Israel, Day 2 – Tuesday – Spiritual Jerusalem

After learning much of the structural and archeological history of Jerusalem, on Tuesday we set out to discover the spiritual side – for all three monotheistic religions.  We headed out to the Haas Promenade on the Mount of Olives – so named because it used to be covered with olive groves - which is where Jews have been buried since biblical times based on scripture that says resurrection will begin from the hilltop east of Jerusalem.  Jews from all over the world and all of history are buried here; some pay huge amounts of money to have their body sent here after death. When the messiah comes, Jews believe he(she?) will come down the Mount of Olives to enter Jerusalem through the Eastern Gate, and those closest to the top will be the first to be resurrected.  Interestingly, on the opposite ridge you can see a Muslim cemetery and the Eastern Gate (also known as the Golden Gate, Gate of Eternal Life, and Gate of Mercy – and supposedly the gate through which Jesus entered Jerusalem), which has been blocked by Suleiman the Magnificent, an Ottoman Sultan, possibly for defensive reasons.  However, there’s an interesting tale of apocalyptic strategery here; legend has it that Suleiman placed the cemetery in front of the gate because the messenger Elijah who precedes the Messiah, as a high priest, will be unable to walk through a cemetery, and therefore the Messiah will not come.  Or, perhaps Muslims who chose to be buried there wanted to make sure they could take part in the Jewish resurrection as well.  So there are two dueling cemeteries on opposite ridges of the same valley.   

True to my activist nature, I found myself hooked by the Dominus Flevit Church (Latin for “the Lord Wept”), which is placed behind the spot where it is thought that Jesus stood and said,

View from inside the Dominus Flevit Church

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!  See! Your house is left to you desolate; for I say to you, you shall see Me no more till you say, ‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!’”  Matthew 23:37-39

He was lamenting the broken present and future of the city that he loved and despaired for.  At that moment, overlooking the old city, I realized I found that very comforting about Jesus.  It’s very close to what we organizers and everyday prophets feel as well.  And, like the words of prophets, it stays relevant over millennia.

As we made our way down from the Mount of Olives, Dr. Mikva gave me the opportunity to purge a bit of what had been weighing on my heart – my guardedness - and jostle it to the side just enough to let the Garden of Gethsemane hit me in the gut.  From my trip to Turkey four years ago, I know how strange and wonderful it can be to recognize the similar foods eaten by people of Jesus’ time.  That type of visualization of the landscape and the diet - the continuity and connection - is so powerful, and so different from how we exist in America.  And it’s the kind of power that surprises you because it comes as a revelation rather than anticipation.  Since that time, or at least for several months, I’ve had this unspoken eagerness to get a first hand look at an olive tree.  I had learned in my studies about Palestine – one in which Israeli tanks were plowing up an olive grove on Palestinian land - that olive trees live an incredibly long time – like thousands of years.  Then, as we enter a nondescript courtyard, Jared tells us that Gethsemane literally means ‘oil press’, and that the Garden where Jesus spent his last few hours and was betrayed was a grove of olives, perhaps the very one we were standing in.  And, since olive trees are capable of living not hundreds, but thousands of years, the connection to our shared past was palpable.   

Off the courtyard is the entrance to the Church of All Nations, in my opinion the most beautiful Church in all of Israel.  Built in 1920 (the remains of two other churches were found below during building), every surface is covered with mosaic or stained glass.  The church was funded by donations from many countries, and the symbol of those countries are integrated into the ceiling and mosaics.  The entry door itself is set aglow in the morning light. 

The Southern Corner of the Western Wall

We leave Christianity for a moment and arrive at the stairs to Herod’s Temple Mount – the massive structure that was built as a platform for the Second Temple in Judaism (built in 18 BCE).  In Jewish practice at that time, followers would visit the temple at least once a year to give a ritual sacrifice.  But the old temple was the highest point on a steep holy hillside, and would leave lines of people leaning and waiting on uneven ground for their opportunity to visit the temple.  King Herod, with his complex of grandiosity (more about that tomorrow), decided to build a new temple with a wide, flat floor the size of multiple football fields that would accommodate the pilgrims in comfort.  This is interesting when you learn that Herod himself was Jewish, probably recently converted, but also appointed by the Roman Army to govern Judea and the Jews.  So Herod was likely ingratiating himself with the locals with this construction. The lane outside the wall becomes Jerusalem’s main street. Markets surround the outside of the temple, allowing Jews from all nations to exchange their money for shekels in order to purchase the sacrifice they need to make, as well as other wares that travelers enjoy.  There are possibly even some of these market places within the temple gates (yes, these are the ‘moneychangers’ Jesus calls ‘den of thieves’).  It was an architectural marvel of incredible proportions, with some blocks measuring 45 feet long (45 x 4 x 4 probably) – carved out from tunnels chiseled into perfect framed squares that is the signature of Herod’s work.

