City of...

Yes, it's happened again...I'm substituting an actual post with a monthly update that I send out to random folks and churches back home. BUT I will write more on this later, as I don't think this recycled email tact truly captures the absurdity of Christmas Eve in Bethlehem....seriously? Santas on stilts with Palestinian flags? Machine guns on the roof of the peace center? Israeli soldiers passing out candy at checkpoints? WHAT IS THIS PLACE?!?!?!

Hahaha oh man, you've gotta laugh here. You've just gotta.


Well, enjoy another fake post!!

Dear friends,

 

Greetings and peace to you from Jerusalem during the continuing celebration of God With Us (continuing not just because of the season but also because the Orthodox and Armenian traditions here are still in their advent seasons, waiting). During this season, we proclaim that God is here, that Peace and Joy are here—in the midst of violence, in the midst of darkness, of pain, of oppression, and suffering, we announce with joyful foolishness the presence of God with us, amongst us, in us, right here in our midst.

 

I think it’s somewhat fitting that I haven’t had time to write this update until today. The Gospel reading for today (from Matthew 2:13-23) chronicles some of what it meant to be here during the aftermath of the joy of Christmas—and suddenly we have transitioned from angels announcing peace on earth to a scene of grim violence. Jesus and his family have become refugees, and children are being killed. It’s a shocking contrast amidst the joy and festivity of the season—and this land that I am in is still full of shocking contrast and contradiction.

 

Yet still we celebrate. In the face of the Wall, we celebrate. In the face of simmering tensions and brewing violence, we celebrate. In the face of Occupation, we celebrate. In the face of hopelessness, we speak of hope. In the face of depression, we speak of joy. In the face of injustice, we sing of justice. In the face of violence, we announce good news of peace. We submit ourselves, during this season, to a holy foolishness. Alhamdulillah—thanks be to God!

 

Happenings

 

It has been a busy month ever since my successful return from Egypt . The Sabeel office has been a flurry of activity as we prepared for our annual Ecumenical Christmas Dinner and worked to get the Christmas edition of our Cornerstone publication printed and mailed. The Christmas Dinner was a success, with delicious food, fellowship, and presentations from many of the Christian traditions here, including an Aramaic hymn from the Syrian Orthodox church and an Armenian chant from the Armenian Orthodox Patriarch. We also sang some “old favorites” from the Western carol cannon, and of course, ate a lot.

 

I spent Christmas Eve in Bethlehem , watching the parade and enjoying the crowd in the normally empty

Manger Square

. There was a heavy security presence, of course, which led to the incongruous sight of Palestinian army officers with machine guns on top of the Peace Center , across from the Church of the Nativity, guarding a parade complete with boy scout drummers, bagpipes, and Santas on stilts. Sometimes I think the Incongruous Land would be a better name for this place than the Holy Land.

 

I was able to “borrow” my friend Nate’s family for a wonderful community dinner on Christmas Eve and to spend some time with my friend Rachelle, who has hosted our young adult Bible study in her house several times. I attended a service at Christmas Lutheran Church in Bethlehem , and although I didn’t try to fight my way through the crowd for the Midnight Mass at the Church of the Nativity, I did wish my friends a Merry Christmas as we stood in an emptying

Manger Square

at midnight.

 

Christmas morning started with a sunrise wakeup, a checkpoint crossing, and then a small service at the Church of the Redeemer, which I played guitar for. Then there was Christmas brunch at the pastor’s house, phone calls home to family, and a Christmas dinner with my supervisor, her family, and several of their Israeli friends—we ate homemade sushi and Chinese food!

 

My post-Christmas activities have included travel to Hebron with some friends to visit the Christian Peacemaker Teams there and a visit to friends in the city of Beit Omar , which is subject to weekly military incursions and land confiscations. So, as you can see, there is no neat line between joy and sorrow in this land.

 

This weekend I’m taking a little break and catching up on emails (like this one!) before returning to work on Monday. It’s a bit lonely here right now, as many people in the international community have either finished their time here or are home for the holidays, so it has been good to be busy!

 

Prayer Requests

 

Please join me in prayers of:

 

Gratitude and thanks for this season, for the presence of God with us, and for friends and family.

