Gethsemane, betrayal, politics, and grace...

Jerusalem!

One of the exciting things about travel is posing for those long anticipated "bucket list" photographs. You know, the one's you had in mind from the time you first imagined the trip. This tour was full with such "Kodachrome" moments and Jerusalem Day Two was no exception.

The Old City from the Mount of Olives is, of course, a classic image. Typically the shot is taken with a baking hot sun reflecting from the white buildings and the golden dome on the Temple Mount shimmering.

Jerusalem the Golden!

This day was cold, wet and breezy - but the city shimmered anyway.  So we got out of the bus, wrapped our jackets tight (it was the last time they'd be dry until we returned to the hotel) and took in the amazing panorama. It's easy to see the outline of the temple renovations Herod completed in 19 BC. So we wiped the rain from our lenses and tried to capture both the view and the emotions before making our way down to the Garden of Gethsemane.

The memory of Trees...

GARDEN: In Gethsemane a collection of gnarled ancient olive trees, some dating back to the time of Christ, reside in a walled garden adjacent to The Church of All Nations, also known as The Basilica of The Agony. The trees stand as silent sentinel to Christ's deliberate choice to love me beyond reason and beyond even hope. When I reached through the fence and touched the bark I imagined I sensed a lingering resonance, an echo of the imprint of the physical presence of Jesus. Or maybe it wasn't my imagination at all.

They went to a place called Gethsemane, and Jesus said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,” he said to them. “Stay here and keep watch.” Going a little farther, he fell to the ground and prayed that if possible the hour might pass from him. “Abba, Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” (Mark 14:32-36)

The Basilica of The Agony

Inside the basilica we found ourselves in a place of haunting beauty. The church is ornate in design, with elaborate paint and tile work. But it doesn't feature the gaudy bangles and hanging decorations so often found in the region. In consequence I found myself - naturally and gratefully - in a contemplative frame of mind.

I needed much more than the scant half hour or so to thoroughly engage the meaning and the emotional impact of Gethsemane, and so I left the church reluctantly, bound for our next destination but still, spiritually, in The Garden with Jesus.

And I wondered to myself as I boarded the bus, "Would we crucify Him today?"

And the answer was a hesitant but honest, "YES." And I'm sure that the most pointed resistance to Christ's challenging message would begin in the church that bears his name.

We saw a lot more that day, but this morning I can't break myself away:

• I can't break myself away from the Mount of Olives.
• I can't disengage from the memory of those ancient trees.
• I can't wrap my mind around the dishonor we do to the Spirit of Christ whenever we try to use the name of Jesus to advance our own, more cynical, agendas.
• I can't believe anyone would dare to manipulate this Jesus to advance their brand of politics.

And we betray Jesus still...

"Enough!" Jesus said. "The hour has come. Look, the Son of Man is delivered into the hands of sinners. Rise! Let us go! Here comes my betrayer!” (Mark 14:41-42)

And we betray Jesus still....

- DEREK

A visit with our sisters and brothers in Palestine

The wall casts a long shadow over Bethlehem

To get into Bethlehem our bus needed to negotiate a couple of checkpoints and then drive through a hole/gate/portcullis in an ugly grey wall topped with barbed-wire.

This wall dominates the landscape and likewise dominates the tone of life on the Palestinian side. It's impossible to drive through the wall and then not feel the reach of its shadow.

And the Palestinians - I have to get this out up front - are not, as one confused politician suggested, an "invented" people. The natives of this region have been "Palestinian" for the best part of a century. Fact is, even the Jews who were born in present day Israel before 1948 had the word "Palestine" printed on their birth certificates.

So we headed in to Palestine for two reasons. First, to visit the Church of the Nativity, built over the traditional site of the birth of Jesus. And then to attend a seminar at the Christian College and to encourage the Palestinian Christians, courageous believers who work for hope and peace and who present the Gospel of Love in the middle of chaos and despair.

Church of the Nativity

NATIVITY: Our guide had a good answer when someone asked, "How could we possibly know exactly where Mary and Joseph were the day that Jesus was born?"

Tradition alone, he pointed out, is typically a fairly good indicator when researching historical sites. First off, tradition is not arbitrary, there is usually good reason for multiple centuries of attribution, even if the documentation is long gone. More often than not, archeology ends up affirming or at least adding credibility to tradition.

