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Sunset :: Nahariya, Israel

As the sun sank into the sea, we began our Seder Meal.

 
It was worth getting up at 5am the next day to watch the moon start to set.

29-30 March 2010, Nahariya, Israel

Seder Meal #1

Colin and I along with two YAGM (Young Adult in Global Mission) volunteers packed up and drove out of town to Nahariya, Israel, which is just north of Haifa and just south of Lebanon.  We had been invited to a Seder meal and could not pass it up.  

A Seder meal takes place on the first or second night of Pesah (Passover) a 7 day holiday in Israel (8 for those in the diaspora) to commemorate the Exodus story.  It involves a highly planned meal, symbolic in each element, as well as a narration called the Haggadah, which retells God's famous intervention with the oppressors of the day: Egypt.  One marked sign of Passover is the lack of chameitz (leaven) in bread in Israel.  Exodus 12:15 is observed in trash heaps of burning Wonder Bread, whose aroma is a burnt offering of its own.  While some burn their bread, others give it away or use it up before sundown on the first day of Pesach.

Why the focus on unleavened bread? Two reasons: 

First, even before the first Passover, Israelites at this time in the calendar would gather all of their unspent grain and throw it out to both prepare for the new grain and to get rid of the grain that might have spoiled. 

Second, because the Israelites had no time to wait for their dough to rise before rushing out of Egypt and so they had to roll their dough before it was leavened into their kneading bowls, which they stored in their cloaks (Exodus 12:33-34).

We arrived just before the sun set into the Mediterranean Sea and were called to the table just as the sun was sinking down.

We gathered around the table and the Seder plate and began.

 

Traditionally, there are 6 bowls around the plate, each symbolic in meaning.

Beitzah: The Egg that starts the meal.  The egg represents mourning and life.  Traditionally the egg is the first thing that is served after a funeral.  But also the egg is something that can symbolize the beginning of life.

Charoset: coming from the Hebrew word for clay, it symbolizes the mortar bricks the Israelite slaves made in Egypt.  It is sweet, made with fruit, nuts and sweet red wine.

Maror (bitter herbs) and Horse Radish: keeps with Exodus 12:8, which says that they shall eat with bitter herbs.  We ate the Maror with the Charoset to taste the experience of Passover: Sweet and bitter.

Karpas: either parsley or celery that is dipped in salt water which symbolizes the tears of affliction cried by the Israelites as well as the water of the Red Sea, which had to be crossed.

Z'roa: is the Shank Bone or Chicken Neck, which points to the Pascal sacrifice in the Temple. 

On our plate we also had an orange, instituted by Susannah Heschel, to symbolize the fruitfulness of all Jews to include all marginalized people, particularly gay men and lesbian women who had been told previously that their presence was as if they put a slice of bread on the plate, see Exodus 12:15, linked to above. 

The meal is not a solemn event but one that rejoices greatly in retelling the story.  There are blessings, readings and retellings, meaning-makings and other narratives offered throughout the night.

One story that we heard was of the 10 plagues that struck Egypt.  We removed 10 drops of wine from our glasses not to celebrate the downfall of the Egyptians, but to mourn the pain they experienced.  When finished with the 10 traditional plagues, we turned to 10 contemporary ones, each time diminishing our wine.  

 

Trying the different foods:

 

Matzoh!

 

Gefilte Fish!
 

Let's not forget dessert!

  

Last but not least, our great hosts: Gila and Judy!

  
 

L'Chaim!

Palm Sunday in Jerusalem

We gathered at 9 a.m. for our regular liturgy at Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, though this Sunday the liturgy was anything but regular.  Sunday is a special day in the church known as Palm/Passion worship in which we re-tell the story of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem, riding on a donkey with shouts of Hosanna filling the air.  We began with a small procession and the perennial classic "All Glory, Laud and Honor."

All glory, laud and honor to you redeemer king, to whom the lips of children made sweet hosannas ring.

