Tuesday, January 18th

Ophel – Southern Wall excavations – 2nd Temple period site
Western Wall
Lunch in Muslim quarter
Haram a-Sherif / Temple Mount
Jewish Quarter
Via Dolorosa & Church of the Holy Sepulcher
Dinner and Souk wandering in Old City

Meet at Jaffa gate for Sound and Light Show at David’s Citadel

They warned us that Hezekiah’s Tunnel was potentially bone chilling.  The weather has been quite cool by Israeli standards – 12 degrees Celsius today – and our guide (and several tour participants) weren’t quite enthusiastic about wading through the dark in a tunnel which ranged from about one and a half meters tall to perhaps 5, but was barely wide enough for me to pass through and featured running water anywhere from knee-deep to mid-thigh.  Add to this the fact that the hotel's hot water heater had malfunctioned, meaning that cold showers had been the only option for morning ablutions.  Still, more than half the group decided to go for it.  We started outside the original wall and followed the zig-zagging tunnel under the City of David before coming out adjacent to the site of the Pool of Shiloam (which John describes as the site of Jesus' healing of the blind man).  The water wasn't particularly cold, which perhaps makes sense since it would be close to the constant temperature of a subterranean source, and there was something almost trance-like about feeling one's way through the dark with only the light of another person's flashlight to show the way.  The walls of the tunnel were quite dark between the light and me, giving an optical illusion of a wide room opening on either side of me in the middle distance.  Poor Adam cracked his head and dinged his camera lens during the transit, but being a short and somewhat padded person came in handy for me once again.  After, we continued exploring the ruins uncovered thus far and discussing some of the political implications of having Jews digging under the Muslim residential areas in search of archeological finds which might substantiate a Jewish claim to the land.  One resident near the City of David had hung a protest sign which stated that excavations and settlements were "two sides of the same coin."

Lunch in the Muslim Quarter was falafel, hummus with tahini, tomato salad, naan, and some wonderful tea with mint.  All the classics in a location which couldn't be more authentic, and I was in heaven.  Back in the Old City, we covered everything from the Western Wall to the Temple Mount, with an unending supply of fabulous architecture and meaningful historical and Biblical sites.  Artfully carved columns and blocks from the second temple period lay scattered around, and it was easy to imagine how the temple courtyard would have looked with its vendors and crowds of worshipers.  The biggest problem I had was staying with the group, what with so many different treasures to explore and photograph.  My goal became simply to not be the last person in the group was we progressed (a goal I did not always succeed in).  Once we started down the Via Dolorosa, it only got worse.

Between 6:00 and the beginning of the Sound & Light Show at David's Citadel at 7:00, we were set free to find our own dinner and explore the souk (or market) near the Jaffa Gate.  The souk is filled with vendors who "just want to show you something," or give you their card, or have a number of other friendly invitations designed to get you in the door and talking.  I'm more of a bargain hunter than a dedicated dickerer, and had trouble getting used to issuing a firm but friendly no.  I turned down a few things, made a few purchases, and then passed by a shop near the Swedish Hostel run by a guy named Hassan.  He hooked me with scarves which were going for 10 shekels, and then kept me going when he conveniently didn't have change (which inspired me to pick out a pair of silver bracelets to make up the difference).  Then he offered me a cup of tea, which was lovely but presented some questions of etiquette.  Did I need to finish the tea, thereby committing myself to a longer visit?  I decided I did, and had an interesting conversation with my host about American politics and the jewelry and ornamental garb of the Bedouin peoples.  Another scarf found its way into my possession, as did a pendant made from an antique Turkish coin.  Hassan said I looked a bit tired (Hello, it's called jet lag) and said he was a masseuse, and suddenly I was the recipient of a lovely head and neck massage.