 

Yearning for justice, peace, and reconciliation in this land.

Solidarity with those who face poverty and dispossession in what should be a season of celebration and joy.

 

Guidance for me, for my work here, and for a growing understanding of my role and my presence in this community.

 

Blessings for the work and ministry of Sabeel, and for all peacemakers in this land. (As usual, please let me know if you want more information about visiting us here, about the work of Sabeel, or about joining Friends of Sabeel-North America)

 

Thank you all for your prayer support, for your love, and for your thoughts. I think of you with a feeling of deep gratitude, and thank God for you!

 

A Final Thought

 

I have been in caves here, similar to the cave-stable that Jesus was born in. I have experienced the darkness, felt the rust on the feeding troughs like that in which Jesus would have rested. I have smelled…well, let’s just say that sheep in an enclosed space is an aroma that would require a WHOLE LOT of frankincense to cover. Friends, if God chooses to be born in a place like that, than there is hope for this land, and there is hope for all of us.

 

In peace,

 

David

Well, I promised some time ago to update you--whoever you may be--on my trip to Cairo. And so, now that I have managed to miss the last bus to Bethlehem, and thus find myself back in the guesthouse on the Mount of Olives, instead of in Bethlehem for Christmas-eve-eve as I had originally planned, I suppose I ought to throw out a Cairo update of some sort before I have to deliver a teary-eyed description of Christmas eve in the city of Jesus' birth.

Beat that sentence. (In all fairness I'm more excited about Christmas here than I thought I would be, but it's of course a confused emotion, and I'm hollowed out, a bit, and there will be more on this later, but for now, there was this city in Egypt.)

Cairo is big, and it is dusty, and it is crowded, but not as big, or dusty, or crowded as I thought it would be. Cairo was visiting with old friends, and reminiscing about college, and realizing that I have a bit of trouble spelling reminiscing, sort of like Norwegian.

Cairo was galabiya instead of djallaba. It was kosheri instead of mtabla. It was shisha instead of nargila, and every night instead of once a month or so. It was too much to drink and too much to eat and sleeping in too late, and seeing the pyramids and the citadel, and floating around on the Nile with a bored looking falucca guy, and talking about school instead of talking about Occupation. And sometimes it was talking about Occupation, anyway, because that's what we do in this part of the world.

It was talking about stereotypes of Palestinians and Israelis among Egyptians. It was 20 pounds for a taxi ride that would have cost 40 sheqels in Jerusalem, and laughing about the "sheqel" as a monetary unit.

It was thanks for hospitality, and meeting new and interesting people. It was the surreal realization of where we all are.

Getting back in at the Tel Aviv airport was creepily easy, as many of you have already heard. Two minutes through security. They didn't even ask me how long I would be here. I wanted to yell at them, and say "NO! I am a threat to you!" What bizarre irony.

And as the euphoria of that faded, it still was hard to adjust to coming back here. Hard to reorient myself to all of this. Hard to tell a new friend met in Cairo, when he came here, about how bad things are. Hard to see the wall. Hard to talk to people on the Nesher taxi to Jerusalem from the airport--what do I tell them I'm here for? When do I stop lying? Why am I lying so much to be here?

Hard to get used to being back at Sabeel. Hard to spend three days putting envelopes in copies of Cornerstone, with little to no help. Hard to get out of bed. Hard to tell a Palestinian friend, again, that I wouldn't be hanging out with him tonight, this time because I'd miss the bus.

There's been lots of wonderful things, of course. Seeing friends here again, and the Sabeel Christmas dinner, and playing music at the Brown's tonight, and brunch at the Lehman's, and meeting people from Nazareth.

But I'm confused, and overwhelmed, and--as our pastor said in his sermon today--hollowed out on the inside. I don't know if I'm puffed up on the outside, as he also said. Maybe I am. But hollowed out on the inside.

And that's what I have to tell you. It's not much for details. But maybe it's not the details that I'm good at, anyway.


