Day 3: Death and Resurrection

(This is reflection was written in two parts and are annotated in that way, it was also written yesterday, but I ran out of internet time to post. In a way it works out because it fits very well with today's post, enjoy)

I am frustrated.

I am challenged,

by the realities that exist here in the Middle East,

The realities that build walls rather than bridges.

I am challenged.

I am challenged by the cacophony of sounds that break the peace of silence

I am challenged by the silence that breaks the hopes of those not allowed to speak

I want hope.

I want peace.

Are prayers enough?

What will work?

Out my window I hear the prayer call of the Muslims,

Out my window I hear the church bells resounding

Out my window I hear the Holy Land

Where is the peace?

Where are the voices of those who have been silenced?

Where can we find peace?

Today has been a day filled with the challenges of the conflict of Palestine and Israel. As we stood at the foot of the Al-Aqsa Mosque, praying on the Southern Steps. In the same place where it is known fact that Jesus walked, to enter the Temple Mount, we stood there in prayer, we were watched by Muslims in the Mosque, peering through windows. Were they curious, where they upset, were they hopeful? My emotions have not been as evocative as they have until now, and it is these frustrations that have been building that leave me near tears now. Perhaps it is a combination of the tiredness, I get emotional when I am sleepy.

As we tried to cross back over to the Israeli side, coming back from Bethlehem, it was very clear that the Israeli Forces did not want to make it easy for us. Frustrations rose as we were made to wait, and were not spoken to, and when were spoken to, were spoken at very harshly. Why, because we were with Palestinians and Israelis together? God only knows what it was that held us up. But it became very clear to me that they do not make it easy for anyone to cross into Bethlehem, and that alone is a slow psychological form of oppression.

Lord, I beg you to please help me, rest my heart. Help me to be present to this moment, keep us safe, and please Lord, on this Easter day of Resurrection, I ask you to bring new life, bring your paschal mystery to this land, much in need of your love. Bring love and understanding to the people of the Middle East, and all those around the world, who have suffered from brokenness and lack of love. Help us to love, Amen.

(It was at this point I stopped writing and departed for the evening, the following is a reflection of what happened in the second part of the day)

Earlier today, I was experiencing a deep sense of desolation, struggles and inner turmoil with my own heart, my openness, and myself. I realized that my heart had not been as open to the moments of this trip as it needed to be. As we walked to dinner tonight, the realizations came to fruition through conversations with some of the teachers in our group. As we arrived at our dinner I knew exactly what I needed to do. My heart called me to the Western Wall. For all of dinner I fought back tears of emotion, for what, I cannot tell you exactly, but I know there was a lot going on there. Perhaps it was for all of the emotion that had been dwelling within me, desiring to come out at every Holy Site we have visited along this pilgrimage. So after dinner, a few teachers, Rabbi Hal (our guide and my good friend), and myself went to the wall. Along the way we encountered a Jewish woman. We engaged her in a very enlightening discussion on her personal views of the possibility of peace. Several of the things that she spoke brought me to tears, but I held back the flow. As we walked on to the wall or Kotel, as the Jews call it, all the emotion that I have been feeling for God knows how long began to surface. The moment my hand and head touched that wall, there was no more holding back. The flood of tears came running down my face, as all of my prayers went running up to God. Ironically, this Psalm that I had prayed earlier in the day fits so well with this experience. With God there are no accidents.

Psalm 137

By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept

When we remembered Zion

There on poplars we hung our harps,

For there our captors asked us for songs,

Our tormentors demanded songs of joy;

They said, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”

How can we sing songs of the Lord while in a foreign land?

If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand forget its skill.

May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth

If I do not remember you,

If I do not consider Jerusalem my highest joy.

It was a very deep and mystical experience that I won’t be able to explain. But I do know this. There is a power in prayer, and as I sat praying at the Kotel, at the foot of the Dome of the Rock, I felt that my prayers joined with the prayers of the Jews and the Muslims who pray in that same proximal space. I felt that my prayers were to serve as a bridge, connecting and binding us together. This is my hope, that I may be an instrument of peace, and a builder of bridges for a world divided. Will you be willing to help me, because I won’t be able to do it alone?

Peace and blessings to you on this most Holy day of Easter!