What is the basis of our security? When we start thinking about that question, we may give many answers: success, money, friends, property, popularity, family, connections, insurance, and so on. We may not always think that any of these forms the basis of our security, but our actions or feelings may tell us otherwise. When we start losing our money, our friends, or our popularity, our anxiety often reveals how deeply our sense of security is rooted in these things.

A spiritual life is a life in which our security is based not in any created things, good as they may be, but in God, who is everlasting love. We probably will never be completely free from our attachment to the temporal world, but if we want to live in that world in a truly free way, we’d better not belong to it. “You cannot be the slave both of God and of money” (Luke 16:13).

 Henri J. M. Nouwen (The Netherlands/1932-1996)

All God’s plans have the mark of the cross on them, and all his plans have death to self in them.

E. M. Bounds (USA, 1835-1913)

Ash Wednesday
T. S. Eliot

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessed face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

[read the rest of the poem...]

And don’t forget tonight’s Ash Wednesday service in the sanctuary at Perritte Memorial UMC (1025 Durst, Nacogdoches, TX) at 6:15 pm. We’ll have dinner beforehand at 5:30 if you’d like to join us then!

The final 5 stations are within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, built on the site where the mother of Emperor Constantine, Helena, understood Jesus was crucified and then buried. We wound our way through the highly ornamented church, passing the slab where Jesus’ body was dressed, entering into the tiny cave where Jesus was laid, and then back out. The church is administered by 6 different Christian denominations, and they bicker fiercely over their territory. It’s enough to make even our most dysfunctional church committees look like paragons of efficiency and cooperation. We saw inter-religious conflict yesterday…now we were experiencing it within our own Christian community. Yet, I find it hopeful that each group was coexisting with the others; perhaps not peaceably yet, but continuing to find a way to live with each other.

We boarded the bus again and headed out of Jerusalem into the West Bank. At the checkpoint where Israeli-controlled territory bordered Palestinian Authority-administered land, we disembarked (leaving Toby & Mishi behind) and got on a different bus with a different tour guide to enter Bethlehem. After passing through traffic, we arrived at Manger Square and entered the Church of the Nativity. Built by the Byzantine Church to replace a smaller wooden structure, this large stone church is also administered jointly, by 3 denominations. After 1500 years, it was still holding up remarkably well. We got into (what we were informed was a short) line and descended down to the grotto. Here, a silver star underneath an altar marked the traditional birthsite of Jesus, with many Orthodox individuals climbing underneath to rub a piece of cloth on it or kiss the star. To the side was an altar marking where the manger is said to have been. An open space in the back provided some breathing room from the cramped quarters at the front of the cave; we gathered and sang “Away in a Manger,” which inspired others to sing in their own language after we were done. (We heard what was clearly “The Little Drummer Boy” at one point.) We then moved to the Roman Catholic portion of the church, where we witnessed the priests gathering for their procession to the cave for daily prayer. We had lunch at the Nisan’s cafeteria, and then headed back to the checkpoint.

We could clearly see the wall built by the Israelis to divide the territory. As we rejoined Toby, Michi, and our bus, we got our passports out. But several soldiers boarded and ordered us back off the bus. Michi told us to wait, and after a few minutes of conversation, he came back and said the soldiers would just be looking at our passports on the bus. Smiling now, they came on, looked at our documents, and then disembarked. Michi told us that while we were in Bethlehem there was a demonstration in another part of the town, related to the peace talks going on right now. At the demonstration, there were tourists (I don’t know if they were Americans or not). Hence the heightened vigilence towards tour buses & their passengers, who usually don’t have any problems or even need documents at crossings. I’m just glad we didn’t look suspicious…and that Michi is so well known and respected. We benefited from his guidance many times on the trip.

Back in Jerusalem we went to the Garden Tomb, a British-run site that also has evidence for being the place where Jesus was buried. It was a beautiful location, and we had a moving service of Holy Communion there. But for Christie and I, the best part was meeting Angeleena: she was not only a British Methodist pastor but one that was currently serving with a friend of ours I had been on circuit with in Scunthorpe. Sara had told me to look out for her, but it turned out she was leading our group’s tour! Angeleena was spending her 3-month sabbatical volunteering with the site, and we were glad to make connections to the beginning of my ministry through her.