We retold the story and began the time known as Holy Week in the church in which we journey from shouts of "hosanna" (is a shout of praise that can be translated as "save now!") to cries of "crucify him" to the news of resurrection and the joy of Easter.

We couldn't help but remember celebrating a great Palm Sunday liturgy at Our Saviour's Lutheran Church in South Minneapolis.  The processional song still rings in our ears:

Jesus is coming, pave the way with branches, Jesus is coming Hosanna.  Hosanna, Jesus is coming. Hosanna! To the Prince of Peace.

One great surprise and gift his year has been in discovering (via Mary Shore) the work of Cheryl Lawrie over at Hold This Space.  I've since purchased her pocketbook liturgy, but this Palm Sunday sending out is a nice addition to the day.

Later in the day we gathered for the annual Palm Sunday processional from Bethphage to the Old City through the Garden of Gethsemane.  The AP story reported that there were hundreds of pilgrims who marched when in fact there were perhaps tens of thousands.  The story does quote two people I know, one from here and one pilgrim we just met, a pastor from San Luis Obispo. 

The march itself takes you down one steep hill and up another and is a gathering point for people from all nations to shout hosanna in the highest.  The mood was high and jovial, with smiles and joy abounding. I must confess that there wasn't anything that was overly spiritual for me, save for seeing many people from many lands singing and shouting Hosanna, but I was happy and thankful to be walking a similar route to the one Jesus took.  

I had the opportunity to practice some of my Kiswahili with some folks from Congo (where they don't necessarily speak Kiswahili) and a couple from Kenya.  We walked and talked from sisters and brothers from Italy, Egypt, Poland and the Philippines, just to name a few.  We saw some sisters from Mother Teresa's order of nuns.  We watched young people sing and dance their whole way down and back up the hills.  We carried palms as we walked past men and women carrying guns and weapons and prayed for peace in a land so distraught.  

Colin talking to a Franciscan brother from Italy

  

 

I'm not sure where they were from but they were very friendly!

 
 

Preaching, Me & Bobby McGee

 

As we do on Friday nights in Jerusalem, we gathered once again to watch American Idol and the results show. I would have never watched the show back home, but here...it's a, it's a...a lot of fun.

Tonight we watched Crystal Bowersox (tied as my favorite with Shioban Magnus) play some nice Janis Joplin: Me & Bobby McGee.  She was fantastic.  I've been listening to the song since I was 14 and riding in my dad's pickup down dirt roads in Northern Minnesota but tonight I heard it as a preacher and in a completely new way.

Me & Bobby McGee paints an image from the word go:

Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train

And I's feeling nearly as faded as my jeans.

Bobby thumbed a diesel down just before it rained,

It rode us all the way to New Orleans.

Written by Kris Kristofferson the song was originally performed by Roger Miller, but when Janis sings it, it's her and Bobby out on the road, busted flat and busted jeans, tired as the late afternoon sun.  I love the line "I's feeling nearly as faded as my jeans."

The story continues after getting picked up and heading out with a trucker across the US:

I pulled my harpoon out of my dirty red bandanna,
I was playing soft while Bobby sang the blues.
Windshield wipers slapping time, I was holding Bobby's hand in mine,
We sang every song that driver knew.

You can smell her bandana and see where it's faded over the years.  You can see the cracks in the truck driver's vinyl seats.  And you know it, without seeing or hearing it, the measure of time in windshield wiper slaps.

Of course the lines that get you and hook you in come in the chorus; you know it:

Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose,
Nothing don't mean nothing honey if it ain't free, now now.
And feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues,
You know feeling good was good enough for me,
Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee

Na na na na na na na na na...

Ours is a story painted in luxurious strokes of imagery but often told in stingy lines of illustrations and polyvalent points that don't find connection.  This song accomplishes in just a few words what we might hope to preach in our many and varied opportunities each Sunday: a coherent and real image.  So tonight I'm adding Kris and Janis to my growing collection of giants on whose shoulders we might stand, seeing them as my teachers.

