Holy Week Finale: Easter!

Sunday, April 4, 2010, 6 AM

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, ‘Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.’ Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest.

Luke 24: 1-9

6 AM

In the darkness of early morning, we carefully made our way across the grounds of the Augusta Victoria Hospital campus to a stone altar that was already glowing with the light of small tea candles. Our Redeemer Lutheran English Congregation choir did a quick warm up as we prepared to sing at the special Mount of Olives sunrise service. And what a beautiful service it was—the prayers and songs of Easter morning rising up along with the sun, as we gazed out over the Jordanian desert. Like the women who discovered with awe the empty tomb, we rediscovered and remembered the resurrection along with them in the glowing Jerusalem dawn. Easter is a time of great hope—a hope that we must cling to. We must believe that after the “Fridays” of this world-poverty, occupation, racism, abuse, exploitation, war, hunger, disease, injustice, and death something awaits on Sunday morning. Life and love- the promises of Easter.

9 AM

After a delicious Easter brunch on the Mount of Olives, we headed down into the Old City for another church service, this time a joint service between the English and Arabic congregations. I was glad to have the opportunity to celebrate Easter with the local community here that I have frequently worshipped with over the past eight months. Even though we sing and pray in different languages, our belief and proclamation is shared. Christ is Risen! Al Masih Qam!

7 PM

Later that evening we had a special meal with our English-speaking congregational community at the Brown’s home up on the Mount of Olives. Believe it or not, in a predominantly Muslim and Jewish place, we even managed to have ham for Easter dinner! The Redeemer Lutheran community has truly been a unique and special support for me throughout this year. Especially around the holidays, when I feel especially separated from the normal rhythms of celebrations at home, it forms its own eclectic family of sorts to do what families do— share food and conversation, and support one another. It has been a blessing, and one that I know I will miss when I leave in a few short months.

East Side Story

Two items about some sad realities of the Holy City. Jerusalem is anything but an undivided, united city, as I have learned over the course of this past year.

http://www.haaretz.com/print-edition/opinion/discrimination-is-flourishing-in-east-jerusalem-1.287733

An Al Jazeera video clip about what we commonly refer to as the "racist traffic light," which causes many a delay going from our neighborhood into the city center. No it certainly isn't a checkpoint, but it makes its mark on people's lives nonetheless.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQYKeYhDWa4

Holy Fire Saturday

Saturday, April 3, 2010, 2 PM

Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, ‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.’ John 8:12

My friend Jennifer and I went to the Old City the next day to celebrate a festival I had never even heard of before coming to Jerusalem: Sept An-Nur, or Holy Fire Saturday. Every year on the Saturday before Orthodox Easter, the Orthodox Patriarch of Jerusalem enters the “Tomb of Christ” in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. He carries 33 small candles, representing the age of Christ at his death, and he is inspected before entering to ensure that he carries no implements to light a fire with. According to tradition, when he is alone inside, he waits until the candles he holds are miraculously lit, after which he emerges from the tomb and distributes the flame. The flame passes from person to person throughout the city, and then travels all over the world to Orthodox communities. Jennifer and I bought our little bunches of candles, and then squirmed our way through people and around police barriers, trying to find a place to wait for the fire. We ended up standing inside Jaffa Gate at the top of Christian Quarter Road, and finally I could hear bells in the distance. A short time later I spotted one little boy with a flame, and then in seconds it was everywhere. People carried multiple bunches, creating small blazes and then extinguishing them; I think the belief is that the candles are blessed by having been touched by the fire. Jennifer and I received the flame and found it more difficult to put out than expected, which resulted in brief alarm, followed by a good bit of laughter. I wanted to participate not because I necessarily believe that the Holy Fire is a genuine yearly miracle, but because I see it as a beautiful illustration of the Christian faith. From a single flame, Jesus, who lived and died in this place two thousand years ago, all the Christian faithful in the world trace their hope and faith back to this single source. Jesus said, “I am the light of the world” and because the flame has been shared with us, we too are called to be bearers of light, hope and peace in the world.

8 PM

The Light of Christ! Thanks be to God!

–Traditional Proclamation and Response of the Easter Vigil Liturgy

The Easter Vigil at St. George’s Cathedral was another reminder of the gift of light given in Easter. Beginning in the shadows in the courtyard of the church, we lit candles together and processed in. In this joint English and Arabic language service we began to retell once again the story of the resurrection, sing the Alleluias that were put aside during Lent, and prepare ourselves for the dawning of Easter morning.