Around the corner, the excavations of a huge wall extend before our eyes.  This wall, the Western wall of Herod’s Temple Mount, is essentially the same wall as the Wailing Wall, which is just beyond an earthen encampment.  There were so many societies conquering and re-conquering Jerusalem in history that when building, many of the new residents will just add on to existing walls of buildings destroyed by the last conquest.  In this way, the Western Wall of Herod’s temple has been holding up various residences and buildings for centuries.  But in the 1800’s, a portion of the wall became exposed, and Jewish pilgrims looking for some sort of connection to the land began to visit it.  Word spread, and it became a sort of holy place.  Now, Jews from all over the world, or those who live in Israel, visit the wall to pray and leave prayers in the wall.  Prayer sections are divided between men and women, in respect for the Ultra Orthodox Jewish tradition of men and women not praying together.

Onto Islam, we gain access to the Temple Mount for the short 1 hour that non-Muslims are allowed to visit.  Last seen from the Mount of Olives, the Dome of the Rock guards a place that is holy for all three religions, and is covered with Arabic calligraphy.  Under is believed to be Mt. Moriah, the site where Abraham took his son Isaac, on God’s command, to be sacrificed.  The golden dome covers the rock from which the prophet Mohammed (peace be upon him) ascended into heaven.  The fact that central religious events in all three Abrahamic religions repeatedly happen in the same place gives one pause, I think.

 The Old City also contains the Via Delarosa, the walk that Jesus took through Jerusalem carrying the cross – otherwise known as the Stations of the Cross.  We join Via Delarosa, stopping at the station where a woman stopped to wipe Jesus’ face with a cloth, denoted by a Roman numeral on the wall.  

 

Eventually we come to the last station, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (Tomb), built over the very place Jesus was crucified and resurrected (so they think. Of course, there is also a concrete slab where Jesus was anointed after death, and the location of the tomb, all conveniently located under one roof and available to be toured). 

An interesting aspect to diversity in Jerusalem is who of the Christian sects gets or splits control over the holy sites.  The Greek Orthodox Church is actually the largest landowner in all of Israel, as a result of their alliance with the Ottoman Empire centuries ago.  Their mark is evident in the heavy, ornate, decadent silver and gold décor present at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and many other sites.  However, the 3 other Christian groups are able to claim space (for both worship and monastery housing) at on this holy site, including the Roman Catholic and Ethiopian Christian Church.  Protestant Christian groups have no claim to this site, and in fact, have established a different site elsewhere in Jerusalem called the Garden Tomb, where they claim Jesus was buried and resurrected.  After climbing narrow stairs to witness the rock, we exit to see the slab and circle around the tomb, where once a year a candle is lit by the divine and that fire is carried out into the world.

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Reflection: Olive Trees

Contracting and Expanding.  The trunks of olive trees appear huge, twisty, gnarled and unsightly, even hollow. They are like nothing I’ve ever seen before.  But that unsightly form is, like all of nature and life, pure function.  Olive trees hold water in their trunks and proliferate only in deserts – in fact they are one of the 7 species native to Israel/Palestine.  The trunks expand to fill with water to get them through the dry season, and can contract over time.  Through this process, the trunks become a knotted, gnarled, enchanted looking thing. 

Standing in the Garden of Gethsemane today – ‘Gethsemane’, where Jesus went to pray and think before the betrayal and scolded his disciples for sleeping –we learned ‘gethsemane’ literally means “oil press” and is filled with olive trees.  I had subconsciously been looking forward to spotting an olive tree during my time in this place where olives come from –which is just about my favorite food. Surrounded by these trees, this new revelation brought Jesus front and center –connected me in a very real, tangible way to this ancient tale from 2000 years ago. I have fully moved, for the moment, from the political and justice issues blocking wonder and have been completely immersed in the incredible archeological world we saw today.  Expanding and Contracting. 

