The Land of Living Stones

Over Greek Orthodox Easter my roommate and I took a holiday to the north country to see the spots where Jesus hung out 2000 years ago. The first day, Thursday, we took the public bus up to Tiberias, an old city with deep Jewish significance. For a couple of hours we wandered the small old city area and saw a few architectural things, a mosque predating 1948, the former city wall, a monastery. Then we walked along the Sea of Galilee (Lake Kinneret) promenade and got some of the tastiest fish I’ve had in a long while, a tourist meal called “St. Peter’s Fish”. I enjoyed the fish alot, especially how my roomie waved the head around.

We caught a bus to our ‘hostel’, a predominantly Jewish/Israeli frequented spot right on the sea called Karei Deshe. Actually we couldn’t figure out how to get there and we walked through a date palm farm and over some fences before finding the entrance. But the second we arrived, I realized why we paid so much for a room–it is a gorgeous hotel! We didn’t have a dorm room but instead we stayed in a suite with a beautiful bathroom, mini-fridge, and a sliding door deck out to a green lawn–a straight shot to the beach where we could see the waves breaking on shore all night. It was super relaxing and we immediately went out to stick our feet in. Unfortunately it was a bit chilly and there were some showers so we didn’t stay out long but we had some R&R at our outdoor table. Then after consuming our instant soup for dinner we went out in the dark to experience some spiritual elements of the passages about Jesus and the sea…like walking on the water, going out early to pray, feeding the 5000, etc.

Morning came and we tried to to catch the sunrise, except the clouds in the East were huge and playing cloud tetris! It just never ended. Then we had a great included breakfast at the hotel and then we started the hike to Tabgha (where Jesus fed 5000 and declared Peter the rock on which the Church would be built) and to Capernaum (where the Gospels record many of Jesus’ miracles and ministry.) First, I found an 8th century Ottoman fortress on the correct road out of the hotel and it was cool but in ruins (apparently not worth restoring and charging admission.) Then it was a bit farther on for the first church, where the rock that the five loaves and two fishes were put on. Even though the sign said no picnics, my roomie and I broke bread with peanut butter while dangling our feet over the Sea of Galilee. It was quite a special moment.

The next church was the Primacy of St. Peter, dedicated to how Peter was called to lead the Church, the body of Christ! It was a beautiful building with apparently another important rock as part of it. On the sidewalk leading around the coast of the Sea, we realized we wouldn’t be able to walk up the mountain to the Mount of Beatitudes church where Jesus’ most famous sermon was supposed to have occurred. Instead we just gazed from afar and kept walking with all our stuff. Eventually we came to Capernaum (Kfar Nahum) where the first century village is meant to have been. There are ruins of a synagogue and of a house called St. Peter’s Mother-in-law’s house, after the story where Jesus healed her of a high fever. It’s believed that this home became an early house church community. There is a big chapel built on top of the ruins on stilts sort of and it has a 360 degree view of the surroundings, including the gorgeous sea. The interior is modern with wood panels depicting Jesus’s miracles in Capernaum, and a glass floor section over top the excavated former village. You can walk down to the water here and there is a chapel outside.

We were very heavily burdened and sadly had to walk back all that way almost to our hotel to get to a bus stop where the bus would take us back to Tiberias. When we arrived there, tired and exhausted, we looked to see if there was a sherut running to Nazareth, since the Egged bus company does not run direct routes there from Tiberias. We asked a taxi driver who said it would cost 140 shekels for the ride with him, but he gave us an awesome tip that there was another bus company that ran routes frequently from the same station, the Nazarene bus company. In the end it worked out really well and we saved lots of money. Then we got to Nazareth and headed straight for the famous Basilica of the Annunciation where Mary found out she was to bear the Son of God. It is a strangely modern design with interesting features. There are beautiful art/mosaic works from countries around the world depicting Mary/baby Jesus and a statue of Mary backed by a fountain and surrounded by a labyrinth outside. Inside there’s a downstairs main chapel and an upstairs chapel and several altars. It’s pretty impressive, awing. The inside of the dome is beautiful too, and the stained glass.

There is a less spectacular church next door dedicated to Joseph’s role in the matter, also with an upstairs and downstairs, including interesting paintings of Jesus and Joseph. It definitely lives in the shadow of the prettier Basilica, which also stands atop ruins of ancient Nazareth. Soon we took our weary selves to the Fauzi Azar Inn, a real hostel in an old mansion hidden away within the Old City. It has Jewish Israeli guests, especially during holidays like Passover, and also many foreign volunteers/travelers, and perhaps Arab Israelis as well (I’m not sure.) But on the whole the Old City is mainly populated by Arab Israelis, Muslim and Christian. It reminds me a bit of Old City Bethlehem, only I haven’t spent much time wandering Bethlehem’s tiny streets and Old City residential areas. We found our beds in a 6 person dorm room but didn’t stop there. Our amazingly full day ended with a trip to the restaurant El-Rida which had a lot of charm and I got muhamar, a sort of bread/sauce-less pizza with sauteed onions, chicken and spices on top.

After sleeping in, we munched on some pitas and peanut butter for breakfast before setting out with a lovely volunteer from Fauzi for a cultural tour of the Old City. We stopped by some other old-style homes, and saw the wood carving and intricate architecture. Then we had a cup of awesome cinnamon and nut tea in an otherwise exclusively male coffee and backgammon club. Another highlight was the coffee shop where we saw how they roast and grind coffee beans with cardamom for Arabic coffee, and the famous spice shop which was once a city-wide flour mill. It was amazing.

