Marlin & Sally in Jerusalem

O Freedom

As every preacher knows, the highlight of Sunday morning is generally not the sermon.  We grudgingly admit that, or at least those of us with a check on our egos do.  This Sunday, a Quaker peacemaker by the name of Paul, stood before us and led us in singing this song.  It was one of the most powerful worship experiences in my life – and I am not exaggerating.  Paul is African-American and has a voice like an angel – albeit, a very frightening angel.  If Gabriel sounded like Paul, which I think he might have, then it is no wonder he had to begin with the words, "Fear not!"

Here are the lyrics to the song.  I wish you could hear Paul sing it, but sorry, not happenin’.  Paul added a verse at the end.  You’ll see it highlighted in red.

Let us pray:

“Every time I feel the spirit moving in my heart I will pray.”

(chorus)
Before I’d be a slave

I’d be buried in my grave

And go home to my Lord

And be saved.

O, what preachin’!

O, what preachin’!

O, what preachin’ over me, over me (chorus)

O, what mourning…

O, what singing…

O, what shouting…

O, weeping Mary…

Doubting Thomas…

O, what sighing

O, Freedom…

No more occupation
No more occupation
No more occupation, over me, over me (chorus)

Amen!

The Big Bang

Each day begins with a BANG!  I’m talkin’ big BANG!  4:00 a.m. and a cannon fires – blanks I’m pretty sure – less than a block from our home – of this I am positive.  The first morning this happened Sally and I exploded up and out of bed sure that the Christian Zionists were right and the Second Coming was on the way.  But no, it was the big bang announcing the start of fasting for our Muslim neighbors.  I’m trying to imagine this happening in Chicago or New York, but the thought of that is blowing my little mind, so I’m moving on.  Seriously, think of Fourth Presbyterian located in downtown Chicago deciding to fire a cannon at 4 o’clock in the morning to announce the beginning of Lent.

After we’ve settled back under the blankets, I put my arm around Sally and say, “Remember, we came here to experience the culture.”  She does not answer – always a bad sign. 

I say, “Right?” 

She responds, “You owe me for the rest of my life.”

“Yes dear, I do.”

Ramadan is a “month of blessing” marked by prayer, fasting, and charity.  Because Islam uses a lunar calendar, the holiday moves.  This year Ramadan precedes Christmas and Hanukkah, and runs parallel with the Jewish High Holy Days of Awe and Succoth.  Jerusalem is a happening place.  Sadly it is not happening quite the same for Muslims as Jews, as Muslims are severely limited in their travel capabilities due to the Israeli occupation.  And no, I’m not griping about this.  I’ve done enough of that.  I’m just pointing out what is reality for Muslims in this place, and why some of them vent, in inappropriate ways, the offense taken.  And no, I’m not excusing any violent reaction to any action taken by either side, just trying to understand and maybe help you understand as well.  You must understand that a large part of observing Ramadan is the evening meal shared with family.  When your mother or father or son or daughter, who lives a matter of minutes from you, can’t come to the family table during Ramadan, that is a big hurt.  That’s huge. 

Imagine your son and his family living in Sioux Center, Iowa.  You live in Orange City, Iowa.  On a good day you can make that drive in, what? 15 minutes.  It’s Christmas and you're having a family gathering at your home in Orange City.  Your son and his family can’t come because the State won’t give them a permit to leave Sioux Center.  And you haven’t seen him or your grandchildren for over 6 months.  You see?

I see what Palestinians go through every single day and I am always amazed at how restrained they are.  How they mostly just go about their day as best they can.  None of us would put up with what they put up with, not for one day, let alone day after day.

No one eats, drinks, smokes or has sex during the period of fasting.  After the cannon fires again in the evening, then everybody eats, drinks and smokes -- if they have ‘em, and they all have ‘em.  I don’t know about the sex part, but I’m guessing that breaking the fast extends into that area of life as well, or at least that is probably the interpretation accepted by most red-blooded Arab men.  Of course, I could be wrong.

