Things arrive at the right time

A good friend recommended this site to me. http://www.sacredspace.ie/ It seems very simple and very good.
It gives prayers and a reading for each day. It encourages you to take time to do these important things.
The text for today was Mary and Martha - it spoke to me just when and what I needed to hear.

I am in the middle of an amazing experience. Seeing and learning about so many things, many of them conflicting with each other. My response is to race around and see more. It is almost too overwhelming to try and think about all the information that is coming in.
Yet in the middle of it all is a still centre - sort of God space. 'Still' maybe isn't the best word. God isn't still, as in inactive.
It's a bit like the pool that forms at the bottom of a waterfall. Ideas get swept down; the light, easy ones spill out and bob off downstream; the heavier ones roll round and round in the flowing water of prayer, bits of scripture, love, my history and experience. They bump against each other - knocking off corners changing as the interaction and the contact forms them. Then eventually they emerge, mostly unnoticed, sometime useful and occasionally beautiful (for me anyway) and worth sticking in a pocket to pull out and remember on another occasion.

What has this to do with Mary and Martha? - Well it just reminded me that to sit at the feet of Christ is just as important a use of my time, as rushing around seeing things and collecting experiences.
OK, so I know that is obvious and I have heard as many hundred sermons to that effect (and I will probably preach a fair few in the future), but it was what I needed to hear right now, so I though I would share it with you.

Another friend commented that my trip here seemed a lot about sight seeing. Yes it has been, but it has also been about so much more.
It has been about absorbing the fact that people with vehemently differing views about the conflict out here (Jews, Palestinians, Muslims, Christians etc.), are all people of good will and not the media stereotypes.
It's been about walking in the city where Jesus walked, accepting that it is nothing like it was then, but that through the prayers of the many people who come here (however strange their customs) because of his life and death and resurrection, he is still here.
It is also a lot about trying to reconcile this huge scar across the Holy Land (the 'Security Barrier'), which treats people like criminals and cattle, and the fact that I can only reach a partial understanding (however awful it clearly is) because I have never lost a child at the hands of a bomb and am unlikely ever to do so.

As you see there are many, many heavy things in the pool at the bottom of the waterfall, and the water keeps on flowing. So just to say that I am sorry I haven't been very good at keeping up to date over the last few days. (I will try to catch up a little.) I am still here and like Martha I am learning that sometimes I need to sit with my Lord, learn from Him and let things work their way out.

Thanks for your patience. Helen. x

Bright threads woven

Silks bright - rising and falling, weaving and tying;
Voices in the market place - shouting, whispering, singing, weeping;
Ingredients in the mixing bowl, flavour, texture, leaven, nutrition;
Colours on the canvas, light, tone, form, life;

Just one?

One thread of silk, one single sound, one taste, one shade?

What genius of creation is that? What everlasting word? What eternal artist? What giver of life giving bread?
Bland, dull, silent and left on the shelf - is this fullness of life?

But here I stand, amongst silks of unimaginable complexity, voices of many lilts and tongues, sweet aroma and pungent smells, more colours and shape than my eyes can comprehend;
And voices of prayer, from minaret, bell tower and Western Wall calling.
Chanting, exalting, sighing, imploring;

Is only one heard?

Is that great weaver of the intricate fabric of life, that eternal word, great sustainer, ultimate artist confined to one place?

Mosque, church, synagogue?
Shut in or shut out?
Present or absent?

Hearing, guiding, holding, challenging.
Flowing, enfolding, waiting, fulfilling.

Until all threads, every voice, all flavour, every colour and shade and light;
Is brought into one - the only, the incarnate, for ever and all eternity.

A day in the desert

Today has been about travelling into the desert in more ways than one. I heard last night that my two year old daughter Lydia had to be taken into hospital with a Chicken pox which had led to a secondary infection sending her temperature up far too high. All this has been added to by a decided reluctance on her part to take any of the prescribed medicine, meaning that more direct action was needed. For me the feeling of helplessness to relieve the suffering of my little girl, to care for her brothers and to help my wonderful husband (who has forgone sleep and had to deal with a very strong willed, very poorly child) was acute. I so much wanted to be by their sides, but like so many thrust into the desert of need and fear, I had to turn in prayer to God and rely on the huge kindness of his people here at Tantur, and at home (thanks Sharon and especially Ron). A fairly sleepless night later and a lot of prayer brought me to this morning and the longed for news that she was improving. This continued through the day and this evening she came home (where she will stay as long as she takes her medicine!). Thank you to all who prayed and to those who’s skill and care have aided her start to recovery.

So here in Israel, just a little distracted, after a 6 am morning prayer and breakfast, I travelled 411 metres below sea level along the banks of the Dead Sea.

