Notes from the North Woods

A Poem by Oscar Romero

2011-03-26T09:36:00.003-04:00

A friend shared this with me, and I was so moved by the words. Oscar Romero, the archbishop of San Salvador in El Salvador, was murdered in 1980, as he celebrated the Eucharist.

For those of us engaging in God's work in the world, his words are a welcome balm to the fear and anxiety that we are somehow not doing enough.

A Future not our Own: A Prayer/Poem by Oscar Romero

It helps, now and then, to step back

and take the long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of
the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete,
which is another way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.

No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No programme accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about:
We plant seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything
and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders,
ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.

Sermon: Epiphany 1

2011-01-08T20:22:00.005-05:00

Since I always preach without notes, this is an approximation, as clearly as I can remember, of what I actually said.

The sermon you are about to hear is not the sermon I intended to preach. Rather, at 11 o'clock last night, I chucked the whole thing and started over. It seemed clear to me that the events of the day in Tuscon could not go without comment or reflection in this place, with all of us together.

I first learned about the shooting on Facebook. As the day unfolded, I found myself returning repeatedly to the TV to learn more. I thought about my good friends who live in Tuscon. I hoped they were OK. I prayed for the victims and the perpetrator. And, as news commentators struggled to fill airtime and began rushing to judgement about what happened, I began to wonder how we look at this heinous event from the perspective of people of faith. As Christians?

Our lectionary gives us help in this regard. Both the Acts of the Apostles and the Baptism of Jesus give us some guidance. I'd like to look at both passages, in reverse chronological order.

Our reading this morning from the Acts of the Apostles begins with Peter saying, "Truly, I understand that God shows no partiality." God shows no partiality. This is an remarkable statement coming from Peter. Peter grew up in occupied Israel. He grew up in the small town of Capernum. David and I have been there. We saw the remains of the stone foundations of the small houses where people lived, and the remains of the synagogue where Peter worshiped. We know that Peter grew up under Roman occupation. We know that his life was often in danger because of the Roman occupation. It was the Romans who crucified his friend and teacher, Jesus.

In the early days after Jesus' death, there was real tension about who Jesus message was for. Was it a Jewish message or a broader message. Paul was the spokesperson for the spread the news far and wide camp, while Peter really believed that it was a message for the Jews alone.

One night, Peter had a dream. In that dream, God lowered a sheet down from heaven. That sheet was filled with all of the animals the Jews considered unclean for eating. Peter heard God's voice saying, "Peter, eat." Peter, repulsed, denied the invitation several times. Finally, God told Peter that nothing God makes is unclean. Immediately, Peter woke from his dream to a knock at the door. Messengers from Cornelius, a Roman soldier, were at the door, asking Peter to come and see Cornelius.

Peter went with them. Once there, he began to teach about Jesus and told Cornelius, this soldier who was occupying Peter's country, this foreign Gentile, "Truly, I understand that God shows no partiality." Wow.

I have been increasingly horrified in recent years at the way our discourse has deteriorated in this country. We have lost the ability to be civil. To disagree without being ugly. We have set ourselves into camps: liberal, conservative, progressive, evangelical, democrat, republican. The list goes on. And, we have become totally disrespectful in how we talk with one another across our imaginary divides.

I was reading several different news sites posts about the shooting last night, and already the ugliness had started. One person used the word "demoncrats" to describe a democrat, while more progressive folks were saying equally ugly things about conservatives. And, if you don't go online, you can see the same uncivil discourse in the letters to the Editor in the Berlin Daily Sun.

Friends, it must stop. It's far too early to say what caused an ill young man to go on a violent rampage. But, whatever happened, it cannot have been helped by our violent discourse.

The other way our scripture helps us to reflect today is through the baptism of Jesus. The next thing that we will do after the sermon is renew our own baptismal promises. Among the promises that we will make, we will promise "to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourself" and "to strive for justice and peace, and respect the dignity of every human being."

Friends, our role as Christians is to be role models. In this congregation we have folks from both sides of the political aisle. We are liberal, progressive, conservative. Our baptismal promises call us to a higher ground. A higher stance.

Today, and from this day forward, I invite you to do your part to make a difference in how we interact with one another. AMEN.

Leaving Jerusalem: 10 March 2010

2010-03-10T13:47:00.004-05:00

I've got a couple of other posts to write about this trip, including the one about yesterday. But tonight, what's really on my mind is leaving Jerusalem.

I have fallen in love with this city. There's something about the air and the energy here that captures my attention. I've learned how to stare down drivers when I want to cross the street. I helped a new arrival to the city get oriented with her map yesterday. Baloney, pita bread, olives, cucumbers and tomatoes seem like normal breakfast.

And now, it's time to leave. Don't get me wrong: I miss friends and family like crazy. I'm ready to be back at St. Barnabas. But my heart aches to leave this city and I am already plotting my return.

Today, Anne, David and I ventured to the Armenian Quarter of the Old City (where I had yet to go). We enjoyed a lovely lunch of Armenian food (not dissimilar from what we've eaten in other places: hummous, eggplant salad, Armenian yogurt, Kibbuh, and a great chicken dish). Then, Anne and I took the rampart walk (a walkway around the top of the wall which encloses the Old City and gives you a rooftop view out over the city - the three of us did it for the first time yesterday) to return to the College. We walked beyond our departure gate, to the end of the walk - which took us nearly 2/3 of the way around the city.

As we walked, I realized that the rampart walk was a fitting way to say goodbye to the Old City. As we walked and talked (and walked and climbed stairs, and walked.....), I looked out over Jerusalem, trying to memorize what I was seeing. I have photos galore (I think over 800), but I didn't take my camera today; I want to carry some of these images in my heart and mind.

This will be my last post from Jerusalem. We depart from Tel Aviv quite early in the morning, and arriving in Washington around 6PM (local time). I am so thankful for this trip, which has changed me in so many ways.

Monday 8 March 2010: The Way of the Cross and The Church of the Resurrection

2010-03-08T10:22:00.007-05:00

I woke up early this morning, well before the alarm. And that says something, as the alarm was to have gone off at 5:20. Our instructions were to be ready to leave the College at 5:55AM and to keep silence. Our mission: to walk The Way of the Cross.

The Way of the Cross, or the Stations of the Cross, traces Jesus journey from his arrest to his death on the cross. Walking the Way of the Cross in Jerusalem is a whole different experience from walking it in a church, using pictures on the wall (which is how I've done it for my whole life).

We used the book A Walk in Jerusalem: Stations of the Cross by John L. Peterson. It's a progressive and intercessory version of this ancient service. I am grateful that we've been given the copies we used, as I will use this version again in the future, when leading the stations.

It will come as no surprise to learn that I found praying the Way of the Cross in Jerusalem to be a moving experience. It was early in the morning, so the streets weren't bustling. We were asked to keep silence, so it really was prayerful. The intercessions were powerful. But, in the end, what brought tears to my eyes, repeatedly, was watching my fellow pilgrims. We come in all ages and sizes. We have a range of physical abilities. And, having now walked the actual way of the cross, I get why Jesus fell three times. The roads are difficult and it's a climb. The tenacity of my companions was moving. And in a number of cases, those who volunteered to carry the cross were those who already bear significant burdens. As I watched each one take up the cross, I cried.