Ramadan commemorates, among other things, the receiving of the first verses of the Qur’an, the holy book of Islam.  Around 610 CE the Prophet Muhammad was wandering around in the desert near Mecca when the angel Gabriel appeared to him and told Muhammad he had been chosen to receive the word of Allah.  And the rest, as they say, is history.

And what an interesting history it has been, huh?  But what of the future?  Well, the Pope and others have the world talking about religion, and that’s a good omen for the future I think.  I assume the Muslim world is talking as well.  My hope is that everyone is listening as well.

This Zaddik is "right" on

(The word zaddik means "righteous one."  It can also denote a "spiritual leader."  Some Jewish traditions hold that as long as there are 50 "righteous ones," then the world cannot be destroyed.)

A tale is told of one who sat in study before the zaddik Rabbi Mordecai of Nadvorna, of blessed memory [19th cent.], and before Rosh ha-Shanah came to obtain permission to be dismissed.  That zaddik said to him, “Why are you hurrying?”

Said he to him, “I am a Reader, and I must look into the festival prayer book, and put my prayers in order.”

Said the zaddik to him, “The prayer book is the same as it was last year.  But it would be better for you to look into your deeds, and put yourself in order.”

I like it!

Home Invasion

The first thing she noticed was the silence.  Mothers will understand.

You’re in the house preparing food for your large family.  Your younger sons, 7 and 9  are in the yard playing soccer.  “Kick it to me.  Here.  Here.  Try this.  Watch this.”  Your two daughters are sitting under the open window in the kitchen playing school.  “You be the teacher this time and I’ll be the student.  Okay, say the letters.  Count to 10.  Good.  Good.  You’re very smart.”

Your husband and other sons are with the goatherd in the next valley.  They left before sunrise in order to find grazing before the heat of the day.  You know they will be back around 11 o’clock and you know they will be hungry.  You are boiling cabbage for soup.

Then the silence.  Next you hear doors slamming and you know immediately what is happening.  Soldiers.  When you step out into the bright day you see there are four large jeeps parked around the house.  Three soldiers are climbing out of each jeep.  They are armed and they look angry.  And they are so young, mostly children themselves, you think.

The oldest of the group signals the others to surround the house.  The others fan out to do so.  Your youngest son is holding tightly to the soccer ball, the oldest stands with hands on his hips staring at the soldiers.  You are aware that your daughters are next to you; the littlest one, age 4, clings to your skirt.

“Where is your husband?”

“Why?”

“Where is your husband?”  Louder this time.

“He’s with the goats.”

“Get in the house.”

You call the children to you, and go back into the house.  Two soldiers are already in the house, and as you enter, four others file in behind you. You are ordered into one of the rooms of the house and told to sit on the floor and be quiet.  The room is quickly, but thoroughly searched, items throw around the room in a haphazard way.  Then they are gone and the door is closed.

The children are frightened, the girls crying, the boys putting on brave faces.  You can hear the soldiers going through the rest of the house.  You can picture the mess they are making.  They are on the second floor now.  Glass breaking, wood splintering.  You wait.  You listen.  You pray that when your husband and older sons come home they will not be harmed.

About an hour or so later you hear the goats bleating in the distance and you know that your husband is on his way home.  You also know that he will be alarmed when the two younger boys don’t appear on the hill outside your home.  He’ll wonder why they aren’t coming to meet him, as they love to do.  The two little boys take great pride in bringing in the goatherd from the last valley.  You can picture him as he begins to walk more quickly, urging the older boys to hurry.  “Something is wrong,” he’ll say.

Soon your husband and older sons are in the little room with you.  They are angry, but keep quiet.  They know that they are in danger of being arrested and that any thing they say will only incite the soldiers.  One soldier has already announced that they come fresh from Lebanon and “we’ll do to you what we did to them.”

