Peacemaking Back at Home

“Be Blessed” Matthew 5:1-12

Washington Plaza Baptist Church, January 30, 2011, Rev. Elizabeth Evans Hagan, preaching

If you were thinking of asking for a blessing in your life, what would you ask for? What circumstance, object or thing do you believe would make you feel the most blessed?

If you or I were part of the Catholic Church and were seeking to have an audience with the pope for a  papal blessing during a visit to Rome, the way that the majority of us would answer this question according to Vatican would be, “May my marriage be blessed.” For regularly it seems that people request a papal blessing when they’ve reached marriage milestones like their 50^th, 60^th or even 75^th wedding anniversary.

And while those of you who are in a covenant of marriage in this room might agree and say, “Yes, Pastor, come bless my marriage . . . you don’t know how crazy my wife or husband is . . . ” studies have shown that the majority of the American public desires blessing in the simplest of terms. Prayers that go up to the heavens on a daily basis go something like this:

Bless me, O God with the winning lottery ticket numbers.

Bless me, O God with a new home—this run-down neighborhood is really not my style.

Bless me, O God with a life partner—these nights are getting too lonely for my tastes.

Bless me, O God with a new job—one where my co-workers don’t get on my nerves so much.

And when all else fails, bless me, O God with a parking spot close to the door at Costco.

This, morning, we are presented with among some of the most popular, most avoided in actual practice, and most quoted “blessing” passages in all of scripture—it is our turn to wrestle with what these words of Christ might actually mean if we are indeed on a life path of following him. Asking ourselves the question of: “How might Christ want my life to be blessed?

When we look at the “Beatitudes” as they are most commonly known as a whole, what emerges is a life path of blessing that usually is completely contrary from what our worldview calls a preferred state of being. For never do we hear Jesus talking about—blessings of new cars, luxurious homes, or even places of employment that we actually like.

Instead, we hear Jesus saying things like, “Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the meek. Blessed are the peacemakers.” It’s a list of descriptions about those who are already living a blessed life that shocks us from the start: because those Jesus seeks to highlight here are among those we, like the original hearers, are shocked to find on a “blessed” list.  Those who are poor in anything are ALWAYS assumed to be unfortunate from the get go.

Such is probably why Matthew 5:1-12 is assumed to be one of the most “spiritual” of all passages in scripture—spiritualized in the sense that they are often read as what can not and will not happen while on earth. Rather, the blessing of being poor in spirit or a mourner or a peacemaker comes in the life to come.  Or another way of saying, “Struggle on, you disenfranchised of this world. Struggle is all you are going to get in the here and now, so be glad that you’ll meet God one day and get your reward in heaven.”

Seems kind of patronizing to me, doesn’t it to you? Yet, a natural interpretation tendency for those among us who are living in the land where democracy has given us nearly every opportunity to “work” our way into blessing: we don’t have to worry too much about those without because in the need God will give those with less on earth more in heaven . . .

Yet, when we go back to the original Greek translation of this text, what we discover is that Jesus’ blessing phrases: “Blessed are the . . .” are all in the indicative mood. This grammar nuisance is important to note because the indicative verb form means Jesus was speaking of fact, not a condition or an exhortation.  

Often times, I think we read into most direct statements in the Bible an “If/ then” clause that is not there. How many times have you heard of preachers coming hard down on their people, “Well, you don’t get your act together and do ___ then you are not walking in the path of God.”

Such is not true of the Beatitudes. Jesus opens his Sermon on the Mount talking about “whosever x, then y” but is unconditionally declaring those who are x will be y. Jesus is stating the way of things in the kingdom of God exactly as they are.  This is not a time in scripture when you hear Jesus giving requirements about what you must do to follow him, rather, he is telling all what the lives of others are like who are ALREADY following him.

Pardon me for the personal stories I am about share for this has been a very impactful past couple of weeks for me. Just on Monday morning, I visited, along with several of our guests at worship this morning, sites in the Galilee region of Israel where Jesus was said to have spoke these Beatitudes (talk about some amazing sermon prep time I had!).  Yet, even during our visit to this region of Israel, it wasn’t the actual mount that struck me the most or the other very holy sites we visited, rather, it my interaction with those who were seeking to live these words of Jesus out, regardless if they did so from the Christian tradition or not.

I met many whose life mission was framed around the words, “Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called sons (and I like to add in daughters too) of God” especially.

In our meetings with leaders both on the Palestinian and the Israeli side of things who were Jewish, Christian and Muslim—it was obvious that they were ALREADY blessed. Though engaging big issues like peace agreements, political boundaries and interfaith dialogue were hard, very hard in fact, there was something about their being in the world, just in their comfort with themselves and with their relationship with their Creator that glowed a sense of blessing to all in whom they met.

