October 24, 2010
Day two started off intense and just progressed all day, though full of fun and very enjoyable, and oh so fascinating! But then, everyday there is something that fascinates me. The first stop of the morning were the Cliffs of Arbel overlooking the sea of Galilee and the Plain of Gennesaret. We stood on top taking in the drastic changes in landscape, down the cliff face, across the plain to the hills and mountains beyond, or the opposite direction down into the sea and into the rift valley. It was so beautiful. A vast view of a land fought over by empires, where fishermen grew to be great men, and a king undercover traveled, teaching and healing. It was a place the Prophets called “land of the Gentiles”, an odd phrase for a time when only Israelites worshiping the lord lived there. But a very fitting phrase around the time of Jesus, with a mixture of Jewish, Roman, Assyrian, Egyptian, Phoenician, and Canaanite influences. All of these blending from past into present to create a mash of ideas and cultures.
After climbing down the cliff and scrambling through the cave houses in the face of it, we progressed around the lake talking about and visiting places like Nazareth, Cana, Hazor, and Bethsaida. We also discussed stories that took place in these areas from both Old and New testament time periods. The ones that really stood out to me were the stories about Jesus and what his life as a man might have been like based on what we know from archeology, culture, and how people interacted with one another. For example, what was the wedding in Cana like for Jesus? For one, it can probably be assumed that Jesus and his family were close to the family whose house the wedding was at. Mary obviously felt comfortable taking over when things got hairy and Cana is visible across the Bet-Netofa Valley from Nazareth where Jesus grew up. It might have been a slightly awkward day for Jesus since he was around 30, the oldest son, and yet unmarried himself. We will never know for sure. However, it was interesting for me to all the sudden have a more human perspective of Jesus.
Other ideas did as well. For instance, Jesus earthly father Joseph was a carpenter. However, this does not mean he worked only on wood making furniture and such. He would have been a specialist in areas such as stone, metal, and leather in addition to wood. These “carpenters” as we call them, would have been more like engineers, architects, designers and builders of structures and houses. A construction guy that also helped design what he was building. This was the trade Jesus learned and likely practiced. Jesus was considered a Rabbi, but these guys had jobs in society as well as being trained in Torah. Several known rabbi’s had jobs like digging ditches, or fishing. Jesus also probably had a job in society, although we aren’t really told details of this part of his life in scripture. Considering the multi-cultural communities he was living and working in, we can probably assume he also spoke at least 3, maybe 4 languages. That sounds like a lot, but even in modern Jerusalem, most of the shop keepers speak 4 or more, no problem.
All these things and more have given me a new perspective on Jesus the human, not the incarnation of God. Although they are one in the same, we rarely go into detail about the human aspect except to say, “oh he was human so he understands what we go through.” I always thought that was a silly line. What exactly does he understand? What were the pressures he felt as man, as the oldest son, as a provider for his family? We can never really no for sure but based on what we do know, about life and culture and history, people and societies interacting, we can make some pretty good guesses. I feel like I caught a glimpse of the Jesus as a man, and feel like I have a little bit better understanding (though still extremely limited) of who he was on earth and why he came, what he did, how he lived, and the challenges he faced in human form let alone as God on earth. It makes his struggle in the garden more clear to me…human, physical desires with a heart pumping God. It all the sudden seems like such a strange and incredibly difficult combination to live with. I used to think Jesus was heartless in a way on earth, doing what he had to do because he had to with no passion, no love for his family. But today I got to see that passionate side of him, that side that loved his mother, loved his disciples, like I love my parents and sisters, grandparents and cousins and friends. I can’t imagine having that much love for them, and knowingly and willingly have to leave them or do the things Jesus did. Too many thoughts exploding in my head to fit them on one page.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Images from Galilee, Day 1
Well all, it has been a long and amazing weekend. After 4 days in Galilee and the surrounding regions my head is full of information and aching to be regurgitated onto a page, and that's what you get. However limited the information might be, there is not space and I am struggling to find time to put all these thoughts into words. I took lots of pictures though! And per demand, from 1 or 2 people, I will try get a few on facebook, and include a few here. If my computer and the internet agree to cooperate.
So, thoughts from day 1 and a few of the places we stopped at and talked about...