This “home invasion” happens two or three times a week around the city of Hebron.  Soldiers need shelter and so they take over the home of a Palestinian family and stay there for two to three days, depending on how long they are in the area.  They always find something in the house to implicate the family in “militant” activity.  This time they found a spent cartridge and this was the proof of the family’s sympathy to Hamas.  The mother and father swear that there was no cartridge in their home.  They know better than that.  There is no warrant, no formal charge.  There is only invasion.  Later the two sons are taken to a police station for questioning.  They are there for two days and then sent home.  They were never asked a single question.  The “arrest” was simply the proof that they were suspects in “militant” activity.

Why do they do it?  Mostly, because they can.  No one is there to stop them.  No one holds them to account for what they do.  Prime Minister Olmert says, “We don’t need any other nation teaching us morality.  We have the light of Torah.”  That light seems a little dimmed just now, Mr. Prime Minister.

A small group of Christian Peacemaker Team lives in Hebron and they finally came out to the house to confront the soldiers.  One of them, a woman, videotaped the home and the presence of the soldiers.  Even though she has a legitimate right to film such events, her camera was seized and she too was “detained.”  Later, she was released.  Her video camera was returned to her, but without the tape.

This is “rule of law” in the West Bank – law of unbridled power.  Israel does what she wants to whomever she wants, and the only power holding them to account is a small group of Christians from the States and Europe.  It’s not enough.

As the soldiers drove away, the two younger boys stood next to their father and watched.  The older of the two, age 9, turned to his little brother and said, “Today we play soldier.”

Extremism

(Agnon's book is listed under "Good Stuff" -- page left.)

The journey to peace must pass through the doors of repentance.  This as much as anything else is the shared theology of all three faith traditions.

The Jewish high holy days begin tomorrow with the celebration of Rosh ha-Shanah.  Defining the significance of these Days of Awe, Arthur Green, of Brandeis University, writes these words in the Foreword of a great book edited by S.Y. Agnon, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature.

“…the inability to forgive (either ourselves or others) is a sign of smallmindedness, a malady with which our Creator is not said to be afflicted.  Whenever we are ready to forgive ourselves, and thus to allow ourselves to begin life once again, God is ready for us.  ‘His right hand is outstretched to receive those who return” (p. xiii).

“We are involved here in a deadly serious business. (Observing the Days of Awe.)  We stand before Reality dressed in a white shroud-kittel – stripped of our protective this-worldly finery, and thus naked with our powerlessness and our fears.  We know that for reasons utterly incomprehensible to us (and, we fear, for no reason at all), some of us will live this year and some of us will die.  The cruelest part is its absurdity, its seemingly impersonal or inhumane treatment of us all-too-human creatures.  This we will not stand for; the One who gives and takes our lives has to have a human face.  So we join with Moses in climbing up that mountain, with him we call out, “Show me Your glory!” and we draw forth once again the promise that the One whose face we cannot see is indeed

The Lord, the Lord, a God compassionate and gracious, long-suffering, of boundless grace and truth, keeping His grace for the thousands, bearing iniquity, transgression, and sin, cleansing … (Exod. 34:6-7)

“And with that assurance we are willing to live in God’s world and be His creatures for yet another year” (p. xvii).

The question of whether or not we will live another year is in the hands of God.  This we too affirm.  How we live in this year, however, is up to us.  Rosh ha-Shanan begins the new year in a posture of submission before God and with our fellows.  We seek to be forgiven and we offer forgiveness to those who need forgiveness from us – sometimes whether they want it or not.

This is an extremist position, one that I can embrace with enthusiasm.

Nelson Mandela seized upon this shared theology and led South Africa into a new age, one that is now suffering the birth pains of new life.  He stressed radical, extremist views of peace through repentance, and it worked, and it is working.

Maybe it will work in places like this as well.  Of course, if peace through repentance is going to work it will have to be tried.  And this is always the problem, isn’t it?