To follow the tour we decided to continue up a path of several hundred steps up the hill to the top to a viewpoint of the city available from the Salesian School and Church of Jesus the Adolescent. After we huffed our way up there we got inside the school which apparently was out for the day. Snapping pictures from the balcony we noticed that the gate we entered from had been closed! We were definitely locked on the grounds of the school/church! There was a door open to the school which we ventured inside and saw a class in session (maybe remedial or something) but couldn’t interrupt. Searching onward, we found the cathedral which was locked from the outside. It was phenomenal inside! What a treasure! So pretty. Feeling uneasy we returned outside and saw a boy, who through my limited Arabic seemed to point us to a street that we could escape too. Anticlimactically we got through okay and came straight down all those steps. Thanks Salesians, for locking us in.

For lunch we decided on some fresh pita pizza from a real hole in the wall. Literally, I tell you. But the man told us “five minutes” which turned into a half hour of waiting for them to fix the oven. My, that was a delicious pizza! I was so pleased with it. Only 6 shekels, $1.50. We ate on the run so we could find our way to Nazareth Village, a Christian ministry that recreates some aspects of first-century life in the Jewish village of Nazareth. There is a cistern, a wine press, an olive oil press, a home, a synagogue, and a museum. We had a Messianic-Jewish guide who was intriguing but we were forced to travel en-masse around the mini-farm with two massive tour buses of tourists, making it not such a personal, pleasant experience. Still, I appreciated their work and I had half a mind to sign up to volunteer next year as a woman at the well.

Afterwards we headed back to the Old City where we ate at another staple restaurant, Tishreen which had an awesome interior, very Palestinian, and extremely generous salads. I had the Tishreen salad, which had parmesan cheese, nuts, tomatoes, mushrooms, spinach, romaine and a vinagrette. So tasty! Then we hiked over to Mary’s Well and to see Gabriel’s Church, the Greek Orthodox edition of the Annunciation, but it being Easter-eve, and late, wasn’t open. Back to the Inn we went, and there, met a warm fellowship of volunteers and young people in the area who were making sushi with smoked salmon, avocado, and cucumber. It was so fun to hang out with them…some were there for a while with the Mennonite Voluntary Service program REACH.

The next morning it was bright and early for the single direct bus going from Nazareth to Jerusalem. It was a quarter of an hour late which is unusual in my bus experience here and then the bus was almost entirely full–we had to sit in the very back five person row, behind a ginger soldier who kept staring back at my roomie, ‘giving an evil look’ she thought. I thought he liked her. When we arrived back in Bethlehem I discovered that one of our neighbors had passed away and tons of his family were around the street. We chilled for a few minutes before setting out in search of food. In the meantime, we were found by Dave and Barbie, volunteers with the Bible College Guesthouse. They invited us along to see the Herodion with them–Herod’s main fortress really close to Bethlehem. It’s  much easier to reach by car. When we arrived it was completely dead, and we got youth admission It was impressive, at least as much so as Masada, without a tram. But inside is the coolest bit, there is a series of cisterns/tunnels built by Herod to store water and expanded by Zealots who were hiding out a while there, and it’s fun to walk about inside them.

On the way home we stopped at Tantur, the Ecumenical Christian Institute outside the Bethlehem Checkpoint. It’s beautiful and I have meant to see it for sometime but never had the gumption or energy. I hope to go back someday maybe to study. What a weekend! We traveled so much and saw so much that it took several days to recover. I was pleased with the mass transit system, but it was only convenient as I arranged to see the Arab city of Nazareth on Saturday so we wouldn’t need the Israeli buses which just quit on the Shabbat.

Spring Break holiday and my sister’s being in town presented ample opportunity for mischief and travel adventures. The Saturday before Easter we went on a tour with all of the MESPers to the Jordan River, Golan Heights, Capernaum, and Nazareth. It was a whirlwind but great to ride along, as I’d not seen any of it before. First stop was to Yardenit, a commercial baptism site on the Jordan River where those who so desire can buy a white robe and find a spot to get dunked. It had bottles of water for sale and bottles to fill with water. Exorbitantly priced, and everything in dollars. Nonetheless it was a beautiful site and I loved the greenness. One of the MESP students wanted to be baptized so we sang, “Oh brother let’s go down to the river” for him and they did the deed. It was nice. I stuck in a finger to say I was in the Jordan.

Back on the bus we charged up Mount Bental, a peak in the middle of the Golan Heights, occupied territory that was formerly the possession of Syria. There are settlements of Israeli citizens, wineries/vineyards, ranches, and a few Druze villages there. It’s a spectacular view. You could see Mt. Hermon, where the water for all of Israel melts down to the Sea of Galilee. There were bunkers belonging to the Syrian army which we could climb around in. Apparently it’s near an area laced with landmines.  But gorgeous nonetheless, I can see why Israel would like to keep it.