While conversations about how all of this works out from the perspective of an interfaith dialogue are best to be saved for another day when we have the opportunity to all sit down and talk to one another in conversation—I want to turn the corner in our discussion about blessing to ask this:

Do you think that these words of Jesus as read in their entirety a few moments ago describe your life and our life as a congregation? Do you think that our little, yet mighty community of faith is being a center of blessing, just as Jesus talks about, of a way of living in this world that bring more of God’s goodness to the here and now?

I spent a lot of time over the past two weeks thinking about what it means to have a particular witness as a Christian person of faith in comparison to others who find faith from other paths. During our journey throughout Israel as we were constantly dialoguing about the religious driven conflict between the three major Abrahamic religions throughout the Holy Land and theology in general, I thought a lot about how Christians as a whole are viewed by those outside of our tradition and what type of Christian pastor I was, especially as the other pastor on the trip was from an non-denominational, evangelical congregation.

All of this internal pondering came to a head for me last Friday as our group was on the way back from some meetings near the Gaza border and were having an amazing lunch at the family home of one of our tour leaders, Elad. As the homemade Moroccan feast we’d been served was settling in our stomachs, a theological conversation of great proportions arose among our group as we reclined on the porch. Among those present were a Muslim Imam, our Palestinian friend Aziz who many of you met this morning and served as our guide, two Jewish Rabbis—one conservative, one Reform, our Israeli Jewish tour guide, the evangelical pastor, myself and your very own first dude, Kevin.

As we talked about the some of the particularities of the conflicting narratives described to us by various leaders throughout the country, some generalities were suggested about the contributions of Christians worldwide to Middle East war and lack of peace.

Most of what was mentioned led back to the Christians who had the loudest voices in our land and around the globe. Those who define our witness as Christ followers in terms of speaking first as to what we are against instead of speaking first as to what we are for; loud voices shouted not toward blessing for authenticity, transformative relationships and an open mind, and most of all loving our enemies, but a Christian witness of “You are bad people. We want to convert you.”

And, while yes, in context of this conversation, I desired to take credit for all the many ways that my fellow believers and Christian history through the centuries had done things completely out of the spirit of being as described by the beatitudes—you know, we all have to take responsibility for the fact that our tradition is not completely right all the time—I also wanted to shout (and maybe my voice was raised just a little), “This type of Christianity is not my church.” And, in fact, I went on to say just this.

I talked very highly about you on that Israeli porch last Friday to some skeptical hearers. I talked about the many ways that I see our way of being together as “blessed” way of following Jesus. 

I talked about our loving fellowship with one another, even though many of us come from different theological backgrounds, different regions of this country and even our world, and different sides of the Washington DC metro area.

I talked about the ministry of hospitality that is important to all that we do—how our Sunday meals together are a reflection of our desire to truly know and love each other well.

I talked about our ministries and mission—how we host an English as a Second Language program, how we take meals to the homeless through the hypothermia project each winter, and how we are even now exploring more ways to show through our service the love of Christ. And, most of all, I talked about how this is congregation where all are welcome—even as we are all in different places in our spiritual journey.

None of this is new to you, because it is what you’ve heard me say to you and about you in the Reston community all the time. However, I tell you, you should have seen the looks of some present at the table as my description and the passion it invoked in me as I spoke—it was as if some of them had never heard anything like it before. A moderate, open minded Christian witness? A Baptist church? Was I really serious? And, indeed I was.

Yet, while some at the table, wanted to suggest that my work with you was not peacemaking—that if I really wanted to do the work of peace, I needed to be on the ground working with conflicting sides in an area like Israel, I left this conversation with more insight than ever about my calling as a pastor and about the importance of this congregation to truly be a light of “Blessed are the peacemakers.”

I realized in conversations both that afternoon and with other global citizens that we encountered on the trip that the type of Christian community we are seeking to create here is more powerful than we realize . . . . For all the cheerleading I’ve done with you on your identity truly hasn’t been me blowing smoke up your skirt.  I say this to you with all the conviction that I can muster up that what you are doing as a congregation—in your mere existence is peacemaking work.

Do you understand what the world most thinks of a Christian? Do you understand that the beauty of Jesus’ teachings about what a blessing of following him looks like has been so corrupted by images of violence, war, and persecution? It’s no wonder my friends, then, that your life and mine are filled with people in it who say that they have no need for church and who are “spiritual but not religious”? For, our Christian history tells a story of a people whose understanding of blessing has been totally skewed from what Jesus speaks of in this passage . . . it makes sense- why would people want to join a group of us when they aren’t sure Jesus is the one we are following?