Seven churches in Palestine were fire bombed over the weekend.  Why?  The Pope made remarks that incited violence.  No, that’s not why.  Let’s not blame the Pope.  His words offered the excuse for the violence, but were not the cause.  The Pope ought to be able to make remarks of the nature he did and not have to worry that people will die, or that churches will be burned.  We ought to take the Pope to task for a poor choice in quotes, and from what I read, people are doing just that.  We ought to challenge the prejudice that might lie behind his comments.  We also ought to wonder about where there is truth in them.  But murdering a nun, and fire bombing churches, no, this will not do.  These are extremist choices that ought to be, and are, condemned by any and all persons of decency and goodwill.

But there are other choices being made too.  Choices that reflect an extremism of a different kind, the kind Jesus had in mind when he asked his followers to pick up a cross and follow him.  A mosque in one of the towns where a church was burned has expressed sincere regret over the incident.  Then this mosque went a step further, the extreme step of repentance.  The Muslims of this mosque will fund the rebuilding of the church, and will aid in the physical work.  Muslims and Christians will work hand in hand to rebuild that which a group of extremists destroyed.

That is extreme repentance.  It is a sign of what is possible.  It is hope.

Yamim Noraim

Sitting on a ledge just outside the Dung Gate, Sally and I watch as hundreds, maybe even thousands, of Jewish people stream toward the Western Wall.  It is a warm and beautiful Jerusalem night, and so much good is in the air that breathing is like eating your favorite food.  People are smiling, talking, arms around one another, holding hands.  A pair of men, brothers I imagine, help their elderly mother out of a huge green bus, and then one on each side, they escort her through the Dung Gate and into the Old City of Jerusalem.  There is something good and wholesome about all of this.  Sally and I are envious.  It is nights like this when we most miss our family.

It is three days before Rosh ha-Shanah, often referred to as the Jewish New Year, but actually much more than that.  Rosh ha-Shanah is the first day in the “Yamin Noraim,” THE DAYS OF AWE! These most sacred of Jewish feast days end on the eve of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.  “For on this day shall atonement be made for you, to cleanse you; from all your sins shall ye be clean before the Lord” (Lev. 16:30).

It is three nights before Rosh ha-Shanah and the feasting and loving and all the rest have already been kicked into full gear.  So those of you who complain that Christmas begins at Thanksgiving and that this is a bad thing need to look over at the Jewish folks and get with the program.  Preparation for an important event is as important as the event itself.  It is worth noting that Ramadan, the Islamic holy days, begins in five days as well, and already the Muslim folks are preparing for these important holy days.  There is a good bit of partying going on around here.  Of course, most Muslim families in this holy place can’t get together to celebrate Ramadan.  A neighbor told me that he has not seen his sister in seven years.  She lives in Gaza City, about 2 hours away.  But that’s a minor detail and shouldn’t ruin the party for everyone else.

The DAYS OF AWE! are the times of the year when synagogues are full to the brim, kind of like Christmas and Easter – let preachers take note.  These high holy days are the days of looking in the mirror and seeing the truth about one’s self, and especially the truth about one’s mortality.  One day, like the summer flower, we will fade away and be no more, and that is a fact of life for all who live.  Therefore, the Days of Awe remind us to live with a certain amount of care about how we live.  These are the days of the year to pinch oneself and say, “Thank God I’m still alive.” The Days of Awe become a yearly time to look back over the year behind you, to look ahead to the year before you, and to pray that next year at this time you will be able to do the same thing all over again.  Jewish people eat apples dipped in honey as a prayer for a “sweet” year. (By the way pastors, I’ve used this in a church service with college students and they loved it.  More to the point, it was a powerful illustration of gratitude for life.  Make sure to put the sliced apples in lemon juice so they don’t turn brown.)

The Days of Awe are primarily about the renewal of life – new life, new beginnings, new chance, not second chance, but new chance no matter how many second chances you’ve had, new chance! This is why so many Jewish people flock to the Wall in Jerusalem or to the synagogue in Grand Rapids or wherever it is Jews gather to celebrate and remember.  Yamim Noraim come each year to remind Jews that it is possible to change our lives, and that such renewal partakes of the gift of life itself.