Good Friday

Friday, April 2, 2010, 6 AM

[Pilate] said to the Jews, ‘Here is your King!’ They cried out, ‘Away with him! Away with him! Crucify him!’ Pilate asked them, ‘Shall I crucify your King?’ The chief priests answered, ‘We have no king but the emperor.’ Then he handed him over to them to be crucified. John 19: 14-16

In the early morning hours on Good Friday, the Lutheran and Anglican churches of Jerusalem held a procession along the Via Dolorosa, meaning the Way of Suffering, a route through the Old City which is traditionally held to be the path Jesus took from his encounter with Pilate to his crucifixion. We picked up where we had left off form the evening before, when we had a special Maundy Thursday service with a procession from the Old City out to the site of the Garden of Gethsemane. With scripture reading and prayer at the different Stations of the Cross, we sought to remember the last moments of Jesus life. Walking the narrow stone streets, it is hard to imagine the Jerusalem of Jesus’ time—Biblical historians remind us that the events of the Passion took place outside the city walls of Jerusalem, on spots that are now enveloped by the current 16^th century walls. Time and the march of history have changed this place drastically, and yet we continue to be drawn here by a memory that layers of stone and earth cannot cover.

10 AM

Those who had arrested Jesus took him to Caiaphas the high priest, in whose house the scribes and the elders had gathered. But Peter was following him at a distance, as far as the courtyard of the high priest; and going inside, he sat with the guards in order to see how this would end. Matthew 26:57-58

I found a quiet moment later in the day with my friend Brit at the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu, a church built over the spot where it is believed the house of the High Priest Caiaphus stood. In a stony underground prison probably quite similar to the one Jesus was imprisoned in, if not the prison itself, we shared a quiet time of scripture reading and prayer, with particular focus on Peter. Peter, the rock on which the church would be built, but who showed his utter humanity in the courtyard of the high priest by denying Christ three times.

12 Noon

When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.’ And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, ‘He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!’ The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, ‘If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!’ There was also an inscription over him, ‘This is the King of the Jews.’ Luke 23: 33-37

On to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the place widely believed to have been the location of the Crucifixion and Resurrection. My Protestant upbringing cries for skepticism about holy sites and relics, but I felt compelled to join the pilgrims of all different sects— Greek, Armenian, Syrian, Ethiopian Orthodox, Coptic, Latin, and Protestant in visiting what many consider the holiest site in all of Christianity. Stiflingly warm, smoky with incense, and packed with people, I wandered through the church. I stumbled upon a Coptic service that was being held at the back of the sepulcher structure, and quickly stumbled out when I realized I was in the way. I have visited this church before and have come to love it, not really because of any feeling of holiness or transcendence I find within the church, but rather because wedged between tour groups, scolded by scowling priests, I see the beauty of this mass, this mess of humanity that Christ came to save and that I am a part of.

1 PM

Now there was a good and righteous man named Joseph, who, though a member of the council, had not agreed to their plan and action. He came from the Jewish town of Arimathea, and he was waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid. Luke 23:50-53

Later in the day I made my way to the Garden Tomb, a beautiful and quiet garden that is a proposed alternate site for the Crucifixion and Resurrection. The Tomb is believed to be from around the time of Christ’s life, so is interesting in imagining how the tomb might have looked, regardless of it being the actual tomb or not. Most wonderfully on this day, the garden provided a needed reprieve from the heat of the day and the thronging crowds of the Old City.

3 PM

From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, ‘This man is calling for Elijah.’ At once one of them ran and got a sponge, filled it with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink. But the others said, ‘Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.’ Then Jesus cried again with a loud voice and breathed his last. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split. Matthew 45-51

I was drawn back to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, not knowing what would happen, but wanting to be there nonetheless. I stood in the courtyard area outside the entrance, leaning against some police fencing, lazily watching a little girl who was eating a popsicle. The first thunderous sounding of the bell startled me back to attention, and I waited intently for more. The bells shook the stones, shook me, echoed hauntingly in the city, reminding me of the earthquake that shook the ground when Christ breathed his last. The starkness and sparseness of the ringing spoke of a certain finality, and I headed home at last with the words of Christ from the Gospel of John in my head: “It is finished.” It is something I’ve often pondered about the Crucifixion, perhaps more intensely here. How is salvation and reconciliation accomplished through his death- this real event that took place here, on this same hilly landscape of Jerusalem, under this same sky; how is it finished? I have no more answers then before I came here. There is a reason that we talk about the mystery of the cross; here in the place where reason and understanding fail us, the often whispering voice of faith catches us.