Down the mount we headed for Capernaum, the village on the Galilee believed to be the center of Jesus’s ministry. It houses an ancient synagogue and other ancient dwellings–perhaps even the whole of the former town. Right on the sea, you can walk down to the water and dip in. There is a modern church built on top of the former city, with a glass section so you can peer down on the ruins. The interior is striking and there are lovely wood panels of Christ’s various miracles there. You can see out from the windows spanning 360 degrees. Silence, prayer only the sign reads, but of course the guides ramble on and on with no relief in sight.

Nazareth was a short trip–only to see the Basilica of the Annunciation. A massive modern architectural marvel it is very bizarre in some respects. It had a bare concrete interior and on the outside there was a huge courtyard filled with renditions of Mary and baby Jesus or of just Mary. From so many nations! Some were inside the chapel too, including the US and Canada. We ran inside to see the Church of St. Joseph quickly, not as nice as Mary’s church of course but more relaxed too.

The bus ride back was extended by Passover traffic but eventually we made it back to Damascus gate where I asked the bus driver Moussa if he would take me up to the Mt. of Olives. Turns out he lives very close by and we had a good chat on the way as he offered me a Golani apple. He thinks that peace is not very likely with this Israeli government. A third intifada, he told me, is inevitable as people see that nothing will work.

The Monday after Easter, the MESPers and I headed out to Masada, to tackle the Herodian fortress where Zealots took over following his death during the Jewish Revolt against the Roman Empire around 66 CE. They hung out for a few years but were held under siege by the Romans for many months before, according to Josephus’s account, there were 10 men selected by lot to kill all of the others before themselves. There was a mass murder-suicide of about 900 people, men, women, and children, before the Romans busted through the wall. They said they would rather die free than live as slaves again.

This Zealot mythology has been central to the Zionist ideology, and Masada has long been revered–to what end I’m not sure. The snake path to walk up is treacherous, and Becca and I decided to take the three minute tram instead. It was very dusty and brown everywhere, but our eager tour guide Brian kept the interest high. I’m not sure what it means to the Israelis now that they would prefer to sink with the ship than make any concessions. But it was a cool ruin. There was a mikve, a Jewish ritual bath that sounds like the wrong pronounciation of our last name, so we found this amusing. “Mc Vah” or “MacVaugh”

After we got a tour of the grounds some of us got down to see the palatial areas which were a bit more intriguing including roman baths of the latest technology and a nice ballroom area. I decided to walk down but this wreaked havoc on my knees which were slipping every which way on the snake path. It took me almost 40 minutes to get down! Then a mediocre lunch followed by a trek over to the Dead Sea to see about Ein Gedi. Unfortunately we discovered that there were huge masses of Passover visitors, Israelis on holiday and we would never get tickets, much less be able to hike with all the crowds. So instead we went up and sat overlooking the waterfall from above. It was beautiful but distant. I forgot my camera. As an alternative, we went to Qumran, where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found.

At Qumran, it is theorized that there was a group of Essenes, separatist Jews who fancied themselves “Sons of Light” and everyone else as “Sons of Darkness.” They had a secretive monastic community with a community rule and common pot. They also valued scriptures highly and apparently wrote dozens of scrolls which they kept up in these caves by the Dead Sea until they were found around the time Israel declared independence, by Bedouin shepherds. Kind of neat.

That concluded our two bus trips together.

For photos of:
the Jordan River,
the Golan Heights, Capernaum, and Nazareth,
Masada and Qumran

Or, if you want to see
Holy Week in the Holy Land
Eastertime in Jerusalem

You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you that Holy Week here in Jerusalem wasn’t so very different than Holy Week back at my Episcopal Church in Towson, MD. In some ways, it was exciting to be so close to the places where Jesus actually walked and near where the horrifying events of the Passion unfolded. On the other hand, the activities were quite familiar and even reassuring in their home-like qualities.

Palm Sunday for the Catholic and Protestant communities here is very significant, and it is celebrated for the whole day, not just the first five minutes of the service. I first arrived to my congregation at the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer where we participated in that age old liturgy that I probably participated in for 23 years straight: standing outside the church we received big palm branches off the trees on the Mount of Olives (part of yearly-palm-tree-trimming) and we raised them high as we read aloud the Gospel regarding Jesus’ triumphal entry to Jerusalem. Then we marched in singing “All Glory, Laud, and Honor” as we circled the courtyard and entered our chapel. Almost immediately though, the story turned to the night on which Jesus was betrayed and followed him to the Cross. Unlike home, I didn’t have to yell “Crucify him, crucify him,” but I felt the burden on all of us just the same.

When the Eucharist was concluded, some of us young folks went around and got bagels–our last opportunity before the Passover feast week when shops were forbidden to sell leavened bread–for a picnic up at Augusta Victoria (Mt. of Olives). They went to play a rousing round of frisbee golf, which I declined to participate in as I am terrible at throwing frisbees and I stayed up until 2 am baking hot cross buns for our post-Palm Sunday dinner. We walked at 2 pm from the Mount over to Bethphage, from whence came the colt/donkey for Jesus to ride on. It’s an Arab community near the wall that used to be very close to Bethany which is on the West Bank side of the wall. There, great crowds had assembled, lots of international pilgrims and tourists, while locals sat on perches from their balconies, craning to watch the commotion. Small children ran through the streets selling palm branches and olive tree branches for $1 or more, while other entrepreneurs peddled water and popsicles on an insanely hot day. (Retrospect would show that I should have purchased said refreshment as I neared collapse from dehydration).