“Repent for the Kingdom of God is near by!” And the people of Jerusalem flocked out to the Jordan River to be baptized by John, a preacher’s kid with a clear understanding of what brought people out on a Sunday morning.  “Things don’t have to be the way they are!” was John’s primary message, and Jesus picked right up on the theme.  The first word from Jesus’ lips was the same word that came from the mouth of his mentor: “Repent!  You can change.  The world can change.  The situation can change.  Repent!”  John and Jesus continued to preach this theme until both were executed by the occupying army of Rome, or in John’s case, the puppet government set up by the occupying army of Rome.

God walks the earth and calls:  “Where are you?” Trembling in awe, we respond, “Here am I.”  We tremble not because we fear the Questioner but because we know our answer does not even begin to measure up to the significance of the question.  The Questioner asks not our location, but our affiliation.  Where are you in relationship to me? is God’s question.  What are you doing in relationship to what I am doing? is the logical progression.  With whom are you aligned? is the next step.  Adam and Eve never understood the question, and of course, the apples have not fallen far from the tree.

In the next few weeks Jews all over the world will gather in summons to God’s question, “Where are you?”  The proper answer is not one of location.  Being at the Western Wall is not a good answer.  Being in synagogue is not the right answer either.  “I’ve come to help out in the family business.  What would you like me to do?”  Now that’s a good answer.

Rabbi Hayyim of Zans (19th century) told a parable:

A man had been wandering about in a forest for several days, not knowing which was the right way out.  Suddenly he saw a man approaching him.  His heart was filled with joy.  “Now I shall certainly find out which is the right way,” he thought to himself.  When they neared one another, he asked the man, “Brother, tell me which is the right way.  I have been wandering about in this forest for several days.”

Said the other to him, “Brother, I do not know the way out either.  For I too have been wandering about here for many, many days.  But this I can tell you: do not take the way I have been taking, for that will lead you astray.  And now let us look for a new way out together.”

The master added: “So it is with us.  One thing I can tell you: the way we have been following thus far we ought follow no further, for that way leads one astray.  But now let us look for a new way.”

Such is the spirit of the DAYS OF AWE!  May it be so.

Oh, and the simple kindness of making a way for a brother to see his sister living just two hours away, might be a way to begin to find a new way out.  But that is just a minor detail.  Let’s not let it ruin the celebration!

BarberShop Quartet

("Show me just what Muhammad brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached." Pope Benedict XVI quoting Manuel II Paleologus, Byzantine Emperor in the 14th Century CE.)

“The Pope no good, no good!”

The old man is angry again.  His older son is angry as well.  The younger son is just sad.  Or maybe he is just sick of the anger.  As with most younger sons, he is the quiet one in the family.  (My older brother just groaned.)

This two generations run barber salon is located just around the corner from where I live.  They cut my hair once a month and between haircuts they give me a trim.  I’ve never looked better – don’t say it!

I stop in for tea about twice a week.  They invite me everyday, but it’s too much work to go in there more than twice a week.  They make me practice my Arabic, and they are not gentle in their correction.  I sense they enjoy making sport of me in front of their Palestinian customers.  But I may be wrong. 

It is around 8:30 am on Saturday, the day after the Pope made his offending remarks.  I figure I may as well take my medicine, so I head over for a cup of tea.  They welcome me generously, as always, but with a coldness that I can feel.  I expect this, as I have experienced this with them on other occasions of tension between West and East.

I sit.  I sip.  I wait.  They do not bring it up, so I do.  “What about the Pope?”

“The Pope no good, no good.”  The old man is sitting next to me and leans in toward me as he speaks.  The older brother is cutting someone’s hair, the younger brother is making more tea.  Both brothers look over at me to see my reaction.  The older brother’s look is cold and hard.  The younger brother just shakes his head.  I’m not sure if he is agreeing with what his father just said, or warning me to be careful.  Either way, I nod at him.