The Church of the Nativity, he said, is built on more than tradition. A late 1st Century Roman emperor did historians a favor when he built a temple directly over the site the early church recognized as the birthplace of Christ. His purpose was to obliterate the location and strike a blow against the upstart religion, but the result was to leave future researchers a huge, monumental "X" marks the spot! After Rome's decline the temple was removed and the Church of the Nativity erected in its place.

St. Jerome

For us, however, the church, its gaudy excess, and the less than Christ-like demeanor of those who control the site (search "You-Tube" for videos of "brawling priests") was more symptomatic of the region's institutionalized angst than it was a spiritual destination. The most worthwhile moment was viewing the cell where St. Jerome (347-420) translated the Bible into the Vulgate.

Bryan, Rebekah, Lonita, Eric and the ankle

As we were leaving the church Rebekah - having just been yelled at by a priest for, well, being a woman - fell victim to the uneven paving and sprained her ankle. The fall brought our "family" together in prayer, but we honestly thought Rebekah was done for the remainder of the tour. We pretty-much carried her onto the bus and she had to sit out the balance of the day.

Palestinian Christian leaders

PRAY for PEACE: Anyone influenced by the political rhetoric that infuses much of American Evangelical dogma would have a hard time believing any Jesus-Followers live in Palestine. But bona-fide disciples do live and work here, and we had an interesting visit with the president and vice-president of the Bethlehem Bible College.

• Note: Sunday evening during my small group I explained the difference between "exegesis" (which means allowing scripture to inform our interpretation) and "isogesis" (which involves reading our preconceptions into the text). I then mentioned my concern with the way many Christians in the U.S. try to co-opt the church into conservative political dogma. 
• "That," my sharp-as-a-tack friend David Dale observed, "would be Ameri-gesis." Nice one, David.

We listened to many voices during our tour, but the good folk at the Bethlehem Bible College offered a perspective many in the group had never considered before. There is such sadness here; such frustration at the unwillingness of so many in the international community to speak up for an illegally displaced people; such a love for this conflicted land; such faithfulness to Christ's instruction in the way of peace.

They are a voice we simply cannot ignore.

"welcome to Jerusalem (NOT)"

And so we returned to Jerusalem, both more hopeful for Palestine and more fearful for the future of its people. And - as we approached the cold, grey wall - I felt the bus fill with unspoken prayer for the peace of the region, and out of compassion for our brothers and sisters in Bethlehem.

Amen - DEREK 

The Holy City... Serendipity... and Grace at the Western Wall

The Dome of the Rock on the Temple Mount

This is what the LORD says: “I will return to Zion and dwell in Jerusalem. Then Jerusalem will be called the Faithful City, and the mountain of the LORD Almighty will be called the Holy Mountain." - Zechariah 8:3

Our group arrived in Jerusalem at just the right time. We followed Moses from Egypt, through Sinai and to the Promised Land; then we walked with Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem. The thrust of the biblical narrative brings everything to a head in Jerusalem.

After Jerusalem, the New Testament suggests, the rest of the story is pretty much up to us. But we have to be willing to go to Jerusalem first. It was imperative for Jesus; it was pivotal for us.

All this and more!

We were tired, no surprise. So Rebekah and I were beyond grateful that our room for the next three nights turned out to be a significant upgrade. We got off the elevator, rolled our luggage to the appropriate room number, and then were a little confused to find the words "The Brown Suite" by the elegant entrance.

Rebekah went in first. This is our actual dialogue:

• Rebekah: "Derek... I think there's been a mix-up."
• Me: "Is there something wrong with our room?"
• Rebekah: "The opposite. Come take a look. They gave us a suite by mistake!"

So I followed her in and checked the place out. Sure enough, we had a luxurious suite with a sitting room, an office area and a palatial bath. There was a box of chocolates on the desk and a presentation gift basket of "Dead Sea Minerals" products.

• Rebekah: "What if someone finds out they goofed and they kick us out? We have to keep this quiet."
• Me: "Quick, let's eat the chocolates!"

The next day a beautiful arrangement of flowers showed up. Later, when I tried to pay for Internet access I was rebuffed with, "Room 542? Let me see... No charge at all, sir." Talk about a serendipity. All I've got to say is - along with the business class ride on Egypt Air - it's a good thing Rebekah and I don't buy into the whole slippery slope of "God's favor" theology. This would have pretty much launched us over the edge!

The Western Wall of the Temple

WESTERN WALL: Just one "Old City" story for today. Tomorrow we'll visit Bethlehem and talk about Palestine.