I kind of wonder if my new buddy was trying to see how far he could get with me, and I had to firmly refuse additional favors (which is difficult for a Midwesterner to do).  Still, he kissed both my hands and insistently invited me to come back tomorrow.  (I really do NOT think that is a good idea, both for the sake of my wallet and to avoid any additional familiarities.) I dashed back up to the Citadel, our meeting place, and walked into the sound and light show in time for the depiction of the crusaders' arrival.  A short bus ride back to the hotel, and we all sank gratefully into the cushions and shared a few bottles of sweet Israeli red wine received as a gift from the hotel.  Almost as welcome was the news that their hot water heater was fixed and hot showers were available for all.

Mulling the day over, I am struck by the incessant parade of contrasts.  The victories and defeats of Jewish history are displayed reverently and dramatically, while the evolving status of other peoples can be read in the debris- and shanty-covered hillsides.  The plaza in front of the Wailing Wall was filled at one point with a clearly international crowd of the faithful, and at another with a huge crowd of young men and women in uniform who were being sworn in for their obligatory service in the Israeli Army.  I saw more machine guns and other openly displayed weapons today than in all my life previous.  Israeli flags and residences are located in the Muslim quarter in an "in your face" style, as is the graffiti shown here.  I am constantly greeted by vendors and other hospitality workers with friendly questions about my family and home, but get the distinct impression from others who live here that tourists are (at best) a fiscally necessary annoyance.  I find myself enthralled and a bit disheartened, all at once.

I stated earlier that my group is here not just to see the history of this incredibly historical place, but to gain some understanding of the peoples who claim it and the sources of their conflict.  After only two days, I am perhaps becoming a bit seduced by the history.  Today I walked across the same stones that Jesus almost surely trod, and gazed up at the remains of the palace balcony from which David might have spotted Bathsheba!  And yet, history is written by the winners; I need to remain cognizant of the stories which have not been recorded, and listen to the words unsaid.

Monday, January 17th

11:15  Arrive Ben Gurion Airport, Israel, ascend to Jerusalem
c. 13:30  Introductory overview of Jerusalem from Haas/Sherover Promenade, including bag lunch and walk along the promenade with introductory texts
15:30  Panoramic view of the Old City from the Mount of Olives; Garden of Gethsemane
18:30  Welcome - Rabbi Ron Kronish
19:30  Dinner & Free Evening


We made it here.  We had a little bit of trouble in Chicago because American Airlines only checked my bags (and those of one other student) through to JFK, meaning we had to leave security, go retrieve our bags, and then bring them back through security at the El Al desk before boarding our 747.  With that running around, there was just barely enough layover time left to grab a pizza (to be consumed on the flight).


One we'd taken off, my seat-mates and I had a relaxing glass of red wine (free from the service cart) before I took my sleeping pill and floated off.  I am struck once again by how relaxing I find air travel.  Not the "crammed in a box" and "lack of control over my environment" part, but that incredibly freeing sensation of springing into the air and leaving the world behind for a playful jaunt through the clouds.  I could stay up there forever, if I had the leg room and a more regular supply of water.


I slept fairly well on the flight.  Rabbi M threatened to make me the official note-taker for the day, since apparently no one else got as much sleep.  Yawning but quite functional, I made it through passport check, baggage retrieval and the process of securing local currency.  I told the customs guy that it was the first stamp in my passport; he congratulated me.  


Once loaded in the bus, we headed south from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem.  We approached from the West, which was seldom done in the old days but has become more popular as pilgrims and other visitors began arriving by sea in the last 150 years or so.  (I am conditioned to assume that wherever the largest body of water may be found is, by definition, East.  I keep having to remind and reorient myself.)  Our bus climbed past citrus groves and kibbutzim, and finally stopped on a large ridge on the western edge of the city.   We were invited to step out onto a stone terrace overlooking the ridges and ravines, construction and shanties and fabulous buildings dedicated to a number of religious traditions.  While we munched on pastry, sandwiches and fruit, our guide Jared read the biblical story of Abraham's journey to sacrifice Isaac and then pointed out that the lands described fit perfectly with the low mountains in front of us.

