Blog #2

Jerusalem

1-20-08

 

Sometimes human decency outweighs the significance and lasting virtue of right doctrine and right religious practice. This week’s posting reflects my encounter with such decency as it has been revealed during this past week of immersion.

 

Bethlehem is an Arab town, six miles from Jerusalem Center and literally a “stone’s throw” from Tantur’s back gate. Bethlehem is also called Beit Lechem, which in Hebrew means “House of Bread” and in Arabic, “House of Meat.” Rachel, wife of Jacob, is buried in Bethlehem, although today it is difficult to access the tomb because of the strategically placed checkpoint leading into Bethlehem. The Book of Ruth unfolds in the Bethlehem region, as does the anointing of the young shepherd, David, son of Jesse.

 

Christian gospel accounts in Matthew (2:1) and Luke (2:4-7) place the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem, today commemorated by the Church of the Nativity where three Christian denominations (Latin Catholicism, Greek Orthodox, and Armenians)  steward this ecclesial testament to faith, legend, and Roman influence. Recently in the news because of a little skirmish between the Greek Orthodox and Armenian clergy, this basilica was erected by Helena (mother of Emperor Constantine) in the fourth century to presumably mark the spot of Jesus’ birth. Here the ornate and the simple run together in fervor. In order to enter a 6^th century “door of humility,” one is required to bend low toward the earth. Theologically such a gesture recalls the “earthiness” of Jesus—coming into this world in a specific moment in history to live without privilege so that even the most marginalized and lowly could be brought into the care of God without shame, conflict, or limitation.

 

Greeting the “humbled” who enter is a large, open stone oratory-like space with large stone pillars, mosaic floors and oak ceiling, emphasizing the influence of the Crusaders and their attempt to “improve on” the holy sites. Nestled beneath this part of the church is a grotto “cave” which belongs to the Greek Orthodox and contains an 8x13 foot marble-lined cave with an altar commemorating the birth of Jesus. Three steps away, the Chapel of the Manger (also a small cave) commemorates the place where Mary laid Jesus in the manger. (The word commemorate is used to convey the notion that no reputable archaeologist or Biblical scholar would claim to know a precise spot where something happened. The commemoration recognizes the importance of an event in the life of Jesus and the probability that “if not this place, then a place like this in the vicinity.”)

 

Centuries of candles, incense, electric lights have been burned by Christian pilgrims in the Chapel of the Manger, many of whom are visibly moved by the intensity of history collapsing in around them. On the day our Tantur community visited, three groups of Russian tourists made pilgrimage to the site—many of whom were filled with obvious emotion. The freedom to make a pilgrimage in and of itself for many Eastern Europeans has awakened a dormant religious sensitivity. As a matter of fact, Eastern Europeans are sustaining Israeli tourism at this moment in history. 

 

One might wonder how the fourth century Roman Christian, Helena, determined this to be the place of Jesus’ birth. One possible explanation is that when she arrived in this territory, Helena was instructed that before Jesus, this same place had been a pagan worship site. But after the birth of Jesus the site was identified by locals as the place of Jesus’ birth. This was all the evidence she needed to build this lasting testament. Some scholars believe that the spot represents what is perhaps a more complex historical reality; that is how the Christian faithful transformed pagan places of worship into Christian centers of hope, faith and love based on their firm belief that Jesus Christ was the only god worth worshipping.

 

It should also be noted that across the street from the Church of the Nativity is the Bethlehem Peace Center which includes a large open-air square for public gathering. Strung conspicuously across three buildings around the square, a large banner reads “No Peace with Settlements.” This message is left over from President Bush’s recent visit to the region. From the perspective of those who hung the banner, as long as the Palestinians are under Israeli rule regional peace remains illusive. Thus one of the more painful aspects of contemporary Israel is visibly highlighted.      