Sunset :: Jerusalem :: Ash Wednesday

17 Feb 2010 :: Mount of Olives :: Jerusalem :: Sunset

Photos courtesy of Mark Holman

Sunset over Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives on Ash Wednesday.  Communion cups were set up in dirt and dust as we remembered not only that dust we are and to dust we shall return but also that there is life on the other side of death.

We ate root soup as inspired by Sara Miles' new book Jesus Freak:

The door is open, Anibal told the crowd, and God passes back and forth.  We're here because of our ancestors, the ones who go before.  We know we'll die too, but life itself goes on, God's body keeps breathing and we are part of that forever.  Then he fed us soup.

"There's some regular food too, but this is liturgical food, made from roots," he explained, handing me a bowl of the steaming, thick stew.  "Comes from the ground, where we're going.  At some point someone else is gonna eat root soup, and there will little molecules of Sara in it." [1]

The Avett Brothers provided me the best soundtrack for Ash Wednesday that day, including this jewel:

I want to fit in to the perfect space, feel natural and safe in a volatile place.  And I want to grow old without the pain give my body back to the earth and not complain. ...I want to have pride like my mama had and not like the kind in the bible that drives you mad. [2]

__________

[1] Sara Miles, Jesus Freak, page 138

[2] The Avett Brothers, I and Love and You, "Perfect Space".

+ Oscar Romero +

 

Today is Archbishop Oscar Romero's Saint Day.  A Saint Day is the Church's way to say that this is the anniversary of a person's death.  On March 24, 1980, 30 years ago to the date, Romero was assassinated while celebrating the Eucharist, more commonly known as Holy Communion. You can read more about him, here.

One of the lasts things he ever said is recorded in a book called The Violence of Love, which is a post-humous collection of his writings and speeches that have been translated into English.  It is a treasure.  I pull this out every year on this date in remembrance and honor of Archbishop Oscar Romero:

God's reign is already present on earth in mystery.  When the Lord comes, it will be brought to perfection. That is the hope that inspires Christians.  We know that every effort to better society, especially when injustice and sin are so ingrained, is an effort that God blesses, that God wants, that God demands of us. [1]

Eternal God, your love is stronger than death, and your passion more fierce than the grave.  We rejoice in the lives of those whom you have drawn into your eternal embrace.  Keep us in joyful communion with them until we join the saints of every people and nation gathered before your throne in your ceaseless praise, through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen. [2]

__________

[1] Violence of Love, p. 206

[2] A remembrance of the faithful departed taken from Evangelical Lutheran Worship, page 82

Hymn #101 :: Joe Pug :: John Woolman

I learned of Joe Pug thanks to Nina Joy, who has excellent and frugal tastes in music, meaning, she doesn't buy anything she doesn't love and she doesn't follow the winds of consumptive and competitive listening.  This is a compliment and something I quite admire.  

Per Nina's suggestion, I've been listening (on repeat) to Joe Pug's song "Hymn #101" from an EP titled Nation of Heat.

I can't listen to it without thinking of the saint and mystic + John Woolman + who was instrumental in beginning the deconstruction of the system of slavery in the United States.  He called slavery "the kind of ownership that is ready to walk over dead bodies." Dorothee Soelle notes "Slavery is the radical, most gruesome consequence of the craving for possessions." [1]

Woolman believed and endeavored to explain that hunger for possessions causes deadly harm to both rich and poor alike and that "oppression destroys both oppressor and oppressed."  He wondered if "the seeds of war have any nourishment in our possessions or not." 

Dorothee Soelle notes that Woolman did not want to profit from kindnesses that were "the gain of oppression."  He refused to ride in carriages because he knew how poorly both crew and horses horses were treated.  He refused to wear clothes that were dyed because those who had to dye it were often slaves in the West Indies who were exposed to poisonous vapors and brutal exploitation.  