Thanks to Cathy for this shot of me with a friendly Jerusalem cat.

We were originally scheduled to continue to the City of David today, but a late flight and a dental emergency from one of the students put us behind a bit.  Rabbi M decided to take us to the Mount of Olives and Gethsemane instead, holding off the City of David and Hezekiah's tunnel until tomorrow.  The vista of the city, with the Dome of the Rock shining in the setting sun, was unbelievable.  We reached the chapel within the garden of Gethsemane as the light was dimming, but I did my best (with heavy reliance on my Image Stabilization software) to capture the beauty of the place.  Inside the fabulously decorated chapel is a stretch of bare limestone which is celebrated as the place where Christ prayed on the night of his betrayal.  Outside is a grove of ancient olive trees, carefully supported and tended.  Coating the mountain are the graves of Muslims, Christians and Jews.  Down the slope a bit is the beautifully simple Church of the Tear, a bit over from the gold domes of the Greek Orthodox Church of St. Mary Magdelene, and at the base of the slope is yet another lovely little chapel carved directly into the stone.  (Our guide told me this last church had something to do with the birth of the Virgin Mary, but the bus was arriving and he was busy.  He did say that to see all the wonderful little historical nooks in this city, I'd have to move here!)


We finally arrived at the Hotel Eden around 6:00 local time.  Those who hadn't slept during the flight were getting quite ragged, and even I was pretty pleased to wash my face and put on fresh clothes.  We had a few minutes to get settled before Rabbi Kronish's presentation on the peace process and his organization's work.  Then we were served a middle eastern feast by the staff of this little hotel that just couldn't be beat, capped off by my very favorite kind of baclava - lots of pistachios!


So what do I think, after this first crazy day in Israel?  It's hard to say.  I'm fascinated by all the different cultures represented here, although my recent readings may color my perceptions of how some are treated.  I notice that the people - especially the orthodox Jewish men - seem kind of pushy and rude when it comes to retrieving baggage or moving out of the aisles to let someone pass.  There is a sense of women not quite receiving the respect of an equal from the men, which catches me off guard.  And while walking down the Mount of Olives I noticed two young adolescent boys sniggering at my friend and fellow seminarian, who is trans-female; it made me wish I knew enough of the local language to bawl them out and remind them of their manners.


Our guide said something early in the day today about the land being filled with true history, some of which actually happened.  Although this is certainly one of the most holy, historic places on the Earth, I find myself mostly aware of the beauty of the landscape and the architecture, the marks of the faithful rather than the founding features of the faith.  I don't need to kneel where Jesus knelt in order to feel a connection to the divine, but I am fascinated by the steps taken over the generations (back to Constantine's mother and before) to identify these holy sites and preserve them.

Psalm 122

Song of Praise and Prayer for Jerusalem

A Song of Ascents. Of David.
I was glad when they said to me,
   ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord!’ 
Our feet are standing
   within your gates, O Jerusalem. 

Jerusalem—built as a city
   that is bound firmly together. 
To it the tribes go up,
   the tribes of the Lord,
as was decreed for Israel,
   to give thanks to the name of the Lord. 
For there the thrones for judgement were set up,
   the thrones of the house of David. 

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem:
   ‘May they prosper who love you. 
Peace be within your walls,
   and security within your towers.’ 
For the sake of my relatives and friends
   I will say, ‘Peace be within you.’ 
For the sake of the house of the Lord our God,
   I will seek your good.

Sunday, January 16th

8:30 a.m.  Meet Adam at CTS for ride to airport
12:40 p.m.  Depart Chicago O’Hare on American
3:50 p.m.  Arrive JFK, N.Y.
6:00 p.m.  Depart JFK on El Al

Hard to believe that the next bed I use will be in Israel.  I've already had my first panic - the brush was missing from my dopp kit.  (Luckily, I had another in my purse.)  I arrived at the Quaker House about 8:30 last night, as planned, and once more am the grateful recipient of their bounteous and inexpensive hospitality.