So, while I am confident to say with pride today, that you my Washington Plaza friends are on the right track. Your witness of blessing is a bigger light in the world than you give yourself credit for (take a moment and hear me say this again), simultaneously, I tell you that our calling to be a light, a peacemaking community is bigger than we imagine it to be. To whom much is given, much is required.

I believe Jesus’ words on blessing are an exhortation to us to consider how we might enlarge the glow of our light.

How might we share the good news of our community in even larger circles?

How might we be the leaders in the Reston and the Washington DC community as a whole to reach out to those who look, act and believe differently than us?

How might we use the good gifts of our friendship with one another to be Jesus’ non judgmental love to all those who walk in our doors?

How might we be to see the poor, the non-English speaking, the Jew, the Muslim, as not “the other” but as those who are our friends?

Hear these words of faith again, oh congregation, oh blessed people who desire to walk down even more roads of Christ’s good ways:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

AMEN

Sigh, Back at Home

Anytime some sort of pilgrimage is made, there’s always a sense of shift in emotions as travels are completed and when one is met by the routines called daily life. For the definition of “what is normal?” seems to be altogether challenged. It’s hard to imagine coming back home with everything looking exactly the same.

Such a sigh of “I’m now back at home” has found me today as I’m awake at 5 am with jet leg. For, the more time I’ve had to reflect (Aziz and Elad, tour guides aren’t here to plan my day any longer), the more I’ve realized how much I truly loved being in Israel.

International travel is not new to me. In fact, I’ve mostly experienced the type of overseas adventures in 3rd world nations. Service trips have taken me in the past 12 years to places like Tanzania, Kenya, Burma, Rwanda and Uganda to learn about culture, religion and women’s issues. But, usually my response has been that I was glad to come home once the trip is over. Really glad in fact. I missed my bed. I missed American food. I missed freedom to come and go as I pleased. I was never beneath the practice of singing “My Country Tis of Thee” when the wheels of the airplane hit the ground with glee in my soul. “Finally I am in a country where I belong” has been my decree!

But, this time when we arrived on American soil in Boston (long story as to why we made an emergency landing there), I didn’t sing a patriotic song. I didn’t wish to run to the nearest establishment to get a good plate full of American food. I didn’t feel excitement to drive to my house when we finally made it to DC.

Instead, I was a bit sad. Life in Israel was good. I wasn’t quite ready to be back.

Not only was the food wonderful– the hummus and the bread in this region of the world are to die for– but my heart felt quite connected not only to the people I’d met there but also to my traveling companions: Aziz, Elad, Rob, John, and Yusuf (and of course, Kevin, the one whom I gladly get to live with all the time).

There had been true community created among our little delegation over the course of our ten-day travels. Deep community that can only be built through the presence of authentic dialogue, laughter, and a deep sense of trust with one another. I laughed so hard on several occasions over dinner time conversations that I got an ab workout. We truly enjoyed one another’s company. Answering with a resounding “YES” every time it was asked of us, “Can an Imam, a Rabbi, and two Pastors of different denominations really get along?” For each of our open spirits had opened up the possibility of our truly seeing and respecting each other for exactly who we were– nothing more, nothing less.

I’m thinking about so much in response to all that I saw and experienced and gained through the bonds of community. I am challenged to re-consider how I might increase my daily interactions with people who are of a different faith or culture than me. I am challenged to be more bold in the particular witness of the congregation where I am called to serve: that God has given us peace building work to do (come Sunday to worship to hear more). I am challenged to a pace of life that includes more time for un-hurried conversation and hospitality. I am  challenged to consider how more of my ministry as a clergywoman needs to be spent in Interfaith circles. I am challenged to pay greater attention to news of Israel and Palestine– being a voice when at all possible of those on the ground attempting the tremendous undertaking of seeking the peace of the nations.

Israel nourished me in ways I’m sure I will continue to be unfolding for days, months and years to come.

While I continue to let out one huge sigh of, “I’m back at home” I’m trying to find ways to take what I experienced and offer it as nourishment to others as well.

Two tangible opportunities for you to share in this in the immediate future (if you live in the DC metro area) are on the next two Sunday mornings. This week our joint adult Sunday School class called, “Conversations about Israel: An Interfaith Perspective” continues with Aziz Abu Sarah, Director of Middle East Programs at George Mason University will be speaking at 9:30 am in the Plaza Room at Washington Plaza Baptist Church, Reston. Aziz has a wonderful story of personal family crisis, forgiveness and life mission that you will NOT want to miss. Then, next Sunday at the same time, Kevin and I will be sharing a Powerpoint presentation with pictures, stories and reflections of our Israel adventure. All are welcome, regardless of faith or tradition.