October 23, 2010
Our first stop on the Galilee field study was Caesarea, a harbor along the northern part of Israel’s coast. It was built by Herod the Great as a port city and like his other architectural endeavors, magnificent. A proud, charismatic man, Herod hated being outdone and rarely was there anybody before our after able to compete with him. He built Caesarea in a harsh, previously unoccupied area, enabling him to claim the full credit for taming this section of Coast. It became the key port for Israel, rivaling that of places like Alexandria in Egypt, or Athens in Greece. Herod built it in a way that showed his loyalty to Rome. Those who landed there experienced a “home away from home”, surrounded by mosaics, pillars, and structures pumping full Roman air. Although Herod loved to built large magnificent complexes to illustrate how powerful, cultural, wealthy and Roman he was, the port of Caesarea severed another purpose. It enabled Herod to have control of both the regions of Galilee and Judah, as opposed to Joppa which was too far from Galilee and Acco, (one of the only Natural ports in Israel) which was too far from Judah and Jerusalem. Caesarea provided a perfect middle ground. The sand dunes receded a bit allowing access from the hills to the coast, and was unoccupied allowing Herod to fully take over and do or build anything he wanted having full control. It is a beautiful site. The ruins of once beautiful buildings going right up to the water. Herod even had a fresh water pool built into the ocean surrounded by a wall. There is a theatre, a Hippodrome, an Amphitheatre, a man made harbor secured to the ground beneath the sea with cement that hardens underwater, palaces, sarcophagus’, and all kinds of other treasures.
Two other important New Testament characters also went to Caesarea. One of them was named Peter. Some things about Peter: although he was a disciple of Jesus, Peter was still kosher, still followed the Jewish customs to a large extent. He was from the area of Galilee and had lived and worked there most of his life. Even in his travels with Jesus he had rarely left the hill country. The hill people feared the coast, the ocean. It was an untamable, uncontrollable beast waiting to eat them. Not only that, but that area was very gentile by Peter’s time, full of un-kosher Hellenists from across the sea. So in Acts when Peter is called Joppa, imagine how uncomfortable he must feel. He far away from anything familiar surrounded by people who are not even followers of Christ let alone kosher Jews. I know I would feel awkward. Then on top of that he gets called even deeper into Gentile land with a summoning from a Roman general named Cornelius. Peter goes there and enters Cornelius’ house, something a kosher Jews wasn’t supposed to do. There is more to the story, about why Peter went. I just want you to think about, like I have been, how strange it must have been for Peter to suddenly have the rules change and how he must have felt. Yet there he went, for the sake of the people, and because the Lord commanded him. Imagine a small fisherman, taken out of his small environment and sent into the most uncomfortable place he could go farther away from home than he had probably ever been. The full story is in Acts 9 and 10 if you want to read it.
The second character was Paul. His story is quite different from Peter’s. Also a kosher Jew, Paul (or Saul at that point) had been raised in a bi-cultural community in place similar to that of Caesarea near the coast, taught in the synagogues, knew multiple languages, and was legalistically religious following Jewish culture. Unlike Peter he was familiar with the sound of the sea and culture of Rome, even being a Roman citizen. After Paul’s conversion and many years of ministry he is arrested and take to Caesarea as a prisoner to await a ship that would take him to Rome. Here he stayed for two years listening to the sounds of the ocean, writing, and defending himself to those around him, always preaching the gospel.
The point is this. Here are two different men, one a fisher man, unexposed to much of the world outside of his little lake, one a bicultural, bilingual, Jew from the coast. Both had been prepared in different ways to reach “Jerusalem, Judah and Samaria, and the end of the earth”, which for Paul extended even further. And both did in spite of the discomfort and frustrations that accompanied their activities.
The Harbor at Caesarea.
My Professor, Dr. Wright, sitting where Paul probably sat as a prisioner in Caesarea
Herod's Aqueduct taking Water to his new port city at Caesarea.
A view of the Jezreel Valley from Mt. Carmel.
So, thoughts from day 1 and a few of the places we stopped at and talked about...