I am doing that classic "nervous over-packing" thing that has become so familiar.  I had planned to leave yesterday's clothes with my jacket and other Wisconsin-specific items in the car while I'm gone.  Now I'm debating whether to throw the sweater and shirt into my luggage, in case - - I don't know, in case we happen to be there an extra 5 days and I run out of the extra clothes already in my bag and simultaneously have access to a washer in time to wash yesterday's stuff but not in time to wash any of the other redundant stuff I am hauling along.  (I may be talking myself out of it.  Maybe.)

I'll keep my cell phone active until we break ground this evening, so I can do last minute check-in's and phone hugs from JFK.  After that, it will be out of commission until the afternoon of the 30th.  (Thank you, blog - you just reminded me to shut off all those twitter feeds which get sent via text to my phone.)  There is a certain sense of cutting an umbilical cord - which may be a reasonable metaphor for this whole upcoming experience.

Pictures will follow, of course.  If I have internet access at JFK, the "before" shot of the group will follow quickly; otherwise, you may have to wait until I'm safely ensconced in my next resting place.

Allons-y!

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

Shameless Plug

Here is the official Chicago Theological Seminary page which will follow our travels (in case you wanted a more balanced perspective than one student can offer).

Four days until lift off!!!

Baptism

I visited St. Mark's Episcopal Church in Newaygo last Sunday, when the Episcopalian liturgical calendar celebrates the baptism of Christ by St. John and the beginning of Christ's ministry. Mother Mary's sermon got me thinking about baptism, and what I've learned thus far about early Christian baptismal beliefs.

Somewhere in recent months, perhaps in class but certainly also during a sermon or two, the mechanical and practical aspects of early baptism were addressed in my hearing. My residual mental image was of a long, slim pool, with steps descending on one end and rising on the other, filled with water of a sufficient depth so that the visitor would be completely immersed. The person being baptized would strip at one end, and their clothes were whisked away to be burned. They descended into the pool - again, I have no source at my fingertips but I want to say it was seven steps down, then seven strides across, and finally seven steps back up. Upon reaching the far side, they were clothed in new garments and accepted as members of the church.

In the interests of full disclosure, I should report that the surface research I performed this week showed as many different styles of baptism as there are flavors of Christianity. The "7 steps across the pool" baptism which sits on the edge of my recollection was, at best, just one of many interpretations of the practice. But I imagine those acolytes approaching the pool nervously at night, with only one or two guides (to minimize the danger if they were betrayed). The shock of the cold air, then the cold water. Seven steps under water would feel like a near-death experience for a non-swimmer, and I suspect not many of these desert dwellers were comfortable in the water. Up the steps on the far side, even colder with the combination of cold air on wet skin; and then the welcome of a fresh white robe and the "right hand of Christian fellowship" extended by the welcoming members of their new family. It is somewhat reminiscent of trial by ordeal, which makes me wonder what happened if someone were unable to complete the ritual.

In just a few days, we are headed off to the other side of the planet. We will shed the comforts of being surrounded by our own language, familiar amenities and wealth of resources. (I will be leaving my phone home for reasons having to do with service and logistics; I am already battling separation anxiety on that score.) We will immerse ourselves in the lives of friends not yet met, and in the cultures, religions and daily life of Israel and Palestine. We will do our best to soak it all in, and yet not be overwhelmed by the sheer turbulent volume of it all. In the end we will return to our everyday lives, having gained new connections and new understanding which will forever affect our perception.

The United Church of Christ declares that "The act of baptism also marks the beginning of new life of discipleship with Christ, the human response to that gift." (www.ucc.org/worship/baptism) As a Jewish friend of mine likes to say, "From your lips to God's ear."

Perhaps A Small Explanation Is In Order

As part of the course which is the basis for this trip, I will need to keep a journal of my experiences and observations during my travels. I’d been contemplating this blog as a way to fulfill that requirement in a user-friendly format and also share the unfolding journey with any interested persons. The first hurdle (of course) was to come up with an appropriate blog title – so I polled several friends and family members for suggestions before ignoring them completely and going with the catchy phrase you see above.