We ended at the Church of the Resurrection (from its Greek name Anastaseos), also known as The Church of the Holy Sepulchre (no longer its preferred name, this is what the Crusaders called it). Based on gospel information, scholars believe that Calvary (or Golgotha, the Place of the Skulls) and the tomb were actually in close proximity. Within the Church of the Resurrection, you can find Calvary, the anointing stone where Jesus' body was prepared for burial, and the empty tomb.

Church of the Resurrection is another place where there is so much bustle and so many pilgrims, that it can be a bit overwhelming. [Also, because of something called the status quo, the custody of the church is shared by Greek Orthodox (who hold the largest share), Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholics (called the Latins, here), Armenian Apostolic, Coptic Orthodox, Syrian Orthodox, and Ethiopian Orthodox churches, with a Muslim family acting as keyholder. As you can imagine there is always a great deal happening liturgically, and sometimes different things are competing!]

We entered the church, and went down to the regular tombs. Then, we queued to touch the rock of Calvary. I was most moved by the anointing stone where Jesus' body was taken from the cross and prepared for burial. To this day, people come and pour oils on it, and so it is redolent with the scent of perfume. After I knelt to touch it, my hands came away smelling sweet. I carried that scent with me for hours. Finally, we entered the empty tomb. In the spot where I knelt, grooves have been worn in the stone by the hands of centuries of pilgrims, kneeling as I have, in this empty tomb.

There are several places around the church where pilgrims of old scratched crosses into the stone walls to mark their pilgrimages. I traced several crosses with my thumb as I passed, to add my own cross to the walls, to take my place among centuries of pilgrims to this holy place.

When we finished there, we were on our own. A friend has a Palestinian friend who cooked a few of us a remarkable lunch in a communal bake oven. We ate chicken baked with onions and potatoes and a beef/lamb mix baked with tomatoes, eggplant, and red peppers, all scooped up with pita bread.

Before heading back to College, Anne and I shopped. I've come to appreciate the scarf here - having worn one virtually non-stop in all kinds of weather. Scarves, or pashmina, can be shawls, or scarves, or merely decorative. I now have a collection, as well as beautiful piece of jewelry. Oh, and I "accidently" bought the most glorious icon of the Virgin and Child. It was not on my agenda or my list. But, she literally jumped off the shelf into my arms and I could not resist her. I then learned that the original hangs in in the Virgin's tomb in Gethsemane, where I have been (though I did not see her there). She will enrich my prayers when I return home.

Sideways view of the Church of the Resurrection entrance.

Pilgrim crosses, scratched into the walls. I am there, now, too.

Pilgrims waiting to touch the rock at Calvary.

Dome over the empty tomb (with a bit of the enclosure around the empty tomb on the bottom right).

A view of some of the iconography around the church. Additionally, you can see more of the structure which houses the empty tomb on the right.

Dheisheia Refugee Camp

2010-03-07T15:50:00.005-05:00

Today, we visited the Dheisheia Refugee Camp, on the West Bank, bordering Bethlehem. It was a very moving and challenging experience. I'll write more about the trip tomorrow, as it's late. But, I wanted to share photos.

Just a bit of background: The Dheisheia Refugee Camp came into being in 1948, after the state of Israel was created, to hold temporarily, those Palestinians who were displaced from their homes. It was expected to be temporary, only a couple of days or a week. The third generation of children are now being born in Dheisheia.

Dheisheia is 1 KM square, and 12,000 people live there (that's more than we have in Berlin, NH!).

When that many people live in such a small place, you can only build up. Check out how the levels are stacked. Also, buildings may only be built out of cement block so that the Israelis can bulldoze if they need to. I wonder how much weight the bottom levels can hold. There's no park space in Dheisheia, the kids play in the crowded streets.

Here's a close up of a building, so that you can see the construction.

There's very little open space. Life happens on the roofs. We could hear kids playing football (soccer) there, too.

Graffiti and art were everywhere. The text on this one says, "Stop the wall." The wall referred to is the wall that rings all of the Palestinian lands. You can't leave without passing through a checkpoint.

This garage art shows how the state of Palestine has shrunk over time.

Dheisheia is so close to Jerusalem; you can see it off in the distance in this photo. And yet, for the people who live here, it might as well be the moon. They have no documents. They can't leave the West Bank. They have no homes. For many, they have very little hope.

Saturday 6 March 2010: An Excursion

2010-03-07T04:13:00.006-05:00

Today, we went on an optional field trip to Masada, Qumran, and the Dead Sea.

Masada is a venerated site for Israelis. It marks the spot where several hundred people stood down the Roman invaders for several years, before being overtaken, during the revolt of 70CE. What actually happened on Masada is unknown. The old story is that the rebels all committed suicide, rather than being taken by the Romans. Recent archaeological evidence suggests otherwise.

Masada is important for Israelis. Anne and I wandered into a tour being offered by an Israeli guide. After he finished, Anne and I both went off and grabbed our journals and wrote down what we had heard.

He said that Masada and Yad Vashem (the Holocaust museum) were two touchstones that formed the Israeli psyche. In both cases, outside powers told the Jews that they would kill them and the Jews did not believe them; then the Jews were killed. In Masada, they were forced to kill themselves; in the Holocaust they were exterminated.

He said that all Israeli children are brought to both Masada and Yad Vashem, so that they can know the stories and understand what will never be tolerated again. The guide said that his parents were Holocaust survivors and of their whole family, they were the only ones to get out. "I have no cousins," he said.

"So, now, when people say they want to kill us, we believe them. So, when Ahmadinejad says that he wants to attack us with a nuclear weapon we believe him. From now on, we will strike first. People think the Israelis are jerks, but really, we don't care. We will never be in this weak position again." He went on to tell the group (who must have been from the US) that Israel is the first line of defense (which is true) and that if Ahmadinejad gets through Israel, he will go to Europe and then to "you guys."

His words were a helpful window for me into the Israeli psyche. Is there a single Israeli psyche? Probably not, actually, but his words represent one of them.

Some of the ruins at Masada.

Qumran is the site where the Dead Sea scrolls were found. There are ongoing archaelogical excavations at the remains of the village there.

This is the cave where that Bedoin boy found the first jars that unleashed all of the work in this area.

Finally, we went to the Dead Sea. It was shockingly warm (30C, about 80F), so I got to swim. Or, as my friend Ben says, I bobbed. I think I'm the tiny ant in the middle of the photo. In fact, I never float, I'm one of those folks who sinks like a stone. So, floating was a great joy to me.

Friday 5 March 2010

2010-03-06T10:29:00.006-05:00

Our morning was spent on the Mount of Olives.

We began at the Church of Dominus Flavit. (I have to say that, as far as church names go, I really like Dominus Flavit, it's just fun to say!) The site is not fun. It marks the spot where Jesus sat and wept over Jerusalem, in Matthew 23:37: Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! The church itself is shaped like a teardrop, and the window behind the altar looks out over Jerusalem. My fellow pilgrim Gareth gave a lovely reflection on this space, and you can read it at the Jerusalem Mile project blog here ( I really recommend it).

After hearing Gareth's reflection we were given much time for prayer and photos. I sat on the wall for a long time looking out over Jerusalem. I understood why Jesus wept. This beautiful city is so embroiled in conflict. The parties have changed many times in the last 2000 years, but it's still a city at war, still a city that stones its prophets.

First, the church of Dominus Flavit. Next, another sideways view: the window behind the altar. Finally, the view from the Mount of Olives, looking out over Jerusalem.

