Leaving Israel

When the time came to leave Israel I realized there were some things I hadn't shown you yet.

Friendly seller of all the earth

The variety and supply seems endless!

Things like shopping (you may not have minded missing that!) Once I got over my hesitation to bargain and my fear of being ripped off, I really enjoyed the encounters with shop keepers, and bargaining became part of the fun of it. After I finished in one shop, the owner said, "Your husband is lucky! You got good prices!" "Yes, but you're still smiling" I replied. "You're smiling too," he said, with a big grin, as we shook hands and I left. I guess that's how it's supposed to be.

The Archbishop of Canterbury

Shane Claiborne, great youth speaker

I didn't take you to the special occasions where we met famous people, nor did I have a chance to introduce you to the more regular but dynamic individuals we encountered day by day. All of them, known and less known, inspired, challenged, enlivened and brightened our stay.

Jean Vanier of L'Arche (in Bethlehem)

Yazeed, Adrian & Keith at Tantur

Izzy

Living in a compound like Tantur led to a community of life, where little Izzy would show up at our garden door like a ray of sunshine, or Keith would say, "Let's go for fish and chips" in the Jewish market on a Thursday night, or someone else would pop in for coffee. The care and sharing, learning and growth that evolved was a gift and life example.

Sunrise view from Mount Sinai

Elliot on his camel at 2:30 am

More amazingly, I didn't take you to Sinai, to the mountain in Egypt that Moses climbed to meet God. On Sinai he received the ten commandments. We took a bus to Egypt, then rode camels up the steep, rocky desert mount, hiked for the last hour, and summited in time for sunrise at 6 am!

Morning on Mount Sinai

That glowing sun, gleaming over the red-rock mountains, bathed us all in glory, just as Moses had shone up there, with the glory of God.  Our dear friend, poetic Father Michael, an Irish Catholic priest who'd climbed with us, said the sun reminded him of the eucharist being raised over a beautiful new day. I hope I'll always remember that image of God's grace saving and blessing the whole world with hope and light, new every morning.

Saint Catherine's Monastery, Sinai

At Sinai we stayed in St. Catherine's monastery guest house and attended evening prayers with the monks. That's another event I hope I'll remember, perhaps on my dying day - black-robed monks reading the eternal story of humankind, with the prayerful whisper of incense and the tinkle of little bells. I loved it when a twinkle came to the monks' eyes, and a lilt to their pacing steps as the story changed to joy with the wonder of salvation. Afterwards, the boys, Paul and I lay out on rugged rocks under the desert stars, and gave thanks.

Elliot carries the gospel

Oliver carries the cross

I didn't show you the way that Elliot and Oliver got to serve in special church services, nor could I convey how central a part they were of the life of Tantur. Whenever we got together for a group event (and there were many), our boys were a highlight in music and conversation and just being themselves. The people we met didn't know us only as individuals but as a family unit, and that was a real joy for all of us.

Cereal aisles under Passover plastic

I didn't get to share the dailiness of life with you. The work and study, the cooking on our small gas stove, or shopping for groceries. (It was quite a shock to enter the grocery store during Passover week and see so many shelves barricaded by plastic, and the bread section filled with potato chips! There must be no hint of yeast or possibility of leaven being touched during those holy days so all flour products were banned.... Our family had to improvise some meals that week!)

Our second teenager!

Elliot's b'day dinner during Purim,
when everyone dresses up for fun!

I didn't cover the birthdays, the garden parties, the impromptu get-togethers or devotional times we shared. I didn't mention all the games we played: Rook and Rummy and Trivial Pursuit - classic rock edition! (Elliot, our music scholar, won most often though we were all very creative with clues!)

Dedicated mom with little Georgie

Hey, it's Franklin!

I didn't tell you about the lovely variety of birds, including the tiny "sunbird," Israel's peacock-blue version of a hummingbird, and a black and orange hoopoe, Israel's national bird, familiar to both Paul and me from our childhoods. I didn't mention the local wildlife - like the chameleon Paul found, or the tortoise that became "Franklin", or the many little kittens we watched grow from shut-eye tininess to adorable playful perfection.

I didn't take you to the Armenian Pottery where we met 87 year-old artist/owner Marie Balian, who has designed and painted mosaic tiles for buildings around the world (even the Smithsonian held exhibition of her work.) Marie's family fled to France during the Armenian genocide. Then in the 1950's they were brought to the holy land to do restoration work on the magnificent painted tiles in the Dome of the Rock. Maria has stayed ever since.

Elliot & Oliver by the Dome of the Rock

And I haven't taken you there, to the golden dome that highlights every view of the city of Jerusalem: the Dome of the Rock. Built in 691 AD on the flat platform that once housed Herod's magnificent Temple, this Muslim dome was designed to parallel the dome on the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (where Golgotha and the empty tomb are - remember?) Made of wood, the Dome of the Rock was given its pure gold veneer in 1993, when King Hussein of Jordan sold one of his London houses for about $8 million to buy the 80 kilos of gold needed to plate the dome. It gleams spectacularly now, above the intricately carved, beautifully painted mosaic wall tiles that Marie's family helped to preserve.