We waited for the patriarchs to come bounding through to the forefront, and they were followed by some local scout/marching bands who were going too fast to play music, and then all the bystanders crowded in to march along. I was swept away in a current of tour group hatted folk–in front some Spaniards and behind me some South Koreans–each waving their home flags and their palms of course. I even saw some foreigners with flags of Israel banded around their heads–weird! As we slowly snaked down the road on the Mount of Olives I saw many people that I knew, it was like a reunion. One band had the most melodious music singing “Hosanna Hosanna” and songs in Arabic, Spanish, and English (probably others too). This caused a major bottleneck as everyone wanted to listen instead of walk. We had the most spectacular view of the Dome of the Rock and Old City Jerusalem. It was very pleasant. Towards the foot of the mountain I ran into my sister and her friends from the Middle East Studies Program (MESP) who I encountered for the first time the day before in Bethlehem.

Together with Becca I went through the crowd down to the Cathedral of St. Anne where I guess Mary was born, and there was a concert but we didn’t stick around. Soon I had to make my way back to the Mount of Olives and Augusta Victoria where we were set to have a Palm Sunday dinner (with my hot cross buns). By that point I had just about died from exhaustion in the hot sun so I got some food, water, and stumbled back to the bus to the Old City and on home to Bethlehem.

The work week continued Monday through Thursday and then I escaped for my Spring Break, starting with a Maundy Thursday combined service of the English, German, Danish, and Arabic congregations of the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer. We remembered the communion of the disciples with Jesus at the Last Supper and then processed singing through the Old City back to the Garden of Gethsemane…the Russian Orthodox version, also on the Mount of Olives. Our candlelighting didn’t work in the wind but the readings were read regarding the night Jesus stayed with the disciples waiting and praying (and sleeping). It was quite moving. We also peeked in at the Russian nuns praying and singing inside their distinctive gold domed landmark church which is not usually open for the public.

Friday meant an early rise for the Via Dolorosa walk of the Stations of the Cross–the actual spots where Jesus supposedly was condemned, flogged, fell once, twice, thrice, was met by his mother, etc. The group was combined English congregations of the Lutheran Redeemer and St. George’s Anglican churches. We kept getting larger as we walked along and basically clogged every road we went down. It wasn’t terribly pleasant and I had a difficult time hearing or concentrating. I don’t recommend you try it on Good Friday. But it ended in the Redeemer main sanctuary where the priests prayed and stripped the altar bare of everything which sort of grounded the event. For the rest of the day I hung out at the Lehman’s house by Augusta Victoria and I decorated Easter Eggs with the kids.

Easter Sunday my roommate (who stayed the night) and I went across the way behind Augusta Victoria to the lookout for a sunrise service at 6 am, with the sleepy Lehmans. We were among the last there and sat on blankets overlooking the Judean Wilderness. And the Wall. The theme was that the ball is in our court…based off of Mark’s truncated Gospel which leaves us hanging after the resurrection. So we are called to Act! Then after the service and its great hymns such as “Jesus Christ is Risen Today” with trumpets and a full orchestra of volunteers, we proceeded across the street to the Lutheran World Federation where there was a nice Arabic Style breakfast with American style Bacon! Hallelujah.

We chowed down for a while and returned to the house where the kids hunted down their Easter baskets. So much candy! I went with my roomie downtown to go to East Jerusalem Baptist Church for their Easter service. It was very evangelical in style, no hymns that I’m familiar with. But I was able to meet and greet with other colleagues and friends and we had a wonderful picnic-potluck in their gardens. After lunch I went to the Old City to see my sister and send my Easter greetings (she went to the Garden Tomb for their sunrise service) and we hung out a while. I then turned my Easter dyed eggs into deviled eggs for a potluck/dinner for some local families from church and other places on the Mount of Olives. We ate pork tenderloin and smoked ham! I ate pig like a pig on Easter, haha. Stuffed, I returned to the Lehmans very satisfied and feeling like it had been a wonderful Easter day spent with a great community of friends-like-family.

The parts of the holiday that involved crowds of pilgrims and ‘holy sites’ were not the memorable ones–spending time with my congregation and worshiping in meaningful places was what counted. I did not have an opportunity to partake of Passover, but I know that they say at the end of their Seder meal, “Next Year in Jerusalem,” beckoning, if you will, the Messiah to come before the next Passover.  It makes such a difference to have the hope and faith of new life, resurrection, the future victory already secured! Because Christ is Risen

For Lent, the Church of the Good Shepherd, the Episcopal Church in which I was raised, asked me to write a devotional as part of their series on “God’s Abundance in the Midst of Scarcity”. I was given the task of writing for the scripture passage in Deuteronomy 6:1-9, which I strongly recommend you read first–it gives you an idea of the challenge I had reflecting on it.

Recently, I was standing amid the beautiful hills south of Hebron where shepherds have grazed their flocks for millennia, where Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, and Jacob and Rachel were said to have lived and worked so long ago. The village I came to visit is one long inhabited by Palestinians, at least hundreds of years, and fresh from the winter rain one can see a lush, green vista dotted with ancient cave  dwellings and cisterns, alongside more recent concrete homes. Just adjacent sits a settlement where Israeli Jews have laid claim to this area of the West Bank, sometimes resorting to intimidating school children and shepherds who want to walk and work in the surrounding villages. This land that I live in is often called the “Occupied Territories” because it has been under various levels of military and civilian control by the state of Israel since 1967.