We walked down the Mount of Olives to the Garden of Gethsemane. I had a hard time not being seriously crabby there. It was full to overflowing with people. The church was lovely. It's called the Church of the Agony, but most folks refer to it as the Church of All Nations, as donations came from around the world to build it. The gardens were beautiful, but fenced off so that we couldn't actually get to them.

I fretted a bit, and then sat down on a bit of the edge of the wall with a view into the garden. Almost at once, my annoyance abated. I listened to the conversations going on as people walked by my little perch. One man said, "Jesus really was a revolutionary, and as the church has been institutionalized, we've lost that character....." and then he and his companion were out of ear shot. I couldn't even recognize most of the languages, much less understand them. I was struck by the fact that most of us had come here, on pilgrimage, because of the pull of this first century revolutionary. Then, as I continued to look into the garden and pray, I could almost picture Jesus in there, afraid, wondering what would happen, and then betrayed by one of his close friends. Powerful.

First, the Church of All Nations, then my view into the Garden of Gethsemane. Finally, an ancient olive tree, perhaps dating close to the time of Jesus.

After lunch, we visited the Syrian Orthodox Church of St. Mark. This church is on the site believed to be the home of St. Mark, and venerated as the site of the Upper Room. In the Upper Room, Jesus ate his Last Supper with his friends; he washed their feet. In the Upper Room, his disciples hid after his death and resurrection. In the Upper Room, he appeared to them, and the Holy Spirit came upon them with tongues of fire. Holy holy space, it was.

Sr. Justina, one of the caretakers of the church, prayed the Lord's prayer in Aramaic. It was sung in a haunting and beautiful way; I could scarcely breathe. I asked her later, and she told me that all prayer and worship in her church is sung, except when they read from the Acts of the Apostles; she invited me to worship with them on Sunday night, which I will do if we are back from our Sunday adventures in time. Sr. Justina also told us much about her life and faith. She is one of the 1 million people who still speak Aramaic at home and in worship.

We had to go down to get into the Upper Room, Jerusalem has risen in 2000 years, as buildings have been built on top of one another. There, Andrew led us in a mediation about Eucharist, reminding us that the Last Supper was the Passover meal, a meal of Liberation! The passover lamb was sacrificed to mark defeat of slavery in Egypt. We were invited to offer prayers about Eucharist, and there were many lovely ones. Mine: Help us to remember that when we gather at your table, Lord, we are eating a Liberation meal.

First, Sr. Justina. Next, an icon of footwashing at the last supper, and finally, the sanctuary at St. Mark's.

We walked from St. Marks, to the Church of St. Peter Gallicantu. This French Church is on the site of Caiphas' House. Gallicantu means cockcrow, and it marks the spot where Jesus was brought after his arrest, and where Peter denied him three times. There are also caverns under the church that may well have been where Jesus was imprisoned after his arrest. It's one of the places that made the drama of those events more real for me.

The church was lovely, full of art. I impressed my friends by translating the French that ringed the cross on the ceiling (and myself, too, in actual fact!).

Next to the church are a set of first century steps that lead up the Kidron Valley from the Mount of Olives. Jesus would have walked those steps as he moved from the Upper Room to the Garden of Gethsemane as a free man, and then back up the steps, after his arrest.

First, St. Peter Gallicantu, next, the cross from the ceiling. Finally, the steps leading up through the Kidron valley.

A number of us left the Church of St. Peter and went to the Western wall to observe Shabbat prayers. I really didn't understand much of what I was seeing. No one person led what was happening. Men gathered in small groups (families? minions? I really don't know) and prayed either alone or together. Groups broke into song; a few danced. There was added tension to the event. Earlier on Friday, violence broke out on the Temple Mount: 15 Israeli soldiers were injured and two Palestinians were shot. All around the Old City, and at the wall, were lots of soldiers with assault rifles and other weapons.

We couldn't take pictures at the Western Wall after Sabbat started, but we were able to take photos of the preparations.

Thursday 4 March

2010-03-05T13:42:00.007-05:00

I'm still a day behind, because I had so much catching up to do from Galilee.

Today was a very full day - with much to see and to experience. Several times, I was moved to tears.

We began our day on the spot known as the Temple Mount. It was the site of the first Temple, built by King Solomon and then destroyed by the Babylonians. It was rebuilt in a much smaller form after the return from exile. Herod gave it a serious upgrade during his rule, in an attempt to win the favour of the Israelites, without much success. It was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE, during the Jewish Revolt.

Today, the Temple Mount is home to the Dome of the Rock and to Al Aqsa Mosque, the third most significant mosque in Islam. As I walked in this space, that has been sacred to Jews and Muslims alike (and, frankly, to Christians, as Jesus spent much time in the Temple), I just kept thinking that God must weep to see the divisions among God's people. I prayed for peace to the God of Many Names.

First, the Dome of the Rock, next, a place for purification before prayer, and finally, Al Aqsa Mosque.

One of the gates leading to the Temple Mount is the Golden Gate or the Mercy Gate. This gate is closed, because Jews believe that only the Messiah can open the Mercy Gate. It is facing the Mount of Olives. If you look carefully in the picture below, you can see many graves of devout Jews on the Mount of Olives, because they want to be there when the Messiah comes.

Next, we journeyed to the Pools of Bethesda and St. Anne's Church, which is located there. The pools are one of the places that we know with certainty that Jesus was. In John's gospel, Jesus heals a man on the Sabbath at the Pools of Bethesda. While there, we had a meditation on Jesus as healer, and then Lois our chaplain offered us a laying on of hands and anointing for healing. I cried as I waited for the prayers, and then, uncharacteristically, not during them. However, as soon as they were over, I sat quietly and wept for about fifteen minutes. It was a rich time for me for prayer, contemplation, and writing.

Here's the North Pool at Bethesda (and the little corner where I sat and wept) and a sideways view of the front of St. Anne's Church, where I lit candles, as has been my custom.

After lunch, traveled to the Western Wall, also known as the Wailing Wall. I walked to the wall (on the women's side, of course), and offered prayers - prayers I'd been asked to pray there, and prayers for those I love.

I watched there young women, Israeli soldiers, who went ahead of me to the wall. They were young and beautiful. They laughed and joked along the way down, and posed for pictures, just like we did. In fact, I took one picture of the three of them, so that they could all be in the photo. When it was time to pray, they got very serious, and at least one wiped tears from her eyes as she walked away. Some folks walk away from the wall backwards, because they believe that God lives here, perpetually, and you should never turn your back on God.

Here's the Wailing Wall, sideways. Men's section (large and spacious) on the left, women's (small and crowded) on the right.

Our last stops of the day were at the outside of the Western Wall. There, an archaeological excavation is working on the remains of some of King David's place. Finally, we went to some steps that date from the 1st century and which led to one of the entrances to the Temple. Andrew, our course leader, pointed out that Jesus would have climbed these steps many times. His mother would have brought him up those steps forty days after he was born for her purification. He would have gone up and down many other times, as well.

I cried, as I looked at those steps and imagined all of the times Jesus might have walked them. I spontaneously prayed the Song of Simeon, which Simeon prayed when he encountered the Baby Jesus, at the Purification. Lord, you now have set your servant free, to go in peace as you have promised. For these eyes of mine have seen the Saviour, whom you have prepared for all the world to see. A light to enlighten the nations and the glory of your people, Israel.

Excavations at the Western Wall and first century steps leading up to the Temple.