The Dome above the Western Wall

Light shines in through
carved holes, not glass

Not everyone can go inside the Dome of the Rock, but we did, with a guide at daybreak. It is not a mosque, but a memorial shrine of multiple significances. Here the Prophet Mohammed is said to have had his night journey to heaven, where he received instructions on prayers. Here it is that Muslims believe the angel Israfel will sound his horn on resurrection day. Here, controversially, is the "Foundation Stone" of the Jewish Temple, where the Holy of Holies stood. (Jews are forbidden, by their rabbis, to step on Temple mount in case they step on that most holy place). Finally, significantly for all three monotheistic faiths, the "Rock" below the dome is Mount Moriah, where Abraham offered up his son to God.

Women praying under the Rock

I touched the rock, place of courage and submission, as we walked down steps below the dome's floor to the small underground room with the Rock as its ceiling. Some Muslim women were in the room, praying.

Women praying by the Western Wall

As they left I prayed too, and later realized that there, under the Temple Mount, I was also behind the Western (Wailing) Wall where I'd prayed alongside Jewish women at the very start of our journey into the holy land.

The Jerusalem Cross

And so we've come full circle. We have come back to where the holy land started: back to prayer and back to Abraham, of the long and quiet journey. Under desert stars and across dusty hot plains he travelled at God's call. He left a righteous trail behind him; a trail of faith and insistence, curiosity and courage.

Paul, Elliot, Oliver and I have followed that trail and what flows in its wake. It's a trail of light, with attendant shadows. Here in the holy land we have encountered passion, politics, and people of all perspectives. We have laughed and cried, listened and cared. We've breathed the fragrance of roses and smelled the stench of fear. We've been buffeted by issues and smoothed by love. Questions were raised, conclusions drawn, and questioned again.

And so our time here ends. We're standing at a rock, where Abraham faced his life's question. It's the same question that Peter "the rock" faced from Jesus. We are all faced with it, wherever we live. In the midst of hard circumstances it comes. "Do you love Me?" The way we answer determines our path. Peter cried, "Lord, You know that I love You." May we do the same. And like Abraham, may we follow the God who asks.

Thanks for sharing this sabbatical journey with me! We've taken crazy taxi rides together, visited wondrous sights, learned faith's history and ways, met lovely people, and been blessed. I've enjoyed it all so much more because you've been with me, through reading this blog. Thank you.

As we leave, let us remain in prayer and say, "Peace be upon Jerusalem." May the peace that passes understanding, that only Christ gives, rest in our hearts now and forever.
Shalom.

Gifts of Grace

Jaffa Gate (road leads from here to OT Joppa)

As a tourist walks through the Jaffa Gate, excitement swells with the sight of David’s ancient Tower on your right, lively restaurant alleys on your left, the cobble-stone road marked by marching soldiers in your path, and straight ahead, the mysterious, magical bazaar. You plunge in and discover the world of the holy land!

As a pilgrim walks through the Jaffa Gate, all those same exciting sensations occur, with one added: a sense of expectation. For the pilgrim there is always the possibility of the eternal breaking in, the holy wonder of maybe meeting God in the mix. The pilgrim comes to the holy land desiring to encounter the Divine. Pilgrim senses are attuned, hearts are focused on what is beyond what is seen. When the encounter happens, it invariably comes in the form of love, because God is love.

Damascus Gate at night

There are many gates in Jerusalem because it's a large, walled city, and you need formal exits. One of the most dramatic is the Damascus Gate. Here the road to Damascus begins, on which the apostle Paul received his remarkable, life-changing vision of Christ.

Skull-like hill of the Garden Tomb

Not far from the Damascus gate, back in 1883, a British army officer called General Gordon was having his breakfast on the city wall. Looking out from that vantage point he saw a skull-like indentation on a rocky cliff. "By George, I think I've got it!" he cried, wiping his mouth on his napkin, folding his newspaper, and telegraphing England.

"Got what?" you ask. After all, no-one was looking for Golgotha, the Place of the Skull, where the cross had stood, were they? The hill and tomb had already been found, and were commemorated in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, consecrated in 330 AD.  Ah, but a wall had been built around the city by Suleiman the Magnificent in the 1500's, putting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre inside Jerusalem, and we all know that Jesus was crucified "outside the city walls".  (In the 1800's, excavations had been minimal in this area, and they didn't know that Suleiman's wall was not in the same place as the original wall. Since then, it has become clear that the Holy Sepulchre Church was originally outside the old walls.)
 

The rock face of the Garden Tomb

Questions about the true location of the cross and tomb had risen, so when General Gordon spotted this skull-like hill outside the wall, he thought with joy that it may be the real Golgotha. And since there was a tomb close to this unique hill, in a setting much more like the English ideal of Jesus' early-morning resurrection garden, General Gordon forged ahead. Though Queen Victoria did not approve the location, "The Garden Tomb" was developed as a holy site.

