For things beautiful, lovely, and bright
For sacred moments of laughter, sharing, and healing
For freedom of movement, of dance, and song
For the vulnerability to care and the courage to reflect
I am grateful
To the disappointments, pain, and sorrow
To the moments of anger, loneliness, and despair
To all mistakes, wrongs endured, and fears ensued
I take my leave
For immanuel, God with us
and God with us still.
Here’s to a new year
For good, amidst bad, in hope
Years from now, I wonder how much I’ll remember of my time here in the Holy Land. Ten years ago I spent three months in Colorado Springs, and had a remarkable time. But I’ve forgotten many of the details. Only moments, impressions of moments, remain.
Not only the memories have faded, but so have the relationships. Friendships formed years ago have dissolved by time, distance, and shifts in life stages. Only in the last few years have I learned to acknowledge these loses and mourn them, but to also to look ahead with anticipation.
I have so many stories of this place, I’m afraid that I’ll forget them. Like the time we mistakenly got into a taxi without determining the price first. Or how we ignored the “do not swim” signs and dunked ourselves in a waterfall.
Then there are the things that I first found so strange but later became routine. Like throwing toilet paper into the waste-bucket instead of flushing it. Or going through the security checks at shopping malls and bus centers. Or bus drivers who start to drive without closing the door.
Then there are the things that I feel, should I stay longer, I would never get used to. Like concrete walls separating communities and checkpoints that make you feel like penned pigs. Or the constant “Ni-Hau!” or “China, where are you going?” Next time I’m wearing a T-Shirt that says Made in Canada.
I’m not sure if I’ll miss Jerusalem, but I will miss the garden and the people. Notre Dame de Sion still feels like a bit of paradise in the midst of chaos, and I hope and pray that this convent will continue to thrive for generations to come. I’ll miss the workers who have shared with me a bit of their lives and their strength to live despite the tremendous obstacles they face. I’ll miss my Catholic Sisters and Brothers who have taught me much about community and the meaning of service. I’ll also miss my traveling companions, especially M & N, who made this experience all the more meaningful and enjoyable.
While gazing at those Judean Hills today, my heart was overflowing in thankfulness to God. He has been so good and so kind to me; for bringing me here, for sustaining me, and for teaching me things old and new. In the days ahead, I will be pondering about all that I’ve seen, learned and discovered.
In the past few days I’ve been saying goodbye – but it’s been tempered by my eagerness to go home. It is time… and I can leave without feeling like I’ve left something behind, but rather that I bring it back with me.
Well, my friends, it’s my last week in the Holy Land. It doesn’t feel that long ago that I was anxiously waiting to go, with many questions of how my time here would look like. And now I’m looking forward to begin my life in Vancouver once again.
The last few weeks we’ve visited some very interesting places. Along with other volunteers, I went to see the ancient port city of Acre or Akko. Akko Old City is what I had thought the Old City of Jerusalem would be like except with more churches. Perhaps it’s the sea which gives it a more laid-back feel, a bit of calmness and tranquility even though it has seen its share of battles. Napoleon tried to capture it (and failed). Paul of the New Testament visited Akko in his 3rd missionary journey, and so did St Francis of Assisi, and Marco Polo. There were some fairly impressive underground crusader ruins, vestiges of the Hospitallers and Templar Knights.
Dungeon
Hall
Port
A few days later, the new volunteer and I went to Qumran, where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found. Having been to Masada, I was slightly underwhelmed, but the ruins of the Essenes community were still intriguing; they tell of how this ascetic religious sect lived (i.e. ritual baths galore). There is speculation that this is where John the Baptist lived before becoming Jesus of Nazareth’s herald.
Qumran ruins
Cave of the Dead Sea Scrolls
That left one last site left on my list to see: Caesarea of Maritima. This was Herod’s great port city built in honor of Caesar Augustus. Pontius Pilot resided here, and so did Paul before he was sent to Rome. And thanks to Origen, it was home to a great theological library attracting scholars like Gregory Nazianzus, Basil the Great, and Jerome. Caesarea now is a huge archeological park with undersea ruins, remnants of a hippodrome, and an amphitheatre still in used today.
