in the Melkite Catholic Church and a leader of the Sabeel ecumenical liberation theology center. Each of them told us about walls that restrain our Palestinian neighbors from leading a normal life. They are not allowed to swim in the Dead Sea, as we did so easily on Friday. They are not allowed to travel freely on roads or to enter certain areas. They are not provided basic civic services, such as reliable water and electricity, schools and parks. . . though they do pay taxes.
Today we saw with our own eyes the wall that separates Palestinian communities from Jewish communities -- a wall that is longer and higher than the Berlin Wall, and it is still being built. As the wall twists and turns, it separates family members and makes it very difficult for Palestinians to travel to jobs and schools.
I wept as I prayed at the Garden of Gethsemane, and again at the Wailing Wall. I wept to think of the sufferings of Jesus, and I was deeply disturbed to see that Jerusalem continues to be a place of injustice and division. Each day we seek to learn ways that we can be instruments of peace and justice, building bridges in a world of walls.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Post from Palestine
Our trip to Palestine and Israel took off from Chicago on Tuesday, but we didn't make it to Jerusalem until Thursday because of a volcanic ash cloud from Somalia. After a 24-hour detour to Amsterdam, we arrived here at the Jerusalem Hotel in the West Bank. We are just a few steps away from the Garden Tomb, which was our first stop. This may be the place where Jesus was crucified and buried, and it was amazing to stand inside a rock tomb to feel what it was like for the first disciples to find an empty tomb on Easter morning.
We stopped by the American Colony Hotel, founded by Horatio and Anna Spafford of Chicago as a Christian mission in Jerusalem. I mentioned Horatio in a sermon last fall, and he was the writer of the hymn "It Is Well With My Soul." We also walked to the Damascus Gate, an ancient site that is now the home of a hundred food stalls, clothing shops and cell phone stores.
Today we visited Masada, the site of King Herod's fortress a few decades before the birth of Christ. It looks out over the Dead Sea and Jordan, and it was later the encampment for a group of Jewish rebels who were fighting against Roman oppression. Over the centuries, it was home to a huge public bath, a synagogue, and later a Byzantine Christian church. Today it stands as a monument to Zionism -- inspiring Jewish militants to stand strong in their cause.
On the way home, we swam in the Dead Sea -- where everyone floats due to the very high salt content. Then we spent time in Jericho to see a 900-year-old sycamore tree (like the one Zacchaeus climbed) and a store run by Palestinian and Bedouin natives. We heard a great talk at dinner from Jeff Halper, who works with the Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions. A great analysis of the seemingly intractable problems in this small but significant part of the world.
We stopped by the American Colony Hotel, founded by Horatio and Anna Spafford of Chicago as a Christian mission in Jerusalem. I mentioned Horatio in a sermon last fall, and he was the writer of the hymn "It Is Well With My Soul." We also walked to the Damascus Gate, an ancient site that is now the home of a hundred food stalls, clothing shops and cell phone stores.
Today we visited Masada, the site of King Herod's fortress a few decades before the birth of Christ. It looks out over the Dead Sea and Jordan, and it was later the encampment for a group of Jewish rebels who were fighting against Roman oppression. Over the centuries, it was home to a huge public bath, a synagogue, and later a Byzantine Christian church. Today it stands as a monument to Zionism -- inspiring Jewish militants to stand strong in their cause.
On the way home, we swam in the Dead Sea -- where everyone floats due to the very high salt content. Then we spent time in Jericho to see a 900-year-old sycamore tree (like the one Zacchaeus climbed) and a store run by Palestinian and Bedouin natives. We heard a great talk at dinner from Jeff Halper, who works with the Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions. A great analysis of the seemingly intractable problems in this small but significant part of the world.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Pentecost
This Sunday is Pentecost, which comes 50 days after Passover, and is a time when Jewish believers gather in worship. Fifty days after Christ's resurrection, his followers were praying together in the temple when the Holy Spirit arrived as a violent wind, a fire that did not consume, and the gift of tongues. People from many nations were speaking together, and each of them could understand as if they were hearing their native language. In this moment, the church was formed. I wrote this poem to visualize what that first Pentecost might have been like.
Pentecost
They pray in silence
Hard floor of the temple punishing broken-down knees
Ready any moment to rise and leave
Weary of this endless waiting
For a sign.
Anything.
Speak, Lord.
For Christ’s sake
Give us just a shred to go on.
Strangers together
Having traveled through lean days
Meager bread, stale wine, not enough water
To withstand roads without shade
(Except for the shadows of a hundred crosses
Placed to intimidate,
Petty criminals cowering
Shoulders bowed
Weeping jagged through choked breath.
Jesus had been one of them
just 50 days ago.)
Journeying to this thin place, to find what?
The Lord a disappearing act,
risen, gone from their sight.
They are alone again, terrible company to each other,
Unable to speak a common language
Yet clinging to this promise:
an Advocate will come.
One who will speak a Word or two
of mercy
to the Lord
on our behalf.
Oh, that might be worth the trip.