Cathryn entering the tomb

There it was we went on Mother's Day weekend - just an ordinary weekend in Jerusalem. The tomb, carved in a rock wall, looks like a Bible story book painting, and you can go inside. Even if it isn't the actual tomb of Christ, it's nice to visit! The garden is owned and tended by England, and it's filled with snapdragons, hollyhocks, pansies and roses, mingling among palms, fronds and local vegetation. Stone benches are placed artfully throughout, allowing space to pray and ponder the wonder of the cross and resurrection.

The still, small snail!

I sat on one, quiet under the trees, as still as a snail on a clay pot nearby. I listened to birds singing gloriously overhead, accompanied by a Tamil group raising their voices in song, and a distant European soloist belting out "To God be the Glory!" The sounds melded together from all quarters of the garden, and of the globe, in equal worth and praise to God. Creation lifted its voice as I sat. I lifted my heart.

Then I turned my head. In this garden of resurrection I saw a pink amaryllis growing, just one stem with two glowing flowers on it. I walked over and as I did, my sister Cathryn came from another path. "Look, Cath!" I said.

The pale pink amaryllis is a flower of special significance in our family. My Mum had been given one and tended it through the long winter of her suffering. It bloomed just in time for her birthday, as radiant and lovely as her face, and we have a picture of her with it, the flower as large as her smiling countenance. 

Now here was a blooming amaryllis, alive from the dry ground in this place of death and resurrection, and it was God's gentle smile on Cathryn and me, as we remembered our beautiful Mother on Mother's Day weekend. It was a true pilgrim encounter with love. We exclaimed and wept and took photos!

VEXILLATIO - Detachment

LEG X FRE  - Legion 10 Frentensis (of a sea strait)

The next day we all went to a Crusader church at Abu Gosh. I was keen to go because I'd heard about the frescoes and the acoustics. The church is part of a Benedictine community of both monks and nuns who meet together for services. We were struck by the beautiful grounds – it was a weekend for gardens - and we went to the low wall where an inscription from 2000 years ago tells us that the Roman 10th legion of Emperor Titus was here.  (The Crusaders came 1000 years later, and built the church on the same site.)

After the Crusaders had left, the church was used as a stable until 1899, when French Catholics bought it and turned it into a monastery. There is something profound about that history, especially when you go in and see the magnificent frescoes, wall paintings from ceiling to floor, which had for ages given glory to God in the simple presence of animals! The frescoes, though dimmed and worn by time, are breathtaking. In their midst, simple, soaring stone arches curve and call our eyes and voices upward, creating a sanctuary for worship. 

But why did the Romans and then the Crusaders build here, some way from Jerusalem? (It took about 45 minutes by tour bus.) You just know there’s a history to every story in the Holy Land!

The Well, with underground spring

Steps to well/baptismal tank

We found the answer downstairs in the crypt, which is home to an ancient well, now a baptismal tank. Water is essential for thirsty soldiers. But this water was holy, and so the church was built over the well. It’s the well of Kirjath Jearim from Scripture (that's the village's original name, still often used. “Abu Gosh” is the name of a brigand family who took over!)

Ages before the Romans or Crusaders, in the time of the Prophet Samuel (1150 BC), Kirjath Jearim was home to the Ark of the Covenant for 20 long years, until King David brought the Ark back to Jerusalem. With the Ark came the very presence of God! It’s a good story to look up in the Bible, with the drama of the Ark carried on an ox cart, and it was amazing to be on this very holy ground. That morning, a sense of expectation hung in the air.

The family gathers, a little nervous!

Grandmother pours water

We soon discovered why! After the monks and nuns processed in, after the sermon had been preached (in French!) and hymns echoed through the wondrous acoustics, a priest led us all downstairs to the well. There, on this non-local Mother's Day, a beautiful baby baptism took place. An infant girl, smiling and cooing, was presented to God. Parents, grandparents and godparents took vows. The babe's simple dress was removed and, splashing and laughing, she sat naked in a copper basin over the ancient baptistry well. The basin had been filled by her grandmother, godfather and a nun.

The priest baptises the lovely baby

Robed in beauty, all is well!

Three times the priest poured water from a silver cup onto her head as she wiggled and squealed! Then, lifted again from the water she was whisked into the most gorgeous three-layered white baptismal gown, final prayers were said, and there she was, beautiful and new. Her grandfather wiped away a tear or two. Nuns and monks smiled broadly. The mother looked relieved.

Tribute to a wonderful Mother

How good God is, on this non-mother's day in Israel to provide such a mother-blessing to us pilgrims! I had gone expecting music and art. I had received, in addition, a sweet reminder that God loves families, and they, since ancient times, are recipients of His tender blessing. I was reminded that we all, naked and vulnerable as children, are bathed in God’s mercy and dressed in pure, wondrous, beautiful grace.

As we approach the time of benediction and departure from this holy land, I pray the pilgrim sense of expectation always goes with us. God is near, whether in a garden, a soldier's garrison, a stable or a special service. May we all have open hearts to receive His abiding love!

My 15-year-old Mother's Day gift
under huge, much older trees!

The gift of a sister's visit!

My 12-year old Mother's Day gift, in action!

With our friend, Cal Dolfo-Smith