The Land of Living Stones

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

I woke up startled from a mid-afternoon nap yesterday (Saturday) when I heard shouting and sirens from the street outside. I quickly opened the window, only to realize that this house has a high stone wall as a backyard, protecting it from the road and giving no view of the current situation. Texting my friend, I decided it best to stay inside until I figured out the problem. A little while later, a call from Tyler who had been across the street playing frisbee relieved my anxiety. There had been a car wreck but fighting had not broken out and calm was more or less restored. I waited a while longer and then was invited to go over to the Brown’s residence. Mark Brown oversees things at Augusta Victoria (Jerusalem) with the Lutheran World Federation. So I walked across the street to find Tyler and company gathered at this house where we often met for volleyball games, advent meals, and a good time. Susanna Brown and some helpers were working on nachos and I went upstairs to see folks who had come. It was quite a few of us altogether.

Then I noticed the TV. Airstrikes in Gaza. It had begun. Everything started making sense. I was in shock but I could now understand the problem outside: a Palestinian Jerusalemite had run his car, presumably deliberately, into an Israeli police officer who was stopping vehicles just outside the hospital. Originally, I thought this was a sad, isolated event, but then I realized that it was quite likely related to the bombing of Gaza by Israel’s air forces. We were transfixed by the news a long time, distressed and saddened by the ever more gruesome stories unfolding. Over 200 dead and many many wounded. Of course, since the hospitals in Gaza had not been allowed any supplies for weeks, they were ill equipped for the injured. I too was surprised by the Sabbath day attack which coincided with the Muslim New Year’s Eve.
What could we do? I realized anew the helplessness I often feel in light of such enormous situations. We all knew Israel was planning a military response to Hamas’ rockets in southern Israel. But what aggression! 100 tons of bombs in only a few minutes. Schools were letting out. A Gazan rocket hit and killed a woman in Israel while many Israeli bombs killed hundreds of Gazans. Such senseless loss of life. Innocent people dead, people I now come to identify with in this beautiful land. I heard that a march was going on in Bethlehem and from what I could tell many Palestinians in the West Bank were responding to the Gazan attacks.

So Sunday came after a long night and I headed to church at Redeemer on what is known as “Dead Sunday” for its lack of attendance. There were a fair number of us though and I soon discovered that the day is known as the day for “Commemoration of the Holy Innocents”–a memorial of the Massacre described in Matthew, where King Herod orders all babies in Bethlehem and around killed to eliminate the threat of a Jewish Messiah figure. I am not sure what sort of historical basis, if any, there is, but Pastor Mark suggested that about 20 infants or more may have been killed. This theme, which gets recognized on a Sunday once in 7 years, struck an extremely emotional chord in me today. How fitting that we remember those who die as a result of indiscriminate violence today when bombs and rockets rain over Gaza/south Israel. Hundreds of Gazan Palestinians are dying and I imagine more Israelis will die before it’s all over.

The liturgy, though recited by sympathetic figures who know the pain we feel today, is almost unbearable. How could it be okay to God for so many people to suffer and die innocently? The first reading centers on Rachel crying for her children who will one day be avenged and return to their country–the psalm emphasizes the victorious Israelites who declare that God is on their side. Such scriptures (read here)
are impossible for me to reconcile to an all-loving God. How can God be only on one side? How can only one group be chosen? The Bible remains a mystery to me in this regard, especially since many are more than happy to use such passages to determine whose side God is on!

Pray with me for the people here–all the people Israeli, Palestinian, and others who are intricately connected to this place. Pray for an end to the bombing, an end to rocket launching, an end to the violence. Pray that ground troops are not sent in, that medicines and food do get in to Gaza. Pray that people’s actions in solidarity do not bring more violence. I am not in danger. I am not sure how Palestinians will continue to react to the crisis in Gaza but for now it means marches and strikes. While I am far from the bombing, the pain feels close at hand. Pray that the pain and suffering will be over soon.  Remember the Innocents who are dying today and everyday.

Today I have found the most astonishing chocolate bar. Its secret? It’s filled with pop rocks candy, so the milk chocolate will, literally, explode in your mouth. There are a lot of inappropriate remarks I could make about this phenomenon, but I will let you wonder about this popular Israeli confection that is sold around the Palestinian territories. Interestingly, this is not the first time that I have encountered this surprising tingling sensation on my tastebuds here. In Jerusalem, I tried a delicious ice-cream pop (the ones on sticks, widely available here) shaped like a star with a candy coating filled with sherbet. And…you guessed it! Every bite included some popping candy to overload the senses. I think this is one of my favorite new food discoveries so far.

On Thursday I met up with some friends I met here last year who are also from the States, Eastern University students. It is great to have them around, and I’m sure we will have some good times. The internationals I’ve met in Bethlehem are very friendly and helpful. I’ve even encountered a few English speakers in need of assistance. I am not too useful yet, but I am proud to be more familiar with the area than the tourists! Hopefully I’ll learn my Arabic well and learn more about getting around so that people who come to visit will have a decent tour guide

Tomorrow is church: I attend the Lutheran Redeemer Church in the Old City Christian Quarter, Jerusalem. They’re having a special commissioning for us Americans from many organizations who’ve arrived for the year. Because of the time change, I’ll have to get up at like 6:30 so we can get there by Israeli start time. I really, really enjoy this congregation of like-minded service workers who gather at different things during the week, and I wish I could get there more–to hang out with the Jerusalemites. There are also good people in Bethlehem, so I will be glad to get to know them better.

Please keep communicating with me: emails, letters, etc!