Sunday, May 23, 2010

Location: Ibillin, Nazareth, East Jerusalem

The morning at Mar Jawajis

We woke up to another meal prepared by Asmahan, the lovely woman making our meals at MEEI, pondering the church service we were about to attend.  Matt had informed us that the church was a Melkite Greek Catholic Church, which had a new set of rituals and customs to look forward to: the altar and sacrament being only accessible by the priest and laymen, and icons adorning the walls.  We decided to walk the short distance to the church which was two directions, uphill or down hill, and we walked into the sanctuary, fans wizzing, the white walls being overshadowed by the sunlight from the windows, and a wooden alter space separating the actual altar from the congregation.

I found out from a young boy with the words "ke pasa" on his shirt (a short hand version for "whats up" in Spanish) that the name of the church was Mar Jawajis. The church bell was rung for a good minute, and as the service which was entirely conducted in Arabic started, families flowed in through the door.  It was a new image of Palestinian life, women in fancy blouses, children meandering and screaming throughout the liturgy, even some of the students we met at MEEI on Friday were there, pleasantly surprised to see us again! We were able to pick up some words shifted to the Arabic pronunciation such as "Ameen" and "Kyrie Eleiisoon" and "Haleluia".  At first the most we were able to participate in the church was standing up and sitting down, but Micha invited us to communion, which was delivered strait from the fingers of the priest.

But what really gets our goat is how adorable the children were.  They gave a mini concert for everyone staying after the service, complete with the mothers motioning the hand movements, and handing out cake for everyone to enjoy.  Cake with jello in it, something worth trying to make once we get back home, which, very few of us are thinking about.

Church of the Annunciation and Mary's Well

Mount Precipice

Continuing toward Jerusalem, we stopped again just outside of Nazareth at Mount Precipice. While its name might not sound familiar, its significance will most likely ring a bell.  It is the traditionally held site at which Jesus preached his first and controversial sermon (as he often did) in his hometown of Nazareth. After quoting Isaiah, Jesus reflects on Jewish history and says: "Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in that prophet's hometown."

For Jesus, this particular moment on the mount was one that nearly took his life. The crowds were so angered and stirred that they pressed Jesus to the edge of the mount (Luke 4:16-30). And let me tell you, this mount was no rounded hilltop; the steep edge drops mostly straight down 1,300 feet. However, for our group this afternoon, this site was filled with laughter, joy, and many posed pictures on the stones around the edge. It was truly a wonderful, life-giving time. But as we returned to the bus and continued on toward Jerusalem, the irony of our experience on this mount in comparison to Jesus' experience as well as many of those currently living in this region was painfully clear.  Once again, the paradoxical and contradictory nature of our trip forced us to wrestle with reality. Just as Luke records that Jesus was rejected in his hometown, so it seems that many, some of whose ties to this land (Israel) goes back hundreds, even a thousand plus years, have been rejected in their hometowns as well. It is extremely heavy and difficult to wrestle with the delight of visiting "holy sites" - holy stones - and the reality of the state of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. After visiting numerous "holy sites" and cities thus far, there is one thing that I know for sure: these stones have voices, and this land has a story; it didn't end after the Biblical time period, and it yearns for the world to listen. While the sites are beautiful and the views from their outlooks often majestical, this is perhaps the most inspiring and significant thing I have learned along my journey through Israel thus far.

East Jerusalem stuff

"Is that it?"

"Is what it?"

"The Dome. It's right there."

As our portly white minibus speeds along the highway coming into East Jerusalem, we can see a glittering gold dome off in the distance. It seems so surreal that this place I've only seen in videos and pictures actually has a longitude and latitude, that it can be touched and worshipped upon. There are people that can look out of their windows every morning and see it. And currently, it is fading out of the edges of our rearview mirror as we barrel through the winding streets of East Jerusalem.

We eventually grind to a halt in front of a falafel sandwich stand, where we loiter, gnoshing on our stuffed pitas for almost a half an hour. There are two teenage boys leaning against a car near the stand, watching us eat. We lock eyes a few times, but I have no way to communicate with them to know what they are thinking about this rowdy group of American twenty-somethings. Surprisingly, we get to meet our driver Said's children, who came to visit us at the stand. I think that our entire group was enamored with his little girls and interested to meet the family of the man that has been transporting us through this country.

After we drop our bags into our rooms at the East Jerusalem Hotel Alcazar, we decided to take a jaunt around the city. East Jerusalem streets are narrow and steep filled with cars, fruit stands bursting out onto the sidewalks and curious eyes that followed our group's progression. We made our way down to the old city, walking along 500 years old walls to the gigantic arched entryway. Despite everything being closed, this city seems constantly over-stimulated and alive. We wandered along its streets well into the night.

The city lights from the rooftop of our hotel were so beautiful tonight; our group is excited to meet these houses inhabitants tomorrow. Good night from Jerusalem.