Welcoming the Sabbath

Our first day in Israel began on a Friday evening, the beginning of the traditional Jewish Shabbat (Sabbath, which begins on Friday evening and continues until sundown on Saturday).  And now, our last two days here have been a Sabbath (Saturday) and a Sunday.  Tomorrow is a travel day.  I like the symmetry of that.

In the traditional Jewish home, the Sabbath is welcomed with a ceremony called the Kiddush, from the word which means to sanctify or make holy – from Genesis, “Remember the Sabbath, and keep it holy.”  The ceremony begins with a short reading from Genesis which is followed by a prayer of thanksgiving to God for giving us the Sabbath.  In addition to that, four more things happen:

1.      Lighting of the two Sabbath candles, with a prayer of thanksgiving;

2.      Lifting a cup of wine, with a prayer of thanksgiving;

3.      Washing of the hands, with a prayer of thanksgiving;

4.      Breaking and sharing of the bread, again with a prayer of thanksgiving.

For this week’s Erev Shabbat I learned part of the traditional Jewish Kiddush in Hebrew.  Dina came over and joined us for a simple meal and celebration.  I already knew part of the Kiddush, and studied up a little more so that I would know the essentials.  Dina and Linda were patient with my use of the Hebrew language which I haven’t studied a lot since seminary, and we had a marvelous time, gathered in the presence of God to give thanks for God’s mercy and grace and to welcome the Sabbath.  Here are the prayers over the bread and wine:

 “Baruch atah adonai elohenu melech ha-olam,”

(Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe)

“Borei p’riy ha-gafen”

(Who creates the fruit of the vine)

“Baruch atah adonai elohenu melech ha-olam,”

(Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe)

“ha-motsi lechem min ha-aretz”

(Who brings forth bread from the Earth).

Now today was Sunday and we went to worship with the Franciscans at the St. John of the Desert Monastery on whose property we are living.  Our new friends Johan and Barbara were there, along with Dina.  It was good to worship nearby with our “host church” before we left.  After worship Barbara and Johan invited us over to their house for coffee.  It was a fun and relaxing time of fellowship and hospitality which also gave us the chance to say Adieu for now.  We got to meet their beautiful Rhodesian Ridgeback dogs and to hear Johan engage in conversation with nesting doves nearby.  The dog seemed to be quite entertained by Johan’s talent as well.

Now we are packed up and are profoundly thankful for the many blessings of our journey.  Before we left the States, a good friend hoped this for our trip, that it would be “renewing, amazing, restful and full of unexpected blessing.”  It has been that and more.  I’ve even lost a little weight!  The secret: a simple diet and lots of exercise.  Go figure.  I hope I can take that habit home to the States with me!

Shalom

 

Reflections

 

Reflections On a Friday Morning

On January 14, 2012 my wife Linda and I began talking about making a trip to Israel.  We have a dear friend who lives here, whom I had met years ago when she was serving as a volunteer at the Heifer International ranch in Arkansas.  She extended the invitation for us to come to Israel for a month and “house-sit” for some members of a small monastic community who would be away for a few months during the summer.  Knowing what a rare opportunity this would be, Linda and I started praying about it and working on putting the trip together.

On August 1 we boarded a plane bound for Chicago, London, and eventually, the Holy Land.  Before we left I made a promise to my church leadership – a promise that I intended to keep.

Now most people in ministry would not promise to do things for their church while away for four weeks.  But this is something we had all been working on, and I felt the trip would be an opportunity for me to let thoughts germinate without being pushed to emerge before their time.  While away in Israel I would have some daily duties as house-sitter and sacristan, would try to do some sightseeing, and would be blessed with a mini-sabbatical that I have not had in nearly twenty-five years of ministry.  But I also felt and hoped that, being disengaged from the daily activity of parish ministry and situated in a new environment, I might have the time and the space for renewal and sustained reflection on life in general and ministry in particular.

On January 24, 2011, the Rev. Zan Holmes was in our district and a number of us were invited to hear him speak and sit down for an informal lunch with him.  Zan Holmes is Pastor Emeritus of St. Luke Community United Methodist Church in Dallas where he served for twenty-eight years.  He has had a remarkable career as a pastor and is very well-respected among United Methodists and others.  In the course of our meeting, Zan said something that the whole Church needs to hear.  He said, “In order to do church, we must first learn how to be church.” 

As I write on this particular morning we have lived in Israel already for three weeks.  Soon we will start preparing for our departure back to the States, but first there is some time for reflection.  I stop to look out my window at the Judean hills west of Jerusalem.  A welcome breeze whispers in through the screen.  It is a good place to be.

Linda and I are here for a sojourn of pilgrimage, rest and renewal and to visit a very good friend who calls Israel her home.  We have been blessed to have visited all the “must see” places that most people come to the Holy Land to see, and since we can come and go as we please we have also seen some very important things well off the beaten tourist-path.  We have also been blessed to have time to rest, reflect, and just experience what life is like in the land. 

It is a time and a place to be, and to reflect on how “we must first learn how to be church,” and how to be faithful Christians engaged in the process of being conformed to the image of Christ, to the glory of God.