October 23, 2010
Our first stop on the Galilee field study was Caesarea, a harbor along the northern part of Israel’s coast. It was built by Herod the Great as a port city and like his other architectural endeavors, magnificent. A proud, charismatic man, Herod hated being outdone and rarely was there anybody before our after able to compete with him. He built Caesarea in a harsh, previously unoccupied area, enabling him to claim the full credit for taming this section of Coast. It became the key port for Israel, rivaling that of places like Alexandria in Egypt, or Athens in Greece. Herod built it in a way that showed his loyalty to Rome. Those who landed there experienced a “home away from home”, surrounded by mosaics, pillars, and structures pumping full Roman air. Although Herod loved to built large magnificent complexes to illustrate how powerful, cultural, wealthy and Roman he was, the port of Caesarea severed another purpose. It enabled Herod to have control of both the regions of Galilee and Judah, as opposed to Joppa which was too far from Galilee and Acco, (one of the only Natural ports in Israel) which was too far from Judah and Jerusalem. Caesarea provided a perfect middle ground. The sand dunes receded a bit allowing access from the hills to the coast, and was unoccupied allowing Herod to fully take over and do or build anything he wanted having full control. It is a beautiful site. The ruins of once beautiful buildings going right up to the water. Herod even had a fresh water pool built into the ocean surrounded by a wall. There is a theatre, a Hippodrome, an Amphitheatre, a man made harbor secured to the ground beneath the sea with cement that hardens underwater, palaces, sarcophagus’, and all kinds of other treasures.
Two other important New Testament characters also went to Caesarea. One of them was named Peter. Some things about Peter: although he was a disciple of Jesus, Peter was still kosher, still followed the Jewish customs to a large extent. He was from the area of Galilee and had lived and worked there most of his life. Even in his travels with Jesus he had rarely left the hill country. The hill people feared the coast, the ocean. It was an untamable, uncontrollable beast waiting to eat them. Not only that, but that area was very gentile by Peter’s time, full of un-kosher Hellenists from across the sea. So in Acts when Peter is called Joppa, imagine how uncomfortable he must feel. He far away from anything familiar surrounded by people who are not even followers of Christ let alone kosher Jews. I know I would feel awkward. Then on top of that he gets called even deeper into Gentile land with a summoning from a Roman general named Cornelius. Peter goes there and enters Cornelius’ house, something a kosher Jews wasn’t supposed to do. There is more to the story, about why Peter went. I just want you to think about, like I have been, how strange it must have been for Peter to suddenly have the rules change and how he must have felt. Yet there he went, for the sake of the people, and because the Lord commanded him. Imagine a small fisherman, taken out of his small environment and sent into the most uncomfortable place he could go farther away from home than he had probably ever been. The full story is in Acts 9 and 10 if you want to read it.
The second character was Paul. His story is quite different from Peter’s. Also a kosher Jew, Paul (or Saul at that point) had been raised in a bi-cultural community in place similar to that of Caesarea near the coast, taught in the synagogues, knew multiple languages, and was legalistically religious following Jewish culture. Unlike Peter he was familiar with the sound of the sea and culture of Rome, even being a Roman citizen. After Paul’s conversion and many years of ministry he is arrested and take to Caesarea as a prisoner to await a ship that would take him to Rome. Here he stayed for two years listening to the sounds of the ocean, writing, and defending himself to those around him, always preaching the gospel.
The point is this. Here are two different men, one a fisher man, unexposed to much of the world outside of his little lake, one a bicultural, bilingual, Jew from the coast. Both had been prepared in different ways to reach “Jerusalem, Judah and Samaria, and the end of the earth”, which for Paul extended even further. And both did in spite of the discomfort and frustrations that accompanied their activities.
The Harbor at Caesarea.
My Professor, Dr. Wright, sitting where Paul probably sat as a prisioner in Caesarea
Herod's Aqueduct taking Water to his new port city at Caesarea.
A view of the Jezreel Valley from Mt. Carmel.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Southern Israel day 3
October 11, 2010
What can be said after such a day. There are few words: wild, crazy, amazing, strange, beautiful. These places we go have connections with what we believe. The things discovered here and there alter perceptions, on scripture and the life described there, stories told there. Wild: standing on Masada looking around and imagining Herod building his palaces, the luxury once furnishing it (that requiring a lot of imagining). Crazy: the story Josephus told about Jews committing suicide to remain free from Rome. Amazing: seeing the lowest place in the world and standing next to it and in it. Strange: imagining a scrolls and scrolls of scripture being found in clay jars buried in caves in the middle of nowhere. Beautiful: all of it!