The old man topples first,
Wind like cannon bursts from the doorway
Huddled bodies plant noses to floor, arms crossed overhead
Feet reaching for something that does not move
Ears covered to shield from piercing shriek of sound
Cloaks whipped around thighs, sandals snapped away,
believers stumbling blind, eyes covered.
God’s breath violent
Shuddering
Waking the dead, clearing the room.
Candles clatter, water jars burst.
Animals dive for shelter, spared from the blade and the altar.
Suddenly air stops. Quiet descends.
Fear freezes trembling faces, eyes wide open, insecure,
Then fire licks, small tastes of hair, beard, flesh.
Flame knocks down every pin, flashing bright.
One rolls to the floor, flapping out fire: “Get away!”
Another watches fiery tongues leap, blinking, unable to comprehend
The Spirit’s power.
Light comes and grows.
The boy hears it then. The voice of his father, long since buried.
The sound of familiar words, language of home, yet no one here could know those words.
Tongue-tied mouths loosen, lips begin a slow cascade of speech
That spills and flows, flooding over barriers that stood for generations.
To know and be known;
Each hearing in the language of each,
Words land as sacred melody opening tone-deaf ears.
To hear our stories, each of us understanding
that honest truth
will be told in many ways.
Together, we rise,
knowing
all people stand
in the presence of the Holy.
Pentecost
They pray in silence
Hard floor of the temple punishing broken-down knees
Ready any moment to rise and leave
Weary of this endless waiting
For a sign.
Anything.
Speak, Lord.
For Christ’s sake
Give us just a shred to go on.
Strangers together
Having traveled through lean days
Meager bread, stale wine, not enough water
To withstand roads without shade
(Except for the shadows of a hundred crosses
Placed to intimidate,
Petty criminals cowering
Shoulders bowed
Weeping jagged through choked breath.
Jesus had been one of them
just 50 days ago.)
Journeying to this thin place, to find what?
The Lord a disappearing act,
risen, gone from their sight.
They are alone again, terrible company to each other,
Unable to speak a common language
Yet clinging to this promise:
an Advocate will come.
One who will speak a Word or two
of mercy
to the Lord
on our behalf.
Oh, that might be worth the trip.
The old man topples first,
Wind like cannon bursts from the doorway
Huddled bodies plant noses to floor, arms crossed overhead
Feet reaching for something that does not move
Ears covered to shield from piercing shriek of sound
Cloaks whipped around thighs, sandals snapped away,
believers stumbling blind, eyes covered.
God’s breath violent
Shuddering
Waking the dead, clearing the room.
Candles clatter, water jars burst.
Animals dive for shelter, spared from the blade and the altar.
Suddenly air stops. Quiet descends.
Fear freezes trembling faces, eyes wide open, insecure,
Then fire licks, small tastes of hair, beard, flesh.
Flame knocks down every pin, flashing bright.
One rolls to the floor, flapping out fire: “Get away!”
Another watches fiery tongues leap, blinking, unable to comprehend
The Spirit’s power.
Light comes and grows.
The boy hears it then. The voice of his father, long since buried.
The sound of familiar words, language of home, yet no one here could know those words.
Tongue-tied mouths loosen, lips begin a slow cascade of speech
That spills and flows, flooding over barriers that stood for generations.
To know and be known;
Each hearing in the language of each,
Words land as sacred melody opening tone-deaf ears.
To hear our stories, each of us understanding
that honest truth
will be told in many ways.
Together, we rise,
knowing
all people stand
in the presence of the Holy.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Psalm after Yoga
Since Easter, I've tried writing a poem each week. This one was inspired by my study of the psalms during Lent, and came to me after a truly wonderful yoga class.
Holy One,
Your arms encircle me from behind
I abide with you, leaning back,
Resting in your steadfast love and faithfulness.
Ground of being,
At heart level
Your left hand plucks a string
Stretched tight along my length.
Your right hand drags the bow
You play me
Every string reverberating
Across soft, wide hips moving slowly to birth notes.
Bones reaching for sinew, shape,
To be wrapped in rumbling scrape
Sound resonates,
Emerges from lungs, blood, muscle, lips, navel
Center of all you have made me, responding to your touch.
Air alive with notes that ricochet
across vibrating cells.
My body learns peace
that follows pain,
Belonging
after breaking,
Wholeness
that satisfies desire.
Trust
that replaces anxiety.
With you I create music
I am your instrument.
The song is blessing.
I sing with the breath of joy
So real I can taste it.
Holy One,
Your arms encircle me from behind
I abide with you, leaning back,
Resting in your steadfast love and faithfulness.
Ground of being,
At heart level
Your left hand plucks a string
Stretched tight along my length.
Your right hand drags the bow
You play me
Every string reverberating
Across soft, wide hips moving slowly to birth notes.
Bones reaching for sinew, shape,
To be wrapped in rumbling scrape
Sound resonates,
Emerges from lungs, blood, muscle, lips, navel
Center of all you have made me, responding to your touch.
Air alive with notes that ricochet
across vibrating cells.
My body learns peace
that follows pain,
Belonging
after breaking,
Wholeness
that satisfies desire.
Trust
that replaces anxiety.
With you I create music
I am your instrument.
The song is blessing.
I sing with the breath of joy
So real I can taste it.
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