Contracting and Expanding, like our impressions of Israel and Palestine.  Contracting from our reading and research in preparation for the trip, with the false sense of ‘knowingness’ that academia gives us all.  Expanding as we look with new eyes at the life – integrated, functional, collaborative and present with us as we walk the streets.  Expanding as we are overfed with religious symbols and landmarks and incredible archeology.  Expanding to include how this land has so many meanings for so many different types of people; Orthodox Jews, Coptic Christians, native Muslims, Jewish Youth, Armenian Christians, Greek Orthodox, displaced Palestinians, Western Christians, and homebound Jews. I’ve noticed how our guide, Jared, greets every long lost friend – whether it be Rabbi Mikva or Seminarian Fransisco Herrera, with “Welcome Home.”  Expanding the idea of ‘home’ – is this sacred land ‘home’ for all?

Expanding and Contracting – like our faith over the years.  Like ourselves.  Like our desire for theological discovery, our capacity for belief, our sense of the spirit at different times in our lives.  Our ability to rely on God, our humility to call out for help, our sense of grace.  Contracting and Expanding, adjusting to the times we need to be fed, the times we are well watered, the wet and the dry seasons of our lives.  Note the wisdom of the olive tree.  Jared mentioned that scientists recently traced an olive tree that has been alive for 6000 years.  Expanding and Contracting.  

Israel, Day 1 – Monday, January 14th - Jerusalem

Today was a day of orientation and touring of Jerusalem, which, in this country, means archeology – and lots of it.  We remarked later that it was like overconsumption of archeological and religious artifacts.  The truth is, in Jerusalem, it is very difficult to throw a stone and not hit something (if you can avoid hitting someone – it is very dense) without some historical, religious, or political significance.  This is exponentially more true in the Old City.

The streets of Jerusalem are a bit chaotic, with pedestrians, some very intolerant drivers, and trams that whiz through the streets intermittently.  You learn quickly to reverence the traffic signals. The first thing us Chicago flatlanders noticed were the hills. For some reason, that never sinks in until you are hiking continually up, huffing and puffing, for 10 or 15 minutes.  We know from biblical sources that the Judean people lived in the hilltops and highlands.  But it’s not until you are here, looking at the panorama of layered houses and buildings, that you understand.  And when you stand at a lookout point across a wide valley and realize a few hours ago, you were standing on the opposite ridge, it’s both humbling and powerful. 

Our guide, Jared, stopped us just past a major thoroughfare to point out that we had just crossed the Green Line, or basically the hypothetical line that was drawn when fighting between those intent on a Jewish state and the native population of Arabs came to an end in 1948.  It is the defacto border between West Jerusalem, which is officially in the state of Israel, and East Jerusalem, which is technically part of the state of Palestine (if there were such a thing).  The line is hypothetical because 20 years later, Israel responded to allied coordination of bordering Arab countries with superior military might and managed to capture much more territory than the UN recognizes based on the 1949 peace agreement.  This is how Gaza, Golan Heights, and the West Bank came to be under Israeli occupation.  Stopping here, at the Green Line, was noteworthy because it was not.  Not tense, not guarded, not anything like what you expect when you hear ‘Israel Palestinian border’.  There are remnant bullet holes in the buildings, but those are from long ago.

And then, suddenly, you are in magic bible land that has everything you’ve ever heard or read about in scripture right there in front of you, and you can touch it. And it’s surreal and unbelievable.  They say the most recent wall in Jerusalem is ‘only’ 500 years old.  After many incredible views of the walls and topography, you never quite get used to the sight of the valley stretching from Wi-Fi and fast food to third world poverty on the Palestinian side.  Or the prevalence of the archeological digs that may or may not prove the City of David exists, may or may not prove Jews originated from that spot, but may NOT be stopped because any pause in the digging might lead to land disputes, supreme court cases, and questions about whether the digging will resume.  And, the project may be funded by the Christian Right.

While you can doubt whether this particular ruin, dug under Palestinian homes in East Jerusalem, actually ever held the Davidic genealogical line (there is debate among archeologists about whether any of the evidence verifies even the existence of this dynasty), you cannot ignore the true antiquity of the structure.  We learn about the ancient King, Hezekiah (1000 BCE), who built the town walls and fortified the area, waiting for attack.  You see, Jerusalem is prime ancient real estate.  In the desert hills of the Ancient Near East, any people looking for a home need, first and foremost, a water source. Jerusalem is set upon a ridge at the base of two valleys – therefore easily defendable on three sides – and located right next to an underground spring.  Knowing that the Ancient warring Assyrians would, sooner or later, arrive to take the ancient city, King Hezekiah strategized to avoid surrender, and millennia later, we get to learn his strategy through the lens of archeology.  To be sure to protect his people and his water source, Hezekiah set about digging a tunnel from the spring, under his wall and entire city, digging it on just a slight slope so the water would flow naturally through the tunnel into the town’s cistern and save the city in a siege.  In fact, there is mention in the Assyrians’ history of amassing outside of a Judean town, but departing without gaining access.