Joe Pug's lyrics strike a resonance or echo with John Woolman especially these stanzas:

and i've come to meet the legendary takers

i've only come to ask them for a lot

oh they say i come with less

than i should rightfully possess

i say the more i buy the more i'm bought

and the more i'm bought the less i cost

and i've come

to take their servants and their surplus

and i've come

to take their raincoats and their speed

i've come to get my fill

to ransack and spill

i've come to take the harvest for the seed

i've come to take the harvest for the seed

and you've come

to know me stubborn as a butcher

and you've come

to know me thankless as a guest

will you recognize my face

when God's awful grace

strips me of my jacket and my vest

and reveals all the treasure in my chest

While possessing less than one is rightfully owed creates a misfit in society, Pug sings "the more I buy the more I'm bought and the more I'm bought the less I cost."  At what point do our possessions possess us? I'm far past it but perhaps not without hope of detachment from things.

I recently watched and now recommend a short movie called The Story of Stuff.  It's right on our impulse of consumption and the vicious cycle of working, shopping, eating, etc. 

Earlier in the chapter on Possession and Possessionlessness, Soelle explores the life of + St. Francis of Assisi + and his marriage to Lady Poverty.  About him and his conversion she writes, "Love, every love, renders one naked."  Being stripped of jacket and vest is not negative but life giving and transforming.

______________

[1] Dorothee Soelle, The Silent Cry: Mysticism as Resistance // chapter 13 Possession and Possessionlessness.

Clouds :: For the Time Being

Why date clouds?  Why write about clouds? Why not!  It's quite impossible for me to say that I'm re-reading Annie Dillard's For the Time Being as it is constantly being opened and read in brief pericopes as interest and insight open my mind.  The book is 204 pages divided into seven chapters, each of which divided into 10 trains of thought:

Birth + Sand + China + Clouds + Numbers + Israel + Encounters + Thinker + Evil + Now

It is a treasure that asks hard and honest questions of God and faith and existence as it examines the vast universe and the singular life.  Can one life matter?  Annie Dillard writes, resoundingly, YES.  Facing death as an inevitability (our human condition), does it render daily and fleeting things, such as clouds, as useless?  No, their value and meaning are increased.  She writes:

Digging through layers of books yields dated clouds and near clouds. Why seek dated clouds? Why save a letter, take a snapshot, write a memoir, carve a tombstone?

Annie Dillard, For the Time Being, p47

same sunset, different vantage points, time stamps

 

sunset 06 March 2010
Tel-Aviv/Yafo, Mediterranean Sea

Sharpeville Massacre :: 50th Anniversary

Sunday marks the 50th anniversary of the Sharpeville Massacre in South Africa.  On 21 March 1960, tens of thousands of Africans gathered across South Africa to peacefully protest the pass laws that stifled movement. Thousands of blacks left their pass books at home and gathered at the local jail to demand arrest.  Shots were fired.  In two minutes 69 people were shot dead.  Most of them from the back, running away.  Most of them were women and children.  Some of them were bystanders.  All were innocent.  Read more about it in Time Magazine's 7 April 1960 article.

It was a turning point of sorts for South Africa.  After Sharpeville, black political parties were banned and those organizing resistance (including Nelson Mandela) were jailed or banned themselves.  Political parties went underground and formed armed wings that shifted resistance towards violence.  Beyers Naude, an Afrikaaner pastor who, for 20 years theologically justified Apartheid, could no longer support his church.  he became a witness and advocate for peace in South Africa.  The documentary "Cry of Reason" gives an account of his conversion that began some years before but which was sealed when he realized that the victims were shot "mostly from the back, from the side."  His chilling re-telling of the events continues to be a thin and much grieved place for me.  At another point in the documentary, Naude welcomes Archbishop Desmond Tutu into his home.  Tutu had come to pray with Naude when he was banned or cut off from the outside world.  Great affection and respect between those two incredible men.  Delightful.

God bless + the memory of the victims of the Sharpeville Massacre and all those whose names will never be known by history.  May we be people of peace and justice.  Where fear binds us, loosen us and release us to our neighbors. Help us to love and pray for our enemies.  Grant that such violence does not come by our hands.  May we stand up for justice and witness to peace.  Lord in your mercy...