Some of you may remember my trip to Assisi in November. It's one of those "Thin Places" (Check out "A Thin Place Named Assisi"). I lit a candle in Assisi for my brother, Geoff, and brought back a carving of St. Francis for him. Well, as I walked down to the "Wailing Wall" I thought about the gravitas the place holds as a place of prayer, and my brother came to mind.

Prayer for my brother

The Western Wall is an especially holy place for the Jewish community because it's a part of the structure - stone upon stone - from the Temple before Jerusalem was destroyed in AD 70. This is as close to the ancient "Holy of Holies" as 21st Century Judaism can come.

Holy, Holy, Holy: So I approached the Western Wall with reverence, and I did the following three things:

1. I wrote a simple prayer on behalf of my brother, rolled it up, and located it carefully in the wall.
2. I borrowed a yamaka - יאַרמלקע - and prayed for Geoff with my hand on the wall, over the prayer.
3. I placed my own hat over the yamaka and "borrowed" the yamaka permanently, so that I could give it to my brother along with the story.

There's a yamaka under that hat!

Just like Assisi, this was a powerful moment. There is something special about these direct, physical connections to the eternal. Like the woman in the crowd who touched the hem of the garment Jesus was wearing, I too have been connected to grace.

It is the story of faith; it is the story of hope; it is the Greatest Story Ever Told.

Peace... Promise... and healing - DEREK

PS: You can visit my facebook page (friend me) to see a set of photographs to go with this story...

Channeling Paul: words from the amphitheater at Caesarea

Meggido and the Plains of Armageddon

From Nazareth we travelled to the ancient site of Megiddo. Megiddo is in the valley of Har Meggido, or (Anglicized) "Armageddon," the site of several historical battles.

The dig has revealed 29 layers, representing 29 civilizations, and the site is a textbook example for the state of the art of archeology. People lived at Megiddo from approximately 7000 BC to 586 BC. It has remained uninhabited since the time of the Jewish exile to Babylon.

Elijah sticking it to the Prophets of Baal

Our next destination was Mount Carmel, site of the famous "dueling prophets" story where Elijah taunted, defeated and destroyed the prophets of Baal.

It rained, the wind blew, the sun came out, the temperature dropped, and then it rained some more. The mountain makes for a spectacular setting, and it is easy to imagine the theatrical tone of the pivotal confrontation. I have always liked Elijah for his honesty, his hesitancy, and eventually his great courage. God was so patient with him, even when he felt sorry for himself and did his best to avoid taking God at his word.

aqueduct at Caesarea

DEREK channeling PAUL: Finally, and with the wind blowing hard off the Mediterranean Sea, we spent the afternoon at Caesarea Maritima, stopping briefly at the Roman aqueduct before spending an hour or so clambering around the amphitheater, the circus, and the ruins of the amazing palace the Roman governor occupied, right on the shore.

Back in Egypt, when Dr. Tuttle was assigning meditations to his students, he asked me to share something with the group when we came to Caesarea. It was here that Paul offered his defense of the Gospel to Governor Festus and King Agrippa.

Standing in the ancient amphitheater to speak, with the deep blue of the Mediterranean behind me and the towering clouds billowing, the scene struck me as surreal. I could feel the gravitational pull of history, the insistency of Paul's commitment to the Gospel, and my own constant search for the right words at the right time tugging at my spirit.

That's me, sharing some words in Caesarea Maritima

THIS IS WHAT I SAID: "Before reading the scripture from Acts 26, I'm going to offer a little background from the great drama that plays out over the preceding chapters:

1. Paul's message hits too close to home in Jerusalem. The religious authorities decide to clamp down.
2. The Romans don't want to see a citizen lynched, so they take Paul into protective custody, right here in Caesarea.
3. Governor Felix is pressured by the Jews but eventually passes the buck to the new guy, Festus.
4. Festus wants to make a good impression with Herod Agrippa. So the two of them get together and ask Paul to explain himself before passing him further up the food chain via an E.O. (the group we were traveling with) "eastern Med." cruise to Rome.
5. Paul gives Agrippa and anyone else listening his best "15-minutes of Jesus..."
6. Festus tells Paul he's crazy, but Agrippa is intrigued and challenged; "Almost persuaded" according to one translation.

Do you think that in such a short time you can persuade me to become a Christian?" Agrippa said. "Short time or long," Paul shot back, "I pray God that not only you but all who are listening to me today may become what i am, except for these chains..." (Acts 26:28-29)

Roman villa by the sea

"So yesterday, just before last light, I walked on the shore of the Sea of Galilee to think about this passage and to skim some stones. And here's what I'm thinking - as a writer, as a journalist, and as a passionate follower of the Way of Jesus.