Passover

Monday, March 29, 2010, 7 PM

Then the Lord said, ‘I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry…Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians…’ Exodus 3: 7-8

I found myself the day after Palm Sunday with three friends (Jeni, Colin, and Greta) in the Israeli coastal town of Nahariya, so far north the mountains of Lebanon were easily in view. An Israeli woman we met at a Women in Black peace demonstration had graciously invited us to her home to celebrate a Seder meal for the Jewish festival of Pesach, or Passover. Around our Seder table sat a group of strangers that Gila, our host, had drawn together in the spiritual act of hospitality to share prayer, food, and stories. We were from the USA, France, Sweden, Israel, and Canada; we were Jews, Christians, and inconclusive, but there was somehow easy truthfulness in our encounter. Filled with this year and this place, the message of Passover resonated in a new way within me. The function of Passover is to pass on the Exodus story, telling generation after generation that God rescued the ancient Israelites from the hands of their oppressors. Passover is a reminder that God delivers the oppressed, that he is faithful to his promises, that as a God of justice, he does not turn a deaf ear to the cries of his creation. We remembered in our Passover celebration that even as we offer thanksgiving for our own freedom, our joy remains incomplete as we consider that many in this world still languish under the oppression of crippling poverty, unjust regimes, and behind walls, real and figurative. Part of the Seder meal ritual involves diminishing of a cup of wine; a drop is spilled out for each of the plagues that befell the Egyptians. In our modernized, social justice-minded Seder, we also spilled drops of wine for ten contemporary plagues that temper our joy and happiness in today's world: Hunger, War, Crime, Disease, Racism, Abuse, Poverty, Homophobia, Pollution, and Indifference to human suffering.

I have been reflecting on the price of freedom and independence over the past two days while Israel has been celebrating its Memorial Day and Independence Day. Israeli flags have suddenly appeared everywhere one might think to hang a flag-- on cars, on houses, on lampposts, on people. Of course, the Palestinian neighborhoods of East Jerusalem are noticeably devoid of flags. Rather, the word Al-Nakba, "the catastrophe," is on the tongues of the Palestinians in this land. As the Israeli people celebrate the triumph of having declared themselves an independent nation in 1948, the Palestinians remember this same event as a time of suffering, displacement, disenfranchisement, and destruction. Attaining freedom is certainly a victory to be celebrated; the tragedy is the price paid for this freedom by the Palestinian people, a people that continues to live without freedom under an occupation that stretches on and on. My prayer is that as the Israelis commemorate their nationhood, that they might remember the people killed, displaced, and subjected so that their state could be founded. And keeping in mind their own liberties, I pray that they and indeed, all of us, might work to help ensure that all people live in freedom, out from the tight grip of oppression.

Palm Sunday

Al Masih Qam! Hakkan Qam!

Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed!

Grace and Peace to you in this Easter season! I hope that your holiday was full of joyful remembrances of all that God has done for us through Christ—overcoming death and the grave, dispelling the darkness of this world, and giving us cause to hope! I had a truly unforgettable Holy Week, spent in the city of Jesus’ triumphal entry, his final prophetic words, his last meal with his disciples, his agonizing hours of prayer, his betrayal, arrest, imprisonment, crucifixion, and finally in the quiet dawn of the third day, his mysterious and glorious resurrection. Instead of a huge single blog post, I will post little ones throughout the next week with different reflections on Holy Week.

Sunday, March 28, 2010, 2 PM

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives…A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,
‘Hosanna to the Son of David!
 Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!’ Matthew 21: 1, 8-9

The Palm Sunday procession down the Mount of Olives and into the Old City of Jerusalem was an experience unlike any other. I found myself holding my palm branch in a sea of Christians from all over the world, singing hymns in their own languages, bearing flags of different nations, carrying uniquely decorated palms, olive branches, and flowers. It was a stunningly beautiful reminder that the good news of Jesus Christ is for no particular people, for no particular language group, ethnic group, or gender group— it is for the world. I cannot help but think of the promise of God to Abraham from Genesis 22, that “in your offspring shall all the nations of the earth be blessed.” All the nations of the earth. These are powerful words of hope, and for a brief time during this procession, I did not feel the differences between us- Orthodox, Catholic, Protestant; Eastern, Western; local or foreign—we shared something in this march that transcended all of these outer trappings of identity. We were united by our faith, and by the call of the people that still echoes two thousand years later: “Hosanna!”

After telling you of how wonderful this day was, I regret that I must tell you a negative aspect of this day. Many Palestinian Christians from the West Bank and Gaza were barred from entry into Jerusalem for the procession, and 11 people were arrested at the Bethlehem checkpoint during a non-violent protest against these restrictions of access to holy places. A reminder that we are a long way from having the freedom to pray when and where we want in this and many places.

