Experiencing unity and division

Church this morning was at the Anglican (Episcopal) Cathedral of St George in East Jerusalem, on the Arab side of the city. Just a couple of blocks away, the wall marks the boundary with the Palestinian West Bank. Walking towards the Old city from the Cathedral, you travel along a busy street, lined with Arab shops and market stalls, and after passing into the Old City through the Damascus Gate, you find yourself on the boundary between the Muslim Quarter on the left and the Christian Quarter on the right, though there is no visible difference between the two.

Mostly at home, when we hear about Israel, we hear about Jewish Israelis on the one hand and Muslim Palestinians on the other. But rarely do we hear about the people caught in between: the 170,000 or so Palestinian or Arab Christians, like Isaac, who owns a shop near the Cathedral. Isaac is Israeli; he also happens to be Arab and Christian. His parents' home was in West Jerusalem, now a Jewish area; after the 1948 war they were forced to move east. When the wall dividing the West Bank from Israel proper was built, Isaac's home ended up on the wrong side. It's only two blocks from his shop, but is behind the wall. He has had to make a choice - live in his home, and forgo his Israeli identity and his livelihood, or keep his shop and live with his wife and children in one room in the Old City. He has chosen the latter, and so his home lies empty and may eventually be bulldozed.

This morning the Eucharist was celebrated in two languages. At times it alternated between English and Arabic. The sermon was preached twice, once in each language. We sang the hymns and said the responses in our own languages, English and Arabic simultaneously. And at for end, we went into the parish hall for cake and Turkish coffee. It was truly a taste of the time to come when, as Isaiah says, "On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well aged wines..." (Isaiah 25:6). Pray for our brothers and sisters in the Middle East, and for the peace of Jerusalem.

The Rev. Dr. Raewynne Whiteley

At the Western Wall

Young soldiers, women included, in the Israeli military, are patrolling right by the Western Wall in Jerusalem. Every Israeli citizen is required to serve in the military.

At Saint George's College

We were present for services and the coffee hour following at Saint George's College, Jerusalem. Saint George's is an institution of the diocese of Jerusalem.

Top two photos: meeting fellow Anglicans after the service.
Middle: the interior of Saint George's Chapel.
Bottom: the exterior of Saint George's.

You can learn more about Saint George's history and the purpose it serves today at their website: http://www.sgcjerusalem.org/

Learning in Israel

As we travel through Israel, we learn a little about the people who live here. We learn about Israelis, Israeli Arabs, Kibbutzim, and bedouins. The Israeli Arabs call themselves Palestinians. The three major religious affiliations are Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. Most Christians are in Jerusalem and are Armenians, Coptic, Russian Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Romanian Orthodox.

Our journey south from the lush vegetation in Galilee to the arid desert in the south was a contrast in climate and in culture. As we headed to Bethlehem we passed Bedouins living in tents along the road and learned of their radical hospitality to friend and stranger. While passing the Palestinian town of Jericho we learned that the wealthier Arabs live in Galilee and the poorer ones live in Bethlehem and Jericho.

As we approached Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus, our guide informed us that he and the driver would not be able to enter the town because they were Israeli. They both disembarked at the border and an Arab driver boarded the bus and drove us through the checkpoint into Bethlehem.

The border crossing was just wide enough for the bus to enter. There were armed guards and a steel reinforced concrete wall that was at least 30 feet high, and a sign that announced that Israeli citizens were not permitted to enter. I felt a twinge of guilt because as an American I was permitted to enter Bethlehem. Had we betrayed our guide and driver by entering this place? That sign could have easily said "no blacks or jews" or ...(fill in the blank).

This experience caused me to reflect on the diversity of our group and of our diocese. In Long Island, we are rich and poor and everything in between. We are multi-ethnic, multi-racial, multi-cultural, multi-national... We are many people, yet one diocese.

What can we learn from Israel? The most important lesson is that walls, physical or emotional, do not solve problems. We do not belong to Paul, or Apollos, or a priest, or a parish. We don't own anything; we are stewards. What will be our legacy?

The Rev. Karen Davis-Lawson

Humbly I adore thee . . .

One of the first things that strikes you as you enter the city of Jerusalem through the Lion Gate is the golden glow that emanates from the buidlings. It's simply light falling on the sand-gold limestone that the buildings are made of, but it almost seems as if the city itself has a halo, inviting you to reverence and worship.

As we walked the Via Dolorosa today, I was struck by the multiple forms of reverence shown throughout the ages and even today. In the Crusader church of St Ann, our voices resounded long after we stopped singing, the echoes revoicing our praise. A jumbled pile of large crosses by the ninth station bears testimony to the Friday tradition of carrying a cross while following in the footsteps of our Savior. In a small church, an Ethiopian priest kept vigil, wrapped in a traditional shawl of black with maroon stripes. And in the church of the Holy Sepulcher, women in headscarfs chatted loudly to one another, black-clad Orthodox priests lined the route of a procession, people knelt and kissed the holy places, others lit candles and offered them in prayer, and still others stood in reverent silence.

Reverence lies in the act of worshipping or paying homage to Christ. We do it when we sing and when we pray, when we genuflect or make the sign of the cross, even when we dress in our Sunday best. And yet each of these can become perfunctory, habitual actions that have lost their essential connection with our Savior. It's at times like these that being exposed to other, less familiar forms of reverence invites us to a new experience of worship and awe.

The Rev. Dr. Raewynne Whiteley

Bishop and Mrs. Provenzano

Overlooking the city of Jerusalem.

They're everywhere!

"It ain't the heat, it's the humility." ~ Yogi Berra