"We meet people like Festus and Agrippa every day. We work alongside them, worship together, live in the same house, share the highway, stand in line at the store, volunteer with the P.T.A.... And I'm wondering what kind of story my life tells them?

"Does my life tell a story of love and clarity and light? How persuasive is the narrative? Do the twists and turns of the plot-line support - or call into question - the foundational premise of the Good News? Does my life story articulate with eloquence how startlingly wonderful it is to know and to love Jesus?

Taking in the history

"I thought about all of this, down by the Sea of Galilee, and I came to the conclusion that what Jesus wants is this: Jesus wants us to tell the truth about the love of God... simply by being.

"To tell the truth about the Gospel of Love, simply by being.

"Paul stood here - in this place - at the crossroads of history, and what he said was supported by the authority of a life lived as if everything Jesus promises is true. And it reminds me of something Paul wrote - later - to his friends in Philippi:

Shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the Word of Life. That way I can boast on the Day of Christ that I did not run or labor for nothing.

"I have this image of Paul, standing right here, holding out the Word of Life to Agrippa, and to Festus, and to anyone else listening. And here we are, January 11, 2012. Is the world we live in persuaded at all that what we're holding out to them is the real thing?

A beautiful day to on the edge of the Mediterranean

"So yesterday - just before the last of the light slipped behind the hills - I walked out on the shore of the Sea of Galilee to think about this scripture and to skim some stones on the water... and I wondered how far the ripples might travel...?"

I've got to tell you, speaking right there, in that setting and in the shadow of Paul, now that was something to remember  - DEREK

Nazareth and the consequences of love

On "The Precipice" outside Nazareth

If you read this blog on a regular basis (not just these travel features) then you know that I tend to write about what's going on in the here and now. This is, after all, my "Life-Charged Life: a journal of living like we mean it."

So I really can't skip the fact that I had my first ever root-canal yesterday. Long story short I woke up December 30 with the most excruciating tooth-ache I've ever experienced in my life. It was a Friday morning, and by the time I realized I needed help there was no way to see a dentist until Tuesday morning (it was New Year's weekend). So, Saturday morning, I went to the Walk-In clinic.

• "We're not a dentist's office," they said. "See your dentist Tuesday."
• "I'll be in Egypt by Tuesday," I said.
• "Oh..."

So I talked them into a course of antibiotics and some big pain pills and headed off to the Holy Lands with a throbbing abscess under my lower-left molar. Ouch.

Evidently my "Happy Pill" was already taking effect...

PAIN: Our trip was, as I've been saying continually, amazing. But the first week, and certainly until the anti-biotic got the infection under control, involved a huge amount of pain. But the fact of it, rather than spoiling the adventure, essentially heightened my awareness of the humanity we encountered.

I became pointedly aware of the absence of routine care in many of the places we visited. And I couldn't help but note the ubiquity of day-to-day suffering, and the unremitting challenge of being human in a world struggling to get just a toe-hold on a quality of life I take for granted.

Walking the path to Nazareth

Leaving The Galilee: And so back to the Great Adventure narrative. Our first stop when we left the Sea of Galilee was a walk in "The Valley of the Doves." The footpath we hiked was the ancient pathway from Nazareth to Capernaum and beyond.

I like to joke that we "Walked where Jesus walked but didn't sleep where he slept..." But it's no joke at all to realize that you are literally retracing the exact path the Lord must have followed countless times. I closed my eyes tight, listened to my footfall, and tried to imagine Christ's companionship on an all-day hike up to Nazareth.

Nazareth

Nazareth: We didn't spend any time in the city itself, but instead made our way to "The Precipice" on the edge of the town. That's where the picture that opens this post was taken. Look closely and you can see the rock I'm perched on. Beyond is the valley. The drop is precipitous. I wondered what it might have felt like to be dragged and hustled to that point by an angry mob; your life held in the balance because you dared to talk about the truth in your own home-town.

He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. He stood up to read... "The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners  and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor."... "Truly I tell you,” he continued, “no prophet is accepted in his hometown." ... All the people in the synagogue were furious when they heard this. They got up, drove him out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, in order to throw him off the cliff. But he walked right through the crowd and went on his way.