On another occasion not so long ago, some Jewish friends in West Jerusalem invited me to observe the Shabbat, or Sabbath, with them. Shabbat occurs from sundown Friday night to sundown Saturday and for these Orthodox Jews, it means that no work can be done according to the laws and regulations they adhere to. I was fortunate to attend a service at their synagogue where I noticed they spend a significant portion of time every week reciting the Shema, (Deut 6:4-5), “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and might.” Some Jewish people, including many in Israel, take commands from their Bible so seriously, and so literally, that they comply with the following verses (6-9) about binding the Shema on their hands, heads, and doorposts—a walk down the street in Jerusalem can be a vivid visual reminder of this Scripture.

Due to experiences such as these, I cannot help but think of the contemporary political and social situation in Israel/Palestine when I read the Bible, especially such a passage as Deuteronomy 6. Here, God’s people the Israelites are “about to cross over and occupy” on God’s orders and according to God’s plan a land where people were living and working already. Today people continue to fight with competing claims over this land that has been filled with Christians, Muslims, and Jews for centuries. I encourage you now to read verses 10-12. In the Holy Land (and elsewhere) you meet many individuals and groups who read scripture texts in a very literal manner, bringing them into their own context directly without considering completely their relevance and applicability for the present. While some verses seem harmless, like the ones to affix the word of God on your forehead, others can be potentially provocative and dangerous, such as verses where God gives the Jews this very territory including the cities they did not build, houses they did not fill, cisterns they did not hew, vineyards and olive groves they did not plant!

Abundance in the ‘land of milk and honey’ is not easy prosperity. Minimal rain and natural resources, the harsh desert environment, and its prime location for invasion have made life hard for the few who have managed to survive—we can see that the gifts of God require nurture, development, and long-term vision! Yet, the generosity of the people here is known to be limitless; out of their scarce supply they give and bless strangers with overflowing bounty, graciously offering food and fellowship to those who pass by. Thus, I often weep to see in this land people taking that for which they did not labor. Yet, I do not believe that this passage from Deuteronomy promises us or anyone ‘health and wealth’ as a cheap bargain: Step one, love God, step two, be blessed with whatever you want. (As we all know, physical comfort is not a guarantee for those whoare righteous and pious).

Elsewhere in the Old Testament and in the Gospels, it is clear that loving God is not sufficient, but that loving and caring for the poor, sick, needy, distressed, foreigner, imprisoned, neighbor and enemy is tantamount! Jesus declares that loving God and loving your neighbor as yourself are the foundation of the Scripture and the focus of his ministry (Matthew 22: 36-40). I urge you to see that Deuteronomy 6 is only the beginning of the story, that to be given plenty requires us to give plenty, and to bless others as God has blessed us. In the Holy Land I observe a zero-sum political game in which the lives of devout and precious people are manipulated—especially those whose experience I share in the Palestinian Territories—but in the midst of this, I am graced by the hospitality of countless Christians, Jews, and Muslims who are aware that for any to have peace, security, and abundance, all must be included.

Question: Where have you seen wealth acquired at the expense of justice?

Activity: Consider a situation in which people [your neighbors] do not have enough. Study it and ask why. Find a way to act for change using the gifts you have been given.

Prayer: Lord, give me the strength, wisdom, and compassion, to love you with all my heart, soul, and mind, and to love my neighbors as myself.

Last Saturday I had the opportunity to go on a tour of the village Simsim, in Southern Israel beside Kibbutz Gevar’am (inside the Gevar’am Nature Preserve) between Sderot and Gaza . This was not your average tour in the Holy Land–the Israeli organization, Zochrot, regularly takes Israelis, Jewish and Arab, and internationals to see the Palestinian towns and villages in what is now the state of Israel which were destroyed during the war in 1948, remembering the place and its former inhabitants by inviting who are still alive and able to come share their stories.  Zochrot is a valued partner of MCC and I was privileged to join them in visiting Simsim.

The village of Simsim was hundreds of years old, with maybe 1,000 residents at its peak–a bustling agricultural community not far from the urban center of Gaza city. The Palestinians lived in tranquil obscurity until the 1940s, when a group of Zionists came and bought land bordering Simsim for a kibbutz. Kibbutz Simsim was in relation with the village from 1942-1948, always seeking but being denied the ability to buy more of Simsim’s property; then, during the war, an armed force of Zionist staged a military operation, chasing out the villagers and destroying the town. Most of the people from Simsim fled to Gaza.

Since 1948, the rubble of buildings in Simsim have been covered up, its lands confiscated by the kibbutz. Some of them became Gevar’am nature preserve and are used as cattle grazing ground, including the cemetery and holy sites. The entrance to the Preserve states that the village of Simsim was ”abandoned” in 1948 and they have made no effort to mark off or signify the places in the village, such as the mosque and the cemetery. 

On our way to the tour, we became lost and were circling through what seemed to be the kibbutz and nature preserve, beautiful in the spring time, lush and green. Though we feared we would be stuck in the middle of nowhere, eventually we happened upon others going for the tour who were carrying signs to place at various locales of significance. The school, the mosque, the well, the cemetery and a few houses were reverently marked by the descendants of villagers who hold Israeli citizenship (thus able to attend the gathering) but most live in Gaza, the West Bank, or Jordan. There were a few who actually remembered being in the village, including one elderly man who could not make the hike up into the central area but who prayed from the roadside. 