We went first to Massada – the incredible Herodian hill fortress where over 800 Zealots resisted the Romans for three years before, in the face of defeat, choosing collective suicide rather than slavery at the hands of Rome. None of my photos come close to capturing the awesome proportions of this place. I felt like at once I was on the top and at the bottom of the world. The magnitude of the engineering achievement is overwhelming, none the less huge in the courage of decision made by the Zealots. I heard about the young Jews who walk up to the top of Massada (we caught the cable car) on many mornings, to pray at one of the oldest Synagogues in the country. They are inspired by this place and its dreadful history to seek a land where Jews can live in freedom and peace. I pray that this might be achieved without that privilege being denied to others in this land. ,

Next we went on to En Gedi, for a spot of lunch and a swim (or rather bob) in the Dead Sea. I can truly say this was a most odd experience. Not altogether unpleasant but in almost 40 degrees Celsius and 30% salinity I was not keen to stay in too long. I think I shall put this down as one of those experiences to do once in a lifetime!

A brief stop off to see the spring which feeds En Gedi – a real stream in the desert, before moving on to Qumran, the site where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found. I must admit that by this stage lack of sleep, a fair bit of worry and a full and very hot day left me less than receptive to what our excellent guide Allan was saying. This will need to be something to read up on before we go and see the real scrolls in the Israel Museum tomorrow.

Despite the tiredness, it was impossible not to be impressed by the sheer beauty and ruggedness of the landscape of this area. It is clear why it inspired so much of the writing of Old and New Testament, and formed much of the identity of their people. I now have a far clearer idea of what draws people to the desert in search of purity and truth. I however was very glad to get back to Tantur and have a shower!

More foot pictures

Monday afternoon saw us continuing our mammoth foot tour of the Old City of Jerusalem. The Jerusalem Archaeological Park is dedicated to revealing the discoveries made of Jerusalem during the Second Temple period. Here we heard from a virtual pilgrim about the experience of coming up to the Temple. The sense of excitement at the significance and sheer vastness of this holy place was easy to catch. We sat on the steps leading up the South gate of the Temple. These have been excavated and are as they would have been during the 1st century BCE, they are the same steps that Jesus would have climbed up on his visits to the Temple. We saw the porticos where the money changing may have taken place, the corner stone where the Shofa (the ram’s horn) would have been blown to signify the start of the Sabbath and a pile of huge stones, which fell from the wall of the temple when it was sacked by the Romans in 70 CE. It was a privilege to walk around a place which is so significant for the Jewish people and which has been so beautifully excavated and displayed (Israel certainly know how to do museums). In this place, with the Dome of the Rock watching over, it is hard to avoid the fact that each of the three great faiths have a claim on this place. Watching over all of it though, is a God who is greater than any of our sites, our religions, even our memories.

Later in the afternoon we moved back again in time and onto mount Zion. Looking over the Kidron Valley we were show the place where possibly David looked out of his palace over the roofs which stepped down the valley side below him and spied Bathsheba.

Then for a spot of paddling, as we walked down the tunnels created by Hezekiah to bring water into the city. This amazing feat of engineering brings water 538 metres from Gihon pool into the city. The water is between need and shin height (not hip height as it suggests in the guide book!) Torches at the ready we waded and paddled along the tunnel for about 35 minutes. Although dark the base of the tunnel was smooth and it was gloriously cool. The flowing water and the skill in creating the tunnel seemed to be a real symbol of hope for the possibility of a renewed life force in this drought ridden land.

We came out of the tunnel at the site of the Pool of Siloam (cf. John 9) – this has been newly discovered (2005) and once again makes clear that although much is known about this city, it still holds many more secrets of its multi threaded past.

A Most Amazing Day

Today has been a day full of stones and realising that some times it is appropriate to take pictures of one’s feet (this was a revelation to me as I normally do it by mistake!) We began the morning (leaving at 7:30 am – after prayers and breakfast) in the Old City of Jerusalem beside the Western Wall. The plaza in front of the Wall was busy with Jews coming to fulfil their morning prayers, with their families running and playing, with tourists (doing what tourists do – be guided, take photos, try to absorb the sights and atmosphere and generally get in the way!). All of this was observed by the tourist police who went around handing out shawls, asking “I’m sure you would like to cover up?” to the immodestly dressed; and the young army recruits who almost pass a tourists apart from their uniform and guns!

After watching for a while we were gathered and with our Jewish (with a strong USA accent) guide Alan, we headed into the tunnels under the Western Wall of the Herodian temple. We were shown amazing models of the building of the Temple, but the most stunning was the real thing - a 40 foot long, 600 tonne stone, beautifully dressed (cut), which had be added to the Temple before the time of Christ and which (unsurprisingly) despite several attempts none of the various invading armies since had been able to shift.

As we walked on we came upon a number of women – deep in fervent prayer. They are not permitted to pray at the main section of the Western Wall, but have been allowed by both Jewish and Muslim religious authorities (both whom have a say in the access to the Wall at this point) to pray here. Many therefore come down into this more ancient and private place to offer their prayers. It was a deep privilege to share this sacred space with them, before as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, we moved on.

Next came a foot-photo moment as we walked on over paving stones which would have been part of one of the main streets close to the Temple in the 1st century BCE.