I must admit though, I was struck by a thought as I stood in the dead sea watching people float around looking like they were laying on rafts or mats. I thought it was beautiful, the salt on the rocks forming crystals, the blue of the water, the color of the mountains behind the water: gold and cream, the blue in the sky and the brilliant white of the clouds floating overhead. And then I realized something: it was all dead. There was nothing growing in the hills around the sea or in it because the salt killed it all. Nothing could survive. I thought something dead was beautiful. And yet, there is life near it. As we drove further down the line of the sea grass and shrubs and trees began to spring up, green and thick. And there is life in the salt and chemicals, providing economically for the people who make a profit off what comes out of the sea: money to buy food and shelter for their families. Sure some of these guys just want to get rich, put it still provides life for their families.
But I have stayed stuck on why I thought it was so beautiful or why I thought the barren empty wilderness was beautiful, or the dry white cliffs of the wadi we hiked through. What about it made me call it beautiful? Why have these images stayed with me more than the waterfalls of en-Gedi or the green lands of the coast? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I can identify with the dry land right now more than the well watered; the fight for survival in the dusty wilderness rather than the security and surety of life in the land of water. Maybe it’s because I remember feeling afraid as we drove around and along the cliffs and hiked into high places while I felt safe on the flat level ground of the Shephelah. Whatever the reason, I remember the dry images better. They stay with me, following me around.
Perhaps it’s because I see myself like the Israelites, aware that only God can provide the water needed to survive, but still trying to make it through on my own, or looking other places for an alternative water source and not finding one, but not wanting to admit that I need rain. I don’t know the reason, I’m still trying to figure it out. Maybe someday I’ll know. Maybe. Or maybe not.
What can be said after such a day. There are few words: wild, crazy, amazing, strange, beautiful. These places we go have connections with what we believe. The things discovered here and there alter perceptions, on scripture and the life described there, stories told there. Wild: standing on Masada looking around and imagining Herod building his palaces, the luxury once furnishing it (that requiring a lot of imagining). Crazy: the story Josephus told about Jews committing suicide to remain free from Rome. Amazing: seeing the lowest place in the world and standing next to it and in it. Strange: imagining a scrolls and scrolls of scripture being found in clay jars buried in caves in the middle of nowhere. Beautiful: all of it!
I must admit though, I was struck by a thought as I stood in the dead sea watching people float around looking like they were laying on rafts or mats. I thought it was beautiful, the salt on the rocks forming crystals, the blue of the water, the color of the mountains behind the water: gold and cream, the blue in the sky and the brilliant white of the clouds floating overhead. And then I realized something: it was all dead. There was nothing growing in the hills around the sea or in it because the salt killed it all. Nothing could survive. I thought something dead was beautiful. And yet, there is life near it. As we drove further down the line of the sea grass and shrubs and trees began to spring up, green and thick. And there is life in the salt and chemicals, providing economically for the people who make a profit off what comes out of the sea: money to buy food and shelter for their families. Sure some of these guys just want to get rich, put it still provides life for their families.
But I have stayed stuck on why I thought it was so beautiful or why I thought the barren empty wilderness was beautiful, or the dry white cliffs of the wadi we hiked through. What about it made me call it beautiful? Why have these images stayed with me more than the waterfalls of en-Gedi or the green lands of the coast? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I can identify with the dry land right now more than the well watered; the fight for survival in the dusty wilderness rather than the security and surety of life in the land of water. Maybe it’s because I remember feeling afraid as we drove around and along the cliffs and hiked into high places while I felt safe on the flat level ground of the Shephelah. Whatever the reason, I remember the dry images better. They stay with me, following me around.
Perhaps it’s because I see myself like the Israelites, aware that only God can provide the water needed to survive, but still trying to make it through on my own, or looking other places for an alternative water source and not finding one, but not wanting to admit that I need rain. I don’t know the reason, I’m still trying to figure it out. Maybe someday I’ll know. Maybe. Or maybe not.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Southern Israel Day Two
MOre thoughts from day two of our field study this weekend....