The thing is, we will be traveling not in order to “walk in the steps of the Savior” (though we will walk the Via Delarosa, explore Jerusalem and climb the Mount of Olives). This is not an exploration of the past (though we will visit the Western Wall and the area where the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered). This trip is specifically designed to give seminary students a “real life” on the ground understanding of the cultural and political challenges to the peace process between Israel and Palestine. We will be visiting refugee camps and West Bank settlements and ascending the Golan Heights, talking with Jews and Muslims and Christians in a variety of settings. We’ll learn about Jewish-Arab cooperation on GLBTQ issues, and about the “security wall” which has split the countryside.

I may be old enough to remember the Camp David Accords and the Road Map to Peace and several other bits of old political rhetoric – but it seems to me that this puzzle has no clear answers or persuasive sound bites. I’d like to see a lasting, just and equitable peace descend on the Middle East (and the rest of us, thank you very much); but it feels as though we’re searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack, except that haystack has been spread across the dark side of the moon and our space suits are leaking air fast. Until someone brilliant comes along and does something magical, we’re just groping along and hoping for a miracle.

Planning

We leave in 11 days; a group of 20 seminary students, accompanied by two faculty members and assorted guests. We'll fly out of Chicago, spend a significant amount of time at an east-coast transfer point, and wake up in Tel Aviv (assuming my in-flight sleeping pill does its job). Not my first time out of the country, but definitely the first stamp in my passport. I feel like Sandra Bullock in "While You Were Sleeping."

I have a large suitcase and a barely-legal-for-size roll-on strewn across my bed, stuffed with jeans and khakis and casual skirts. I have a power converter, a plush U-shaped pillow, and a copy of the pattern for Berrocco's Leilani Cardigan as well as enough Boysenberry-colored Domy Heather to work it up during long bus rides and lectures and such. I've started checking Intellicast daily for Tel Aviv, trying not only to get a feel for the weather in Israel but possibly to will it into a slightly warmer mode. (The trend seems to be damp and mid-60's, yet I keep trying to pack the kinds of things I'd wear at this time of year in Tucson.) I'm also including a personal care package of Neosporin, Pepto Bismol and the like, as I'm not quite sure how I'd find them in a pinch on site. A fresh (comfortable, cheap) pair of casual black sandals can't be found in Wisconsin in January, so I'll look for some in the market once we get there. Ditto a sun hat, although Wikipedia says the Dead Sea has reduced UV rays because of its extremely low elevation. A fleece jacket, a rain shirt, and a bathing suit for use in the Dead Sea. I'm trying to decide whether it would be silly to bring my favorite stainless water bottle.

Most importantly, I'm trying to finish the required reading for this journey, which is of course a credited contribution to my Master's of Divinity program in addition to being the journey of a lifetime. "At the Entrance To the Garden of Eden" by Yossi Klein Halevi; "Israel/Palestine" by Alan Dowty, and "Once Upon A Country" by Sari Nusseibeh with Anthony David. Nusseibeh's description of his family's traditional role as key-keepers to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher reminded me of this video; a reminder, I suppose, that nothing in the Middle East is simple.

I get one of two very strong reactions from almost everyone who hears about this trip: either fascinated envy or fear for my safety. I promise to be aware and make consciously safe decisions, when presented with my options. However, I also trust Rabbi M, Professor T and our local guides to (a) understand and minimize any risks, and (b) truly have my bests interests at heart during this trip. Timidity would be counter-productive.

Eleven days. Maybe I'm jumping the gun just a bit, being fully packed. I even have my travel clothes laid out, complete with jewelry and a shawl for the plane ride. I forgot for a bit that I'm leaving from Chicago, and will need an extra day's clothes for my repositioning jaunt the day before.

I cannot freaking wait.