We finished our day at the Israel Museum, which has a 50:1 scale model of Jerusalem c 40 CE or so, which helped us visualize many of the places we had been so far. We also visited the Shrine of the Book, which houses fragments of the Dead Sea Scrolls and other important texts. Sadly, there were only a few bits from Qumran — perhaps one of the biggest disappointments of the trip. But I did get to see the Aleppo Codex, one of the oldest complete Hebrew Bibles in existence today. It’s one of those things you read about in college and seminary, but I didn’t think I would see it!

But the most powerful part of the day had to be experiencing the singing everywhere – at the Holy Sepulchure and the neighboring Ethiopian Orthodox monastery, at the Church of the Nativity, in the Garden Tomb as we celebrated Eucharist, and remembering our experience the day before at St Anne’s. There is power in music to communicate the sacred, and we participated in it everywhere we went–power to invoke the Holy, and power to connect us across the differences that keep us apart.

During our observation, we noticed a beautifully dressed young girl of about 8 or 9 who was being filmed reciting poetry in a loud voice. “School project, maybe?” we wondered. But as we were waiting on a few of our crew to finish their short camel ride facilitated by a local vendor, a confrontation erupted. It quickly became clear that something more was going on as Michi, our guide, stepped in to try and defuse the situation. The young girl’s father (or perhaps uncle) quickly turned on him, and Michi — someone I wouldn’t want to mess with — firmly encouraged the man to take his group elsewhere. It simmered down finally, and Michi began to share what happened. Apparently this young Arab girl was being recorded making a speech (which was so offensive he wouldn’t translate it) telling the Jews to leave Jerusalem and Israel. While most of the Israelis who were there ignored it, but one asked them to please stop disturbing everyone. When he was rounded on by the family member, that’s when Michi stepped in. The religious and ethnic differences — one of the things that makes Jerusalem so beautiful in my eyes — clearly make for a flammable situation that could break out into a full conflagration with a small spark. I think we all knew this, but to have it so forcefully exposed on our first morning was unexpected.

As we walked down the Palm Sunday road from the top of the Mount of Olives into the valley, we spent some time talking about burial rituals, even looking in at a tomb from the time of Christ across the street from the cemetery. We also stopped at the church of Dominus Flavit, where Christ wept over Jerusalem for not knowing the things that made for peace.

In the valley still today are beautiful groves of olive trees, some of which are 1500 years old or more. We gained acceptance to a private grove, and spent some time in prayer and meditation in the garden of Gethsemane, which simply means “olive oil press.” My colleague Jessica LaGrone sketched simply and elegantly the shape of obedience which Christ inhabited in that garden, and invited us to live in that pattern also.

We continued on to the Church of All Nations or Basilica of Christ’s Agony. In the church, a group (it sounded like from Eastern Europe) were in the area around the altar, celebrating Mass. It was a beautiful thing to watch them standing around the altar as they prayed, and the priest do the same thing I have done countless times: lead the prayer, hold the bread, raise the cup. It didn’t matter that we couldn’t even figure out whether or not the prayer was in Polish — we could simply follow along, respond at the appropriate times, and be in prayer together. Church of All Nations indeed.

After leaving those fellow Christians to celebrate the Eucharist in peace, we boarded our bus — the redoubtable Toby always managed to find a safe place for us to board, even on the busy streets — and drove up to the edge of the Old City. We ducked inside the gate and after only a few blocks we found ourselves at St Anne’s church and the Pools of Bethesda. The impressive pools were peaceful — it was easy to see why people encountered healing there for themselves and their loved ones. But the Crusader church of St Anne was an unexpected treat. Andrew Thompson, another colleague and a worship leader at Clear Lake UMC, led us all in singing in that space, and the sound filled the basilica with such a richness and depth that I couldn’t believe it. We spent some time singing hymns and choruses and then prayed some more. Finally, we sang the Doxology, and went on our way with the echoes ringing on the stones still.