October 10, 2010
I have never really thought much about how the Israelites made sacrifices, just that there were some rocks and an animal that died and special rules for how it should be done. And when Jesus came as the final sacrifice that was no longer required. But I am realizing how important and rather intense these sacrifices were with blood everywhere and animals making strange sounds as they died. I haven’t ever watched an animal be slaughtered in person, but I can imagine what it might have been like and it doesn’t look pleasant in my head.
I also never thought about the similarities between Israelite sacrifices and those of the surrounding nations. They really weren’t that different except for the power being sacrificed to: one was real, one wasn’t. I was reminded of the story of Elijah and the prophets of Baal in 1 Kings 18. Even though the prophets of Baal and Elijah had the same set up, except that Elijah’s wood was completely soaked, it only took one quiet short prayer from Elijah to bring fire down from heaven while those praying to Baal were yelling for a long time without the tiniest response of any kind. There were 850 Baal prophets and one prophet of God. I guess numbers aren’t everything. My point is that I always considered Israelite practices to be very different from the traditions of the nations surrounding them. I guess it makes sense there would be such strict rules for Israel to follow and why they got sucked away so easily. It would be easy to start associating one tradition with another and get side tracked to where it was the same gods all around. If I do it (which I do) why would I think they would be any different? They were supposed to be, but so am I, and I’m not. I guess people haven’t changed that much.
And yet, it seems like it would be hard to associate our God, the God of Israel, with any other god. He is so unique, so different, so personal and interactive with us, with Israel. The idea of having a similar way of worship to pagan gods seems ridiculous. But it makes me wonder, why did other cultures also sacrifice animals, have fresh clean blood poured out on an alter. Was there something they understood about the need for a sacrifice to appease the gods even though the sacrifice was to a god that couldn’t hear them? Maybe it was God’s way of making a point. Here you are doing something similar to what they do, but when you do it in the way I commanded you, I answer, and they remain unanswered like with Elijah and the Baal prophets. Or maybe it was meant to be very different and we all have screwed it up. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be doing something completely different, but the way and how and why it was done. Maybe it was supposed to be the way for us as Christians also. Maybe it wasn’t about separating ourselves from Jewish tradition so people would know we were different. Maybe it was about fulfilling the Jewish tradition because the Messiah had returned. Just thoughts that move from one thing to another in my head. Sometimes I wonder where all these ideas come from.
A replicated 4 horned alter at Beersheba
where Abraham dug a well.
October 10, 2010
I have never really thought much about how the Israelites made sacrifices, just that there were some rocks and an animal that died and special rules for how it should be done. And when Jesus came as the final sacrifice that was no longer required. But I am realizing how important and rather intense these sacrifices were with blood everywhere and animals making strange sounds as they died. I haven’t ever watched an animal be slaughtered in person, but I can imagine what it might have been like and it doesn’t look pleasant in my head.
I also never thought about the similarities between Israelite sacrifices and those of the surrounding nations. They really weren’t that different except for the power being sacrificed to: one was real, one wasn’t. I was reminded of the story of Elijah and the prophets of Baal in 1 Kings 18. Even though the prophets of Baal and Elijah had the same set up, except that Elijah’s wood was completely soaked, it only took one quiet short prayer from Elijah to bring fire down from heaven while those praying to Baal were yelling for a long time without the tiniest response of any kind. There were 850 Baal prophets and one prophet of God. I guess numbers aren’t everything. My point is that I always considered Israelite practices to be very different from the traditions of the nations surrounding them. I guess it makes sense there would be such strict rules for Israel to follow and why they got sucked away so easily. It would be easy to start associating one tradition with another and get side tracked to where it was the same gods all around. If I do it (which I do) why would I think they would be any different? They were supposed to be, but so am I, and I’m not. I guess people haven’t changed that much.