Ironically, there is this palm tree out of nowhere in the nature preserve, which should make people wonder, why is there one palm tree in the middle of grassy hillsides. Of course, it was in the courtyard of a Simsim resident–a sort of flag of remembrance. Even when the Israeli park people come and take down our signs, the tree is still standing to show the spot. Also, some cactus lines the perimeter of the cemetery, but that does not stop the cows from defecating atop graves. It was so powerful and sad to stand in this place, through our act remembering a place that Israel attempted to blot out completely. The stones beneath our feet used to be the houses of the people, and with the young folks standing there I could imagine that this would maybe have been their village now if things were different.

You can read more about Simsim and other destroyed villages at this website

I was so appreciative of the mix of people, the diverse group that came out to pay respect to this former community and to remember what had taken place there. It was fitting that they chose to honor Simsim, a place between Sderot and Gaza, where Hamas rockets landed in open fields and past which the Israeli tanks rolled during their incursion into Gaza this past January. Such a pleasant, peaceful place that Saturday seemed so far removed from the violence but yet, just under the surface, there was another story.

Pictures HERE: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2059319&id=55301228&l=96932eb6a4

The notice came unexpectedly, a heart-stopping message in my MCC email inbox. A day like any other, I open a new email to find the cold, unfeeling flight confirmation. I fly home at 5:30 am on July 18 via Lufthansa. That’s it. It’s less than four months away and it’s final. I found it a bit traumatic and I wanted to cry all day. How could I have to leave after I’m actually putting down roots?

These feelings of confusion and distress at feeling I have finally found a place here were amplified a little earlier when my friend Alicia arrived in the beginning of the month of March and stayed with me a week. Jess, our mutual friend was also able to join us during her vacation and we had a grand time reliving our college days and doing a little sightseeing. It was so nice to see her and remember what it is that I’m all about, my dreams and ideals from before. She also brought me clothes I bought online, and Easter candy, so I was excessively giddy, like Christmas. We went down to At-Tuwani village and stayed overnight and then toured Hebron, over my weekend, and that was really interesting for me and hopefully for Alicia too. It was a bit cold and rainy though, not the usual for Palestine. Showing her around my ‘home’ here felt so comfortable and I realized that I have quite adapted and established myself in some ways in the community. It is going to be so hard to pick up and leave again…

So last Sunday the young adult bible study I am a part of that is mainly comprised of Lutheran types went to the Lutheran World Federation at Augusta Victoria Hospital on the Mount of Olives to plant an olive tree that we purchased with a $1000 donation to the hospital. We decided to put it very near the offices where it could be well tended. It was a kind of emotional process, and I felt like planting this tree for posterity, to bring olives and olive oil and financial support to the hospital was sort of acknowledging our farewell, early perhaps. We had a good time with it, picking out the location, digging the perfect hole, getting the angle correct and watering our new tree. Maybe it will be easier to go back home knowing that I’ve really, literally left roots here for generations to come.

See photos of Haifa and Akko here.
See photos of At-Tuwani and tree planting here.

A post is long overdue, but it’s easier when there’s something truly unique and exciting to write about.

Thursday March 5th  I headed to Haifa on the northern coast of Israel, overlooking the Mediterranean sea. This was a trip arranged for a learning tour coming from Canada to see the work of MCC. I wanted to tag along to see Abuna Elias Chacour, Archbishop of the Melkite Church in the Galilee, whose quote inspired the title of my blog. His story is about how he was displaced as an Arab boy living in Palestine at the time of the war in 1948 and then he became a priest and worked tirelessly for ecumenism and peace/reconciliation. He has written great autobiographical books, including Blood Brothers and We Belong to the Land. Chacour is amazing in person truly, he was articulate and witty. The tour was continuing on to Nazareth, whereas I had to go to work the next day, so I stayed behind, by myself. It wasn’t my original intention, but I didn’t have any choice, so I decided to see the town. There are some beautiful Baha’i gardens that contain 1400 steps up to the Shrine of the Bab, the grave site of their dead founder and spiritual leader. Every member of the faith should make a pilgrimage and climb the stairs in their lifetime. Read up on Baha’i.

Haifa’s a mixed city with Christian and Muslim Arab Israelis and Jewish Israelis. It is the major port for Israeli imports/exports. They are renowned for their seafood so I wound up finding a restaurant that was recommended by the guidebook. Sadly, as a single woman, I felt quite awkward in this sit-down joint and then they proceeded to bring out like 12 different fancy salads, complementary with the meal but usually split amongst the table. I had an amazing shrimp and mussel dish with fresh lemonade. Divine. I took my awkward self out and made my way to what I thought was the bus station but which was actually Haifa’s train station. The bus that goes direct from Haifa back to Jerusalem was difficult to reach, and I wound up taking a real train to the bus, catching it, and then riding 2+ hours back to Jlem and then another bus to the old city and another bus to Bethlehem. 6 odd hours later, I arrived back home exhausted.