While piles of laundry call my name and there is much catch-up work to do at the church, I’m glad that the richness of my recent journey is staying close. I have much to treasure in my heart.

Thoughts from Tel Aviv

Our Israel adventure ended exactly where we began: in Tel Aviv. When first looking at the itinerary for the trip, one of the first questions a Jewish friend of mine asked was “Why are you not spending more time in Tel Aviv?” (originally, we’d only planned to fly in and out of this city). The simple answer to this question was, “It’s not a religiously driven city.” Our trip sought to focus on places where religious conflict played a strong role in people’s lives and the ever evolving religious landscape in Israel’s conversations with its neighbors.  Thus, Tel Aviv, as a thriving Miami Beach like town, a center for business and pleasure for Israel just didn’t seem to fit the requirements for our travels.

However, on this the last day of our time in Israel, I found myself glad that we had some extra time to spend in this city and take in another perspective of this great land.

As had been our custom the entire journey, I began taking in the city as we first laid eyes on it from our mini-van from the perspective of those who lived there. As a mostly Israeli inhabited town, I thought about what were their hopes, their fears, their dreams for their nation as they dwelled in this place that is generally viewed as insulted from the rest of the national conflict. After seeing all that we had over the course of the week– being in Palestine towns, Israeli settlements, speaking with Imams in East Jerusalem, I wondered if the folks I traveled with on the street had seen what I saw, felt what I felt or even had friends in the part of the country where our group had visited?

My guess was probably not.

I was told by our guide, Elad, that Tel Aviv is considered to be a city where people feel safe to walk on the streets, do business as they please and meet friends without cares of what might happen as they journeyed to restaurants, bars, or places of worship. I remembered that my American passport had taken me over the course of this journey to places where many Israelis either can’t go or are lectured not to go, persuaded by fear.

In those moments of walking around Tel Aviv’s bustling consumer-driven life, I took in the blessing of what the 10 days of being in Israel had been for me. With the golden passport, I had seen with my own eyes sites and homes which told the story of great hope for this nation. With great opportunities, come great responsibilities and so I knew more than ever of my responsiblity to be a light of a different kind of story about this land, a story where peacemakers were the central voice.

Simultaneously, I also realized that the hearts and minds of those in Tel Aviv were probably more closely aligned with mine than I gave them credit for– for it is so easy in the United States to live in an insulated place of thinking that the conflicts of the world do not affect you. How easy it is to work and play and care about your own family without seeking the good of the global community in which you live!

I know the excitement of a trip such as this is one that has its own natural journey of high and lows, but my prayer as my plane takes off from Tel Aviv is that the people and places I encountered here will not escape me. My prayer is that they will stay in my spirit and keep enlarging my view of the Great God whom all the faith seekers of this world also are seeking to know as well. I pray that the new friendships I’ve made on this journey and those I hope to make more of in the future will continue to challenge me and encourage me not walk on the streets of my hometown with blank stares, but full of promise and conviction to be a peacemaker wherever I am planted.

Who might want to join me?

Being with Christians in Galilee

Yesterday, our delegation arrived in the Galilee, the portion of the trip that I was very much looking forward to. While there are many sites of particular interest/importance to the Christian tradition in Jerusalem, being in the region of the country where Jesus was said to spend most of his time was exciting to me. My fellow travelers can attest to the fact that I was getting giddy on the bus on the way to Galilee. Visiting places like Nazareth, Capernaeum, and Cana are places on the map that often appear in my sermons whenever a gospel lection is read, so I could not wait to see them with my own eyes! 

Yet, as soon as I got here, I found myself not in the Christian Disneyland that countless colleagues and Christian friends had described it to me from their journies here. And, I soon wished I was back in Jerusalem– not because of my interest in the “Jesus” sights had changed, but because of some of the company with whom I would have to see the beloved sites.

It became very apparent as our group shared dinner together in the large dinning hall at our hotel on the Sea of Galilee, that we were not in Kansas anymore, as the famed character from the Wizard of Oz would say.

Suddenly our diverse group of an African-American Imam, a Jewish Rabbi and an Palestine Muslim and Arab Isreali Jew along with the three Euro-Americans among us looked odd among the either all white or all Koren groups who were sitting among us.  Soon there were strange looks in our direction of “What in the world are all of you doing together?” I felt my heart rise up in protection of my new friends thinking to myself, “How dare you judge these folks because of the color of their skin or dress!”

And, my cries of “Thank God, I am not in one of the solely Christian groups” continued as Kevin and Rabbi Rob and I sat in the lobby last night doing Internet tasks. On my left was an American missionary sitting with a group of Korean men desparately trying to tell the Koren delegation to give money to a Christian Zionist conference that will be held in Seoul in the spring. And, on my left was a group of Christian professers from an evangelical college in the Midwest taking about how they didn’t like Palestinians. 