Rebekah, just trying to take it all in

As I stood there, overlooking the fertile plain, a jolt of pain shot from my jaw through my entire body. It may have been the cold wind working on the abscess and it may have been an urgent jab from the Holy Spirit. I couldn't help but think about the solid humanity of Jesus and about how he voluntarily placed himself, bodily, between me and the consequences of my rebellion against Love.

Jesus was doubtless roughed up on his way to this precipice. But he allowed himself to be treated thus. Jesus loved each member of that mob and he loved with the same passion and pain that he feels for me. And he always refused to anesthetize himself against the consequences of such love.

Jesus refused to anesthetize himself against the consequences of love.

Our group, listening to the scriptures exactly where the story took place!

EPIPHANY: Wow. That thought is a real epiphany. It must be time to stop writing and pray:

Jesus refused to anesthetize himself against the consequences of Love.

Thank you, Jesus, for loving with such a love. Thank you for refusing to do anything to lessen the impact of that love. Thank you for living.. and loving... and dying for me. Amen

Nazareth and the consequences of love

On "The Precipice" outside Nazareth

If you read this blog on a regular basis (not just these travel features) then you know that I tend to write about what's going on in the here and now. This is, after all, my "Life-Charged Life: a journal of living like we mean it."

So I really can't skip the fact that I had my first ever root-canal yesterday. Long story short I woke up December 30 with the most excruciating tooth-ache I've ever experienced in my life. It was a Friday morning, and by the time I realized I needed help there was no way to see a dentist until Tuesday morning (it was New Year's weekend). So, Saturday morning, I went to the Walk-In clinic.

• "We're not a dentist's office," they said. "See your dentist Tuesday."
• "I'll be in Egypt by Tuesday," I said.
• "Oh..."

So I talked them into a course of antibiotics and some big pain pills and headed off to the Holy Lands with a throbbing abscess under my lower-left molar. Ouch.

Evidently my "Happy Pill" was already taking effect...

PAIN: Our trip was, as I've been saying continually, amazing. But the first week, and certainly until the anti-biotic got the infection under control, involved a huge amount of pain. But the fact of it, rather than spoiling the adventure, essentially heightened my awareness of the humanity we encountered.

I became pointedly aware of the absence of routine care in many of the places we visited. And I couldn't help but note the ubiquity of day-to-day suffering, and the unremitting challenge of being human in a world struggling to get just a toe-hold on a quality of life I take for granted.

Walking the path to Nazareth

Leaving The Galilee: And so back to the Great Adventure narrative. Our first stop when we left the Sea of Galilee was a walk in "The Valley of the Doves." The footpath we hiked was the ancient pathway from Nazareth to Capernaum and beyond.

I like to joke that we "Walked where Jesus walked but didn't sleep where he slept..." But it's no joke at all to realize that you are literally retracing the exact path the Lord must have followed countless times. I closed my eyes tight, listened to my footfall, and tried to imagine Christ's companionship on an all-day hike up to Nazareth.

Nazareth

Nazareth: We didn't spend any time in the city itself, but instead made our way to "The Precipice" on the edge of the town. That's where the picture that opens this post was taken. Look closely and you can see the rock I'm perched on. Beyond is the valley. The drop is precipitous. I wondered what it might have felt like to be dragged and hustled to that point by an angry mob; your life held in the balance because you dared to talk about the truth in your own home-town.

He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. He stood up to read... "The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners  and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor."... "Truly I tell you,” he continued, “no prophet is accepted in his hometown." ... All the people in the synagogue were furious when they heard this. They got up, drove him out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, in order to throw him off the cliff. But he walked right through the crowd and went on his way.

Rebekah, just trying to take it all in

As I stood there, overlooking the fertile plain, a jolt of pain shot from my jaw through my entire body. It may have been the cold wind working on the abscess and it may have been an urgent jab from the Holy Spirit. I couldn't help but think about the solid humanity of Jesus and about how he voluntarily placed himself, bodily, between me and the consequences of my rebellion against Love

.

Jesus was doubtless roughed up on his way to this precipice. But he allowed himself to be treated thus. Jesus loved each member of that mob and he loved with the same passion and pain that he feels for me. And he always refused to anesthetize himself against the consequences of such love.

Jesus refused to anesthetize himself against the consequences of love.

Our group, listening to the scriptures exactly where the story took place!

EPIPHANY: Wow. That thought is a real epiphany. It must be time to stop writing and pray:

Jesus refused to anesthetize himself agains the consequences of Love.

Thank you, Jesus, for loving with such a love. Thank you for refusing to do anything to lessen the impact of that love. Thank you for living.. and loving... and dying for me. Amen