After such a full morning, our leaders decided it was time for a break, so we headed to do some shopping. The Nisan brothers own the largest olive wood factory in Bethlehem, and during a period of intense violence in the West Bank, they opened a store in Jerusalem as well, which is where we spent some time. We bought some souvenirs and gifts, stoles for worship, and I found a beautiful handpainted icon of the Nativity. One of the owners, a Syriac Christian, recited the Lord’s Prayer for us in Aramaic, which is the Hebrew dialect Jesus and the disciples would have spoken. We ate some pizza while shopping (yes, pizza!) and then departed with our bags heavier and wallets lighter.

The southern tip of the Old City is where supposedly the Upper Room is located. The current room was built during the Crusader era, which began in 1099 and therefore clearly was not what was present when the disciples gathered there…but that’s okay. We also visited the church of St Peter in Gallicantu, which was where Caiaphas’ house was likely located, just above Gethsemane. We read the story of Peter’s denial (memorialized by the rooster atop the dome’s cross) and then went inside to see both the unique church built into the rock face and the cistern which was likely used as a holding cell for prisoners (was Jesus one of them?). Then it was time for “a coffee in, coffee out,” as Michi said: washroom and cafe stop at Dormition Abbey, right around the corner. While everyone else was drinking their hot chocolate, Mark Welshimer and I visited the church itself, which had a series of beautiful altars (including one from Côte d’Ivoire) and a crypt below that commemorated the site where Mary fell asleep into eternal rest. Then we again boarded the bus for the short trip back to the hotel.

Wifi was quite spendy at our hotel, so we walked around the corner to Jerusalem’s YMCA which had a 150-foot campanile that towered above its huge complex. The lobby was quite nice, and a good place to sit and borrow the free internet. I didn’t get much chance to check email in Jerusalem at all, though some chose to, but I wanted to make sure I wrote here. In the meantime, others were skyping with family members or posting to facebook. We all went back for our evening routine: a group meeting for about 30 or 45 minutes to reflect on the day and prepare for tomorrow, then dinner. We were free each evening, so about 10 of us this night gathered to play Bananagrams, Taboo, and just spend some time relaxing together.

Though we started the day in religious conflict, that’s not the only story here. There are plenty who believe and practice their religion — Jews, Christians, Muslims — peacefully. And in the many places of prayer today, I spent time with God thinking about all the rough edges in the world — here, back home, in myself. I can’t say everything was solved, but I find myself returning to the words of the hymn: “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.”

After several hours, we got back on the bus and drove back north along the Dead Sea & into the West Bank again. Near Jericho, we arrived at Qumran, the remote religious enclave of ascetic religious practitioners & scholars that existed for several hundred years until it was destroyed in the same revolt. It has some interesting links to Christian practices such as Baptism and Communion, and also contributed to the genre of apocalyptic literature of which Revelation is a later example. We know this because before the community was destroyed, they archived many scrolls in the caves above their community which were found by Bedouins in 1947; they are known now as the Dead Sea Scrolls. These copies of Biblical (and other) books are the oldest copies of Scripture in existence by about 1000 years.

After dipping our toes in the Dead Sea, we headed west into Jerusalem, where we’re spending the second half of our trip.

Wednesday morning we arrived at the empty Yardenit site – a place just south of the Galilee on the Jordan specifically set up for church groups to remember Jesus baptism and celebrate their own. We were the only group down at the river for a little while so the amphibious, large rodents called nutria were quite interested in what we were doing. Bishop Huie even had to shoo one away with her Bible! Another white-robed church group moved in next to us, which at first irritated me–I wanted a calm, quiet atmosphere! But this boisterous group (of South Koreans, maybe) quickly reminded me that baptism is what connects us to each other across oceans and continents. We exited the site through the smoothly-operated gift shop (they had even videoed us so we could buy DVDs!) and headed to Bet She’an.

This little town is a border crossing with Jordan, but we were there to spend time with the Romans. Scythopolis was a thriving Roman city built on an ancient site until it was devastated by an earthquake. Since no one invaded and razed the city, it is remarkably well-preserved, with column-lined streets and a fully intact bathhouse. Until the late 80s, only the ancient city on the hill (the Tel) and the Roman theater were uncovered. Since then, a bustling archaeological excavation is working to expose all of the mysteries hidden by fields for 1500 years. I can’t believe we could see and touch so much of a site – truly remarkable.