But I say nothing.

“You should do something,” says the older brother, gesturing with comb in one hand and scissor in the other.  “He is your father.  You should let him know that you do not approve of his insulting the Prophet.  You should do something.”

“The Pope is no good, no good.”  The old man is muttering under his breath.  Then he straightens up and speaks again, louder this time, “He is a human like you and like me.  He is human.  He should not insult the prophets.  Moses is a prophet.  Jesus is a prophet.  Muhammad is the prophet.  BaBa (the Pope) is just a human.  He should not insult the prophets.”

I nod at this, but again, say nothing.

The father repeats his charges again, louder still.  The older brother joins in.  The younger brother leans back against his barber chair and watches.  Two more men wander into the shop to listen.

When they take a break from venting, I ask, “Did you read the Pope’s entire speech?”

“No,” admits the older brother.

I do not belabor this point as I can see from the expression on the older brother’s face that he gets it well enough.

“He is not my father, by the way.  I am not a Catholic.”  Beside the point, I know, but I have another point to make.

“You are a Christian,” the older brother enjoins.  “Of course he speaks for you.”

“Are you Shiite or Sunni?”

I get a chuckle from him on this, “Okay, you’re not a Catholic, but we know you are a Christian.”

“Yes, I am.  But that doesn’t mean that every Christian who speaks, speaks for me.  The Pope does not speak for me.”

That’s the last word I say on the matter.  I listen to them, and nod my head from time to time, but I don’t comment on what is being said, and for a very good reason: I don’t know all the facts.

I don’t know why the Pope chose this particular time to say what he said.  I don’t know what he meant exactly.  I certainly don’t know why he chose to quote Manuel II Paleologus, a fairly decent Byzantine emperor, who was facing overwhelming odds against the Muslim Turks, and get this now, was being denied help from the Roman Church – yes, that Roman Church – unless and until he and his subjects were willing to convert to Catholicism.  Pretty wild huh?  Paleologus refused to convert, declaring that he would not be forced to change his faith tradition, not by the military power of the Turks, and not through coercion by the Roman Church either.  And, if that is not enough irony for you, this quote by Paleologus came out of the period of the Crusades which were organized by the Roman Church for the dual purpose of winning Jerusalem back from the “infidels,” and making converts.  The Roman Church baptized thousands of Muslims, whether they wanted baptism or not, and most did not.

All I’m saying is, that if the Pope wanted to make a point about violence being a poor style of evangelism – an awfully good point too -- he could have chosen a quote out of his own tradition and saved us all a lot of grief.

Two churches in the West Bank town of Nablus have been set on fire.  Five other Palestinian Christian churches have endured some form of violence.  I don’t know what to say about that either, except that it seems to make a point as well, one that the Islamic community needs to own and confront.  But that’s for them to do, and soon, I hope.

“Is there peace between you and me?”

“Yes, between us, there is peace.”

That’s how we left it, the three of them and me.   Clearly the four of us are not on the same page.  I’m on John 3:16.  But the conversation continues, and that’s what the Pope was hoping for, I guess.

The Cross

“I used to wear a tiny silver Cross around my neck.  I wore it every day.  I liked wearing it.  But I took it off because the Cross was a barrier between me and my Muslim neighbors.”

The young woman who said this is a Palestinian Christian.  She is maybe 23 or 24.  She is a sincere, devoted follower of Jesus who lives in a place where it is hard to follow Jesus.  She also admits that wearing the Cross marked her as a target for those who tolerate no other faith tradition except their own.  And she was not talking just about Muslims, but also about some in the Jewish faith as well.  Like many others like her, she has experienced harassment and intimidation because she follows Jesus.  And by all accounts the intolerance is getting worse every day.