And yet, it seems like it would be hard to associate our God, the God of Israel, with any other god. He is so unique, so different, so personal and interactive with us, with Israel. The idea of having a similar way of worship to pagan gods seems ridiculous. But it makes me wonder, why did other cultures also sacrifice animals, have fresh clean blood poured out on an alter. Was there something they understood about the need for a sacrifice to appease the gods even though the sacrifice was to a god that couldn’t hear them? Maybe it was God’s way of making a point. Here you are doing something similar to what they do, but when you do it in the way I commanded you, I answer, and they remain unanswered like with Elijah and the Baal prophets. Or maybe it was meant to be very different and we all have screwed it up. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be doing something completely different, but the way and how and why it was done. Maybe it was supposed to be the way for us as Christians also. Maybe it wasn’t about separating ourselves from Jewish tradition so people would know we were different. Maybe it was about fulfilling the Jewish tradition because the Messiah had returned. Just thoughts that move from one thing to another in my head. Sometimes I wonder where all these ideas come from.
A replicated 4 horned alter at Beersheba
where Abraham dug a well.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Southern Israel Day One
Dear Family and Friends,
I'll be posting my thoughts from our last field trip over the next few days. There is one from each day and although it doesn't give exact details as to what we did or where we went (i'll put that up when I get a chance), it'll at least give you an idea of what I saw and learned. I'll post them seperatly so you get a chance to see them all and they don't turn into one big mass. Plus it means there will be something new to see for a couple days in a row! lucky you. So...here's day one.
October 9, 2010
Every field trip means something new. It’s always a new place, sometimes it’s a new fact, and sometimes it’s a new idea, one that can’t be explained easily with words. It’s an individual idea, a kind a vision that you alone get, one that completes a previous vision. Today it was the story of David and Goliath, the Israelites and the Philistines, the swinging doors of the Shephelah being visualized while standing on a hill looking at them. I realized when I used to hear the story of David fighting Goliath, I gave David the characteristics I knew of all boys that age: crazy kids who play video games and soccer and get mad at their parents and pick on their siblings. But this boy was different. By the time he met up with Goliath he had battled lions, found water and survived in land that was a cousin to the desert. Sure something grew in the land David wandered, but not much. Previously I envisioned David feeding is sheep in green grassed, hilly, fields with maybe a few rocks around, some wildflowers, the kind of places we have at home. But David’s land wasn’t like that. Maybe right after a long, wet, rainy, winter but otherwise it was dry and barren, full of thistles and thorns (I know now, I have walked through them). As Dr. Wright always says, “you have to be tough to survive out here.” He’s right. The people who lived in these hills were hardy and sturdy, a kind of mountain people.
It was strange to stand on the hill of Azekah overlooking the Shephelah on one side and the hills of Judah on the other. It was stranger realizing I was understanding the battle strategy of the Philistines and Israelites, the importance of the chalk trough, what would happen when the doors swung one direction vs. the other. I used to wonder how these great generals through time knew when and where and how to arrange their troops to win the battle. Now I know it was because they knew the lay of the land, the geography, the key places that needed to be held and where they natural defenses were.
I love stories, heroic epic stories, the kinds of stories that come to life leaping off the page till the room is full of battles and loves and frightening moments dancing around in a swirl of color and motion. The more geography I learn, the more land I see, the more the characters of the Bible jump off the pages and create scenes around me full of life and color, noises and smells until my imagination feels like it is going to explode with all of its activity. I can see Abraham coming down the patriarchal highway to Beersheba with his huge caravan of people and animals, digging a well in the dusty, dry land, and making treaties with area kings. I see David scrambling over dry hills after sheep and goats or walking through the hills to visit his brothers at Saul’s camp, or fleeing into the wilderness to hide in the wadis and crevices in the rocks, the world silent around him.
I have always loved these stories. But now I have seen similar scenes to what they saw, walked similar places and understood some of why they did what they did. Even more I find myself wondering, “what were David’s thoughts as he sat listening to the silence of the wilderness” or “How did Abraham feel meandering through a new land that had been promised to his descendants.” I suppose for those things all I will ever have is guesses and my imagination.
P.S. love you all and Shalom!
I'll be posting my thoughts from our last field trip over the next few days. There is one from each day and although it doesn't give exact details as to what we did or where we went (i'll put that up when I get a chance), it'll at least give you an idea of what I saw and learned. I'll post them seperatly so you get a chance to see them all and they don't turn into one big mass. Plus it means there will be something new to see for a couple days in a row! lucky you. So...here's day one.