 

3000 years later, the tunnel is still flowing with water.  We walked the 1800 feet of wet darkness with flashlights, water shoes, and, honestly, moments of panic on my part.  You could feel where the pick axes dug into the walls, and the abrupt turns where they were trying to make both ends of the tunnel meet in the middle, dozens of meters under ground. (How did they manage to dig this tunnel?  The only theory is that they managed to determine their direction by noise through limestone– banging on the walls, yelling to each other when the tunnels got near, and perhaps being guided by someone above ground, pounding on the earth along the city wall).   

Don't I look panicked?

Jerusalem’s ‘Old City’ denotes not the ‘City of David’ that’s being excavated, but the walled-in portion of the city in East Jerusalem that existed for centuries through Ottoman Rule and holds most of the monotheistic religion’s holy sites.  The Old City has 4 (not equal) quarters; a Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Armenian Quarter, noted for the concentration of each ethnicity living in each section.  (Armenians, just FYI, have been in Jerusalem since the first century and converted to Christianity in 286 CE, and have claimed a portion of Jerusalem ever since.)  We walked quickly through the market (‘schuk’ in Hebrew or ‘suk’ in Arabic) to a majestic structure shown on maps as David’s Citadel.  This was the northwest corner of the Old City, (within the city walls), which in ancient times was the weakest position (all the other walls were surrounded by steep cliffs).  King Hezekiah may have been the first to try to fortify this corner with extra towers and height; the Jewish Hasmonean Dynasty added walls, but King Herod added 3 massive towers and additions about 30 years before the turn of the century – and so it’s more aptly called Herod’s Castle.  (It was named ‘David’s Citadel’ by Byzantine Christians, but it echoes the modern tendency in Jerusalem to name all things ‘David’ – from the ‘City of David’ excavation site to streets, hotels and bridges – partly in hopes to validate both the Jewish state and to reinforce tourism for modern-day Christians). 

It was impossible not to be transfixed and transported by Herod’s Castle at night, backlit and enchanted by projections and soundtracks.  We went to see an artistic lightshow depicting the history of Jerusalem, described as an interesting juxtaposition of modern the modern with the ancient, but the experience started before we even entered the gate.  The path to descend to the stage ringed the walls of the tower, and as we turned each corner, every shadow, wall, and crevice provided a new kind of beauty and mystery.  The creators pulled liberally from structural artists, graphic artists, and other gifted people.  Music seemed to rise up from the stones themselves.  It was truly enchanting.  When the show began, the overwhelming, saturating magnificence of both the historical setting, beauty, and talent of the art surrounding you was astonishing.

We were not supposed to take pictures of the lightshow, and I assumed that meant after we were seated, so I tried to capture some of the setting on the walk into the show.  (I may owe an apology to the venue’s authorities).  But, the pictures don’t come close to capturing the experience.  If you are ever in Jerusalem, this light show is a must-see.  It’s also an interesting mix of Jewish and Jerusalem history, ending in a declaration of the state of Israel.  The art featured in the lightshow depicts Jewish periods like Israelite prosperity, Babylonian Exile, destruction of the temple, and Roman occupation; also Byzantine Christianity, Mohammed’s Night Journey, the fire and horror of the Crusader period, and the Ottoman Empire.  At the very end, out of a dark blue background with triumphal music comes a 7-candle Menorah emerging steadily and proudly until it is larger than life.  With that, the words ‘pray for peace in Jerusalem’ emerge in Hebrew, English and Arabic.  Hours after learning about the multitude of religious and ethnic diversity found in the Old City of Jerusalem, and sitting in what was supposed to be, back in 1948, Palestinian-governed East Jerusalem, the last projection left me with an a stark impression of propaganda.

