It's been over a month since my last blog post, which I think is a new record. It's not a positive record, so I apologize for being so delayed. April was a VERY full month. May is becoming the same, if not worse. I'm going to keep it brief though, especially on my travel logs.
Easter in Jerusalem
Yes. Easter in Jerusalem was awesome. I spent Maundy Thursday processing out of the Old City of Jerusalem to the Garden of Gethsemane. It was a really strange sensation to be walking with a large group of Christians, and singing different songs, which made us "those" Christians. Those people who walk around and broadcast their faith. It was a really uncomfortable feeling for me in that sense. I think the image that sticks in my head from that walk is seeing an Orthodox Jewish family pass me on my right side and a Muslim family pass me on my left, simultaneously. That's really the epitome of what it means to live in the "Holy Land." I, as a Christian, am brushing shoulders with two other major world religions on a daily basis. I'm also the minority, as that Christian. Walking through both families also gave me a sense of what my goal as a Christian in the Holy Land is. It's not about God calling me to make Christians or evangelize. It's about walking the same roads, but perhaps in a different direction. I get the sense that the biggest acts of discrimination happen between Jews and Muslims, and that the majority of issues lie within the interactions between those two communities. Christians are certainly a part of that, but there is a very small population of Christians still here. Those that are here are not harassed in the same way many Muslims are at checkpoints and such.
I went to the Good Friday service at the Lutheran church in Beit Sahour, which is the town neighboring Bethlehem. Granted, I understood only a very limited bit of what was happening in the liturgy, but it was a different feeling for a Good Friday service than I'm used to. The service was light and positive, complete with a social hour of falafel and hummus afterwards. It wasn't the somber, dark service that I've been raised with.
Sunday morning was phenomenal. There was a sunrise service on the Mount of Olives. I watched the sun rise over the Jordanian mountains, while I sang the same victorious Easter hymns I adore.
Negative story of the Easter week? One of the kindergarteners was strip-searched at the Occupation Wall Gilo Checkpoint, because she was considered "dangerous." She was on the way in Jerusalem, on a special religious permit that only lasts for one month, to go to the Palm Sunday walk with her family. Five years old? Yup. She's certainly dangerous enough that you, meaning the Israel Defense Forces, should force her to take off ALL of her clothes.
Egypt
Easter Sunday evening, I left Palestine and headed to Egypt for a week with some friends. We spent a few days in Alexandria and a few in Cairo. It was really interesting to find myself comparing everything in Egypt to things in Palestine. I wasn't comparing to the States, but just to Palestine. It was also strange to come back to Bethlehem, and not feel like I was coming back to a foreign country. I was coming back home. Oh, and the Pyramids are REALLY cool.
Jesus Trail
This past weekend, I hiked the Jesus Trail from Nazareth to Cana, as in, the Wedding Feast Cana. We hiked from somewhere in the middle of nowhere to Arbel Cliffs as well, and then up near Capernaum. It was an absolutely BEAUTIFUL hike. At covering the distance of approximately 30 miles in three days, though, my calves ached a bit. The most powerful moment of that trip, and in all the "holy" sites here, was at the old village of Capernaum. It's basically rubble now, but there is a new church built on the remains of the first church built by Peter. The first church rubble is still there though. It's so crazy! There's also the Ancient Synagogue, which was built on the remains of (again...I know) the synagogue that Jesus preached in. THE synagogue. I don't know if these sites hit me the hardest, because they were pretty clearly the actual sites, or because they're different than the sites I see every week. They both sit about 20 feet from the Sea of Galilee, so it's really a beautiful site.
I had a minor fit when we were at Capernaum, because I had been inside taking pictures of the new church, which sits on top of the remains of Peter's first church. A tour group from the United States came inside and starting getting set up for a mass there, because Capernaum is maintained by the Franciscans. I'm pretty used to seeing tour groups holding their own masses in these little churches that have some connection to Christ's life. It's totally normal. My issue? I finished taking pictures and walked outside. I walked down the steps and realized that they had locked the outside gate. Meaning, I was locked in. More importantly, it means that the church was locked, so that nobody could enter the church during this group's mass.
While I respect that it's frustrating to worship if people come in and out and make noise, which I hope is the reason for locking the door, I am absolutely and utterly livid that a door would be locked on a church to celebrate God's service. That is completely contradictory to Christ's call to us as Christians. It is a very concrete example of how I feel many Christians live. I have been raised in a traditional, high-church, Lutheran Church. I love incense, the pomp and circumstance of a full-bodied processional, towering pipe organ, chants, etc, etc, etc. I love it. I respect that many people believe, as do I, that a service of the word is to worship God and all of his beautiful creation. We use these pieces to show respect and reverance to our God. The moment that the focus leaves God and locks a gate, to keep your community of Christians tight, that's when our Christian faith falls to pieces. What if someone had stumbled upon that mass and decided to stay, feeling reconnected to God in a way they hadn't felt in years, or ever? They couldn't. The gate was locked. We are so caught up in keeping people out, that we forget to dine with the tax collectors, lepers, or other dregs of society. In fact, we don't even welcome each other, even without the leprosy, in the way that Jesus welcomed everyone.
I'm sorry that this was a bit of a complaining rant. It hurt my heart to be Christian when this happened. Not to mention, when I walked out and one of the sisters realized I needed the gate unlocked, she looked at me and said, "I thought you were with the group." I said, "No, I was just visiting the church." She just shook her head, unlocked the gate, and walked away. Thank you for respecting my right to visit a holy site, even though I'm not wearing an atrocious yellow hat, ascot, or name badge, like the other tourists. Not.
Hic id'dinya (This is the life)
Life is normal. I have 13 days of school left. My sister's coming to visit in a few days. I leave Palestine in two months. This is moving rather quickly. I'm starting to piece out things for the fall, but the thought of leaving here and re-entering the American culture and lifestyle is terrifying.
God, thank you for giving me the physical and emotional strength to live and work in this context. Thank you for friends and family that support me. Thank you for sunsets, wildflowers, children, pinatas, and so much more that you've given me to encourage and inspire me every day. Please be with Cinnamon's family as they are mourning her leaving this world and joining you. Please also be with all those preparing to leave a place they're comfortable with to go to a place that holds discomfort. I ask all these things in your son's most heavenly name, Amen.
Salaam a'lekum. (Peace be with all of you).
Meredith