October 9, 2010
Every field trip means something new. It’s always a new place, sometimes it’s a new fact, and sometimes it’s a new idea, one that can’t be explained easily with words. It’s an individual idea, a kind a vision that you alone get, one that completes a previous vision. Today it was the story of David and Goliath, the Israelites and the Philistines, the swinging doors of the Shephelah being visualized while standing on a hill looking at them. I realized when I used to hear the story of David fighting Goliath, I gave David the characteristics I knew of all boys that age: crazy kids who play video games and soccer and get mad at their parents and pick on their siblings. But this boy was different. By the time he met up with Goliath he had battled lions, found water and survived in land that was a cousin to the desert. Sure something grew in the land David wandered, but not much. Previously I envisioned David feeding is sheep in green grassed, hilly, fields with maybe a few rocks around, some wildflowers, the kind of places we have at home. But David’s land wasn’t like that. Maybe right after a long, wet, rainy, winter but otherwise it was dry and barren, full of thistles and thorns (I know now, I have walked through them). As Dr. Wright always says, “you have to be tough to survive out here.” He’s right. The people who lived in these hills were hardy and sturdy, a kind of mountain people.
It was strange to stand on the hill of Azekah overlooking the Shephelah on one side and the hills of Judah on the other. It was stranger realizing I was understanding the battle strategy of the Philistines and Israelites, the importance of the chalk trough, what would happen when the doors swung one direction vs. the other. I used to wonder how these great generals through time knew when and where and how to arrange their troops to win the battle. Now I know it was because they knew the lay of the land, the geography, the key places that needed to be held and where they natural defenses were.
I love stories, heroic epic stories, the kinds of stories that come to life leaping off the page till the room is full of battles and loves and frightening moments dancing around in a swirl of color and motion. The more geography I learn, the more land I see, the more the characters of the Bible jump off the pages and create scenes around me full of life and color, noises and smells until my imagination feels like it is going to explode with all of its activity. I can see Abraham coming down the patriarchal highway to Beersheba with his huge caravan of people and animals, digging a well in the dusty, dry land, and making treaties with area kings. I see David scrambling over dry hills after sheep and goats or walking through the hills to visit his brothers at Saul’s camp, or fleeing into the wilderness to hide in the wadis and crevices in the rocks, the world silent around him.
I have always loved these stories. But now I have seen similar scenes to what they saw, walked similar places and understood some of why they did what they did. Even more I find myself wondering, “what were David’s thoughts as he sat listening to the silence of the wilderness” or “How did Abraham feel meandering through a new land that had been promised to his descendants.” I suppose for those things all I will ever have is guesses and my imagination.
P.S. love you all and Shalom!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Blessings…
I have learned many things here about Jewish culture and traditions, both good and bad. This one is good. There is a theory as to why the Jewish people have so many awards, Nobel peace prizes, and successful, well known people in general. But before I can tell you what the theory is I need to explain a custom, a tradition that is done during Shabbat. I don’t know how many of you have seen Fiddler on the Roof (a movie I really want to watch again after experiencing some of these traditions), but there is a scene in the first part where they family celebrates Shabbat. They cook a wonderful feast, set out beautiful tablecloths, dress up, and gather round the table. The mother lights the candles, they sing, and then eat their lovely meal celebrating Shabbat. In the movie it’s a duet, (which we don’t do although we do sing and there are Shabbat songs, I’ll teach you some when I get back. They are fun), which is a blessing upon their children. Every Shabbat the wife blesses the husband, the husband blesses the wife, and the parents bless the children. They bless them. How many other cultures can you think of that regularly bless their children in such a way. And it’s not only on Shabbat but a regular thing for parents to say blessing over their children. So now you know the tradition here is the theory (although you can probably guess it now): the blessing of the parents give the children courage and self esteem to do things without fear and they flourish, in life, in the world. Other cultures are known for famous, genius people too, for example, China. But the culture there is not one of blessing but of pressure to bring honor to family and country and if you fail, oh man, you had better not fail. (Now this is just my personal understanding of what I have seen and experienced thus far, not from any research so my evaluation and comparisons may not be exactly accurate, just as a note). This thought was brought on by a conversation I had with Dad this morning. I said goodbye thinking, “Thank you God for giving me parents that bless me.” I have been given wings by their blessings to go out and do all kinds of things: to learn and grow and flourish and travel and see and do new things in new places, even when that means I am far away for a long time. They have loved me and told me and shown me their love, and part of that is through their blessings to and on me.