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Reflection: On Guard

While everything we learned today – geography and topography, high walls, deep water tunnels - echoed how ancient Jerusalem attempted to guard itself from attack from other empires, I found myself on guard towards the experience of Israel.  I have a strong tendency to favor the underdog – a tendency, a gift, a passion and a curse that has had a huge effect on my life, sending me into organizing, then to Seminary, and to be interested in Israel.  And in this context, I arrive in Israel with the strong impression that Palestine is an underdog and Israel is a bully.  I didn’t sign up for this class to see holy sites per se, but to understand this foreign conflict, which mesmerizes the whole world.  And from what I’ve learned, my deep well of righteous anger is burning for the Palestinian exiles, refugees and citizens in the state of Israel. Upon arrival in Israel, I am having trouble finding the excitement, summoning the friendliness and compassion, rendering the respect and deference I prefer to have when I go abroad.  While there were armed guards as we passed through the ancient gates, it was much more peaceful and collaborative than I expected after our reading and research.  We could walk on residential streets, from East to West Jerusalem without much notice except nicer homes (and a security guard with a radio in his ear announcing our approach).

First View of Palestinian homes in East Jerusalem

I kept analyzing faces, wondering if Palestinians around us (and I can’t pretend that I know who is Palestinian and who is not, other than the presence of an American accent or a kippah) were resentful of the presence of these American tourists with a Jewish guide.  I kept wondering what they were thinking.  In every section of Jared’s educational talks, I’m watching for evidence of Nationalism or Palestinian sympathy.  While I don’t doubt his character, or that our CTS professors would ever allow us to tour Israel with a (heavily) biased guide, I’m still on guard. Most places I look, I see injustice. I don’t know how one sits back and allows some stuff.  Why are the Jewish areas so nice and the Palestinian side so run down?  There is no doubt about the economic disparity between both sides.  Yet, I read an editorial on the plane about Israel withholding $100 million in tax revenue due to the Palestinian Authority in retaliation for the PA success in being recognized as an EU non-voting member – a vicious abuse of power in blatant form.  Israel says it wants peace, but when Palestine has a diplomatic, peaceful success, Israel punishes them for that, too? I noticed the darker skinned men doing landscaping and hawking bagels along the route – not unlike our racial divisions and labor roles in America; the darker the skin, the harder the work.  I saw several Palestinians begging today (preying on gullible tourists, I know) but was still afflicted with immense guilt about my immense wealth in the face of their situation.  When Jared said, regarding the 4 quarters, “Palestinians live on top of one another…but they like it that way” I couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Seriously? Are you sure they are not just desperate?’ I don’t know what to be mad about – but I’m guarded, not as able to get excited about my surroundings.

All this brings me to our final event of the evening, the light show at Herod’s castle.  First of all, the name ‘Herod’ conjures up images of Jesus Christ Superstar, as our hero is dragged in front of a gluttonous king who could pardon his fate, but cared not.  (Although I understand now that it was likely Herod the 2^nd who interacted with Jesus, I didn’t know that at the time.)  Sitting in the midst of ‘Herod’s Castle’ was as astonishing as the way the art brought it to life.  The light and shadow, beauty and mystery, ancient and modern made it nearly a holy experience.  That is, until the last frame. I was still confused, as the film was concluding, not to see any direct homage to Jesus’ experience in Jerusalem – since it seemed as though the film was marking the significant and worldly history of the city.  But when the Menorah appeared, alone, with brazenly triumphant music and continued to enlarge – alone – to symbolize Jerusalem today, the experience turned sour for me.  It wasn’t images of Jewish life and tolerance in a modern age, or depictions of the life lived there now. Moreso, it was simply the Menorah as sort of a Messianic crown.  It felt like, “and now we victorious and amazing Jews have Jerusalem” – without any reference to the 27,000 Muslims we just learned live in the Muslim quarter, or the Christian or Armenian presence.  I kept holding my breath, waiting for some acknowledgment – perhaps a smaller Crescent Moon, or Coptic Cross in the background – of the religious diversity of modern Jerusalem.  Rather, it seemed to ignore their presence and be homage to Nationalism.  Then, finally when something did appear, it was ‘pray for peace in Jerusalem’ – as if Israel was not part of the problem, but helpless victims in the conflict.  Obviously crafted for Israel tourists, it left a very sour taste in my mouth. 

Sermon#2, "Call Me Blessed"; Advent 4 (Dec 23rd)

We’ve heard about the darkness of advent.  The waiting.  The isolation and loneliness of a long winter…the feeling of being alone in silent, snow-covered woods full of naked trees.  In this sermon series we heard Erika talk about being alert and recognizing signs of a new thing happening here.   Like the presence of a fig tree in the wood, if we look closely we can recognize signs of promise.  We heard from Will about the voice in the wilderness – the courage it takes to be that first voice to call out with an unpopular message.  How that one lone voice in the wilderness can inspire courage in others – courage to join in solidarity, courage to hope.  Sarah lifted up how we are called to transform – even if our transformation is temporary or imperfect.  Our transformation is key to the transformation of God’s kingdom, and can happen over and over again if we are open to it.  