Mount of the Transfiguration and Nazareth (3 March 2010)

2010-03-04T13:06:00.004-05:00

This is the last post from when I was away (3 March 2010). And, a note about photos. Something odd has happened in the last 24 hours, and my vertically oriented photos have stopped coming through in the blog with vertical orientation. In some cases, this is limiting which photos I'll post. There is one for today though that I can't resist. You'll just have to cope with a sideways shot.

We began our day at the Mount of the Transfiguration. This mountain was where Jesus retired to pray with Peter, John, and James, before setting his face towards Jerusalem. It's a beautiful high mountain above Galilee. There's a huge church (of course). The day was overcast and cloudy, but as one of my fellow pilgrims reminded us, at the Transfiguration, it wasn't so much about the view! (They were enveloped in a cloud during the Transfiguration.)

While on the Mount, we celebrated Eucharist together. Abbott, one of my fellow pilgrims, offered a lovely mediation on Transfiguration. Quoting Peter, she talked about how good it is to be here, and our temptation to build a booth and stay. Stay in Galilee or stay in the Holy Land. But, really, we must set our faces towards Jerusalem, and then towards home. However, we are all being transfigured by this pilgrimage. So, the question was, How? How is the pilgrimage transfiguring and transforming us?

I feel as though the Transfiguration is being made incarnate in this experience. I am being broken open by it.

First, a bit of the Church of the Transfiguration and then a cloudy view.

Next, we journeyed to Nazareth, where we saw two sites dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary. First, the Greek Orthodox Church of St. Gabriel. There are two traditions regarding Gabriel's Annunciation to Mary that God has chosen her to bear our Lord (or, as the Greek Orthodox would say, to become the Theotokos, the God-Bearer). One is that Mary was at home, the other was that she was at a well. So, the art in the church depicted Mary in both settings. There were Annunciation icons everywhere.

"Mary's well" ran through the church. After seeing the site of the well, with Living Water (running water) I was able to fill a cup with water from the well and soak my hands in it. I lit more candles and offered more prayers, and took lots of photos of the icons and the art. The church is being restored; my memory of this church will forever be mixed with the smells of turpentine, paint, and solvent.

First, the external shot of the church. And next, a photo I could not leave out. There were two subtle metal engravings that some folks missed in the midst of all the bling of the icons and the gold plate. This one is clearly the Annunciation. In the other (less clear in what it depicts), the faces had been removed and many small scraps of paper, clearly prayers, had been jammed in. The final shot shows an expanse of iconography.

After lunch, we repaired to the Roman Catholic Basilica of the Annunciation. This is a very modern church, completed within the last 10 years, or so. Before entering the church, another pilgrim, Megan offered a reflection on the Annunciation. Her words were so helpful to me. She offered us three possibilities for contemplation (with the encouragement to choose one).

First, messengers from God always say not to be afraid - but often fear is warranted. And sometimes we are afraid for good reason, and sometimes our fears are not rational. We might use this time to tell God about our fears, both the totally irrational ones and the completely logical and reasonable ones. Second, we might thank Mary. We are here, essentially, because Mary said yes. Finally, Megan pointed out that this story does not start with Mary, but with God. Mary was not quietly praying for the Messiah when Gabriel came. Nor was she in any way the center of the story. God chose her. So, we might note where our salvation has come from, and Thank God for the work that God is doing in us. They were powerful suggestions and my meditations on them were quite fruitful.

Despite growing up Roman Catholic, I don't have a tradition of venerating Mary. But, as I walked around the site after Megan's meditation, and saw all of the art from around the world honoring Mary, I was moved to offer her thanks. I also thought alot about fear. I've got a fair amount of it these days, for a variety of reasons. Some of it rational and justified, and some just plain crazy old fear. In that church, I gave it all over to God, at least for a little while.

Many different things are happening in this church. We could see the site of Mary's house (by tradition). In the upper part of the building is the functioning church for the Roman Catholic community at the Basilica.

The Basilica of the Annunciation, followed by one of many many mosaics (and other art) depicting the Virgin and child, from countries around the world. What I loved about this one (so could not resist, even though it's ALSO sideways) is that she is in native Thai costume. Finally, the detail of the dome from the inside. Amazing architecture.

From Nazareth, we returned to Jerusalem. It's about a two hour drive on the coach (bus, we've got lots of Brits here!). I slept some, and scribbled notes as we got some lectures. And, I saw again the problem of settlements. Particularly as you near Jerusalem, there are Jewish settlements that are huge. They are fenced off, and there have roads which go directly into the city (new and uncrowded) that only settlers can use. The Palestinian areas are fenced off (though it was pointed out to us that the fences were lovely and decorated with coloured bricks).

I have no idea what a reasonable solution to this problem is, but I find the present lived out realities of it heartbreaking.

Around the Galilean Sea (Tuesday 2 March 2010)

2010-03-03T13:39:00.009-05:00

This is the second of the posts covering the time I was away from the laptop. On Tuesday, we visited areas around the Sea of Galilee.

Today was a very reflective and contemplative day. It began at the Mount of the Beatitudes. A church is located there. (Because there is a church on every holy site in the Holy Land!) We reflected a bit on the beatitudes and what they mean in a world where God is King and God's reign has come on earth. Andrew (our trip leader) challenged us to mediate on one beatitude in the 30 minutes of quiet time given to us there. I found it a good and challenging exercise. Good to focus on one (Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted). Challenging because it was hard to find a quiet place, as there were pilgrims and tourists everywhere. When I stopped being crabby, I found that I could enjoy the mix of languages and cultures I heard all around me, and relax into the space as it was, not as I wished it were.

Here is a distance shot of the Church of the Beatitudes.

We moved from there to the Church of the Primacy of Peter. This church marks the spot of Peter's confession of Jesus as the Messiah. We celebrated the Eucharist there, hearing the story from Luke's gospel about the call of the first disciples, who were fishing in the Sea of Galilee (Luke 5:1-11). Craig, our preacher (a fellow pilgrim from the Diocese of Central NY) invited us to be courageous in answering God's call. Later, I saw this on a plaque on the church: The deeds and miracles of Jesus are not actions of the past. Jesus is waiting for those who are still prepared to take risks at His word because they trust his power utterly. It seemed fitting, given Craig's words to us.

Immediately after the Eucharist, we went down to the Sea and renewed our baptismal vows as we stood in the water. [I'd originally thought we would do this in the Jordan, but the Jordan River is now a military zone and off limits.] It was incredibly powerful. I love our baptismal service in The Episcopal Church, and the promises often make me weep. It was overwhelming and moving to do it right there in that water. This experience may well be the high point of the trip for me. Afterwards, we went into the church, where we could kneel and touch the rock that symbolizes Peter's Primacy (you are Peter, the Rock, and on you I will build my church).

Here are Anne and I after we renewed our baptismal vows. I'm holding the bowl of water and the frond that was used to sprinkle us. The other photo is the Church of the Primacy of Peter. You can see the big rock; the altar sits on it.

We ended the morning at Capernum (spelled a number of different ways here!). The sign at the site refers to it as "Jesus' Village." He came to live here with Peter and his family after being run out of Nazareth after "the synagogue incident." It was incredibly powerful to look over those places and know that Jesus had walked there. In fact, this was another place, like the Judean desert, that really moved me, because I knew that Jesus' feet had walked in these places.

This photos shows the archaeological dig at Capernum, and looks back towards the Church there, which is built over the site of the ruins of Peter's home.