Ruins by the Sea
Hippodrome or Herodian Amphitheatre
Roman Amphitheatre
In fact, while we were there, they were setting up a show – I wondered if was some classical concert or operetta…. turns out it was this.
So disappointed, and a little disgusted.
Traveling aside, I’m sure most of you have heard about the terrorist attack and resulting fighting that’s been going on. Jerusalem is far from the action, and yet not that far. But here in Ein Kerem, it’s life as usual. We still get guests staying over and the work continues. It is strange how people are so used to the conflict – but I don’t think I would ever get used to seeing young people in uniform carrying assault rifles on local buses. Just one of the few reasons why I’m looking forward to coming home….
…meaning: I’ll just post some photos and let them do the talking.
July 29th: Attended a Shabbat Service at a Reform Synagogue. Beautiful! Wish I could have taken photos inside.
July 30th: Enter the Day – Saturday evening dinner served by yours truly. A Chinese meal as requested.
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July 30th: Ein Gedi (temp of +43 with humidity)
August 7th: Sunrise Masada Tour (+Ein Gedi and Dead Sea)
It was spectacular!
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| For the photo album click here: Haifa |
I know, I’m a little behind on my blog…. well, more than a little. I’ve been feeling less motivated to write, likely because of the heat but also because my “outings” seem somewhat trivial. Now I’m staring at a blank entry frame that’s waiting for my insightful commentary on Israeli life. But I have none. So, instead, I shall briefly recap my outings to Haifa and Galilee.
Three weekends ago we met at the Jerusalem Central Bus Station to take the bus to Haifa. Some general observations:
- one must wait on the platform for the bus, then have the pleasant experience of being pushed ONTO the bus
- while being squished, I felt something jabbing my thigh. It took a moment for me to realize it was the rifle carried by the soldier standing next to me.
- they allow more passengers than seats. One volunteer had to sit in the aisle (later another switched with her).
I really enjoyed Haifa. I felt that I could breath a little easier; the wind from the Mediterranean Sea helped I’m sure. Our first stop was Stella Maris Church, home of the Carmelites and their site of Elijah’s Cave on Mt. Carmel. Something about that church evoked a sense of sacredness and worship. When we stepped in, a gentleman was softly playing Ave Maria on the trumpet. A moment after he finished, a woman began singing in a magnificent voice while kneeling at the back pew.
Later, we set off in search of the Jewish site of Elijah’s Cave. We found it after a bit of hiking/wandering. We then took the bus to the German Colony and walked through it to the base of the Baha’i Gardens. Unfortunately we only had access to the first level, but what we saw was lovely. And as we continued to explore the city, we chanced upon a Filipino market store. The Sisters have asked if I could cook a Chinese meal and with that in mind, I bought some supplies (alas, no Chinese veges).
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| For the photo album click here: Nazareth & Galilee |
The next weekend, Sister R arranged a trip to Nazareth and Galilee for us. It was another blitz car-tour. The sites we visited were:
- Church of the Annunciation and St. Joseph (Jesus’ dad)
- Monastery of the Little Brothers of Jesus (site where Charles de Foucauld lived for 3 yrs)
- Mt Tabor & the Church of the Transfiguration
- Tiberius
- Capharnaum
- Peter’s Primacy
- Church of Beatitudes
Nazareth, which is the largest Arab city in Israel, has a population of 60,000 of whom approximately 30-35% are Christian. From what we saw, Nazareth seemed quite lovely and picturesque, with some areas reminiscent of Italy. Unfortunately we were there on a Sunday and all the shops were closed (but the Holy sites were relatively quiet). I was quite taken by the Madonna mosaics donated by communities all around the world. Something in me resonates when seeing cultural expressions of Christianity, it gives me hope that diversity and differences need not be polemic.
The day was humid and terribly HOT. I was most grateful that we had our own air conditioned car to take us from place to place. I’m learning that travel around Israel can be difficult in the summer without a car. Not all the famous sites are accessible by bus, and if they are one could be left waiting in the heat for a dangerously long time.