Today’s gospel, in a word, is about certainty.  The certainty of faith without doubt, the certainty of hope without evidence.

In the Old Testament, the prophet Micah dares to do an amazing thing.  Micah’s people are a people under abuse from the Assyrians.  We know from Micah’s speeches that those in power have taken ancestral land from the poor; they’ve evicted widows from their homes, and manipulated the money system to cheat. After our study series on Israel and Palestine, Micah’s tribe reminds me of the plight of the Palestinians.  And like modern day Palestinians, the people to whom Micah speaks had no chance of match the firepower or warring intentions of their neighbors. Micah not only rails against the powerful, but also indicts the religious and cultural authorities who feign to call for ‘peace’ “but declare war against those who have nothing to put in their mouths”.  The prophet calls out the abuse of power and the hypocrisy of priests who supposedly serve a God of justice, kindness and mercy but only raise their voices against those with no power.  This reminds me of the Palestinians who are denied the right to dig wells by the Israeli occupying forces who claim water wells could be a violent plot against their well-armed and well-watered community.  Micah does not let this abuse of power go unnoticed.

            In the midst of such overpowering force and inescapable despair, Micah dares to proclaim with certainty a different future. Making such a declaration, in the face of your oppressor, is audacious in itself.  But Micah lifts up ‘Bethlehem, one of the little clans of Judah’, remarkable only in the fact that in no one’s imagination would Bethlehem produce a power strong enough to overcome a warring empire such as the Assyrians. Suffice to say, the ‘little clans of Judah’ are definitely not known for their dominance over others. They are known to be faithful to a God that is filled with justice, mercy, and care for the least among people. And Micah says, the one who comes will be one of peace, one who feeds his flock from the strength of the lord… Micah, essentially, calls Bethlehem ‘blessed’.  He proclaimed Bethlehem blessed, and it was.

In Nazareth, a woman named Mary goes ‘with haste’ to visit the elder Elizabeth, whom the Angel Gabriel had said would be pregnant with child – just as Mary herself will soon be.  Elizabeth is pregnant with John the Baptist, amazingly so, since she is well past childbearing age.  This pregnancy lays the foundation of miraculous birth, to be followed promptly by Mary’s immaculate conception.  Elizabeth, when feeling her own sacred miracle child ‘leap’ in her womb, prophesies that Mary is blessed.  Then Mary turns and proclaims her triumphant poetry: ‘my soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.  Surely, from now on, all generations will call me blessed.”

Mary’s Magnificat, as it is known, closely resembles the song sung by Hannah in the OT book of 1^st Samuel.  Hannah is the mother of the prophet Samuel.  Her song is hidden in Mary’s Magnificat – in which she exults God’s greatness, and that his mercy and justice will be for all of Israel, just as Mary proclaims.  Some theologians think that Mary sung the Magnificat, just as Hannah sung “my heart exults the Lord; my strength is exalted in my God”.  Like the Magnificat, Hannah sings of a God who would “raise up the poor from the dust; lift the needy from the ash heap; guard his faithful ones, for not by might does one prevail.”

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In scripture, Mary seems so certain.  After all, Elizabeth says ‘blessed is she who believed that there would be fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”  Some theologians ask if Mary went to see Elizabeth out of doubt or because she needed confirmation of the Angel Gabriel’s message.  Perhaps the proclamation from Gabriel was so unexpected, so astonishing, that her ‘haste’ shows insecurity, or fear.  The Angel said, do not be afraid, but really, who wouldn’t be afraid?  Maybe she needed confirmation, or affirmation, or just the solidarity of a knowing hug.  How many of us, when we get unbelievably good news, immediately go find a trusted person to share it?  Sometimes, good news is hard to believe until it’s shared. But once Elizabeth proclaims her ‘blessed’, Mary declares that ‘the mighty one has done great things for me’! God has scattered the proud, brought down the powerful, filled the hungry, favored the lowly, and most of all, kept his promise to his faithful people in Israel.