From Capernum, we went to lunch at a restaurant that serves St. Peter's Fish. These whole fish come from the Sea of Galilee and have been caught there since before the time of Jesus.

This is Anne's lunch, ready to go!

We ended our day with a boat ride on the Sea of Galilee on a fishing boat that is a replica of one that they hauled out of the Sea several years ago. Here's one sailing near the one we are on:

We read the story of Jesus calming the storms on the Sea as we sailed. I couldn't quite believe that I was on a boat, in that place.

Today has been the fullest day we've had so far, with so many things to see and experience. The good news, however, was that we took it easy. In each place, we had time for quiet and for reflection. I never felt rushed (though I often wished for more time, which is a different thing). I'll be forever grateful that my first trip to the Holy Land was on a pilgrimage, rather than a tour. We are intentionally making time for worship together every day. In fact, we've had eucharist almost every day. So while at the end of each day I am tired - I'm not exhausted, which is a different thing. And, I am feeling refreshed and renewed but what I am seeing, hearing, tasting, experiencing.

From the Desert to the Sea (Monday 1 March 2010)

2010-03-03T11:47:00.008-05:00

I've been away on a field trip for a couple of days, and so kept notes in my journal while I was without my laptop. Here's the first day's entry (from 1 March 2010):

We began our journey today at the Judean desert. This was the desert where Jesus spent 40 days in the wilderness being tempted by Satan, immediately after his baptism by John in the Jordan River. In this desert, Jesus was tempted by Pride, Power, and Prestige.

It seemed fitting, as Lenten pilgrims, for us to spend some time at this desert, as well. After a meditation on deserts, we has some quite time for reflection. It was one of those moments for me when I was quite literally smacked with the wonder of what I was seeing. This was THE desert.

Perhaps because the desert is such a vast place, and we know he was in there, which square metres he walked on, matter much less.

I was moved by the desert. It is not a friendly place. In Scripture, when people go into the desert, we know that they will encounter God. I can see why.

The photo on the left shows the desert. One of my fellow pilgrims was praying, and I thought she really showed how VAST this space is. On the right, is a child of one of the many many vendors at this particular car park. I could have ridden the donkey for sheckels, or dollars.

We left the desert for Jericho. This is the New city of Jericho, not the ancient biblical one (though we saw the remains of that one, too). We took cable cars above the city to the Monastery of the Temptation, built upon the site where Jesus was shown all the cities of the world and told that the could all be his if he would just worship Satan. The monastery was filled with gorgeous iconography. And while you could not see all the cities of the world from there, you could see a very long way. I knelt and touched a stone, lit candles for those I love, for St. Barnabas, and for the Diocese of NH, and I crawled into a cave where a monk would have lived.

The picture on the left shows the view from the Cable Car as we climbed (and those who know me well can be impressed, I did not have to cling to Anne for dear life!). The middle photo is the view from the monastery. The picture on the right is a tiny fraction of the icons in the monastery.

From Jericho, we headed off towards the Sea of Galilee. On the way, we traveled along the TransJordan, and learned more about Israeli-Palestinian politics. Based on an agreement (I think from 1968), there are essentially three Palestinian zones in Israel:

· Zone A is under total Palestinian control (like Bethlehem and Jericho). Also, Zone A is walled off from the rest of Israel, and one must pass through a checkpoint to re-enter Israel. Those without proper documentation may not enter. We’ve passed through several now, and given the rising tensions in the area, a member of the Israeli Army comes aboard the bus and looks at all our passports.

· Zone B has a mix of control, some Israeli and some Palestinian. Bethany (as in Mary, Martha, and Lazarus) is such a city. I’ve not been to any Zone B cities yet, so I have no feel for what this looks or feels like.

· Zone C is the TransJordan. It’s under total Israeli control, despite being in a Palestinian territory, and is walled off. All of the fertile land along the Jordan (hence TransJordan) cannot be accessed by the Palestinians.

We are spending two nights alongside the Sea of Galilee, in a lovely guest house called Pilgerhaus, run by German Benedictines. The rooms are lovely, and we are literally on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. In my free time this afternoon, I wandered around the shore, touched the water, took lots of phots, and picked up rocks and shells.

Many of us chose to attend the monks’ service of Vespers at the nearby Church of the Multiplication, thought to be on the spot where Jesus multiplied the 5 loaves and two fish to feed the 5000. There, the mosaic right in front of the altar depicts two fish and four loaves; the fifth loaf is represented in the Eucharistic bread. I now own a chalice and paten with this mosaic represented on them.

Today, our schedule was labeled “Day of Prayer” and it certainly was that.

On the left, I am at the sea of Galilee. In the middle, you can see the Sea of Galilee in the gaps between the palms. Here are fishermen, on the sea of Galilee.

Thoughts after visiting Yad Vashem

2010-02-28T11:42:00.004-05:00

This afternoon, Anne, David (a new friend, on this pilgrimage with us), and I traveled to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum.

I was moved to tears by the cruelty that human beings can inflict on one another. At the opening of the museum, is a quote (I didn't have a pen, so I couldn't write down who said it, and I may not have the wording exact): Do not judge a nation by what it does, judge it by what it's people will tolerate.

Yad Vashem hits you again, and again with the cruelty that was inflicted on the Jewish people of Europe by their compatriots. Early on, I was struck (as I have been every time I've studied about The Holocaust) by how so many ordinary Europeans could watch what was happening and look away.

I was pretty stoic until I got to the stories of children and families. Children ripped from mothers' arms. Lovers separated, never to see one another again. I read about a mother who gave her children to neighbors before heading off to the camps. One woman left a note for her partner before committing suicide, rather than be deported to a camp. Tears were flowing as I walked from one panel to another.

As I walked, I remembered what it felt like to be marginalized and [figuratively] spat upon by members of the lesbian community, when I first came out as bisexual, in 1987. In that community, bisexuality was not well thought of. My question then: How can people who have experienced persecution themselves then turn around and persecute others?

I asked myself the same question today at Yad Vashem: How can a people who have experienced the kind of hatred that the Jewish people have experienced now perpetuate that hatred on the Palestinians?

Yesterday's crossing at a checkpoint from Bethlehem back into Israel, felt a bit like leaving a ghetto (in the old sense). Coming back tonight from Yad Vashem, our yellow cab driver (Israeli) was afraid to come into Arab East Jerusalem; the white cabs (Arab) are simply not allowed to cross the green line from Arab East Jerusalem into Jerusalem.

I know that there are many complicated issues here of land and history. And I certainly am not trying to denigrate the experiences of millions of Jews. But, having been in Bethlehem yesterday, the contrast was startling.

What do y'all think?

The Jerusalem Mile Project

2010-02-28T11:38:00.002-05:00

The Jerusalem Mile is another name for a labyrinth. Pilgrims who cannot physically travel to Jerusalem, can walk "The Jerusalem Mile" on a labyrinth. The pilgrims from the Diocese of Virginia are all part of something called the Jerusalem Mile Project. You can read all about that project and what they are up to here. There is another blog about our trip there, and many more photos than I am posting on my blog.

To the Herodyan and Bethlehem

2010-02-27T13:11:00.005-05:00

We began our trip today with a visit to the Herodyan, which was a fort and palace built by Herod the great. Herod is best remembered as the "King of the Jews" who was in power when Jesus was born. In fact, it was he who ordered the slaughter of the Holy Innocents. You can sense the deep fear with which he lived in the size and location of this fortress (and he built or restored 14 all around the ancient Middle East).