And, if this wasn’t enough, my Christian colleague, John– who is actually an evangelical pastor but with an open mind– was recieved disrespectfully into a conversation this morning with one of the pastors of one of the evangelical tour groups. John was approached by this Christian pastor as if it was assumed that he felt exactly like him (pro-Israel at all cost without even entertaining the idea that the Palestinians were among those whom God loves too) just because he fit the part of what an evangelical pastor looks like. When John began to share points in scripture with this pastor about where he feels that God calls us to acts of justice, he was immediantly belittled and told, “Well, you are just too young to know . . .”

Can I say: “Get me out of crazy Christian land? How can these folks be the ones sharing the message of my faith?’

Yet, the redeeming part of our Christian site visits came at our stop at the Jordan River. Our group came into contact with a large group on a Nigerian pilgramage. Before we knew it, many in our group were asked to be in pictures with complete strangers who embraced us like we were family. When I fell down the steps trying to get down to the place where the river could actually be touched (I mean, you really can’t take me anywhere without having at least one fall), many from the Nigerian group were quick to jump in with kind words. I think at least 15 folks came over to try to help me and say, “Bless you’ (in English).  Come to find out this group was from the Baptist church (You know, we Baptists are nicer than we seem)!

Above all, I am so glad to be in Galilee with my interfaith friends. I am glad to be traveling throughout this great land with religious foks with different perspectives than my own. My journey so far is all the richer because while there may be some interesting Christians in Galilee, this I know: I’m surrounded by some of the most amazing faith leaders from the entire Abrahamic family tree.

Sabbath Wrestling

It is the Eve of the second Sabbath I’ve experienced while in Israel.

And, such a kind of day is not unusual to me . . . or so I thought. I have talked a lot about the practice of Sabbath taking and receiving in my community of friends and colleagues over the past several years.  We often mention how horrible we are with it, how our lives are so hetic, and how our churches need more teaching on it. The consensus seems to be that we all need more Sabbath in our lives.

Yet, this week I walked into a country that takes the practice and concept of Sabbath very seriously and as I have been here, my mind has wandered into thinking that maybe I need to think of what it means all over again . . . .

On Friday afternoon as our group was returning from a day of meetings in the West Bank, there was much hurry to get back to Jerusalem before sundown. Why? One of our group members was of the orthodox tradition and needed to get to their home by sundown. I re-learned from him that Shabbat observers (the true ones according to them) believe in a complete rest of the earth on the Sabbath—no using any projects of the earth including cars, electricity, or even electric door keys in a hotel room.

When I asked one strict Sabbath observer about his religious practices, (I smiled when I thought of my seminary professor, Dr. Ellen Davis, the Duke folks reading this will know what I mean), he said: “Sabbath is about a day of rest from consuming anything that takes from the land.”

I was intrigued by the profound, yet simplicity of this explanation. “Now I get it,” I thought, “Yes, part of loving God is loving the earth. It is good to remember that the earth is the Lord’s and even the land needs rest.”

 But Sabbath in Jewish tradition, I learned, is more than whatever particular rules one follows between Friday night and Saturday early evening—it is about stopping and remembering that God is God and we are not. And because God is God it is OK to rest.

Everything in Jerusalem (at least on the West side of the city) was closed by sundown on Friday night. You couldn’t get food as normal in the hotel. If you wanted a taxi, you had to ask for an Arab driver, not an Israeli. Friday night was not for shopping unless you wanted to go to East Jerusalem.

It was an amazing experience to be a part of a civic culture that seemed to take its cues from the religious majority.  And, we as American tourists, seeking to connect with this Jewish city were respectful of (or at least accepting) of Sabbath because hey, we had no choice.

With this being the case, I began to re-think what my definition of Sabbath was from my Christian perspective . . . as often is the case with any interfaith activity, you see how someone else shares or practices their beliefs and you come to better understand your own.

What I realized is that I honestly felt awkward in this scenario of being a Christian in a Jewish compliant culture. Sure, I wanted to be happy to celebrate Sabbath alongside my Jewish friends, but at the same time there was a bit of resentment in me because there was not nourishment or Sabbath rest for me in another tradition. It was taking so much energy out of me to learn as an outsider that it wasn’t restful.

And, so today, is Sunday evening as I write and I’ve been conscious of this being my Sabbath all day. Originally, the Hagans’ goal for this morning was to go to Bethlehem again by taxi. We wanted to attend worship at the Manger Square before leaving Jerusalem for Galilee. It would seem right that the Christians in the group would go to church on Sunday, right?