And so you write, with an air of futility, alone, in an airport:

Cairo means
  bad airport coffee and uncomfortable taxi rides
  striking minarets spiraling their way to the sky
  too much alchohol and shisha
  3 PM hungover wake ups
  hearing anxieties about finals and papers and exams
  talking about the past and
    missing its comfort
  defining myself--where is faith
  new faces, and old
dusty, crowded--but not
    as much as I had expected
  atmospheric Turkish restaurant
  galbiya instead of djallaba
 boats out on the Nile--surrounded
   by 5 star hotels silently screaming
"One day the water's gonna wash it all away"
  Mild hassling at Pyramids and Citadel

this is the kind of mess out of which
    our definitions are formed.

And you write:

   What would our call to prayer sound like?
    Would we say "God is the greatest?"   "God is so, so big?"
  Why bells? And what does this say about Christ, and the Buddha, 
                           bowing to each other
                             smiling
                           saying--"Yes, I understand."
What call could make us empty ourselves?
Cease to become rich and become poor?
If there are so many ways to bow and kiss the ground, Rumi,
    why do I struggle just to find one?

I have three 1-pound notes in my pocket.
I pray that money becomes
   Nothing.
More than a souvenir.
("Please," the devil will whisper, "Please remember me.")

And you write:

It repeats:
  Wake up--in figures, literal--
     in an airport, halfway around the globe.
And ask--again
  in repeating syllables of ascending to the sky
Who am I?
   And turn, turn, turn
   Conversion is to turn, metanoia is to turn, repentance is to turn
Turn to God, or--
     a drink, or a friend, or yourself, or--
Any of these things, or all of these things
And realize that this isn't the question, this
   turning on one's self.
That question can only be answered: Nothing, or Everything.
A denial, or an idol.
    The question is, who are we? What are we?
     What binds us together?
    What is the mechanism of connection, of our thunderous, faltering unity?

And, as we taxi, and wait:

What are we considered when we are poised on the ground waiting with only the potential for energy amid the expectation of flight?








     The shadows of clouds
   Make holes in the ocean for 
      the sea to pour in. 

Currently, my job at Sabeel consists of opening up our new Forgotten Faithful books, pulling apart pages that are stuck together, setting aside books that are too ripped to sell, and putting a little slip of paper in each one.




Saving the world can be totally lame, sometimes.



More soon, update about Cairo, etc., etc. I'm so far behind with updating this, replying to e-mails, and doing anything that didn't involve getting Cornerstone finished yesterday (woooo!)....but more soon, I promise!

And here is an advent reflection I wrote for the church I attended while I was in Morocco.

“In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria . All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea , to the city of David called Bethlehem , because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” Luke 2:2-7

 

“For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not the result of works, so that none may boast. For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life….Now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For Christ is our peace; in Christ’s flesh both groups have been made into one and the dividing wall, the hostility between us, has been broken down.” Ephesians 2: 8-10, 12-14

 

           

There is a Wall around Bethlehem . No matter your political opinions, no matter your reason for traveling to this “ Holy Land ,” this land that longs to be holy, there is no ignoring it. There it looms, six to eight meters high, ugly gray concrete cutting off the city of Jesus ’ birth from the city of the Death and Resurrection, from the rest of the world. Tour buses traveling from Jerusalem to Bethlehem enter a large, international terminal—despite the fact that the Wall is built on the Palestinian side of the 1967 Armistice Line, thus illegally grabbing land from the West Bank—and pass a colorful sign, ironically declaring: “Peace Be Upon You” in English, Hebrew, and Arabic. The Wall grabs land. It destroys houses. Its gods are demographics, national security, separation, and dispossession. Palestinians traveling to and from Bethlehem are stopped, searched, checked. Their IDs are scrutinized—green for West Bank , gray-blue for Jerusalem residents. This is life under Occupation. This is part of what it means to live in the city of Jesus ’ birth today.

Were Mary and Joseph to travel from Nazareth to Bethlehem today, they would pass through checkpoints. They would be searched. Mary’s pregnancy would make little to no difference—women have given birth at the checkpoints, have died at the checkpoints for lack of medical care. As the Christian Peacemaker Teams have declared in their advent theme, it would not be an issue of “no room at the inn,” but of “no way to the inn.” (See http://www.cpt.org/campaigns/no_way_to_the_inn/description.php for more information).