While there, we were asked to reflect on two kingdoms: Herod's kingdom of political power and Jesus' calling us to bring about God's kingdom here on earth. Our course leader asked us to reflect on which kingdom or kingdoms have survived? And, particularly in the Holy Land, where there is still such struggle, how does the tension between those two kingdoms play out today?

Next, we went to the Shepherds' Fields, which marks the place where the shepherds kept their flocks and where they would have heard the message of Christ's birth from the heavenly host. Despite the crowds, it still felt peaceful there. It was also bucketing down rain for much of the time.

In a small cave, like the ones the shepherds resided in, Bishop Shannon Johnston, of the Diocese of Virginia, celebrated eucharist with us. It was totally surreal, as we used the propers for the Feast of the Nativity, and sang Christmas Carols, despite being in the midst of Lent. In his sermon, Bishop Shannon asked us to reflect some on what that dichotomy might mean. The point of our Lenten disciplines is to bring us closer to God, and that closeness (in the incarnation) is what we celebrate at Christmas.

We also got a chance to shop at a cooperative store that supports 30+ Christian families in Bethlehem. We were encouraged to "support the local economy" here, since this store helps the Christians who have chosen to remain in Bethlehem and whose numbers are declining because of the political issues there (that's a whole other blog post!). I bought a number of things - to keep and to share.

For lunch, we ate at a traditional Middle Eastern Restaurant, where we were given a huge variety of dishes to try. I'm not sure WHAT I ate, but I will say that it was all delicious. I think I've eaten my weight in hummous.

We ended our tour of Bethlehem at the Church of the Nativity, a church built over the spot where Jesus is believed to have been born. This view from Nativity Square, gives you a sense of the diversity of Bethlehem and the West Bank. Turning away from that church, you can see both a mosque and another Christian church close by (look closely at the two towers in the photo).

To enter the church of the Nativity you go through a very small door, called the Door of Humility. Even I had to bend to enter. You can see in this photo how many times the size of the door has been reduced (and the men by the door give you a sense of perspective).

You might imagine that the Church of the Nativity would be a quiet place. Rather, it was mayhem. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of pilgrims were queued up for the chance to kneel briefly at the place where Jesus was born, and then to peer into the manger. At the same time, as we waited, a funeral service was happening in the nave of the church. Listening to the mother's lament for her dead child was chilling, in light of the story of the one whose birthplace we had come to see.

So we queued and waited, finally coming to the place where Jesus was born. Here is one of my fellow pilgrims, kneeling at the spot.

As I waited, and walked, and waited and walked, I found myself feeling very skeptical. Most of the holy sites in the Holy Land were not identified for hundreds of years. So, was this really (really???) the spot where Jesus born? How likely was it?

And then, at the moment when I knelt down, and put my head into the cave (that's another blog post, too!), I was moved to tears by the experience of touching this place. In the end, I realized that it didn't matter to me if Jesus was born right there, or 100 feet away, or around the block. The sacredness of that site comes from the combination of the possibility and the centuries of faithful people coming there as an act of devotion. Places become "thin" because God breaks through there. And this little spot, for all its hustle and crowd, was thin for me. I experienced the incarnation there.

All Work and no play....

2010-02-26T15:33:00.003-05:00

would be a bad idea, even for pilgrims!

So tonight, in the face of torrential rain and thunderstorms, we did the only sensible thing we could do... play cards!

Some of us played bridge.

Some of us played Phase 10.

Some of us played Skip-Bo.

What we had in common is that all of us had fun! And, friendships were made across tables, which was the best part of all.

Scale Model of Jerusalem and The Shrine of the Book

2010-02-26T10:11:00.006-05:00

Today, we explored two sites at the Israel Museum. The museum itself is (sadly) closed for renovations. However, there were two other things to explore on their property.

One is a scale model of the City of Jerusalem that sits on about 1 acre of land. It was pouring down rain, so I must admit that I gave it a pretty cursory look. Here are some pics that I snapped under cover of Anne's umbrella:

The view on the left shows the Temple as it would have been. The view on the right is a view from another angle. I wish I could tell you more, but all of the signs for the site were in Hebrew.

Next, I toured the Shrine of the Book. The Shrine of the Book is another museum on the complex, which opened in the mid 1960s, to house the Dead Sea Scrolls and to illuminate the lives of the Essene Community at Qumran.

In 1947, a Bedoin boy found a number of clay jars in a cave. The jars contained scrolls that turned out to be ancient scrolls of books of the bible (and other sacred writings). To make an incredibly long story short, the caves in that area were filled with many scrolls and other artifacts of the lives of the people (known as the Essenes) who lived at Qumran. If you want to read more, you can check out this article here.

The exterior of the museum is shaped like the lid of one of the clay jars. Behind it is a black granite wall. The Community at Qumran was concerned with purity of religious practice and some of their writings talk about the Children of the Light and the Children of the Darkness. That conflict is symbolized in this architecture.

I wasn't allowed to take photos on the inside of the museum, so all I can do is describe what I saw.

Some of the display at the Shrine of the Book was about the lives of the people who lived at Qumran. There were oil lamps, bowls, preserved charred dates, along with artifacts from the scriptorium where the scrolls were studied and copied. Many of us were amused by a small trowel used as for burying excrement. Those of us who have spent time camping recognized it right away!

As I moved from this area into the next, I walked past two enclosed displays. Each one contained one of the actual pottery jars in which scrolls had been found. They stopped me in my tracks. On the one hand, they were simply ancient pottery jars. They looked no more impressive than any other jar. And yet, they had been the vessels for something amazing. They protected their hidden treasure for nearly 2000 years! I wished I could have touched one of them. I stood staring for quite a few minutes before moving on.

We then moved into the second part of The Shrine, where either facsimiles of the ancient texts, or some of the ancient texts themselves, resided. I don't read biblical Hebrew, but I was still awestruck. There, in front of me, were ancient copies of some of the words I love.

I was particularly moved to find a copy of one of the oldest extant hymns in Hebrew Scripture. We recite it as a canticle in Morning Prayer in the Episcopal Church. Tonight, I leave you with Canticle 8: The Song of Moses. This morning, I saw this text in its original form.

I will sing to the Lord, for he is lofty and uplifted; *

the horse and its rider has he hurled into the sea.

The Lord is my strength and my refuge; *

the Lord has become my Savior.

This is my God and I will praise him, *

the God of my people and I will exalt him.

The Lord is a mighty warrior; *

Yahweh is his Name.

The chariots of Pharaoh and his army has he hurled into the sea; *

the finest of those who bear armor have been

drowned in the Red Sea.

The fathomless deep has overwhelmed them; *

they sank into the depths like a stone.

Your right hand, O Lord, is glorious in might; *

your right hand, O Lord, has overthrown the enemy.

Who can be compared with you, O Lord, among the gods? *

who is like you, glorious in holiness,

awesome in renown, and worker of wonders?

You stretched forth your right hand; *

the earth swallowed them up.

With your constant love you led the people you redeemed; *

with your might you brought them in safety to

your holy dwelling.

You will bring them in and plant them *

on the mount of your possession,

The resting-place you have made for yourself, O Lord, *

the sanctuary, O Lord, that your hand has established.

The Lord shall reign *

for ever and for ever.