In all honesty, preaching on this scripture has been difficult for me.  I confess that certainty is not my strongest trait.  I invite God into my life; I try to embrace kindness, generosity and justice at every turn; and I rejoice at the sacred moments of grace and try to recognize when the spirit is moving among us. But certainty of hope is a lot to ask for. Hope requires trust – trust in something far outside myself.  And for me, I’m always more comfortable with what is in my power.  Just like my activist nature, I’m more at home relying on my own two hands, my own intellect, and my own ability to make change in the world.  God asks us to believe in his promise, a promise of peace, justice and mercy for his people.  I find Mary’s certainty very intimidating and very distant from how I feel, especially right now.  Rather than certainty, I feel like we’re grasping at straws.  How do we have certainty of God’s promise when we’ve gone 300 days without snow?  How do we find certainty of salvation when we’ve spent the last few weeks learning about an oppressive occupation in Palestine that is oddly similar to the circumstances of the Prophet Micah, but in reverse? How do we find hope when we as a nation are grieving and grasping at straws for 26 families in Newtown, CT?  What to do?  How do we have certainty in the midst of such crisis?  …

And then Pastor Erik suggested that perhaps Mary needed to sing. Perhaps, when faced with confirmation of this incredible, unexpected role... Perhaps she was so astonished, so humbled to be bearing this blessing to the world, that she needed to steady herself with song.

Because singing quite literally gives one courage.  Singing is a physical act that empowers people. The act of singing has the power to transform the singer.  According to Bernice Johnson Reagon, “When we sing, we announce our existence.”  Reagon ranges from musician and composer to historian and teacher, is a member of the Sweet Honey in the Rock music group.  And she calls herself a songtalker. She talks about the physical change that happens when sound runs through your body - she says, if you sing, ‘you won’t feel the way you decided to feel to go through the day; you get stirred up’.  She proclaims that ‘you cannot sing a song and not change your condition’. 

And how true is that? Just like Will talked about the courage required to be a voice in the wilderness, it requires courage to raise your voice in song.  We’ve all heard it here in church – the first verse of the hymn, we are timid…..matching notes on the page to notes in our ears.  By the second verse we add a little confidence to the notes…by the third verse, we’re golden and we’re singing out and resonating with the joy that comes through song.

Bernice Johnson Reagon also explains how song sustained African Americans during their history in this country.  Song allowed the slaves to communicate in code; it allowed them to speak truth to the power of the slavemaster; and it allowed their miserable lament, yet provided strength enough to endure through times of no hope.

Imagine how it feels to join together in song.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten chills from hearing a song begin with one lone voice, a single melody ringing out into the wilderness…and then another voice joins in an answer to that isolation…then three more…doesn’t that give you chills?  There’s power in music.  With that power, song and solidarity comes steely determination – and we’ve seen that in our history.  In 1961, when the buses of Freedom Riders protesting segregation were ambushed, set afire, and the riders beaten and arrested, their voices rose out of the jail cells, singing “Ain’t Gonna let Nobody Turn Me Round.” Song very truly holds the power of the spirit. It helps us, as Micah said, to stand in the strength of the Lord.

Singing gives you energy.  David, our non-stop volunteer at Elijah’s Food Pantry, often sings while he unloads the trucks, moves the boxes and restocks the shelves.  Song can even keep hope alive when everything seems lost. In Apartheid in South Africa, song was the one thing the government could not take from the blacks – and the power of song participated in every part of the transformation of that country – in subverting the power structure, in strengthening the protest, and in the reconciliation.  In 1991, Estonia won its freedom from the Soviet Union with only song.  According to a documentary called the Singing Revolution, “Singing together was our power.  If 20,000 people start to sing one song, then you cannot shut them up.  What role can singing play when a nation is faced with annihilation by its neighbors?”  Mary knew this.  Coming from a long tradition of singing lament and triumph songs – what we all know as the book the Psalms – Mary knew the power of song.

So perhaps Mary had to sing; perhaps she had to sing not just to praise the God that declared she would be blessed among women – but also to steady her nerves! Perhaps she had to sing to confirm her blessed existence first to herself – and then to the Lord and her community.

The music we make when we lift our voices is sacred.  Those of us who were able to go Christmas Caroling with St. Luke’s experienced this a few weeks ago.  At the last house we visited, a woman asked us to wait for her elderly aunt to come to the door and listen to our carol.  After a few minutes, the frail woman appeared, trying to balance with her walker, to ask for Silent Night.  And then, something happened that none of us were expecting.  As we began to sing, the woman began to weep.  There in the quiet street, our 12-voice choir sang into the dark our Christmas blessing, and this woman’s gratitude washed over us.  You could feel the power between the woman and our huddle as our song became emboldened with the courage to sing louder, so that we could wrap her tighter in this gift.  There was not one singer that night that didn’t leave her door astonished by the power of the blessing we carried for her, and heartened to carry our blessings to more people this Christmas season. 