Even Sapir, Israel, August 24, 2012

It's Complicated

Some people are so complex and so conflicted that it is almost too painful to love them.  It’s the same way with some cities.  Jerusalem is like that.  You begin to get to know her, and then you grow to love her, but it’s complicated.

The city was divided from 1948 until 1967.  Even though it is ostensibly “one city” now, there are many formidable divisions which exist just beneath the surface and surround you just like the air that you breathe.  Nearly everyone you talk to wants peace in the land with all their heart, but what they have to settle for is an uneasy, guarded coexistence.  Everyone has a deep, secret hope that this mutual toleration will evolve into real peace, but they fear that the leaders of the country and the leaders of the various constituencies will never allow that to happen.  Christians, Muslims, Jews, and “secular” people all try to live together.  But there is too much history.  It’s complicated.

Every one of the ancient churches, with the exception of the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, has been built, almost demolished, and rebuilt again and again.  It’s complicated.

The Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the Church of the Nativity, and the Church of the Assumption are all ruled by something called the “Status Quo Agreement,” which parcels out authority over the holy sites and acts as a referee to keep the competing Christian traditions from destroying each other and bringing disgrace to the very Gospel in the process.  It’s complicated.

As we rode the bus across the city one last time the other day, I looked at the Jerusalem I have come to love.  The Hasidim with their black hats, beards, and temple curls; young mothers with their flowing dresses and scarves; people reading their prayer books on the bus; Arab shops on the sidewalks; outdoor cafes and tall apartment buildings with laundry hanging out to dry; big beautiful places of study and higher learning; some structures older than recorded history; some people living almost as in a third world country, right next to some of the most advanced technology in the world.  Yes, it’s complicated.

The Bible tells us Jesus stood on the Mount of Olives where I was yesterday, looked across the Kidron Valley at the beloved city, and cried out, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem!” and he wept. 

And Rachel still weeps for her children (Jeremiah 31:15-17).

I get that now.  O Jerusalem, Jerusalem.  It’s complicated.  And we love you.

Gethsemane and the Mount of Olives

At six o’clock in the morning there was a solid white fog filling up the valley outside my window, so thick I could not see anything but the very top ridge of the terraced mountain across from me.  As I watched the fog slowly start to lift as the sun made its first appearance, I could sense it was going to be a very special day.

As we rode the bus from Even Sapir on Wednesday, I wanted to savor the experience and commit some things to memories.  We were pretty sure it would be our last day in Jerusalem, at least for a while.  I started to think of some of the things I was going to miss.

We took the bus to the eastern side of the Old City and walked to the Mount of Olives.  For this we would ride all the way across Jerusalem from west to east, for we have lived almost a month in the Judean hills several miles west of the city.

The first thing we saw at the base of the Mount of Olives was the Church of the Assumption, located at the traditional site of the Tomb of the Virgin.  The church here, like several in the area, is “shared” by the Greek Orthodox and Armenian Orthodox faiths and others.  The Franciscans have a shrine at the grotto nearby.  When we were there the Coptic and Armenian Orthodox monks were singing and chanting in preparation for celebration of the Assumption here.

 Going up from the church we came to the Church of All Nations, and then to the Garden of Gethsemane.  The Church of All Nations is right next to the Garden and right across from the eastern wall of the Old City.  It has a high and beautiful, multi-colored façade that makes it an unforgettable sight.  Two big deer show off their antlers on the very top. 

 The Garden itself was a place to linger.  The massive, huge-trunked olive trees in this garden may be older than Christianity itself, the botanists tell us.  The place where Jesus prayed before the hour of his arrest and crucifixion evokes emotion from the deepest place I know.  Here he could have turned back, but here he drank the cup. 

Across the Kidron Valley we could see the Golden Gate, also known as the Gate of Mercy or the Eastern Gate.  It is right in the middle of the eastern wall of the Old City, directly across from the Mount of Olives.  Jewish tradition believes Messiah will enter the city through that gate; the Muslims have it closed and blocked up just in case he does; Christians believe he already did, on Palm Sunday.

The Church of All Nations and the Garden of Gethsemane are only part ways up the Mount of Olives.  After we left there we took a cab ride all the way to the top of the mountain where we could see all of Jerusalem, Mount Scopus, Mount Zion, and Mount Moriah.  To our left we could see Bethany, Bethpage, and Bethlehem….further to our left we could see the Judean desert almost all the way to Jericho, the Jordan, and the Dead Sea.

 

I am glad we came to the Mount of Olives last.  From the top of the mountain we could see many of the places we have visited – the Old City, Mount Zion, the Dormition Church and the Upper Room, the Holy Sepulcher, the Tower of David, and many others.  Seeing these places in panoramic view put it all in perspective for us, in a way that would not have been possible if we had visited the Mount of Olives in the beginning.

Coming down from the Mount of Olives we decided to take a walk back through the Old City and out to the place where we would catch our bus.  We walked all the way through from east to west.  Along the way we stopped to see the pools of Bethesda and the Church of St. Anne.  Again I am glad we chose that route, having an opportunity to walk the rough and narrow stone streets once again before leaving for home.  I thought the gardens at the Church of St. Anne were particularly beautiful.