Well, that’s all for now. Today marks the beginning of Ramadan and my last month in this strange land. There are a few places I still wish to see like Qumran and Masada. But my heart is already yearning for familiar people and things. Strangely enough, I’m not missing food yet – though volunteer N keeps bringing up Chinese food. I can’t say what I miss the most – perhaps my room and bed 
Shalom, friends. May peace find you, and may you consider yourself blessed.
West Bank/Occupied Territories, a set on Flickr.
I was prepared for the heat, but not for what I saw.
I don’t think I can write too much about The West Bank or Occupied Territories. Even if I understood how Israel/Palestine came to this point, I’m just a visitor here. I can only hear people’s stories, read the news, and walk the streets. But to live day in and day out in the midst of conflict is unimaginable. I see people here trying to make a life, a normal life with work, family and hope for a brighter future. But what happens to you when you see your children training in an army for impending war? What happens when you see your community is systematically discriminated against or forced out of jobs and homes? What happens to you when you see walls erected in order to protect or to confine? What happens to you when all your life, all you have known is a battle for land, a battle for the right to exist?
After sundown on Saturday, I set out for the Old City. Though probably not the wisest thing to do, I walked up alone to the top of Mt. Hertzl to catch the first bus into town. It still took over an hour to get to Ecce Homo and I missed my stop. But I made it intact. The next morning I met the other volunteers (M, N, and N) plus an Aussi who was staying in Ecce Homo. After a late start, we made it to the Arab bus station and headed to Bethlehem. From Bethlehem, we transferred to another bus that took us into Hebron. Transferring buses would be simple, you would think, but in between are numerous taxi drivers desperate for passengers. They’re aggressive, perhaps frighteningly so for single female travelers. While waiting for the bus to fill, a woman who was obviously a tourist came on to the bus with several men were directing her. And as she sat down in the seat in front of me, I saw the men around her eying her. I knew exactly how she was feeling. I tapped her shoulder and asked if she was alone and if she wanted to travel with us in Hebron. She looked so relieved and agreed.
I don’t even know where we got off in Hebron, but we got off near the old city. Another couple, we found out, were also traveling and just like that we became a group of eight. A man began to guide us, not sure how or who he talked to, but took us towards the market. He showed us the street where shop keepers were forced out of their stores because they were next to an Israeli settlement. Grates had to be installed overhead to protect the people below from the trash thrown by settlers. We saw a small road that was closed off for the settlement – the first of many blocked streets that we would see that day.
M had a contact with the Christian Peacemaker Team (CPT) and was eager to meet up with them. So our “guide” kindly took us there. CPT is located on what was once a major road into the old city, but it was blocked off 17 years ago. That road served as a life-line to people who had to travel between their villages and their work, but the settlers and the army severed it. On the other side, only Israelis and tourists could travel along the road.
CPT invited us to the roof to give us a view of the city and a talk about Hebron and the work that they do. CPT’s primary task is to walk Palestinian children to and from school. Why? So that the settlers won’t throw rocks at them. CPT’s motto is literally “Getting in the way.” They bring an international presence to not only provide protection but to also increase awareness through non-violent resistance and witness.
Hebron, we were told, is the worst of all the cities in the West Bank in terms of tension and conflict because the signs of occupation are so blatant. For the sake of 400 settlers, perhaps even fewer, there are 1200 soldiers stationed there. For sure, violence has been perpetrated on both sides but the settlers have been granted extraordinary privilege and power, and continue to use decades-old events to justify their aggression. It’s been quiet in recent years; the man who first guided us told me that the Intifadas taught them that the Palestinians are the ones who lose and suffer. They want peace just as much as anyone else, but they also want the ability to live. Unemployment rate is high (approx 33%), travel is restricted, and tourism low.
Speaking of which, we got a lot of attention as a group walking through the city. The people of Hebron were friendly and kind (of course, it’s a different experience traveling with men than on your own). They kept asking where we were from, told us “welcome to Hebron,” and the children greeted us with smiles and shy waves. Beyond just trying to sell us things, I think they wanted to have their story heard and taken back to wherever we’re from.
