Holy Land, October 16 – 30, 2011

The Rev. Ann Gillespie and Jane Gilchrist are in the Holy Land. Ann writes about the experience here.  

Saturday, October 29:

We came full circle yesterday when we made a visit to the Holy Land Institute for the Deaf in Salt, Jordan. This mission to deaf and profound hearing loss children has been operating since 1965. 160 children, as young as three and up to 20 years old, live together in this colorful, harmonious boarding facility designed to create one big family where everyone speaks sign language. 

The Holy Land Institute has long been dear to Christ Church missioners. Not only have we given our treasure in years past, we have also given time and talent. Some of our parishioners have spent time volunteering at the institute. Under the capable leadership of Audrey Grissom, and supporters like Joanne Metcalf, this vital ministry to the Holy Land was nurtured. While our commitment to the Holy Land hasn’t wavered, our support for the Institute has waned over the last few years.

Brother Andrew, the indefatigable Dutch monk, who has served as Executive Director for many years has even made visits to Christ Church. Although he is a new friend to me, he said repeatedly to Jane and I, “I am so glad to have found you again!” Jane, along with a group of Christ Church folk, had been here several years ago. She is delighted to see all the changes and upgrades. This place exudes health and love. Here deafness is not seen as a disability, but an advantage in communication. With a twinkle in his eye, Brother Andrew shared with us a common understanding among deaf people: the world’s problems are caused by hearing people who can’t communicate and they could use some help from deaf people!

As our pilgrimage to holy sights ancient and contemporary draws to a close, I am profoundly clear that pilgrimage leads to mission. The stories of the Holy Land and the people who live here change us who visit. Pilgrimage changes how we understand ourselves and how we understand Christ in the world. As a faith community, it is time for us to reinvigorate our commitment to this amazing place. –Ann+

Friday, October 28:

Random reflections about Jordan:

There are images of King Hussein everywhere, in every classroom, on cars, on every storefront, on buildings and banners. Sometimes he is wearing full military uniform, sometimes a red kaffiyeh, sometimes an Armani suit. He is most often pictured by himself, but sometimes with his wife and children or with the Crown Prince, his oldest son. There clearly is a warmth and reverence for what feels like the Jordanian holy family.

I am put in mind of Mexico and the images of the Virgin de Guadalupe in every house, every church, on cars, and t-shirts. As the patron saint of Mexico, she is a huge part of their national identity. Perhaps that is a clue to how Jordanians feel about their king.

In the U.S., we do not have the same reverence for our government leaders. We put them on pedestals and then take delight when they fall from grace. Our leaders are humans, not divine. I wonder if having a king contributes to the sense of order here that so strongly contrasts with the intensity of Israel/Palestine. There is also more space in Jordan so people are not on top of one another and there is no competition over the land.

There is evidence of much wealth here. In and around the city of Amman, you can see many mansions that stand empty and car lots full of Mercedes and Ferraris. Of course, the next second, you see two guys riding past the Mercedes on donkeys. Middle East markets are always lively, but butcher shops here hang skinned carcasses of sheep and goats in shop windows with the detached heads of the animal just underneath, staring at you. Our guide tells us this is to identify whether the meat is imported or local. Quite a sight for a vegetarian! -Ann+

Thursday, October 27:

Children of the Middle East who have disabilities are often hidden away because of the shame it can bring to families. In this culture, a disability is a black mark on the family’s honor and may affect the positive marriage potential of the other children in the family.

The mission of the Arab Episcopal School in Irbid, Jordan (supported and partially funded by the Diocese of Jerusalem) is to help blind and vision impaired children with their specific disability as well as to integrate them into normal classrooms. It is the only school of its kind in Jordan and it is hope incarnate. o:p>

Begun in 2003 and run by Father Samir Said and his wife, Mesbah, there are now two levels of kindergarten and one class of each grade up through seventh. By 2015, they will have kindergarten through tenth grade. Each class has several blind/vision impaired children and two teachers, the regular teacher and the teacher for the blind children, often who is blind herself.

All the children study a curriculum called Peace Education, where they learn conflict resolution, empathy, and teamwork. The proper Braille equipment and reading and writing materials are very expensive and they are dependent on donations. It is a miracle of Christ’s work in the world.