Yet, this morning, Kevin and I were so tired that we just couldn’t get up when our alarm went off. Our busy schedule here and the emotional overload of processing all we are learning had gotten to us. And so, we made the decision to cancel our plans and sleep a little long and engage in the spiritual practice of not rushing.

It was a lovely morning and our activities with our group this afternoon, I have to say, were more beautiful than they would have otherwise been. We spent a long time this afternoon at Newe Shalom—an intentional community of Palestinians and Israelis living together with social justice pursuits. It was a beautiful campus in the Judean hills with many peaceful spaces for meditation and prayer as we walked around.  As we had a group reflection time with the most amazing view, I couldn’t help but think to myself, as I noticed my spirit resting within me that “This is Sabbath.”

While many have their own opinion of what Sabbath means, today I experienced my second Sabbath, the Christian one.  I came to see that Sabbath is always about time to pause, time to ponder, time to worship, and time to just be.

My Sabbath may not look like the world stopping. My Sabbath might not impose my stopping on others. My Sabbath may or may not include public worship. But, on this trip, again Sabbath has found me.

I’m hoping to continue to find it at home in DC – even when my colleagues and taxi driver don’t remind me that we’ve got to get off the road because Sabbath is coming.

Telling the Story Through Pictures

Sometimes pictures tell better stories than words do. Come share in more about our journey so far from some of our favorite photos.

The first group photo upon arriving in Jerusalem at our hotel. It’s two preachers, a Rabbi an Imam and Kevin. 

At the Wailing Wall on the first morning in the Old City.

Aziz, our WONDERFUL tour guide speaking to us on the Mount of Olives.

Kevin in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in a tomb that is much like the one that Jesus rose from.

Me before the camel ride . . .

And during . . .

Our WONDERFUL tour guide and a local Imam from East Jerusalem who told us about the joy and the hardships of his work.

After being invited in to a lovely lunch at a local Palestine tribal leader’s home in Hebron.

The spot at the church of the Navity where Jesus is said to have been born.

Talking with my Rabbi friend from the States, Rob, at the King David Hotel.

My first press conference, along with my traveling companions as we got to share the good news of what we had seen about peace making with some local media.

I am getting a mini-sermon in as seen by my waving my hands all about . . .

Looking over into the border of the West Bank and Gaza.

A rocket (0ne of the thousands) found in towns close to the border that we visited. This one was in Sarohat. Evidence of war is so painful to see.

No one can say we aren’t examining all sides. This is us at PLO headquarters with one of the presidential guards who really wanted a picture with us.

John, pastor from Reston, standing at the wall (on of many around the country). This one divides the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. No longer can you travel this way directly . . . walls are this region’s way of keeping the peace, or so they think.

Kevin’s reaction to this same wall was that it reminded him of his time in Berlin in the 1980s before the wall fell. I look forward to the day when I can say that this wall is no longer too!

Ten Thoughts for Thursday

Our days here are full here of new experiences and going from sun up to sun down, so in order to get to bed and have a decent night’s sleep, I thought I’d sum up my thoughts this evening– some serious and others more comical of what life has been like the past couple of days.

1. Bread, bread and more bread– it is amazing here. Thank goodness we walk everywhere around the city so that I can burn off the extra calories of my carb consumption.

2. When going to Hebron with a mixed group of Rabbis, Imams and Pastors, know that security check points are going to slow you down, especially as you have to explain to all the guards why such folks would be in the same car.

3. Most American Jewish tours of Israel do not go into the West Bank territories, as we did today. When you stay strictly in West Jerusalem and other settlements, you really miss out on the warmth, the joy and the possibilities of friendship with our Palestinians brothers and sisters.

4. When attending a press conference with non-native English speakers and they ask for your web address, be prepared to spell it ahead of time. Otherwise you’ll find yourself spelling aloud like you are back in a 5th grade spelling bee with cameras in your face.

5. Always pack toilet paper in your purse (or hang out with a girl who does). . . even in Israel– what some call the 51st state– some fine establishments do not supply toilet paper and as you can imagine this is just not a fun place to be.

6. Never, never go into a situation assuming that you know a solution without listening, listening, and listening some more, especially as an American Christian in a war-torn land.  There is great power in listening to OTHERS speech instead of just your own.

7. You never know when a Palestinian tribal leader whom you have a meeting with is going to invite you to lunch and roll out the red carpet of welcome with a feast of food that is usually served at a wedding (as happened to us today in Hebron). Be prepared with gifts of appreciation at all times, just in case – lesson learned, we were not.

8. Until you’ve visited a refugee camp in the Palestine territory, you don’t know the whole story of pain, hurt and poverty caused by the Israeli settlement movement. The tears, the destruction, the hopelessness is nothing like anything I’ve seen in a long time.  