Friday (the 6th) was a working day and afterwards a friend I met in the Fall at this Israeli-Palestinian peace meeting invited me to attend Shabbat with him and his roommate, the two of whom I hadn’t seen since that meeting. They live in West Jerusalem and are something like modern Orthodox Jews. I was fascinated by the opportunity to experience Shabbat because I have never gone to a synagogue before or participated in any Jewish customs. First I arrived in the neighborhood before sundown so I would not be hampered by the turning of cell-phones and the closing of stores and ending of bus service that is the preparation for Shabbat. My friends busily cleaned up the apartment and put finishing touches on the meal (preparation of food is one of the parts of “work” not permitted during the day of rest). Also they turned on the lights they would need for the next day and set the timer on their oven so it would turn on itself to warm food for Saturday.

I went with my friend who is a guy to his congregation, but because men and women worship separately, I found myself alone in the back of a packed service, fumbling through the English-Hebrew Prayer Book my friend so thoughtfully sent with me. Everything is in Hebrew all around the world in the services, but many congregants are apparently from English-speaking countries originally so the women were helpful to me. We actually only stayed for the last hour of the program which ordinarily is two or more hours long. The community is said to be very unique because even as Orthodox Jews they allow women to participate extensively in the service and try to be egalitarian in their style. Feminist Orthodox…highly intriguing. The place is called Shira Hadasha and their website is this: http://www.geocities.com/shira_hadasha/

After the service I walked home with my friend and there were 10 of us together for the Shabbat dinner, I the only Gentile amongst them. They were most interested to hear about my time living in Bethlehem and I enjoyed learning more about life in Jerusalem in the Jewish community. The food was excellent and there was homemade challah bread, red wine, and the boys made salads, soup, chicken in rosemary wine sauce, and apple crumble. I was so impressed by these guys–I don’t have many male friends in the States who could accomplish such a wonderful meal all by themselves! We discussed a little politics but mostly other things such as the gift to humankind of Wikipedia…and Lithuania…etc.

On Saturday (the 7th) I was up bright and early to go to Akko/Acre with a crew from Bethlehem Bible College. We borrowed a van and headed off on the 2.5 hour journey, west to Tel Aviv and then north past Haifa. Unfortunately, we were lost in Jerusalem from the start, but then finally found the town. It was flat out gorgeous, terrific weather in the 80s and sunny, with a strong breeze off the Mediterranean. The sea was marvelous to gaze into and we spent a while strolling before heading into the Old City, mainly populated by Arab Israelis now. The city has a long, long history, as it was an ancient port that was revived by Crusaders, conquered and utilized by Ottomans, then by the British Mandate, and which has played significant roles in the state of Israel’s history. It also is spiritually relevant to the Baha’i faith.

We visited the Citadel which was a fortress used by Crusaders and Ottomans, and Britain and Israel. It is a very strategic location with beautiful stone structures that would probably have been highly useful for defense. There was also a mosque that I visited named Jazzar mosque after the tyrant from the Ottoman Empire who ruled ruthlessly (and I think he was insane too) killing many people. “Jazzar” means butcher. It was a beautiful mosque. Then we saw a small Israeli modern art museum and an ethnographic museum on the peoples living in the region during the British Mandate period. I was most disappointed not to get any fish while I was there, but maybe I will return one day. Everything is so expensive there, and it’s a huge tourist market for Israelis Jewish and Arab, and for foreigners like us We lastly splashed around in the Med for a little while, just to say we did. 

Life has gone on and on, with work ebbing and flowing, high tides of social activity and low points of rest and anti-social behavior on my part. Stay tuned for the next installment of exciting-days-in-the-life-of-Kim.   

In my family, being sick was not really anything special. There was usually no reason to seek medical attention, and never any reason for staying home. I don’t say this seeking pity, just to explain that treating illness as such was not something I really understood. Except for first grade, when I was mandated (by the school) to stay home with the chicken pox, and some time when I got lice from my sister and was forced to leave school early–but we washed em all away before the next day (lice like clean hair, OK?!). Otherwise, I had perfect attendance from grades 1-12. Needless to say, they didn’t give any awards for that after about third grade.

In elementary school I know it would have been very costly and difficult for my two working parents to find someone to watch me if I stayed home. In high school I couldn’t bear to be away from classes even one day for fear of getting too far behind on my coursework. So I came to school every day, carrying all manner of infectious diseases, mostly not even knowing what I had. Coughing, sneezing, wheezing…who knows how many people got sick on account of me! Of course, I wasn’t the only one.

So now that I’m working in a college, where people value their health a lot, I have been told on numerous occasions to stay away from the office while I’m ill. I mean, I’m certain they care about me being sick too, but I have never felt so encouraged to not go to work. Yes, I am like seriously down with the flu, and there is very good reason to be home and resting. But it’s strange to feel like not going out is the best thing to do…since I’m accustomed to blustering on straight through infections and viruses like there’s nothing wrong. On the other hand, now I’m terrified that I will actually make someone else sick (aside from my roommate who has already caught my germs) and they’ll hate me forever for coming in to work.

As I sat by the computer where I work most days, I had a sudden thought. This beautiful lime green scarf that my colleague just gave me to wear (later to keep!) had a certain, perhaps even pleasant, contrast with the fitted Old Navy top that my little sister gave me (or I stole) once upon a time. The shirt was hot pink. To my credit, perhaps more of a magenta hue. In any case, I was stunned at this moment to recall that I have a deep, deep grudge against the combination of hot pink and lime green and that I swore back in high school never to be seen in the company of this chromatic duo. In fact, I always regarded the preppy wearers of hot pink and lime green as substantially inferior to myself and often my mortal enemies.