Exploring the Old City of Jerusalem

2010-02-25T13:41:00.006-05:00

Today, we were broken up into groups of four and asked to maintain the identity of family with our group for the duration of the trip. My family (Family #1) consists of Anne (my friend with whom I planned to come on this trip), Megan (pronounced Meeghan, who is from New Zealand!), and Bev (also part of the group from Virginia, but who is a Southern Baptist, brought along by an Episcopal friend - not THAT kind of Southern Baptist, she's quick to say).

Here we are before setting out on our adventure today:

Bev, Anne, Fran, Megan

Our "adventure" was to spend the day exploring the Old City of Jerusalem. Different families were asked to explore different quarters of the city (Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Aremenian). We were assigned to the Muslim quarter. Things we were encouraged to ask or do:

Find the high place of the quarter and look out over the area.
Talk to a local resident of the quarter and see what his/her life is like.
Discover major places of worship in the quarter - and sort out whether there are places of worship for other religions there, as well.
Eat lunch.
Discover any ruins in the quarter.
And, above all, expect surprises.

Here's a map:

We entered the Old City through the Damascus Gate and immediately encountered sooks - covered stalls in the bazaars. We wandered about for a bit, and then we were invited in to a shop in an Armenian Church. The shopkeeper lives in the monastery, runs the shop, and assists the bishop. We all bought some things from him, and learned a bit about the church.

A woman working there told us her story. She is Jordanian, and moved to Jerusalem to marry. She's been here twelve years, and cannot go back to Jordan or anywhere else outside of Israel. She's still having difficulty getting the right sort of paperwork from the government, and has not citizenship documentation. She was reading an American novel, spoke six languages (including totally flawless English) and was quite amazed to learn that Anne and I were priests. Apparently women clergy were beyond her experience!

We wandered into the Christian Quarter to climb the tower of the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer so that we could get a look out over the Quarter. It was closed, so we wandered some more. We got totally turned around in a residential neighborhood, and were rescued by a boy named Omar (age 11). Omar led us out and to a restaurant for lunch - he was quite sweet and chatty (What's your name? How old are you? Your friends are slow!). It turns out to have been a business transaction, with Omar wanting to be paid (10 sheckels!) for his trouble. Lunch was quite good, though not the meal we'd had in mind.

After lunch we did climb up the tower at the Lutheran Church (177 steps) and got some great views of the city:

To the left is a view of the Muslim Quarter - that's the Dome of the Rock in the distance. And, to the right, The Church of the Resurrection (often better known by its crusader name: The Church of the Holy Sepulchre) in the Christian Quarter.

We walked some more and made our way down the Via Delorosa. There, several of our group got lured into a jewelry shop by an enterprising salesman. Two of us stayed outside for quite a while, watching pilgrims make their way along the Via Delorosa. In the time we stood there, a large english speaking group, and several others made their way. Bustling all around the pilgrims saying the Stations of the Cross were women in headscarves, Palestinians, Orthodox Jews, and other tourists. The mix was quite extraordinary.

Then, the most amazing part of the day (for me) happened. We reunited with our friends in the jewelry shop, and the proprietor spoke to us for a long time. First, he gave me grief for not coming in. Apparently, many tourists avoid the shops because tour guides tell them to be wary of shopkeepers (for good reason in some cases, I'll say). He really encouraged me to use my eyes and see for myself. It was a good lesson.

He also spoke at length about his own situation. He is an Israeli, Muslim, Bedoin, ex-Palestinian, and something else which I am forgetting now. He has extraordinary wealth and privilege - he's traveled the world - does business in Santa Monica, CA. He wanted us to know that his wife is a pediatrician, drives a car, is well treated. He was quite concerned about how westerners perceive Muslims. He also had some negative things to say about those who live in the Quarter.

In the end, I thought his perspective was interesting. And, I was not willing to let it entirely color my opinions. Just as I would question the views of a wealthy American about poorer residents of the neighborhood (nobody on welfare really wants to work....) I questioned some of his views about his Muslim neighbors.

I was also quite struck by the difference between his life and the Jordanian woman we encountered earlier. She was not able to travel home, he'd visited 40 countries. This is a nation of contrasts.

We were asked to return with a symbol of our day (and given 20 sheckels with which to buy it). We chose spices. Everywhere in the Muslim Quarter, my nose was assaulted by smell. The smell of cooking food, of spice, of cigarette smoke, of trash. So, we bought a curry spice which was one of the smells I smelled all day. And then we bought a spice blend, that we were told would go into rice dishes or soups. What we liked about that blend was that it was made up of many different things. It represented for us the blend of Armenian, Jordanian, Muslim, and Christian cultures that we had encountered in the Quarter.

The photo on the left shows a spice shop. Yes. That's a pyramid of spice. The photo on the right are all of the symbols brought back the families.

At the Maison D'Abraham

2010-02-24T10:14:00.007-05:00

There is a group of French Roman Catholic nuns here in Jerusalem who run a convent called the Maison D'Abraham [French for House of Abraham]. Their mission is to be a hospice for pilgrims to the Holy Land from all three of the Abrahamic faiths. First, they served us a lovely lunch. Then, we went up on their roof, for an overview [literally, and historically] of the city of Jerusalem.

This photo looks out over the to the old city. You can see the wall of the Old City running right through the center of the picture. The gold dome in the center is the Dome of the Rock, which is a Muslim, Jewish, and Christian holy place. For Muslims, it marks the spot where Muhammed is said to have ascended to heaven. For Jews, it is located where the temple stood. Crusaders turned it into a church in the 12th century. It returned to Muslim control when the Crusaders were expelled.

The black dome to its left is the Al Aqsa Mosque, which dates from the early 8th century. At the time it was built, it was the furthest mosque from Mecca; Al Aqsa translates as "The Farthest."

This picture shows the garden of Gethsemane, off in the distance. Gethsemane means something like olive press, and it was (is) primarily an olive grove.

Looking west (and slightly south) you can see the site where Caiphas' palace is said to have stood.

One of my main reasons for coming on this pilgrimage was to gain some sense of this place. I've read these stories for my whole life. To literally see them (even as modern as they now are) and to have a sense of this geography is utterly amazing.

Israeli Breakfast

2010-02-24T09:59:00.003-05:00

I'd heard from my friend Ann (of World Eye fame) that Middle Eastern breakfast was not to be missed. This morning, I experienced it first hand, and I'm a convert.

Aside from the usual cornflakes and milk, the buffet contained sliced cold meat, sliced tomatoes, sliced cucumbers, dried black olives and spicy green ones in oil, two types of cheese, eggs, olive oil, a spice mixture, and bread (regular and pita).

I was simply in heaven. I want to pour olive oil on everything; it tastes so much better than it does here in the US. And even though here I often avoid cucumbers, these were tasty (and another vehicle for the olive oil). I have no idea what the meat was (best not to ask, I suppose), but it was flavourful and savory, eaten with the feta on the toasted pita.

I thought that I might lose weight while I'm here, but I suspect that might not be the case (and, I don't really care).

Jerusalem Trip Day 1: Dulles Airport - Jerusalem

2010-02-24T01:56:00.000-05:00

Day 1 really encompassed two days, though lasted less than a 24 hour period! We departed Dullles at 6:15 PM (EST), passed through London’s Heathrow, and landed in Jerusalem at 3:30 PM (Local Time). However, since Israel is 7 hours ahead, it was really about 14 hours after we started. I, for one, have had very little sleep. I’d gotten quite good at sleeping on planes, but not this time.