9.   When you are Bethlehem and your tour guide wants to skip over a stop at the Church of the Nativity, don’t let him. It is a holy place not to be missed. Even the orthodox Rabbi agreed, it is a spiritual place where much can be learned about the Mary connection to the narrative of Christ.

10. The truth be told, because of organizations like Holy Land Trust in Bethlehem there are Christians and Muslims working together for peace in the Israeli/ Palestine conflict. Leaders are coming together, sitting at the same table without a preconceived agenda and using shared faith as a way to bring about solutions for peace. The teachings of Jesus, yes, Jesus are used as a common denominator of non-violent resistance for Christians and Muslims a like.

There’s More than One Perspective

Guest commentator: Kevin Hagan

Narrative . . .

It’s a word that I venture to say is rarely used in American society.  However, since our arrival in Israel only 48 hours ago, it seems to be the word of the day – or two days, as the case may be.  Narrative it seems is the defining issue of the day.  The Jewish community has one and the Arab community has one; however, the difference between the two is monumental.    As someone who holds a Master’s Degree in International Affairs, I’ve spent my share of time over the years studying the conflicts of the world.  While I have to confess that my life’s path has taken me out of the arena, I did spend nearly a decade managing conflict resolutions programs in the US.  I thought that with my basic understanding of International Affairs and conflict management techniques that I would at least have a strong sense of the situation as I had learned it in school and through the media.  What I learned upon my arrival in Jerusalem shook everything I knew to the core.  Touring the old city and seeing the proximity of the Dome of the Rock (important to the Islamic faith) to the Western Wall (important to the Jewish faith) and then ultimately their relation to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (important to the Christian faith) – gave me pause to wonder – how on earth do we ever expect all these religious groups to get along when some of their most holy sites literally rest upon one another?

As the only non-clergy member of this group, I also have to confess that I was a little intimidated to be meeting with all the religious leaders that we have seen the last two days- remarkable Rabbis and Imams who want to do the hard work of peacemaking.   It seemed that after meeting with them that only one thing is standing in their way of being successful…..that narrative.     It was only after listening to the term “narrative” over and over that I realized that each group, the Jews and the Arabs, have a painful and powerful story to tell about how the actions of others have affected them, taken their families away from them, taken their land away from them, and taken their dignity.

Today, I experienced a profound understanding of the Jewish narrative as we toured the Holocaust Museum in Jerusalem.  I’ve visited Holocaust Museums before and have been to Dachau and Buchenwald concentration camps, but this visit was different.  This was personal.  I walked through the museum today paying acute attention to Rabbi Rob and the grief that he was experiencing as we made our way through the museum.   It had a profound impact on me and gave me a much deeper sense of the Jewish narrative.   Tomorrow we attempt to experience the Palestinian narrative as we travel to a refugee camp and spend time in the West Bank.  My guess is that from everything I ‘ve heard thus far from the Palestinian perspective, that  it will also be a tough and profound experience which leaves me to wonder…..if I can be so affected by the narratives, how can the people who live in them every day rise above them?

There’s Never Just One Side

I have to admit that I never really knew much about the Palestine/  Israelite conflict before conversation began about this trip  – other than the fact that it existed. I knew from history about the Zionist movement and how it had led to the creation of an Israeli state. I knew about the conflicts over land with some other group that didn’t like the Jews very much. I knew that the United States supported Israel’s statehood at all costs– no candidate could win the presidency in modern times, for example, unless they said repeatedly that they were pro-Israel. 

So, while I am ashamed of my ignorance on these important matters, I believe my being in Israel this week with such an open mind to see things as they really are is a gift.  

Our time in Israel is about the abormal. Our travel roster has brought together folks from America to Israel that the people of this land would never see together, much less as traveling companions and friends. We are traveling with  Palestinian and Israeli guides (which is a cultural no no). We are meeting Rabbis in settlement camps and those who are a part of Rabbis for Human Rights (a moderate to liberal group). We are traveling with and meeting Reformed, Conservative and Orthodox Jews. We are hearing about Palestine from Imams working in East Jerusalem (the Arab section of town). We’ll be meeting Christians in the Palestinian territory tomorrow (where many Christians are afraid to go on their Jesus pilrmages).

The Israel/ Palestine landscape as I see it on Day 3 is that the situation is way more complex than we imagine it might be from all of the pro-Israel rhetoric we get in the States. There truly are no easy answers.  Legitimate hurt has occurred on both sides. Peace and reconciliation will not come easy as the conflict that began in 1948 is still not over. There is not peace in this land and it is obvious!  Segregation and calling the opposing side the “other” and as “less than” will continue to hold back true solutions to peace talks with religious propaganda at the center.