This afternoon we visited the Roman/ Greek ruins of the city of Jerash, a beautiful nearly complete Roman city with Hadrian Arch and cemetery outside the city walls and glorious oval forum, hippodrome, theater, and long columned avenues for chariots called the Cardo and Deca manus and majestic temples to Zeus and Artemis.

At one point we entered the theater with elaborate stone stage and entrances, and steep seating in the round. Given my theater background my cells were humming at first sight. It was important for me to look at the back stage area and have some pictures taken of me on the stage. I walked up into the stands, but the height was dizzying.

Most amazing however, our guide showed us where the sweet spot of sound was in the center of the floor in between the stage and the seats. It had perfect acoustics. He invited someone to step in and before I knew it I was standing on the spot, breaking into a high, clear version of the first verse of Amazing Grace.

Everything stopped. Several groups of tourists shushed each other, my group stood around me and I felt this current of universal love and light stream through me.

It wasn't about my voice, it was about THE voice that was moving through all of us at that moment and throughout history.

As I finished, the local bagpipe band (that's right, bagpipes) came in to accompany me on the second verse and people in the arena that knew it, sang it. It was a glorious time. 'Twas blind, but now I see. -Ann+

Wednesday, October 26:

Some of you may remember that my brother died in May of 2010. My family scattered Rob’s ashes in the desert outside San Diego in June of that year and again in the Vermont woods in July. I knew at that point that I would be making a Holy Land pilgrimage the following December with the group from Christ Church, so I reserved a small baggie of ashes with the intention of spreading them somewhere in the Holy Land.

The Holy Land did not have any resonance for my brother, but it had rearranged my molecules when I came the first time in November of 2009 and it felt as if I was taking him home in a way. /p>

As the Christ Church pilgrim band made our way around to the holy sights, following in the footsteps of Jesus, I kept waiting for just the right moment, just the right spot. About half way through the trip, we visited Mt. Tabor, the beautiful mountain where tradition holds the transfiguration of Jesus took place (Matthew 17: 1-8), the story where Jesus invited Peter, James, and John up the mountain to pray when suddenly Jesus starts to glow and Moses and Elijah appear. Before long a bright cloud forms and the voice of God says, “This is my son, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him!”  

In ancient times, mountains were understood as the place where heaven and earth meet. There is an elegant Franciscan church on Mt. Tabor, built on top of the remains of a Crusader church. I knew last December that this was the place to spread my brother’s ashes and so I found a quiet place on the ruins of the Crusader church, said some prayers, and let his ashes go in the wind.

Today, nine months later, I returned to Mt. Tabor and it felt as if I was going to visit my brother’s grave. I sat in the same spot and wept at I’m not sure what: his absence, his presence, the thin veil between this world and the next, the beauty and pain of being alive, Rob’s transfiguration. When the disciples see the appearance of the prophets on the mountain, Peter says, “Lord it is good for us to be here.” I couldn’t agree more. –Ann+

Tuesday, October 25:

Today we worshipped at St. Paul’s Episcopal church, in Shef’amer, a city in the north of Israel near Haifa, where Muslims, Christians, and Druze (a staunchly independent sect of Shiite Muslims) live in peace. It was a joy to be welcomed so warmly by the rector, Rev. Faud Dagher, a big, gap-toothed, energetic bear of a guy.

He began the service as one would expect, by doing the opening acclamation in his green chasuble just in front of the altar, but then he ran over to the organ, jumped onto the bench, rearranged his chasuble, and began to bang out a spirited rendition of the opening hymn. He played with great skill and then hopped off the bench and continued the service. Apparently, he also sets the table, lights the candles, and goes to pick up some elderly parishioners before the service starts.

This one-man show is larger than life! He conducted the service in both Arabic and English. We each got an excellent sermon: if you can’t love your enemies, you can’t love God. Powerful words in this troubled land where Arab Christians are so persecuted. Several times he called for us to be reconcilers in the world.

At the end of the service he surprised us by inviting all five clergy in our group, who just happened to be women, up to the chancel to say together the final blessing. To look out into the faces of our group intermingled with the congregation of Arab Palestinian Christians whose ancestors have lived the Gospel in this place for 2,000 years, brought tears to my eyes. It was a profound and humbling honor to exercise my priesthood in this way. This man, Father Fuad, knows something about reconciliation. – Ann+

Monday, October 24:

Today we leave Jerusalem with its noise, contrasts, intensity, and press of people. But before we do, I feel compelled to say something about walls. Of course, they are everywhere, with the city streets being so narrow and everyone living on top of one another. No walls are more beautiful and impressive than those of the Old City, constructed of white/gold lime stones, some of which date to the first century. When the sun hits the walls, the reflection of light can be blinding. The massive walls were built to protect the city from marauding antagonists and they look impenetrable. Ironically though, the walls have either been destroyed or moved several times throughout history.