 

There is a field in Bethlehem known for its milky-white rocks, the Milk Grotto. There is a local legend that after the birth of Jesus, “drops of Mary’s milk fell while she was feeding Jesus, turning the ground white.” Women from around the world come here to pray for fertility. About a mile from Milk Grotto you come to St. Catherine’s Church and the Shepherds’ Fields, an olive grove surrounding a grotto where a shrine commemorates the “shepherds watching their flocks by night.” Inside one of the caves at Shepherds’ Fields a very large image of Our Lady of Guadalupe (a Mexican image of Mary) has been hung, pointing toward the universal comfort many have found in associating with the simple shepherds who once inhabited Bethlehem. Both places contrast the spiritual energy of the Holy sites in Jerusalem which so passionately commemorate the suffering Jesus. Bethlehem reminds pilgrims that Christianity is not a religion of maudlin recollections about Jesus. Rather, Jesus’ life begins and ends with the good news of resurrection! Precision about when or where Jesus was born continues to be of little interest to this community of believers. Catholics celebrate Christmas on December 25^th, Greek Orthodox on January 7^th and Armenian brothers and sisters finish the season of commemoration on January 19^th. So it has been during my weeks here that a Christmas tree (looking very much like one that would grace homes in the United States) greets all visitors coming into Tantur’s main entrance.

 

Bethlehem embraces so much of what humans everywhere want for their families and communities: peaceful coexistence with neighbors, freedom, and the resources to be a vibrant sustainable community. Palestinian Christians and Muslims inhabit Bethlehem today. Christians living in the Holy Land today (2.5% of the total population of Israel) are likely to come from Bethlehem or the surrounding villages of Beit Sahour or Beit Jala. In 2002 Bethlehem was the site of a stand-off between Israeli and Palestinian forces. Six years later going through a checkpoint can be very difficult for local people trying to get to and from work or to doctor appointments or any number of other reasons people need to be free to move from place to place. Some of the employees at Tantur must leave for work at 3:00 a.m. so that they are here by 7:00 a.m. Without the checkpoint it is less than a ten-minute drive between Tantur and the entrance to Bethlehem on Hebron Road.

 

Many Christian communities have projects and programs in Bethlehem to support the lives of all who live there—Palestinian Christians and Palestinian Muslims. Diyar Center is sponsored by the Lutheran Church of Bethlehem and exists to “build a country, stone by stone; to empower a community, person by person; and to establish viable institutions that are here to last.” (Mission Statement of Diyar Center) Diyar is home to Dar al-Kalima College which offers degrees in documentary filmmaking, multimedia technology, graphic design, communications, fine arts, music, performing arts, cultural management, wellness management and tourist guiding. This college is quite important to the region because it has as its mission “to provide quality education that meets the economic, social, cultural and spiritual needs of Palestine” so that “a culture of democracy, free expression and pluralism” is possible.

 

A tour through the young artists’ studio bears witness to the political strife of recent years as well as the perseverance of its students, especially young women. Our guide Angie explained that old beer and pop bottles are an affordable and accessible material—and as in most places in today’s world, there is an increasing awareness of the need to recycle. Old bottles are broken into fine pieces, which are then painted and used in the making of mosaic art. (See photo of Angie attached.) There was some difficulty initially for Muslim students in the program because many of the bottles used once contained beer. One of the Islam Holy Men, however, now writes a letter to each Muslim student telling her or him that the sterilization process is very thorough and the glass from these old beer bottles can be used for art. Some of the most striking images are the creation of Muslim students.

 

Hanging on a wall in the mosaic studio is an iconic image of a woman and a water jug. She unobtrusively greets artisans and visitors. (See photo of mosaic attached) The carefully placed pieces of colored glass in the image remind me of the skillful work with mosaic in our own Mount chapel, where students also once labored diligently with Sr. Augusta Zimmer to bring forth striking symbols of spiritual energy. A careful viewing of the top of the mosaic behind the altar in the Mount’s chapel will reveal a beautifully positioned dove over the crucifix. Because of the lighting in the Mount’s chapel, it is at times hard to view this dove from below. Once a student commented, “after four years of looking at that crucifix every single Sunday, I just now discovered the dove!” That’s what mosaic often does—bits and pieces of design keep rendering new perspective on existing images.