Last night, September 14, marked in some Orthodox Christian traditions, the Feast of The Cross.  It is a holy day that commemorates the finding of the True Cross in 325 CE by Helena, the mother of Constantine.  The Church of the Holy Sepulcher was built to house the True Cross, as well as to mark the site of the empty tomb and the crucifixion of Jesus.  You skeptics should note that most archeologists agree that the Church of the Holy Sepulcher is the place of both the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus.  Later, in 614 CE, the True Cross was captured by the Persians and carried off to their capital.  They didn’t have it very long as the Romans recaptured it and returned it to Jerusalem in 629 CE.  The Feast of The Cross remembers both these events and celebrates them both on September 14.  (Note: There are different dates in the different Orthodox traditions, but none of that is pertinent to the point I want to make.)

One more small bit of history and then I’ll move on.  The first Crusaders marched under the True Cross when they came to conquer the Holy Land.  I mean this literally.  A priest carried the True Cross in front of them into battle.  It was to the Crusaders what the Ark of the Covenant was to the Israelites when thay invaded the land of Canaan.  The Crusaders came with the expressed purpose of freeing the Church of the Holy Sepulcher from the hands of the Muslims, and restoring the True Cross to its rightful place.  Thousands of men, women and children – Muslim, Jewish, and even Christian – were murdered under the True Cross.  And again, I mean this literally.  The blood of the Cross carries a dual meaning in this part of the world.  Saladin, the great Muslim general, captured the True Cross, carried it to Damascus where it was buried under the threshold of the great mosque in Damascus.  That way, every Muslim who crossed over the threshold into the mosque would be stepping on the Cross of Christ.  Where the True Cross is now is anybody’s best guess, probably long gone, and probably that is for the best.

The Cross is significant to the people living in the Holy Land.  For some it is a symbol of identity, that which sets them apart as followers of Jesus.  To others, it represents one of the bloodiest movements in the history of the world.  Add to this the significance of the Swastika having started out as a cross that Hitler twisted into the symbol for Nazi Germany and you further see my point.  The Cross is a powerful symbol.

You also see the problem, right?  The Cross is a symbol for blood, the blood of Jesus shed for the sins of the world, but tragically, also a symbol for the blood of millions of innocents shed for the sake of blind religion and as an excuse for men and women of power to seize treasure and land.

What do we do?  Discard the cross as a symbol and look for something less offense?  Some suggest this, and in fact postmodern America lives this out in many ways.  You can walk into many postmodern churches and not see a cross anywhere on the premises.  There is a church in Jerusalem whose cross is worth over 1 million dollars.  Try covering that cross with a video screen and see what happens!

Palestinian Christians struggle everyday with what to do about the Cross.  It is an important symbol for them, and yet it is also a symbol that carries with it a lot of baggage for their neighbors.  What to do?

One young woman takes off her cross.  Another woman, older and weathered a bit, decides that now more than ever is the time to wear a cross as a statement of identity and faith.  She digs around in her jewelry box and puts on the cross that she had taken off years before.  She suggests that what Christians need to do is live up to the cross.  “I am not ashamed of the cross,” she said.  “I want to live in such a way that my neighbors know that the cross is not a symbol of power, but of suffering and sacrifice.  I am willing to do both for the sake of peace and justice in this land.”

The younger woman is not convinced but listens with respect to her elder sister in the faith.  The older woman, by the way, also suggests that the Jerusalem church with the million-plus cross take down the bejeweled cross and replace it with a plain wooden one.  “They ought to sell the jewels out of that cross and use the money for the poor to find housing.”

I sat in and listened to these folks talk about the cross and what to do about what was happening to them because they are identified with the cross whether they wear one or not.  I marveled at their desire to be good neighbors and at the same time good Christians who are not ashamed of the cross and the gospel connected with it.

I thought you may like to be in on the discussion.  So, now you are.  What to do about the Cross?

By the way, the Muslims and Jews have their symbols as well, and the Crescent and the Star of David symbolize different things to different folks as well.   Maybe the Jews and the Muslims are wrestling with what to do about their symbols as well.  Then again, maybe not.   But the Christians in this place are, and I’m humbled to be in their midst.