I’m too tired for much insight, but I first saw and then heard something striking.

As we drove to Jerusalem from the airport, there was a great deal of new construction. I thought they might be new Israelis settlements. At one point, our bus driver told us that’s exactly what they were: new Israeli settlements on the West Bank. Then, we came to other areas, and he would say, “This is an Arab town.” There were huge fences there, and not enough water.

During our opening Eucharist tonight, during the Eucharistic Prayer, I’m pretty sure I heard someone from another faith praying outside. It might have been a mosque’s call to worship or the evening prayers. It was amazing to hear the words of a language I don’t understand mingling in with the words I do. I think that’s what Jerusalem will be all about.

Congregational Growth

2010-02-22T09:13:00.003-05:00

A church growth guru met with the Executive Council of The Episcopal Church and worked with them on statistics for growth. You can read the full report here.

This pair of paragraphs leapt out at me:

During his statistic-laden hour-long report, Kirk Hadaway, the church's program officer for congregational research, told the council that congregations grow when they are in growing communities; have a clear mission and purpose; follow up with visitors; have strong leadership; and are involved in outreach and evangelism.

Congregations decline, he said, when their membership is older and predominantly female; are in conflict, particularly over leadership and where worship is "rote, predictable and uninspiring."

Most of what is found in both paragraphs totally makes sense to me. Of course congregations grow when there is strong leadership. It sure helps to have communities that are growing. We struggled with this in Northern Michigan, and we struggle in Coos County, NH, too. In both places the population is shrinking. I'm also not surprised that congregations decline in the face of conflict and worship that is "rote, predictable and uninspiring."

What I found distressing is the first part of the second paragraph. "Congregations decline when their membership is older and predominantly female...." So many churches I know fit that description.

While many of the other things on both lists can be addressed, there's not much that can be done about this one. At least not at the start. And frankly, I'm not persuaded that being an older and predominantly female is enough to send a church into decline. I know some incredibly vibrant congregations that would fit that description.

I wish whoever had written the article had simply phrased it differently. My fear is that some churches will see this and essentially throw up their hands, rather than looking at the list of things that help with growth and adopting some of those habits.

I've known small and predominantly older-female churches that were vibrant and large congregations with a variety of ages and both genders in the pews that were not. Let's help congregations identify what makes a church vital - and then help them to asses whether they have what it takes to become more vital (if they aren't there already). That would really help church growth.

What is essential?

2010-02-20T20:48:00.003-05:00

I spent much of today packing for my trip to Jerusalem. The task: to live for three weeks on the contents of one suitcase. And, to have enough room in the suitcase for the books I am bringing with and the souvenirs I plan to bring back.

I'm no novice to international travel. I've been back and forth to New Zealand six times. However, then I was staying with friends - where I could do laundry easily, and borrow clothes if required.

All day I kept asking (with the help of a consultant, my Friend From Down State): Do I need that? Do I really need that? It was part daring and part trust to pull out of the suitcase the things she thought I could live without.

Part of the challenge is that the weather in Jerusalem is quite variable at this time of year. At night, the lows will be under 40 (F). During the day, temps will range from 40-55 (F), but we've been told it's extra warm there right now, and the day we land it'll be about 65 or 70 (F).

Essentially, I've packed one of every sweater weight. One fleece, one mid-weight sweater, one light-weight sweater, one technical sweater, one pashmina. I've packed a few different pairs of trousers, one pair of blue jeans, one pair of dressier pants, a dressy blouse, a clergy shirt, a few turtlenecks and a few T-shirts. It feels a bit risky, I'm used to taking more when I travel abroad.

This journey (to Jerusalem and beyond) feels like it's about learning to live with less, because I can. I'll let you know how I fared.

Giving things Up

2010-02-18T14:50:00.004-05:00

For many years, I became a vegetarian during Lent. Giving up all meat, for all of Lent was a real reminder to me that it was Lent. But, since the advent of my food allergies, I've stopped giving up food-related things for Lent. Frankly, every day is a fast day, now.

This year, I decided to give up cursing for Lent. Maybe a priest ought not to admit on her blog that she curses like a trucker. But, the reality is that it's true. And, I've done so for years. I also felt, for many years, that I had my cursing habit under control. I was able to avoid swearing behind the counter at the bookstore, or in front of kids in my youth group.

I'm not quite sure when I lost control of my language. But, I've come to realize that I am no longer in control over what comes out of my mouth. And, I don't like that.

Giving swearing up for Lent seemed like a great idea. In slightly more than 24 hours, it's also been really humbling. This is hard. Much harder than not eating bacon. Because when I chose not to eat bacon, I didn't eat bacon. When I decided not to swear, I made it about 3 hours after I got out of bed, before letting the first one fly. I've spent a fair amount of time clapping my hands over my mouth and saying, "Doh."

What I'm learning is that this may be one of the hardest Lenten disciplines I ever take on. And, like my baptismal promises, I can only do it with God's help. I hope that by Easter Sunday, I'll have learned to think before I speak, and to be a bit less reactive and a bit more contemplative, particularly when I'm frustrated. I will, with God's help.

Ash Wednesday

2010-02-17T06:58:00.002-05:00

As part of my Lenten discipline, I'm hoping to write here more regularly. (I'd love to say I'll write every day, but I'm not sure that's possible. I'll try for five days a week, just so that my goal is measurable.) I love the act of writing, and far too often it falls through the cracks in my life. I hope that by writing as part of my Lenten discipline, I can get back into the habit.

I love Lent. That may sound odd to those for whom Lent seems long and horrible. And, I'm certainly glad to lose the music in minor keys come Easter Sunday! But, what I love about Lent is that for 40 days plus Sunday, God feels closer. Whatever I choose to do for Lent serves to remind me of God. And, if I've chosen well, I am reminded over and over again of God's presence. My discipline (which I can't keep just because of my own strong will) brings me to my knees before God.

I hope for a Holy Lent. And I hope the same for you, wherever you are. May this season of prayer, fasting, and repentance bring you closer to the Holy One, who loves us and longs for us as a mother longs for her children.

Are Teeth Cosmetic?

2010-02-06T13:48:00.006-05:00

In the midst of a pastoral conversation this week, I learned about yet another way that poor people in this country have fallen through the cracks. If you are poor, and have serious trouble with your teeth, Medicare will pay to have them pulled at no cost to you. That's great news. However, they won't pay for new false teeth, because false teeth are considered "cosmetic."

The last I checked, teeth aren't primarily cosmetic. Teeth are required. The healthiest things we can eat all require chewing: fresh/frozen vegetables, whole grains, lean meats. Without teeth, vegetables must be cooked to softness (losing nutritional value) or skipped altogether. Without teeth, whole grains are nearly impossible. The person I heard about consumes a great deal of pasta and sugared sodas. Even though she is often hungry, she turns down food that's offered to her because she can't eat it.

However, teeth do become cosmetic when someone is job hunting. The person I heard about is able to work - but has been turned down for countless jobs because she has no teeth. She can find work doing low-paying manual labor, but jobs that involve interacting with the public are off limits to her. Several potential employers have actually said flat out that they cannot hire her because she has no teeth and would not present a good face to the public.

If she were given false teeth, she could lose weight, find work, get her life back. Instead, she continues to need all kinds of assistance. This medicare decision leaves people at risk both in terms of health and employment.

Who makes these decisions? Probably someone with all their own teeth.