I doubt that I will ever repeat the unforgiveably preppy matching of lime green and hot pink–this is the first time that I’ve owned clothing in both colors I believe. My archenemies at Towson High with their peppy school spirit attempted to make the combination our Class Colors–for prom decor, God forbid! But this jaunt down memory lane reminded me of just how far I’ve come since those days of high school. It’s been probably eight years since my passionate hate for hot pink and lime green hit its zenith and it will be our five year reunion this year (not so special with the advent of Facebook where I can stalk those former jocks, babes, nerds, and artsy types any time of day.)

In 2002, I did not know what Palestine was, though I always had a dream of visiting Israel. I did not know what an Anabaptist was, nor did I think that patriotism, nationalism, and war-mongering were at all disparate from a good Christian life–I’d never contemplated the Kingdom of God or wondered how sharing in community might be more the pattern of early Christians or just a more satisfying lifestyle. In 2002, I didn’t know what Messiah College was, nor did I ever consider going to a Christian institution for my Bachelors’ degree. The Middle East was not on my map–except as a place from whence came terrorists like the September 11th attackers. I didn’t have any interest in the politics of the region, skipping the boring articles that often featured in the daily newspaper I read religiously (yes, in high school!).

I’m not certain what all was up there in my mind…I often seemed to be judging people on the basis of dogmatic principles of right and wrong–wondering whether people with various sins could be redeemed, fixed. In 2000 I started to go to a youth group full of peers, my friends who I loved so much and we all listened to the same music, Christian music. At school I had a diverse crop of friends who were called “the Hill people” because of the hill that we loitered on after class everyday. We talked about some current events but mostly the politics of Towson High, the craziness of college-prep classes, and the movies coming out over the weekend.

I was not very interested in Spanish and figured I wouldn’t need to take a language in college, or maybe a semester’s worth. I knew I was not great at learning language and I never thought I’d want to work overseas. Mission work was admirable to me but I surely wasn’t cut out to be a missionary (and what else does one do abroad?). I always thought of myself as a bit on the poor and piteable side because I never could afford to buy nice name brand clothes and my neighbors were quite well off.

Obviously my perspectives have changed, even shifted 180 degrees in some cases. I am completely sure that I will never be sure about anything again. My theological ideas were so moved that I have no way to understand what I understood as truth before. My political leanings have had several phases and now I don’t even think that the political arena is where my calling is. My personal relationships, even with my friends from high school, seem far less superficial and more meaningful as I gain more life-experience. As for where I’ve gone in the meantime, a small Christian college in PA, a semester in Lithuania, and a year in Palestine where I am now so attached I can’t bear to think about how I must leave in 5 months.

When and if I show up at that reunion (not wearing hot pink or lime green) I think I’ll have to have several hours just to explain what has happened in five years! Now I’m wondering, where will I be in five years from now?? I can’t even begin to imagine 2014.

The war is over, for now. My attention has been diverted for sometime by the ongoing offensive in Gaza, which required my contributions to our MCC Palestine blog, which you can read here:
Christmas Canceled in Bethlehem
Gazan Christians Stranded in Bethlehem
The Aftermath

So I apologize for my delay in updating about the momentous and monumental shift in my personal situation here…I have moved to another apartment, I have another roommate, and I have another position at another school. Due to a variety of circumstances (if you want the hairy details, email me) I have become an administrative assistant at the Bethlehem Bible College(BBC)–with the President and with the humanitarian aid department, the Shepherd Society. This is a position that will be open for next year’s SALT program. Check out the BBC’s website. I have been volunteering with BBC for quite a while on Fridays and taking Arabic lessons there, so the transition to full time work was smooth and pleasant.

There is a great community of local staff, students, and foreign volunteers that makes every day something to look forward to, if just for the conversations! We have devotions at 8 am and tea altogether at 10:30. Then we gather for a delicious hot lunch at 1 pm cooked by a couple great women who take care of all of us. Work then convenes for another two hours and we finish at 4 pm. A full day of things to do but plenty of rest for socializing and building relationships.

As for my new place, I’ve relocated out of the apartment owned by Hope Flowers School’s director and about a kilometer north near the Bible College to an amazing apartment owned by the finance guy at BBC. He is a very nice and obliging landlord. I get my own room which contains more than enough wardrobe space, twin beds and a bookshelf/desk. It’s so comfortable and warm. We have a hot water boiler, a kitchen table and a dining room table. Also, a microwave.

My British roommate who wishes to remain unnamed (for obvious reason–any association with me could damage her reputation!) is a hoot. She teaches me new “correct” vocabulary and pronunciation daily. Also, she is crazy about cleaning and she loves/needs to sweep, scrub and tidy every second it seems. A great compliment to my mess of a personality. I like to cook and bake so we form halves of a whole! We have tea all the time and it’s quite lovely. Now we both have someone to hang out with and walk around with more easily.

Highlights of the last few weeks have been seeing an Armenian Christmas Eve service, hosting a housewarming party, meeting lots of new volunteers at BBC, and welcoming a friend from home who works here and who I haven’t seen in a long time. Also, Justine came to the area on her holiday and I got to see her and her roommate.