 

Sometimes we must study mosaic art for a long time before we know what we are really seeing. Such is the case with this piece. This particular Woman and the Water Jar was hanging in this very same place when during an air strike a bomb came through the roof of the school (approximately 3-4 feet from the image) spraying shrapnel in every direction. Near the upper left hand corner one quickly spies the missing tiles of glass in and around one corner of the water jug, which were literally blown out from either bomb fragments or ceiling tiles crashing into its surface. The image has not been moved from its important place on the studio wall and no thought is given to repairing it to its former perfection. The Woman and the Water Jar has been altered by history and thus the image now is more poignant, more true in a sense. As in the mosaic in the Mount’s chapel, bits and pieces of life literally render new perspective to this existing image. No more needs to be written here. You will feel what is real and important to know when you view the image!

 

In every way, the people of Bethlehem struggle. But in every way, the goodness of their humanity is all around. The students at the Diyar Center are exploring bridges between perspectives through art, documentary film making about their lives and circumstances, and stage productions. These young men and women see a different sort of world emerging—so in many ways, Bethlehem continues to birth new life!

Our journey began by waiting on a bus at a gas station about two miles from Jericho. (Next to what is obviously a very new bank of gas tanks, a camel was on its knees hissing and making interesting sounds of all kinds. We were informed that since a camel is a ruminant, similar to a cow, with three stomachs it produces much more gas than other animals. We also found out that camels need humans more than any other species on earth, primarily for finding water.) The instructions about how we would get to the Jordan River went like this: A group of Syrian Christians, obvious to our guide by their bus, would pass by and we would follow them to the site along the River. (This part of the Jordan River is opened by the government only twice a year for Christian pilgrimages.) Faith in other humans is very important on these immersion experiences! Alas, about fifty minutes later than expected and going about fifty miles an hour, the Syrian Christian bus was spotted by our guide and off we went. Down several dusty roads, we came to a rather well-defined parking lot on the grounds of an old monastery. (In the Holy Land, if you come upon ruins and you aren’t sure what to make of them, most likely someone has researched the site to be that of “a monastery,” usually in the tradition of the desert fathers.) We got off the bus and hoofed it down a hill toward the River. (See photo of the pilgrim procession.) 

 

Gathering at the River was in itself symbolic of the way Christianity keeps calling itself together from the ends of the earth to renew and refresh. Every sort of Christian from many parts of the world was present for the ancient Syrian rite, which admittedly is much more complex in meaning than I will be able to explain here. In Eastern Christianity elements such as water, incense, fire, flowers, earth, and bread transform the ordinariness of life into a union with the sacred Spirit that transcends doctrine—in other words, the emphasis is on mystery not legality. Liturgically, men lead and women produce an aura of piety that gives the rite authenticity. No doubt about it—patriarchy in all its manifestations permeates every aspect of life here, especially in matters of religion!

 

Liturgically the whole rite is mostly unfamiliar to the Latin (Roman) Catholic. There is a great deal of participation, primarily in the singing, by the congregation and in response to memorized chants—some as long as eight minutes—sung by the presider, in this case a bishop of the Syrian Church. There is breaking of the bread (theologically distinct from the Latin theology of consecration). There is a homily following scriptural readings. Of course, there are elaborate vestments that includes a bonnet-like hat worn by the various priests, monks, and bishops. Of the hundreds of pilgrims who have processed down the hill, including a drum and bagpipe corps (yes—bagpipes were introduced into the culture by Church of Scotland—Presbyterian—missionaries), about 100 choose to participate in the liturgy itself. Others go off and scope out seats along the River, facing the Jordanian bank where Russian pilgrims gather on this day. (It is very difficult to get to the Jordanian side of the River—it requires special papers from Tel Aviv.) After two-and-a-half hours, most of the pilgrims have managed (primarily by use of elbows and strategic opportunism) to find a place by which to view the much-anticipated blessing of the water. As the liturgy concludes a procession of ministers is led to the water by the principle celebrant carrying a cross of fragrant flowers. Some partake in immersion in the River (a nightmarish idea for any physician or environmentalist!). Prayers are said. The cross is dunked. A number of people along the banks (some dressed in white robes) dunk themselves under the water. A dove is released, which lingers dramatically in the trees hanging pastorally over the river. The dove inspires Christians to recall the line that empowers Mark’s gospel: “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” As the ministers process up the bank of the River, pilgrims pull petals of flowers from the cross. There is much cheering and whooping. It is indeed one of the most joyous rituals I’ve witnessed—and reminiscent of my days living in Zuni, New Mexico (home of the Zuni Pueblo Indians) during Shalako.   