There is another set of walls that are very new, however. They are made of concrete, are 30-feet high, and were thrown up quickly. Somehow they also look impenetrable. I am referring to the separation barriers between Palestine and Israel proper. We have heard the arguments for (Israel has a right to protect itself and the wall allows them to sleep better at night) and against (the wall is built on Palestinian land, not Israeli, and it is crippling the Palestinian economy/spirit, creating a kind of apartheid state).

Nothing compares to the shame I feel when I see it. We were taken to a spot just outside Bethlehem where the wall is constructed on three sides of the same house. It seems cruel and disproportionately punitive. I am embarrassed that more than three billion of U.S. tax dollars a year goes to Israel in support of policies like this. You just have to see it to believe it. The U.S. is building a wall along the Mexico/U.S. border, but at least it is on our own land. - Ann+

Sunday, October 23:

So I have learned a bit more about Bishop Suheil Dawani and the Diocese of Jerusalem (which also includes Israel, Palestine, Syria, Lebanon, and Jordan). As the number of Christians in Israel dwindles to less than one percent of the population, the diocese serves mostly Muslims, some Jews in their three schools, two hospitals, four clinics, and 32 churches.

The Diocese is committed to being Christ's reconciling and healing presence in regions where Christian evangelism is illegal. Although under Bishop Suheil's vision and leadership, the diocese is in much better financial shape and many new projects have been begun, they still need our help. That is the purpose behind the American Friends of the Diocese of Jerusalem, the group with whom Jane and I are traveling. As thanks for our visit and support, Bishop Suheil threw a lovely dinner for us last night.

As you may recall, if you've been following the blogs, I was quite critical of the Diocese of Jerusalem and the perceived snubbing of a women priest during communion. I was not able to maintain this view for long. As the Spirit would have it, I ended up sitting next to Bishop Suheil at dinner and we got into a conversation about women's ordination. He assured me he is very supportive of full inclusion of women although he admitted priesthood for women will take some time considering the history and culture here. But next year, they plan to implement a new deaconal training program that will be open to both men and women. Emboldened, I asked him about my friend not being served communion. He was first surprised and then dismayed, saying it must have been an unintentional oversight, since he would never exclude anyone on purpose. He then told me that at his installation four years ago, he invited a woman priest to serve on the altar as a sign of inclusion and reconciliation. He also promised to speak to my friend to clear up any misunderstanding. I am thrilled to have had this time with an inspiring leader in the church who has dedicated his ministry to reconciliation and reaching out to those on the margins.  - Ann+

Saturday, October 22:

In one day, we visited three places holy in each of the Abrahamic faiths.

We started out at the Western Wall, the most holy location in all of Judaism, where it was bar mitzvah day. Women and men are not allowed to worship together, so it is a very plaintive sight indeed, to see mothers standing on chairs peering over the partition to watch their sons make their bat mitzvah and become men.

We then went up to the Dome of the Rock on the Temple Mount, the third most holy place for Muslims after Mecca and Medina. Although non-Muslims are not allowed inside the Dome of the Rock, we can wander the peaceful 35-acre plaza and stand in awe of the beauty of the tile work on the Haram al-Sherif. The intricate design of the tiles is to draw your attention heavenward.

In the afternoon we went to the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, the place were the church commemorates the birth of Jesus. It was very crowded with pilgrims from all over the world pressing upon one another. We waited for over an hour to be able to squeeze ourselves down into the small grotto where people kneel and pray to touch the spot where Jesus was born.

It is ironic to me that my time at the Jewish and Islamic holy sites felt more holy than the holy place of my own tradition. When I travelled to the Holy Land for the first time two years ago, Pierce wrote me a beautiful prayer that includes the phrase, Defend her from the distraction of cynicism. I find I need it again.

 

 

 

Friday, October 21:

Here is something fabulous the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem is doing:

Funding the Princess Basma Center and School for Disabled Children. Established in 1965 as a place for children crippled in a polio myelitis epidemic, it now serves children with physical and mental/social disabilities and their mothers.