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem!

Grace and peace to you in this Lenten season! I apologize that it has been so long since my last update. While this delay is due partly to the busyness of the last month, which included a wonderful weekend trip to Jordan, a daytrip to the West Bank city of Nablus, and weekly gatherings for Lenten devotions, there is another cause for my hiatus of blogging. I find that the longer I live here, the more complex my reflection on this place becomes, and considering the rapidly changing political situation here, particularly over the past few weeks, I confess that it becomes harder and harder to process and put down into words all that is happening.

Jerusalem- this holy, beautiful, complicated city, and this place which has become home during the past seven months, is making headlines. No doubt if you have read or watched the news in the past two weeks you have encountered stories of the recent visit of VP Joe Biden to Jerusalem, the announcement of new settlement construction in East Jerusalem, the US criticism of this announcement, rioting and protest in East Jerusalem and the West Bank, Gaza marking 1000 days of siege by Israel, and as of yesterday, a man killed in southern Israel by a rocket fired from a Gaza militant group has prompted renewed air strikes against the Gaza Strip. Perhaps you have seen dramatic images of Palestinian youth in East Jerusalem, faces masked by keffiyehs, hurling stones through the billowing smoke of burning tires. Perhaps you have seen video of the Israeli riot police responding with tear gas, rubber-coated bullets, and stun grenades. I’d like to use this update to help direct you to some articles that you might find helpful regarding the current situation, as well as to give you some of my reflections, writing from the city about which there is so much to love, and yet so much to grieve and frustrate, as well. (Please click on the links included to read more...)

Last week Vice President Joe Biden visited Israel-Palestine to meet with Israeli and Palestinian officials, in a bid to begin proximity talks between the two groups. A little publicized aspect of this visit, but which caused hope and excitement to our international community of the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer here in Jerusalem, was the visit of Dr. Jill Biden to the Augusta Victoria Hospital, a project of the Lutheran World Federation. Augusta Victoria Hospital has been supporting the Palestinian population since 1948, when it gave crucial services to refugees. In the 1990s, the hospital reinvented itself to become the speciality treatment center for the Palestinians (especially those of the West Bank and Gaza Strip) in oncology, diabetes care, head and neck surgery, and pediatric dialysis, most specifically. Not only did this visit officially recognize the Palestinian presence in East Jerusalem, it also marked the announcement of a new linear accelerator (radiation treatment machine) sponsored by USAID. As Augusta Victoria currently has the only linear accelerator available for the West Bank and Gaza, the obtaining of a new machine will greatly increase their ability to help patients. This news is cause for prayers of thanksgiving, and was definitely a highlight of last week!

Unfortunately there has been little more to find such clear joy in over the past two weeks. During Biden's visit, Israel announced the approval for 1600 new housing units in the East Jerusalem settlement of Ramat Shlomo. While Israel considers all of Jerusalem their "undivided capital," East Jerusalem is considered occupied territory by most of the world, and therefore building there is illegal under international law. As the issue of settlement expansion is currently one of the greatest obstacles to restarting peace talks, this announcement was taken by the US as a slap in the face to Biden's purpose in the region. While the announcement was a frustration, the response of the US government was a source of hope for me; it was swift and strong. Biden, Secretary of State Clinton, and Obama all seem to be sending the message to Israel that while we remain friends and allies, Israeli PM Benjamin Netanyahu and the Israeli government must prove that they are serious about the peace process.

In light of recent unrest in Jerusalem, and in anticipation of protests over settlement announcement, Israel "sealed off" the West Bank for several days last week to Palestinians with "non-essential permits," cutting off access to Jerusalem for thousands, which also means in many cases cutting off people from work, family, medical treatment, and access to holy sites. They also limited access to the Al-Aqsa mosque in the Old City of Jerusalem so that only women and men over 50 could gain entry. It's strange how some of the features of occupation become a part of the landscape of life here, and then like a dip in cold water, you are shocked back into confronting what occupation means. Soldiers around the Old City are common, but as I traveled in and around the area this week the checkpoints at the gates to the city, police horses, and dozens of IDF and riot police toting guns and tear gas canisters were a sharp reminder of the military control over the movement and access to places for Palestinians. With people frustrated and tensions high regarding Jerusalem and some recent perceived threats to West Bank Muslim holy sites, I can't help but feel that these closures and restrictions aggravate the problem.