 

As a Westerner it would be difficult to attend such a celebration of life and not be struck by the lack of formality surrounding ritual. While those who participated in the liturgy were extremely attentive, children ran in and out of the congregation while hundreds of others sat along the shore, eating lunch and talking. One of the men attending at the altar during the liturgy casually walked about two hundred paces beyond the altar to answer a cell phone. He quietly returned to his place after his two or three minute animated conversation. Throughout the service, two armed soldiers stood guard on a rooftop directly above the place of prayer. (Only my family can fully understand it when I say that this day reminded me of the Frankfort Fall Fest! Each year, over the Labor Day weekend, the carnival-like atmosphere in the little town of Frankfort, Illinois transforms it into a place of high energy and an opportunity to connect with neighbors, family, friends, and strangers. Every year there is the hope of exceeding all previous years.)

 

What my trip to the Jordan said to me was this: Scripturally, we have every reason to believe that this was the sort of ordinary activity that transpired daily during the time of John the Baptist’s ministry. It is not hard to imagine Jesus sitting on the bank of the River witnessing the profound sincerity of John and the faith of those trying to live an ordinary life with much working against them. Jesus mingled with this ordinary crowd, knew their pain, their joy, their worries, their fears, their hopes. Immersion in this River meant that one was literally entering the common bath of renewal and refreshment, droplet by droplet. Jesus’ immersion inaugurated his ministry—empowered, he was able to follow his vision. So it was during yesterday’s celebration. Many who attended will follow a vision of life for which renewal and refreshment are essential. Even with the police barricades, the enormous crowd, the confusion of a liturgical celebration that is linguistically incomprehensible while it is ancient and present all at once, the military on the roof tops, the Scottish bagpipes playing “We Will, We Will Rock You” over the ancient prayers of the water blessing, and the uninspiring polluted water, there is a special sense one gets about being in this place. Throughout the experience, it was obvious that human goodness prevailed.        

 

On the way home from the Jordan, the Tantur community stopped in Jericho. Jericho is often sited by historians as the oldest city in the world. What is certain is that, at 820 feet below sea level, Jericho is geologically the lowest city in the world. In recent history it was the first city to fly the Palestinian flag. Jericho is currently part of what American CIA agents have coined “The West Bank.” My immediate impression of Jericho itself is a sleepy, modern, fertile, agriculturally significant city with much to offer the region. Jewish families used to travel to Jericho because it was so hospitable and resort-like. Since 2005, Jewish-Arab social interaction in places like Jericho has all but stopped. As one local scholar comments, “the tragedy is that families could come and get to know one another in places like this—they discovered they like each other. Now they don’t know each other so well. We begin to fear others when we don’t know them.” Basic sociology, no?

 

A highlight of our day to this region was a trip in a cable car, officially certified by Guinness Book of World Records because it is the world’s only cable car operating this far below sea level. We took the cable car to the foot of the Mount of Temptation where Orthodox Christians believe Jesus was “led into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” (Matt. 4:1-11) Beautiful ride over Jericho. Once on terra firma, we ate lunch then walked up about 200 steps to a Greek Orthodox monastery rightly described as a place that “hangs on to its barren rocky slope.” How they built it, who knows! It is well-maintained and functions as a monastery to this day. There is a very impressive collection of icons and plenty of modern cells for monks (plumbing included), should anyone reading this have the urge to join a monastery and cling to the side of a rock as a celibate monastic! (Running down to the local store for a loaf of bread would no doubt be a ridiculous consideration for most of us. I counted this excursion up to the monastery as two-days-worth of cardio exercise.)    

 

Next week’s posting: Week of Prayer for Christianity Unity