The facility provides housing for mothers and children to stay for 2-4 weeks to learn about the child’s disability as well as the therapies that will help their children. The mothers also go to women’s empowerment classes so that they can be advocates for their children and themselves when they return to their communities. Often the women are blamed for the children’s disabilities. We toured speech, physical and hydrotherapy units where the three work in trinity - the mother, the child, and the therapist. It was an amazing and deeply grace-filled place.

Here is something not so fabulous the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem is doing:

The Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem has yet to recognize women as clergy. In recent years, they have acknowledged that it is important to move in that direction, however, I met a female Episcopal priest from Hawaii, serving as warden for St. George’s College for a year.

She is not allowed to celebrate the Eucharist here, but she was assisting on the altar last Sunday. That means she washes the Bishop’s hands and administers a chalice, like our lay chalice bearers.

She told me when it came to her turn to receive communion, the Bishop skipped over her. She felt it was an intentional gesture as many people witnessed his omission. She was angry and hurt. And I am, too, for her and for all women in the church who are not treated fairly and equally, going all the way back to Mary Magdalene. Surely we are equal in the sight of God! - Ann+

Thursday, October 20:

Today Israeli soldier Gilad Shilat was released after 5 years in Palestinian custody in exchange for over 1,000 Palestinian prisoners.

As a mother with a son close to Gilad’s age, I can only imagine how happy his mother must be, to hold her son in her arms, to touch his face again. But I am trying to understand how the value of one Israeli is worth 1,000 Palestinians?

There are Welcome Home, Gilad, signs in Hebrew, hanging on the walls of the Old City in Jerusalem along with the ubiquitous yellow ribbons. I had assumed that the symbol of the yellow ribbon was concretized in the kitschy American song made popular in the 70’s by Tony Orlando and Dawn, Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree. A quick Google search however shows that the yellow ribbon has been a symbol of waiting for a soldier away at war for centuries. Hence the much earlier song, Around her Neck She Wore a Yellow Ribbon.

Although released from Israeli prisons, most of the Palestinian prisoners do not get to come home to the West Bank. They are either being placed in Gaza, Syria, Jordan, or Turkey. They will not see their yellow ribbons. - Ann+

Wednesday, October 19:

Had lunch today with my dear friend, Canon Hosam Naoum and his family.

Hosam, his wife Rafa and his oldest two children spent a year and a half at Virginia Theological Seminary (VTS) for Hosam to earn a Masters of Theological Studies. While there, he came to Christ Church to speak to the then most recent group of Holy Land pilgrims.

He is now back at St. George's Anglican Cathedral in Jerusalem serving as pastor to both the English and Arabic-speaking congregations.

I asked him what he misses most about Virginia. He said the seasons, the holidays - Halloween and Thanksgiving especially - and shopping at Target! He said, "Going to one store where you can buy everything you need, there is nothing like that here. And the decoration [in Target] changes every season!"

Over strong Arabic coffee and his mother's homemade cookies made with Turkish Delight, I asked him about the level of fear in his congregations after the recent deaths of Christians protesting in Egypt. He said there is great concern among them. His congregations fear that Christians in the West have forgotten them. We sighed over the irony that under the rule of despots, like Mubarek and Hussein, sometimes minority groups like Christians had more protection. Hosam said, "The Arab Spring may be turning into the Christian winter." - Ann+ 

Tuesday, October 18:

On my first day in the Holy Land, I went to the Church of the Visitation in the small village of Ein Karem, outside of Jerusalem. It is here the church commemorates the visit Mary made to her cousin, Elizabeth, following here experience with the Angel Gabriel.

The story in Luke's gospel tells us that as Elizabeth and Mary greeted one another, Jesus, inside Mary's womb, and John, the Baptist, inside Elizabeth's womb, both leapt at the recognition of one another. It is then that Mary utters the glorious words of the Magnificat.

Tradition holds that at the very moment, on that very spot a spring burst forth out of the ground. Where there is water there is life in this arid country.

There is still a well with running water that comes out of the aquifers at the center of Ein Karem. The artwork in the church and around the grounds is lovely. It is always thrilling to see all this focus on Mary, the God-bearer.

I was especially moved by a modern sculpture of the two women with slightly swollen bellies greeting one another, a powerful portent for me for this trip.

The sense of divine possibility is everywhere. - Ann+