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

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.

As I take my first listen of the season to the Christmas tunes on my computer, I am quite pleased to chill out and reflect on my Thanksgiving in Jerusalem, or as they would say in Arabic “Eid il Shukr” The Feast of Thanks. It’s a remarkably American holiday, Thanksgiving, which makes it easy to explain to people. See, we pray and then gorge ourselves sick eating tons of food and then we watch (American) football and fall asleep on the couch and wake up the next day to shop ourselves silly. Not to be too sardonic, really I’ve appreciated the cultural aspect of this more than ever, knowing for certain that at least Thanksgiving is truly an American activity that I can feel some special connection too. And it relates well to the feasts here in the Muslim world that involve huge extended family gatherings.

Anyway, Thursday was of course a regular workday though I was distracted by the thought of the feast that evening on the Mount of Olives. I finished school and prepared my things for staying the night with the MCC family in Jlem (because buses don’t run that late.) I had mashed sweet potatoes the night before and packed the ingredients for my journey by bus from Bethlehem. Unfortunately for me, the Italian President was visiting and Mahmoud Abbas stayed at the Intercontinental which is the best hotel in the area–next door to the Bible College and near the buses. Soooo…Wednesday and Thursday the main road through town, the Jerusalem-Hebron Rd (which due to the wall no longer runs straight between the two) which is also my main walking route, was lined with soldiers. Palestinian men with large guns at the ready every five feet on both sides plus secondary roadblocks, police/military vehicles, special dogs, sharpshooters on roofs. Rather intimidating, though thankfully I heard what it was about beforehand so I didn’t panic.

Walking to the bus takes about 20 minutes on my short legs and I passed soldier after soldier feeling a mite conspicuous as no cars or passersby were in sight. Eventually my confusion was solved as one of these sentinels stuck out his hand to indicate that I had to stop. Okay, thanks for finally telling me. Not long after, I saw the official entourage drive by at great speed and a few minutes later I was permitted to walk on. At the bus lot I noticed a ton of people were waiting, apparently stranded a while by the lack of traffic movement–eventually the bus came and I was on my way to the feast! At the checkpoint I was saddened to see that about 6 people on the bus were forbidden to continue with us into Jerusalem, some who were students who probably make that trip every day for years.

So, I whipped up some sweet potato casserole with pecans sent from home and joined the throngs at the Jerusalem MCC representatives’ house at Augusta Victoria. There were about thirty of us and the food was just amazing. I ate so much I was still ill when I woke up this morning. Quality. We had among us several non-Americans and it was fun to share the traditions with them/try to explain what various things were. And one guest brought a hammered dulcimer which reminded me of ethnomusicology class and was very beautiful sounding. We stayed up very late talking and hanging out and I was able to have a long discussion with my family via Skype as they ate their own Thanksgiving meal at home.

Early this morning I caught a bus back to Bethlehem to go to the Bible College for work. Some long-term volunteers were leaving and that felt sad. Everything is very transitional around here. But then I was able to hang out with some Brits (Scots/English), some who volunteer, some visiting and we had a nice evening eating shwarma and kanafeh. Tomorrow will bring more Thanksgiving festivities at the College. Yum.

As always, I am extremely grateful for all the people who have bestowed their love, friendship, and resources on me through the years, and I hope that the blessings are reciprocal. I am also amazed at the good fortune that I have had over the last year. This is the first holiday season that I can remember without the weight of studies over my head and I can recall all too well the stress that nearly killed me when I was finishing my BA last December. I appreciate especially the folks around here who have been willing to invest in me during this time even though I’m just temporary help. I hope that everyone had a very pleasant Thanksgiving who was celebrating. Advent is here!

The Lutheran Church of the Redeemer in the Old City of Jerusalem has a service annually on October 31^st, and not for Halloween! No, this day is remembered by many Christians (especially Lutherans) around the world as Reformation Day, a commemoration of that fateful day when Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of the Wittenberg Church. Now, I am an Episcopanabaptiquaker by virtue of my various religious affiliations over the years and Luther never really grabbed my imagination or my interest too long. I was more into the shady dealings that brought the Anglican Church into being to curb papal power in England or the brilliant, brave martyrs of the brethren who were hunted down across Europe and killed indiscriminately by Lutherans, Calvinists, and Catholics. So I’ve never read his stuff though I’m a bit blindly prejudiced against him based on some things I’ve heard fifth-hand about his views.

 

Maybe it will all change this year with my weekly attendance at Redeemer, and my frequent contact with all the Lutherans in the Holy Land—there are eight American internationals I know in Bethlehem affiliated with them, plus countless in Jerusalem. There are I think at least three Lutheran private schools in Bhem too. They’ve really made a name around here. It’s pretty close to what I’ve experienced service-wise in Episcopal congregations…though I can’t say I know many of the hymns. The service for Reformation day included Arabic, English, Danish, and German speaking congregations that meet there for worship, and what a crowd we were! A school from Bethlehem got their choir kids special permission to enter Israel for their performance and it was great.

 

I’ve heard one good quip here attributed to Luther, that clergy are like manure. Spread them out and they encourage growth, but when all together, they stink. I saw dozens of people in clerical vestments, some not actually from Lutheran churches, but it was funny to see so many in one place. Having three languages alternating was interesting, and it was difficult to sing or recite when the voices around were speaking completely different words. I like though, that pentecostal sense of things, many tongues united for worship.

 

A few days ago I finished a book that I’ve long desired to read based on many positive recommendations: A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. I think it qualifies as some sort of American classic. I was extremely moved by the narrative and I found myself very much identifying with the voice of Johnny Wheelwright who tells Owen’s story from his perspective. As the best friend of a very unique individual who believes he is directly an instrument of God, Johnny plays the role of “Joseph”, the obedient observer, the man on the sidelines. I don’t want to ruin anything if someone hasn’t had the chance to read it, but it provokes a lot of interesting questions about faith-doubt, divine intervention, miracles-coincidence, the morality of war, etc. All those things that I like to ponder.

 

Especially in the extended scene of the Christmas pageant, I was struck by the story’s resonance with my spiritual journey/personal experience of life in the Episcopal church and then with being here in Bethlehem town—the original. Just as it’s the cast of characters in the pageant who make it profound, it is the living stones, the people of this land that make it holy, not the place itself.

Just to send a quick message for my readers that I’ve arrived safely in Jerusalem with no trouble at all. It was no sweat to get through customs in Tel Aviv, despite my intense anxiety about the matter. The girl didn’t even say a single thing, she just stamped my passport. Peter, who is also travelling with me, had a few issues with questions, but in the end, we both got out relatively easily. Tonight I stay with the MCCers living in Jerusalem and tomorrow I will be seeing my new apartment in Bethlehem. Pictures, soon I hope! It is ridiculously hot here, and I am sweating profusely. Hopefully my deodorant can handle it