Finished week 3. Technically it’s the beginning of week 4 now, and I write this from my room in the Jerusalem office where I’ll spend the month of May. Then back to Beersheva for June and the first few days of July. Time is going quickly! The sometimes dodgy Internet connections have been a challenge in terms of keeping contact with folks at home. I think Jerusalem will be better. Thanks to all of you for your patience during my silence and delays.
This week was dominated by my time at the Sisters of Bethlehem convent in Deir Rafat in the Judean foothills near Jerusalem. I had been recruited as a warm body to help with the Hebrew-speaking Catholic youth (teenagers) camp that ran Monday through Thursday. This is during their long Passover break—the kids get three weeks off of school, kind of like our spring break.
Many of the kids had some or even pretty good English. However, all of the instruction was done in Hebrew, so I listened carefully to pick up a word here and there, and at times got fed a few translated directions. I was a stranger in a strange land, also not much accustomed to working with boisterous and emotionally charged teenagers. So the first while was spent just hanging around as a quiet presence, and assisting the other leaders where I could, and keeping the boys from doing any major damage—minor damage could be addressed at the leader’s discretion. Pick your battles.
The theme of the year-long 4-camp series is “Songs of Hope.” Featuring the local geography of the life of Jesus, four groups were created: Cana, Galilee, Nazareth and Jericho. Myself and Luca (a chemist originally from Milan) were the Cana leaders. Luca was the perfect teammate for me, very patient and so caring for both the youth and myself. Neither of us was the “policeman” type of leader, but the group did relatively well all the same. We were charged (like the other groups) to create an art poster of our location and all the images and storylines that belonged to it. Our group won the most votes for best poster—it was killer! Really, I was very impressed at the ability of each groups to think visually and bring those ideas into artistic reality.
Luca told me about the worldwide Christian community he is part of: ordinary men and women who take very serious private vows of obedience to their spiritual journey, lifetime chastity as single celibates, and a kind of communal poverty that allows for adequate personal possessions while considering carefully their stewardship and responsible distribution. This gave me a lot to think about.
Tuesday evening I got to lead a small group in my martial art. This was fun. It was something I knew and could feel somewhat confident in. It allowed me to relax a lot and enjoy leading a handful of kids in basic footwork and movement drills, plus one unarmed attack-defence combination. We drilled for about an hour, with everyone enjoying themselves in the new adventure. Any time spent without phone-in-hand is good, for both youth and adult.
Wednesday morning I made my way to the chapel during free time to join the sisters and a few others for morning prayer, all sung. Honestly, if their singing doesn’t convert the staunchest pagan, nothing will. I’ve been in music stuff since I was young, and have rarely if ever heard female voices used to such powerful effect.
Kham! Kham! Kham! (Pronounce the KH with that back-of-the-throat hard guttural gurgle.) “Hot! Hot! Hot!” Most days reached 40 degrees in the shade. One is never more thankful for stone-cold floors and the occasional cup of cold water! I told one of the youth that currently my hometown was 1 degree at sunrise. “Like, freezing?” he asked. “Yes.” “How can you even live?” “Thick socks.” For much of the year here, a jacket is clothing that rarely gets mentioned, let alone worn.
Wednesday was a unique day for me. I had certain strong inner thoughts very early in the day, and felt them only grow in intensity as the morning progressed and the day passed. Something significant. Something I’m still grappling with even as I write this. It felt like a moment that defined the before and the after. I had a nice chat with Father Michael from Haifa, who gave me wise and thoughtful feedback. We’ll see how this pans out.
Thursday the drive back home and the beginning of recovery. I mean a few extra naps to make up for lost sleep doing night patrol and being “on” every other waking moment. I was happy to return to the relative quiet of Beersheva, dog-walking and excellent chats with Father Roman. You know, if I had to fly halfway around the world just to be able to debrief my life with him, it was worth it.
The parish house has a clothes washer, but no dryer. Because it’s the desert. Put your wet clothes outside and in a few minutes they’re dry. Why does that water tap not run better? Because the outlet screen is full of sand. Empty it every now and then and you have full flow again!
Highlight: 1) Playing a game of pick-up-sticks, I learned a new word from the youth who would shout “zaz!” every time I bumped a stick. I get it: “zaz” means movement, budged, twitched. It’s neat to learn language that way. 2) I was trimming the hedge outside the parish later in the week when one older gentleman stopped me to ask, through a passer-by turned interpreter, if I would be willing to pull weeds in his garden, his hand indicating hip-high growth. Maybe there’s work for me here?
Thankful for: the sisters at the convent who don’t need to do anything to convince you of their goodness. Is it simply a product of time—lots of time—and wholehearted commitment? They spend all of their time in solitude, only coming together to pray. They eat together once per week, otherwise always alone. How in the world I can even begin to approximate their focus and clarity I’m not sure I’ll ever know. But I’m thankful I got to see it, and add it to my list of things to wonder about.
Pray for them: migrant families are granted temporary residency here as long as they or their kids are in school. But when school stops, so does their ability to stay in the country legally. Previously there were ways to earn residency, but not anymore. You can imagine how non-status kids who approach graduation are feeling about their future and the future of their families. I’m only just starting to consider their options.
Peace be with you. Chat again soon.
Photos: 1) a seven-foot-tall wall painting that welcomes every visitor to the Sisters of Bethlehem convent. 2) I’ll miss Shelleg (Snowy) and our daily walks together while I’m in Jerusalem. She’s finally free of her plastic medical cone while a sore healed on her leg, and much happier for it. 3) Socks (even thin ones) have become a somewhat forgotten item in my wardrobe these days.