We walked on past colonnades from the same period and through a disused aqueduct which used to supply water to the Temple. All of this, many tens of feet below the Muslim Quarter of the city, which exists built over the ruins and wonderfully saved bits from ancient times.

Walking out into the daylight a short while later, I felt exhilarated at actually being able to see and touch a tiny part of such an important and complex history. Knowing a little of the various conquests of this city, I did not realise that anything concrete (excuse the pun) from the time of Christ still existed. But much more was to come.

We walked for a short while around the Jewish Quarter of the city, watching children playing football and setting up a stall of material raising awareness of the village of Chomesh, an evicted village, climbing up onto the roofs and looking out over the city and seeing a new basketball court being laid in the shadow of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre – this is a city of contrasts and crazy juxtapositions.
That is all for tonight (more tomorrow). Despite the amazing technology of their forbears today they sometimes seem to struggle (i.e. the internet regularly tends to collapse around 10.15 pm – just as I am about to upload my thoughts onto this blog. Do you think it is trying to tell me something?)

Ah well – to be continued!

Memory and what happens when it fails (continued)

One theme that has continually reoccurred during my time here in Israel has been that of memory. It is fundamental to this area and its many different peoples. Yesterday in a lecture given by Fr. Tom Stransky (former Rector of Tantur) we were told that in this land ‘centuries don’t succeed one another, they coexist’. Any discussion of the present or the future amongst its peoples of whatever faith or political persuasion always at some point contains the words ‘But remember. . . .’ . At this point hurts and losses from many centauries ago are recalled and are as significant as if they had happens two weeks ago.

I became personally aware of this phenomenon earlier this week in a gift shop in Bethlehem. I went to a specific shop to make a purchase for my parents who had met and dealt with the shop owner 14 years ago. I met the owner’s nephew (his uncle was working in the factory that day). As I paid for my purchase I asked whether the man in the photo above the counter was of the shop owner. The nephew said that it was not, it was his father. He went on to tell me about the 12 years old boy in the photo. It was the speaker’s brother. He had been chased and threatened by armed police who thought (wrongly) that he had been throwing stones at the police station. As a result of the shock the boy became ill and died some time later. His father died soon after the child, the speaker suggested of suppressed grief. This tragic (but I suspect not unusual) story was told calmly without further comment, but with the raw pain of a very recent loss. The event happened twelve years ago.

I am not at this point suggesting that the speaker should not have still felt pain, or that a double loss in such an unnecessary way should not continue to cause the family sorrow and indeed anger, it simple seemed to illustrate the particular hold that memory has here. This sense was heightened later on that day when we visited Bethlehem Bible College. We received a lecture from the Principal of the college on the situation in the West Bank and more generally in Israel. We heard aspects of the ancient and more modern history of the area, of conquest and betrayal, of attempts at peace and destruction. The story had an inevitable bias but it was neither that, nor the information given that shocked me, I had heard much of it elsewhere. The pain, which has remained with me since was in the sense of being trapped by the past, just as much as the ‘Security Cordon’ (the Wall) is trapping the Palestinians of the West Bank physically. Even more stark was the impassioned plea to us to go from this place and ask our churches to not forget the plight of Palestinian Christians. Unfavourable comparison was drawn between what they were receiving and the ongoing support which the wider Muslim community is giving to the people inside the West Bank. The greatest pain seemed not to be as a result of what the Israelis were doing rather that the wider Christian world had forgotten those to whom it was being done.

Memory, as such an integral part of the being of this land is causing many problems, but forgetting far from assisting, seems to be causing just as much if not greater pain. I have heard over this last week about projects, not to erase memory but to give it a more helpful, integrated place, through discussion and sharing between the different communities. This is inevitably going to be a long, hard and gradual process. In the meantime please pray for the people of this land. In a land of long memory please remember those who feel forgotten. Pray that they might live in freedom and peace today, that they might be able to build better memories for the future.

A little meditation

Amongst a busy programme, in a land where taxis hoot (and constantly make me jump), traders hustle and shout, boarder guards screech faceless, incomprehensible instructions (through smoked glass in Hebrew) the readings for last night's evening prayer (which Jonah and I led)seemed refreshingly appropriate - 1 Samuel 3 - (the calling of Samuel), Luke 20:20 ff (the taxes to Caesar question and answer) and Psalm 130 (just read it, its only short). We picked up the theme of listening and this is a short meditation which I wrote:-



Meditation – Evening Prayer – Tantur
(Having read John 20:20-26)

(Silence)
‘they were stunned by his response and fell silent.’

(Short silence)

Hush! Listen! Did you hear that?

(Silence)

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord!
Lord, here my voice!

(Short silence)

Hush a minute! I can’t hear myself think!

(Silence)

He heard a voice calling, … and he ran to Eli saying "Here I am, you called me!"

(Short silence)

Hush! Listen.

(Silence)

Speak Lord, your servant is listening.

(Silence)

There you are. It probably make more sense when spoken rather than read. Anyway people seemed to like it, so I thought it would be worth including here amongst my ramblings.