So to Mom and Dad,
Thank you. For your love and encouragement and your blessings. They make me Green.
So to Mom and Dad,
Thank you. For your love and encouragement and your blessings. They make me Green.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Why?
Dear Family and Friends,
This is the question I have been asking myself all week as I spent my days cooped up in my room or the library working on my first big paper. Doing homework again is hard. I was talking with a friend about how the first few weeks were like vacation with the occasional reading required. Then this past week, panic hit. I have so much to do! It was like delayed syllabus shock. Then of course came the question of why I decided to spend oodles of dollars to come back and do homework again. I really must be crazy. But then I remember, that when it comes right down to it...I may complain about homework and hate the stress of writing a paper and wondering if I'll get good grades and all that, but I absolutly love school, love learning, love being taught and then sharing what I have learned with others....like you all. So this is a continuing process of remembering what I love and trying to throw myself into it as fully as possible to get the most out of in spite of the occasional stress and frustration.
Here is something I learned about olive tree's this week in class:
First thing to know about an olive tree is that they are evergreen trees. Really! They are forever green. Well, until they die, but they don't lose leaves like our trees at home, all at once. They gradually lose them a few at a time and quickly replace them, so the tree's are never withot leaves. It gives a sense of eternal life, never dying. Maybe a possiblity for why oil was used for annointing. It is also incredibly healthy. Israeli's have a very low risk of heart attack due to all the olive oil they consume. In ancient times they also used it to light thier lamps, cook, religious ceremonies, and beauty products. This stuff is handy. It's near harvest time for the olives here. There are some olive trees along the road leading to school. A couple weeks ago we walked by and there were people in the trees and under them, with sheets and buckets spread out under the trees, beating the olives out! It was fun to watch how they did it. They were out there all day, beating and cracking and laughing and talking. Olives are a vital staple of life in Israel. Their little gnarled shape will be missed when I come home. Here is a photo of my roomate Stacy picking an olive off the tree and tasting it. Apparently it wasn't quite ripe enough yet. hahaha!
This is the question I have been asking myself all week as I spent my days cooped up in my room or the library working on my first big paper. Doing homework again is hard. I was talking with a friend about how the first few weeks were like vacation with the occasional reading required. Then this past week, panic hit. I have so much to do! It was like delayed syllabus shock. Then of course came the question of why I decided to spend oodles of dollars to come back and do homework again. I really must be crazy. But then I remember, that when it comes right down to it...I may complain about homework and hate the stress of writing a paper and wondering if I'll get good grades and all that, but I absolutly love school, love learning, love being taught and then sharing what I have learned with others....like you all. So this is a continuing process of remembering what I love and trying to throw myself into it as fully as possible to get the most out of in spite of the occasional stress and frustration.
Here is something I learned about olive tree's this week in class:
First thing to know about an olive tree is that they are evergreen trees. Really! They are forever green. Well, until they die, but they don't lose leaves like our trees at home, all at once. They gradually lose them a few at a time and quickly replace them, so the tree's are never withot leaves. It gives a sense of eternal life, never dying. Maybe a possiblity for why oil was used for annointing. It is also incredibly healthy. Israeli's have a very low risk of heart attack due to all the olive oil they consume. In ancient times they also used it to light thier lamps, cook, religious ceremonies, and beauty products. This stuff is handy. It's near harvest time for the olives here. There are some olive trees along the road leading to school. A couple weeks ago we walked by and there were people in the trees and under them, with sheets and buckets spread out under the trees, beating the olives out! It was fun to watch how they did it. They were out there all day, beating and cracking and laughing and talking. Olives are a vital staple of life in Israel. Their little gnarled shape will be missed when I come home. Here is a photo of my roomate Stacy picking an olive off the tree and tasting it. Apparently it wasn't quite ripe enough yet. hahaha!
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