Yet perhaps we should not be surprised. The familiar story of the trip to Bethlehem , romanticized and commercialized, does not read like a Christmas card in the original text. Mary and Joseph lived under occupation and were forced to move at the will of imperial decree. Christ was not born in the decorative sanctuary of the Church of the Nativity but in what was most likely little more than a cave, like the caves that many of the shepherds in this land still use to shelter their animals. Luke’s Christmas narrative begins with the facts of life under occupation, and finds Jesus born in poverty and anonymity.

The Wall around Bethlehem stands as a reminder to me that the incarnation is not relevant in spite of the contradictions and injustices of life here and in so many other places in our troubled world. The incarnation is relevant because of contradiction, because of injustice, because of barriers of separation, because of dividing walls, because of hostility between us, because of alienation and violence and hurt and sin.

The familiar words from the letter to the church at Ephesus tell us that it is by grace that we have been saved, but also that there is much work to do. This work is the purpose of the new creation announced to the shepherds just outside of Bethlehem , and it is the purpose of the new creation born in us. We are given the amazing gift of being a part of the Body of Christ—but this Body, we find, begins its life under occupation, in poverty and anonymity, and ends its life on a cross. This Body, we are told, is willing to go to any length to break down the barriers that divide us. And when you see the Wall around Bethlehem, when you see the strength of the weapons and governments that back this Wall, when you start to understand that this ugly monstrosity of gray concrete pales in comparison to the walls that we build between our human hearts, you begin to get a sense that this breaking down is no easy task. You begin to ask yourself whether you are really willing to be a part of this Body and its endeavor to use its very flesh to break down walls of separation.

The question for us as a church, as we prepare to celebrate the incarnation here in Bethlehem and to remind ourselves of the incarnation in our hearts, is simply this: are we ready? Are we willing?

There is celebration and joy and resurrection to be found in the midst of all of this division and all of this violence. There is hope to be found in the midst of pessimism and cynicism. But to find it, we must ask ourselves: are we willing?

...although at least this one is copied from me.

This is a copy of the monthly update that I send out to churches and supportive groups and individuals. One of the fun things about posting things on this page is that I'm not sure who reads it, so I don't know what your relationship is to the church or to faith or to spirituality. So if this isn't really the sort of framework that you are used to, I hope it doesn't put you off and that you find it an interesting look into a different way of saying things, and I hope that even if it is the sort of thing you're used to, it's still a challenging and interesting read. I mean that for what I post on here in general, not just for this post.

Anyway, enough meta-comment. Here it is. More fun to come soon!

Dear Friends,

 

This past month has been quite eventful. I have celebrated my birthday, marked one year since my decision to “inquire” into ordained ministry in the United Methodist Church , spent my first Thanksgiving away from home, and have now begun the Advent season in this land of Jesus ’ birth.

 

I am so thankful for your support, prayers, and love. Life here in Palestine-Israel can be frustrating, exhausting, and at times seemingly hopeless, so I rely on your support to keep me going! And of course, with God, there is no such thing as a hopeless situation.

 

Over the past month I have continued my work at Sabeel, particularly on our quarterly Cornerstone publication and on preparations for our young adult conference, international conference, and spring witness visit. Let me know if you would like more information about any of these opportunities!

 

I have also continued living at the Lutheran World Federation’s guesthouse on the Mount of Olives (if anyone is interested in ordering olive oil from the Mount of Olives, I can give you that information—the money goes to support the work of Augusta Victoria hospital, which is the only oncology hospital available to the Palestinians in East Jerusalem and surrounding areas). Here in Jerusalem I have been attending the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer in the Old City, and have also had the chance to visit the Quaker Meeting in Ramallah as well as to attend a Roman Catholic and an Anglican service in Nablus (both of those in Arabic).

 

Joys and Stories

 

I have several joys to share with you! The first is the joy of fellowship with the international community that I experienced during the week of Thanksgiving. I had multiple Thanksgiving dinners! On the day of Thanksgiving I shared a meal at the house of my international supervisor here, Cathy Nichols. Cathy is sent by the United Church of Christ/Disciples of Christ global ministries program and works tirelessly at Sabeel while raising two children! She and her husband Asher hosted a motley crew of international volunteers, locals, friends, and students at their apartment at the Tantur Ecumenical Institute. A great time was had by all, and for many of the guests the evening was an educational experience as to the complex ritual of Thanksgiving (“Really? All you do is eat? There’s nothing else?”)