Indeed Hamas (the Palestinian militant political group that controls the Gaza Strip) declared Tuesday a "Day of Rage" to protest Israel's recent actions. The result was stone throwing and violent confrontation across East Jerusalem, spilling over into the the proceeding days to checkpoints and places throughout the West Bank. As the other teachers and I monitored various news sources throughout the day, I realized perhaps more clearly than ever what it means to live and serve in a region of conflict. The names of the neighborhoods where rioting was taking place were all familiar...because they are the neighborhoods where my students live. An entire busload of kids from the neighborhood of Elsawiyeh were unable to reach school because of road blocks and rioting on the streets outside their homes. The pictures I saw on the internet of masked Palestinian youth being arrested by undercover IDF soldiers were taken on a familiar road where I was walking unremarkably and without incident two days earlier. In the absence of directly encountering the clashes, the clammer of helicopters above our heads has been a reminder that something was happening, somewhere.

While I understand that people are frustrated, I could not help but be angered by Hamas' cry for "rage" when it seemed that at the moment, the Palestinians have clear support from the US and other governments regarding the call for a settlement freeze. Anger in and of itself is not the problem, as righteous anger is warranted at times, and manifests itself in strikes and non-violent protest here by Palestinians. But when anger manifests itself into violence, and even killing, as a rocket fired from Gaza into southern Israel did kill a man yesterday, it increases the extremely stereotypical perception of Palestinians as perpetrators of terrorism. I would like to say that over the past week, while I have not personally witnessed anyone throwing stones or acting in violence, I have seen hundreds of Palestinians trying to live their lives- going to work, going to school, walking to the store with their children. But the world did not see that- they saw the infinitely more dramatic images of young masked youth throwing stones at Israeli soldiers in the streets of Jerusalem. I say all this to emphasize the complexity of the situation here; while I frequently advocate for awareness about the Palestinian cause in my writings, actions by Palestinian groups can frustrate me just as much as moves by the Israeli government or military when they serve as similar barriers to peace and dialogue.

I am writing so much today because of a feeling of urgency and a need to speak. We seem to be at a crucial moment in US-Israeli relations, and I think it deserves our attention. Secretary of State Clinton has made specific requests of Israel to freeze settlement building in East Jerusalem, and extend good-will gestures towards the Palestinians. I also read this morning that the international Quartet for Middle East peace mediators has called on Israel to "freeze all settlement activity, including natural growth, dismantle outposts erected since March 2001 and to refrain from demolitions and evictions in East Jerusalem." Media sources are also reporting that Obama will meet with Prime Minister Netanyahu next week in the US . Some people believe that we are being overly harsh or demanding on Israel at the moment, but I ask that we try to see this in a different way. I have been reflecting a great deal over the past month on how being critical of Israel might be the most effective means way of loving Israel. Let me explain. While I have written about the more apparent inequities of the occupation on the Palestinian people, I have also expressed my belief that the occupation is also quite harmful to Israel. Joe Biden said during his visit last week that "sometimes only a friend can deliver the hardest truth," and a phrase that has come up in recent discourse on US-Israeli relations is "Tough Love." A recent Haaretz article by Israeli Gideon Levy describes the occupation as a harmful "addiction" that Israel is uninterested in giving up, but that the US has the potential to be the friend that helps them kick the habit. My roommate Anna directed me to the article, and if you don't look at any of the other links, please take the time to read this thought-provoking commentary.

Perhaps we are at a crossroads, and perhaps the US does have the opportunity to be a positive force in moving peace talks forward. I strongly encourage you to read more about the situation using the links and articles I suggested or other sources that you trust. Perhaps you'll reach similar conclusions as me; perhaps you'll reach different ones. I will be contacting my elected officials this week and encouraging them to support a "tough love" policy regarding Israel, and push for a full settlement freeze so that talks between Israelis and Palestinians can come to fruition. At this critical moment, I encourage you to pray over the situation and to contact your elected officials to express what role you believe the US should play in all of this.

I know this update has been lengthy and of a rather political nature, but in many ways, so is the experience of living in Jerusalem. I want to tell you about the daily reality of living here, and because the decisions being made will profoundly effect the lives of the people that I live and serve among, I felt compelled to write about it, simultaneously as I seek understanding in the midst of it. I have made an earnest attempt to write about some of the ups and downs of the past couple weeks, and I thank you for reading, as always. Please contact me with any questions, comments. I ask humbly for your prayers for this place and ALL of its people, for the leaders of the US, Palestine, and Israel, for the ministry of Augusta Victoria Hospital, and for a young student at my school who is facing severe medical problems.