A Chuckle

Sometimes you just have to chuckle.

John Lynes is an 83 year-old Brit.  He is Jewish, but Christian.  He has arthritic knees that prevent him from running, without the aid of a walking stick – and did I mention John is 83?  The Israeli soldiers have a great deal of respect for John.  They fear John because the truth is John is fearless.  Whenever they are up to something that they know John is not going to approve of, then they run from him -- literally.  Here is an excerpt from the weekly Christian Peacemaker Team report from Hebron where John has been working for 11 years.

“During the afternoon, a neighbor reported that Israeli troops had occupied a Palestinian home nearby.  Lynes entered the house and found that the soldiers, having climbed onto the roof, were already a number of rooftops away.  He returned to ground level and intercepted the troops as they descended.  Recognizing him, they ran away along the main road of the souq (marketplace) straight into a party of Israeli visitors heavily guarded by another group of soldiers.  The visitors were clearly bored with their guided tour, but woke up at the sudden intrusion.”

“Recognizing him, they ran away …”  You really have to chuckle over that, especially if you know John and realize that he was probably chasing them as fast as his stick would allow.

And can you imagine the look on those visitors faces when John came around the corner and they realize that the person the soldiers have been running from is an 83-year-old CPTer with bad knees?  Honestly, I wish I'd have been there to see John's face when he came around that corner. Priceless.  John.  Priceless.

Mennonite Eggs

Eggs.  Mennonite Eggs, to be exact.  8000 laying hens lay eggs.  Palestinians living in the area, along with Internationals, and even some Israelis buy the eggs.  (I honestly tear up everytime I think of how easily these folks could live and work together.  Don’t you?)  The money is used to support high school age students attend Hope Secondary School in Beit Jala, Palestine.  A teacher at the school manages the egg laying operation, and the egg plant is staffed entirely by the students who benefit from the sale of the eggs.  It’s a very cool deal.  And I will tell you that the Mennonite eggs are a big hit in the area.  They are good eggs – the Mennonites too, for that matter.

Most of the students at Hope School cannot afford to pay the freight.  They are from poor families.  That’s the way it has been from the beginning.  This is not some high price private school.  (God bless high price private schools, but this ain’t one of them is all I’m saying.)  This school offers hope to the poor and those struggling against the economic disaster that comes along with occupation.  In her 40+ year history, Hope School has never – I said never – turned away a student because the family could not afford to pay for the student’s education.  That’s huge, in my view.  Muslim, Christian, it does not matter to these good folks, any young man or woman who wants a quality education is welcome.  The only limit is space.  The primary understanding is that Jesus will be taught and anyone who puts a child in this school had better be okay with that.  And, guess what, they have a waiting list!

15% to 20% of the support for Hope school comes from eggs.  The rest of their support comes from “good eggs” like the Mennonites.  Students, like the son of the Muslim man we met the day we were there, rely on help from folks who want to help.  Maybe you want to help.  It will not cost you an arm and a leg, just a little toe, and not even that actually.  25 dollars a month will help a young man or woman get an education.  Here’s the email address: amal@p-ol.com “Amal” is hope in Arabic.

In case you are wondering, this is a distinctively Christian school.  Each day begins with chapel.  I’m going to speak at one of those one of these days.  Students and staff members are required to come.  However, Suliman insists, “They would come anyway.”   The students at Hope School come from extremely difficult backgrounds, and yet, nearly 100% of them pass the standardized government examinations at the end of their 12th grade year.  15 to 20 of Hope Students are disabled in some way.  “NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND AT HOPE SCHOOL!”

One last thing and then I’ll stop this shameless promo, a promo I’d be ashamed not to shamelessly make.  There is a yearly, independent audit of the books.  This place is trying to do things right in a situation that is almost in every way all wrong.  Be a good egg and help them if you can!