Nazareth was an experience of a different sort. We encountered traffic on the edge of town and slowly snaked our way in to the city center. Our excellent guide, Mishi (a nickname for Moses) warned us to stay together, keep connected to our radios the whole time. We bypassed the main tourist attraction of the Church of the Annunciation and instead cut through the Arab market to the Synagogue Church, a crusader-era building built on what is supposedly the site of Jesus’ proclamation of the year of jubilee in himself. There’s a lot of conflict between the large Arab Muslim population and the Jewish community in Nazareth, and the Arab Christians living there get caught in the middle. We were thankful to the Maronites who maintain this church. We got back on the bus, and after a shwarma (gyro) lunch in nearby Kefer Kana (Cana), we visited the nearby site of Sepphoris (Zipori). This was the big city in Nazareth’s area, and a center of rabbinical scholarship and learning. Since it was under construction around the time Jesus was a boy, it is not beyond Michi’s imagination (nor our own) that Jesus could have tagged along with Joseph on the hour walk to the building site, and after getting bored, went and learned at the feet of one of the famous rabbis teaching there. Both the uncovered Roman Villa and the Synagogue had beautiful, rich mosaic floors that were painstakingly assembled, and then restored 2000 years later.

That evening, a few of us went into downtown TIberias to talk and Michi joined us. As he shared with us about life in Israel, he became quite energetic when talking about the relationship Israel had with the BIble and the land. “You cannot understand the Bible without the land,” he said. “It is the key.”

I’ll write more about our travel day and our first day in Jerusalem soon. If you have questions, please leave them in the comments here on the blog!

Just the simple act of waking up and looking out the window over the lake to see it covered in mist and fog makes a real difference. Now I understand why Jesus was able to see the disciples struggling to make it to shore from the foothills, even at night — you can see a long way from a modest height — but the disciples weren’t able to see it was Jesus on the water because the fog made it impossible to see other than glimpses of forms and impressions of a presence.

Or visiting the ruins of Capernaum (Kfer Nahum in Hebrew, Village of Comfort) and seeing just how small the single-room dwellings were, how crowded the narrow streets were, how tiny the community of fishermen was at the time Jesus called it home. My colleague Brad Morgan, who had just returned from Haiti the night before we boarded our flight here, reflected on just how different that way of life is from ours: “Jesus is closer to the Haitians than he is to me.”

And visiting churches which promise to be the site where Jesus fed 5,000, restored Peter to leadership after the Resurrection, delivered the Sermon on the Mount, or lived in Peter’s mother-in-law’s home…was surreal. I know that there is quite a bit of doubt on all of these locations (the last actually has the most evidence), if not multiple locations — each with shrines or basilicas — claiming to be the one! But Melody Kraus & Bishop Huie both pointed to the way those places of worship — accurate & legitimate or not — link us into a long line of people who have followed T S Eliot’s dictum to “kneel here where prayer has been valid.” Perhaps the constant wear & tear of pilgrim feet have made these into truly thin places regardless of Jesus’ exact location for any of the events commemorated.

But the highlight of the day was standing on a boat deck early in the morning and reading the story of Jesus walking on the water to the disciples. After I shared a brief devotional with the group & we sang a song, a spontaneous quiet broke out and we just sat listening to the birds and watching the waves. Simply being on the water was the most powerful connection I could have imagined.

Tomorrow we visit Nazareth & several other sites related to Jesus’ early life. I look forward to the way in which I will be connected to the land and people more deeply and in ways unlooked for.

January 16 – landed at 9:00 am. Got off the plane and it was so good to stand and walk. Passport control was very easy – no problems. Bags were waiting and walked strait through nothing to declare customs. We were on the tour bus, on the road, in less than an hour from landing. First impressions – I’ve never been to a place where I didn’t even have a basic understanding of the alphabet. Certainly out of my comfort zone. The difference in security around the terminal – thick concrete barriers and very sturdy metal fences not chain link.