Yet, while all of this sounds so complex and depressing. There are some– actually more than you would ever imagine– who are doing powerful peace work on the ground. Groups like Jerusalem Peacemakers, who we met with tonight for dinner are creating opportunities for shared prayer, shared meals, shared forums among Jews, Christians and Muslims all throughout Israel.  With fewer financial resources than most NGOs, Jerusalem Peacemakers and their leader Rabbi Eilyahu McLean-Dalah are holding powerful forums like “Hug Jerusalem Day” where thousands of people gather of all faith traditions each year to literally hug around the wall of the Old City as a symbol of the goodness of human dignity and love. The Rabbi said, “We want future generations to know that we love this city and there is a better way of living together than just shooting each other and suicide bombs.” Though this Rabbi may never make the American news, his work points to knowing that there’s more than one side of the true story on the ground in Jerusalem.   

I am so glad that I came on my first trip to Israel not on the typical Christian tour only seeing Jesus specific things. I am so proud to be here among my new friends who are all a part of the Abrahamic tradition with me– showing me more each day that there might be a better way to see the conflict in the Middle East other than the soundbites of worldwide media on the issue.

Shalom.

Wailing Women

Never would I have expected that the most segregated activity in a different religious tradition would be one of the most spiritual activities for me in our journey this day.

Yet, when I met the Wailing Wall this morning, I didn’t want to leave.   

If the truth be told, I was actually dreading going to the Wailing Wall or Western Wall as it is called in Jewish tradition.  If you have read posts of mine in the past like this one you know that being a part of an exclusive tradition is something that bothers me a lot.

I assumed I would meet the segregation of the Wailing Wall with frustration, hurt and annoyance. “Why can’t I go pray with the men, especially with my husband?” would be my cry.

While I fully respect the Jewish traditions and their right to practice their faith however they choose, my heart still wanted to be included as an equal. I could just imagine myself with tears in my eyes as I, the only female in the group, found my way to the “women’s” portion of the wall alone. I knew it would probably be an experience of sharing in the sorrows of the injustice and persecution that millions of my sisters have felt through the years of male dominated and centric religions. 

However, as I walked through the former temple court into the quarters with the sign “Women” above it, I found tears welling up in my eyes for a completely different reason.  In fact, I was glad to be surrounded only by my sisters.

There was something incredibly holy that came upon me as I surrendered to whatever the experience could offer. The space felt incredibly safe and inviting, even though I was a Christian pastor dressed like an American tourist without a prayer book in my hands. I did bring, however, prayers folded up on small strips either given to me or Kevin by friends and some prayers of our own. With each prayer slip I placed in the wall, I said words over the needs  written down. As soon as I found my hands empty of prayer slips, a great sense of relief came over me. Though my instinct was to take the slips out of the wall one more time to pray for them again, as soon as they were in the cracks of the wall, I knew they were spiritually gone from me: they were now God’s. 

Soon after this, I felt a strong need to cover my head with my scarf and sit in one of the plastic chairs sitting close to the wall. There was no one official present asking me to cover my head, but it seemed like the right thing to do in order to take in the Presence of what being at a site full of so many hopes, so many sorrows, so many worries meant for generations before me and right then at that very moment.

As I looked upon the crowd of my sisters surrounding me with tears rolling down my cheeks, I was truly glad that no men were present. There are unique sorrows in what it means to be a woman and it felt right to be able to grieve alongside those who understood me the most.

I saw an African woman kneeling,  leaning toward the wall praying with a rosary. I saw Euro-American women kissing the wall as if it was her long-lost lover. I observed a woman who appeared to have some sort of special needs embracing a teenage traveling companion, so overcome by sadness that she could hardly stand up (probably because she had greater sensitivity than all of us to truly take in the raw emotions present in that space).  I saw a Jewish woman rocking back and forth with a prayer book in her hands with more devotion toward a holy book than I’ve ever seen toward any Christian text.

And, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and cry and cry and truly invite any sadness in me to come out. Yet the longer I sat in the chair, the more I felt the sense of the Spirit saying to me, “Go in Peace.”

My time with the Wailing Women of Jerusalem was blessed. I left with a renewed sense that Christians in general get it all wrong when it comes to grief. Yes, we have hope in difficult circumstances and death of love ones because of Jesus, yet, still we need to be in communities of those who will weep with us from time to time. I think it is the kind of healing for our souls that the goodness of the Lord can bring us on our way.

I began thinking, might we need to build wailing walls of our own in spaces in our religious centers for worship?

Though such walls may not be linked to important landmarks in our religious history and have a significance like the Western Wall in terms of sacred space,  might these spaces become  life-giving communion for people of all faith traditions? 

After all, Jesus said: “Blessed are they who mourn. For they will be comforted.”