 

I also shared fellowship and gratitude with the international community on the Mount of Olives the next day, as Suzanne and Mark Brown of the Lutheran World Federation hosted us for another wonderful meal.

 

The next day I was able to be present via modern technology at a gathering of the Hosey family for Thanksgiving and to celebrate my grandfather’s 98^th (99^th? Anyway, it’s a lot of years) birthday. I was able to call using Skype internet phone service and talk to most of my family! It was a true joy and definitely something to be thankful for.

 

Another joy is that we have started a bible study for the young adult international volunteers living and working in Jerusalem , Bethlehem , and the surrounding areas. We had our first meeting last Friday at the Swedish Christian Study Center in Jerusalem , and it was a wonderful beginning. Although the group was small, the discussion of hope in the context of Mary’s song in the gospel of Luke was wonderful, and we look forward to watching this new ministry grow and develop! Please pray for us as we plan our advent bible studies and look forward to continuing come the new year.

 

Finally, I had a wonderful chance to visit the West Bank village of Yanoun this past weekend. Our friend Karin Brown (the daughter of Mark and Suzanne) is currently serving as an Ecumenical Accompanier with the World Council of Churches in Yanoun. (For more on the Ecumenical Accompaniment Program in Palestine and Israel , see their website www.eappi.org.) The EAs are in Yanoun in order to monitor and hopefully reduce violence and intimidation that has been directed against the villagers from the illegal settlements which surround the village. Despite the difficult situation and the violence that the villagers have experienced, they are amazingly hospitable and were more than willing to welcome us into their homes for tea, taboun (traditional village bread), coffee, and more coffee. Visiting shepherds and farmers in this Muslim village, and ducking to enter the caves and overhangs where sheep and donkeys are stabled made me understand the circumstances of Jesus’ birth far more than any trip to the Church of the Nativity ever could. It is in the poverty and anonymity of a small village, under a situation of occupation, violence, and oppression that God chose to become known to shepherds, refugees, and outcasts. It is here, and in places of poverty, anonymity, and suffering, that God continues to become incarnate to us and in us.

 

It rained the night we spent in Yanoun, and the dry and dusty landscape of the day before was transformed overnight. The gift of rain was an occasion for gratitude, as grass began springing up and flower buds became visible. By March, inshallah (God willing), this land will be covered in green. It calls to my mind the words of the psalmist: O God, you are my God. I seek you. My soul thirsts for you. My flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.

 

We were also able to visit churches in the nearby city of Nablus and offer support to a Christian community that often feels neglected and forgotten by its brothers and sisters around the globe. After the Anglican service, we had the chance to talk to a Dutch missionary who has served as a nurse at a hospital in Nablus for 9 years—through violence, threats, occupation, and crime. Afterwards we monitored the Huwwara checkpoint and talked to several Palestinians as well as one Israeli soldier, before heading back to Jerusalem . It was a truly incredible experience and one that I will not soon forget.

 

I am grateful for all of these experiences and look forward to many more in the months to come!

 

Prayer Concerns

 

Please continue to pray for the situation here, that justice, peace, and reconciliation may be born and grown in this land. Our preparations during this month of advent remind us that joy, peace, and hope are born in unexpected places.

 

Please keep my travels in your prayers as I fly to Cairo on December 6^th and return December 10^th. Please pray that my reentry into the country goes smoothly and that I can return to continue my work here!

 

Please continue to keep my friend and coworker in your prayers as she attempts to secure a legal guarantee of reentry in order to continue her work with Sabeel.

 

And please continue to pray for the ecumenical, interfaith, and justice and peace ministries of Sabeel as we prepare for the joy of Christmas celebrations (Western, Orthodox, and Armenian!) and the coming of the new year.

 

Grace and peace to all of you, and may God bless you and those around you in the advent season.

 

In peace,

David