As we exited the terminal and got on the bus it was a Mercedes. Don’t know why that struck me but it did! As we make our way from Tel Aviv to Caesarea the basic geography looks a lot like my childhood home in California. Eucalyptus trees, mountains in the distance and palm trees.

I’m getting my first glimpse of the water of the Mediterranean Sea. I think about the number of times my father has been here. Except he was on a very different kind of tour. He wasn’t sitting on a Mercedes Bus he was sitting on an aircraft carrier. Still far from home and kids.

Caesarea was windy, cold and beautiful. History coming alive when you touch stones that are more than 2000 years old. When you walk the path of those you’ve never met only studied the connection is stronger yet. We leave Caesarea with pictures, memories and better understandings of the sacred texts.

Mt. Carmel lunch at a Druse family’s Coffee Bar & Restaurant. We had a choice of either a falafel or schnitzel in a pita with all you can eat salad. Salad isn’t just some romaine lettuce and tomato but colorful platters of peppers, tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers with spices, olives and mushrooms.

Heading to the monastery on top of Mt Carmel home of the Carmelites. Can’t help but think of Dr. Roberta Bondi, who when I asked her who they were she responded with nuns who eat carmels.

Our guide Miche tells us a lot. While standing on Mt. Carmel he told us that we miss a lot with the Hebrew names and some we just get plain wrong. For instance we say Elijah but it’s closer to Eli-Jehovah meaning ‘s my God is Jehovah or my God saves. Jezebel isn’t just a name but it Jeza- bel meaning the princess of bel. Names matter in Hebrew.

The view from Mt Carmel is spectacular! While surveying the land Miche shared that Moses – brings the law and Elijah – brings the spirit of the law. When Jesus was
baptized in the Jordan between where Moses & Elijah were he was really fulfilling the law. It struck me in such a profound way when looking at the physical space.

Our final stop before the hotel and much needed shower and rest was Meggido. What I learned is that I really need to learn more about Meggido and that they were incredible engineers. They developed an incredible water system. The women of the town went down every day outside the walls to get the water. It was a hike. I remarked to the Bishop that I would not have been a good woman in that time. She reminded the group and in turn me that there are women in developing countries such as Somalia or Sudan that still carry water and are at risk for rape or even death to provide their children fresh drinking water. We are very blessed!

About to meet with the group to discuss our day and eat dinner. I already took a shower and am looking forward to bed shortly after dinner is over. Thank you for all the prayers they have made such a difference.

Once our group of about 25 arrived in Newark, the most striking characteristic was the diversity of voices in the food court. Several different languages could be heard as we walked to our table; we passed a pilot was talking with his daughter. At the gate for Tel Aviv, we went through a unique additional screening at the gate, then quickly found ourselves boarding with many Orthodox Jews on our flight, wearing kippot or black suits & hats. After takeoff, as the beverage cart passed, the girl in front of me who was about the same age as my oldest son stood up in her seat to ask, “Abba, can I have seltzer?” just like he would have begged for root beer.

I usually don’t have a problem sleeping on international flights, but I was a bit more keyed up this time – I’m not quite sure why. Excitement? Too much reading of the State Dept’s travel advisories? Remorse at not brushing up on my Hebrew? Nonetheless, I finally succeeded in getting some shut-eye.

I awoke to the morning Mediterranean light streaming in through the windows. I could smell the coffee brewing, and Orthodox & Chabad men were huddled in their respective dress, praying. The requirement to remain seated & seatbelted once we entered Israeli airspace, as well as the varieties of prayer I could see from my seat, brought to mind our own small prayer time standing in the lounge at Newark, with Bishop Huie leading us in the traditional Wayfarer’s Prayer.

May it be Your will, LORD, our God and the God of our ancestors, that You lead us toward peace, guide our footsteps toward peace, and make us reach our desired destination for life, gladness, and peace. May You rescue us from the hand of every foe, ambush along the way, and from all manner of punishments that assemble to come to earth. May You send blessing in our handiwork, and grant us grace, kindness, and mercy in Your eyes and in the eyes of all who see us. May You hear the sound of our humble request because You are God Who hears prayer requests. Blessed are You, Adonai, Who hears prayer.

May we experience that peace, which passes all understanding, among everyone we meet this week. Amen.