The only site we saw was the Cave of the Patriarchs (and Matriarchs). Built on the traditional tombs of Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebecca, Jabob and Leah, the Ibrahimi Mosque is divided into a Jewish section and a Muslim section – with some bullet-proof glass in between. Our new friends from the States couldn’t enter into the Jewish section with us because they were Muslim. Strangely, as Christians we could go to both sides (it was, at one time, a church). On the Muslim side, the women had to wear a full head-to-feet covering; I felt a bit like a druid.
Finally, we started our trek back to Jerusalem. We stopped off in Bethlehem to view the Church of the Nativity. While I saw the traditional spot of Jesus’ birth (??), the highlight for me was being in St. Jerome’s office where he translated the bible into the Latin Vulgate. Perhaps, as a theologian, along with many others, I feel like I’m continuing on the work of translation. How do we make sense of the gospel in places like Vancouver, New York, Cape Town, or Hebron? How do we understand God and Truth when there is so much diversity in experiences and perspectives?
I think all of us were trying to grapple with what we saw, by the end we were tired and numb. The next day, I made my way to lectures in the German Colony in Jerusalem – a kind of modern, trendy area of the city. Just a few hours away, 30 km in distance, live people in a kind of a reserve. It made me think of Canada’s treatment of aboriginals, and how I too live in a state of ignorance and bliss.
Well, if you made it this far I commend and thank you. It was a longer post than intended. In the Lonely Planet’s introduction to the West Bank it says, “A visit to this news-headline-hogging place will likely leave you with a host of conflicting emotions and unanswered questions, a profound sense of sorrow and quite possibly a headache.” They are right on.
Forecast tomorrow: high of 38C in Ein Kerem; 42C in Jerusalem
!!!!
I’m starting to get into the bad habit of Siesta. Bad, only because it makes it harder for me to sleep at night and wake up early for my morning prayers. I actually like waking up early here. The air is cooler, fresher, and the sun is tender on the skin. And on Shabbat, the traffic winding between the hills is noticeably absent. Still, there’s not much to do in the middle of the day when it’s so hot. Even in the shade the heat is unrelenting.
A typical day for me starts at 8AM with breakfast. The cook prepares Israeli-style breakfasts with boiled eggs, sliced peppers, tomatoes, olives, cheese, yogurt, fruit and bread. There’s usually one or two sisters that have breakfast in the dining room staff-only area. Guests usually prefer eating outside.
At 8:30 I begin my work. Depending on the day, I’m either cleaning the reception, library, chapel, or Father Marie’s house. If there’s a large group for breakfast, I help with the washing. And if the cleaning staff is in need, I help with the rooms. It’s not hard work, but the heat is starting to make it tiring. Usually I’m done by 11:30.
12:30 is lunch. If it’s a group lunch, I help serve, eat, then help wash up. For the past few weeks, we’ve had other Brothers helping in the convent a few days a week, and they join for lunch well. A couple other workers, Y who has been the gardener for the past 25 yrs and J who’s from South Africa, also join for lunch. We eat quickly so our cook, M, can finish the dishes and be out by 1:30.
Afternoons are quiet. Sometimes I have reception duty and I have the power to reject wedding parties who try to come to the garden for photos. Other times I have the rest of the day free. I could go into town, but the heat, traffic, and commute times are enough for me to just want to stay and relax. So I sleep, read, or write, or blog, or plan my next outing, or – my latest activity- bake. I’m still not used to this amount of “unproductive” time, nor so much time on my own. But it’s starting feel rather good – I’m worried about getting used to it
Not sure why, but God has taken notice of my time alone. For the next three Saturdays I get to stay over night at Ecce Homo, then site-see with the new volunteers there! The plan for this Sunday, so I hear, is Hebron.
As for community life, every Friday evening there’s community prayer with the Sisters. Sometimes there is a Shabbat meal. Couple nights ago I watched Fiddler on the Roof with the Sisters. It’s a difference experience watching that here, especially after visiting Yad Vashem (The Holocaust History Museum). I have not been able to write about Yad Vashem yet; I plan to visit a few more times before I leave. The stories that are told there are simply too raw to absorb in one afternoon.
And so with this new rhythm, I’m already into my second month here in Israel. The days are passing along, and I’m sure that it will feel all too quickly by summer’s end.