So I’d like to believe Mary knew that sometimes, we need to sing to accept the blessings bestowed on us, and gain that certainty of hope.  If each of us took the blessing we feel inside, that little hope, and sang a song to steady ourselves – then we could lean into the certainty of God’s promises.  We could lean into that hope, and find out how to feed from the strength of the Lord, knowing that we are blessed.  I will call you blessed – and you will be a blessing to me.  And you can call me blessed – and I will be a blessing to you.  And then we will truly know that a new thing is happening here. 

And he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord,
   in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God.
And they shall live secure, for now he shall be great
   to the ends of the earth; 
and he shall be the one of peace. 

Come, Lord Jesus. Amen. 

Animal Blessing Sunday; My First Sermon

My name is Jessica Palys.  For those of you who haven’t met me, I am one of the 4 new interns here at St. Lukes, where I will be helping to serve the ministries of the church until next May.  I am a former organizer, a Seminarian from Chicago Theological Seminary, and a 10-year resident of Chicago.  So now you know a little about me.
But the piece that you really need to know to understand me is that I am also the proud owner of a 55-pound lap dog named Lincoln St. Patrick – that cute brown and white creature that you just saw.  How many of us feel that way?  That you may know us as coworkers, as friends, or as church members; but until you see the way we love and care for our pets, you don’t really understand us in all our dimensions.  As a dog owner - I say ‘owner’, but is owner the right word?  We just heard the children of the church explore the idea of an animal ‘friend’. Sometimes, when I describe our relationship, I say I am a “servant” to this 4-legged companion.   Especially as he’s rousing me from an indulgent sleep at 8 am for his morning walk, ‘servant’ feels very appropriate… As a dog ‘companion’, Lincoln demarcates the regularities of my life. From the 8 am bark-up call to the reminder to eat at the end of the day, Lincoln is there at every step.  He reminds me that walking is important but running is more fun, that sleeping is good but cuddling is better, and to be excited at the first snow. 
Being a dog companion has taught me a few things too.  According to my dog, a treat is always worth sitting down for – and really good treats deserve patience.  Lincoln also constantly tries to convince me that longer walks are better.  Well, that’s true – many studies cite how pets increase the amount of exercise in pet owners.  But that extra time on that walk makes me feel the breeze, listen to the birds and appreciate the world God has created a little more.  Whenever I have the door open, Lincoln trots out of the house to lay in the sunlight, reminding me of how much I enjoy that too.  In caring for my dog, I recognize how important it is to enjoy the perks in life. If I’m doing what makes my dog happy, I usually end up enhancing my life as well.  Lincoln knows that taking five minutes for quality petting time can improve a whole day – in fact research has proven that just five minutes spent giving scratches to your pet not only raises their serotonin levels – the primary hormone that improves mood - but also raises yours for the day.  Some studies show that people who have pets tend to have lower blood pressure than those who don’t.  And, according to a study of 200 adults, pets may have the potential to help you recover from serious mental illness.  This isn’t too hard to believe, right?  I know there are plenty of times when I am just feeling lower than low, and somehow my dog knows it, climbs into my lap, and let’s his sheer proximity comfort me.  It’s kind of like him saying, “Things may be bad, but at least you have me.”
Lincoln also paves the way to meeting people.  He’s a conversation starter. Kids will stop us on the sidewalk to pet him, and the other dog-owners and I trade stories.  Isn’t it true that we all love talking about our beloved animals?  I am always surprised at how long these chats go, how deep is the well of stories we have to share, and how enjoyable it is to listen to them.  And in that act of sharing with another person the stories of our happiness, we end up connecting with other people and becoming friends. Lincoln has single-handedly ingratiated me with all the residents of my building – in fact I’m not sure if it’s my company or my dog’s they like more!  Now we neighbors are bound in a web of friendly chats, shared dinners and volunteer dog-sitting.  Lincoln helps me create community in my neighborhood.
            In scripture this morning, we see that God recognizes our alone-ness, and says we need a ‘helper’. God says, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.”  God patiently fashions from dust each living thing on earth, allowing his human creation to name each new creature.  But, the story continues, something was still needed for his human creation to have a companion…and so God created another in his likeness.  Because, truly, God created us as social creatures, perfectly adapted to connect with one another. As humans, we have long memories, perfect for remembering years of complex social interactions with others.  Scientists have found that the human brain can pull a face of someone it has met from a crowd of thousands in less than a quarter of a second.  That, to me, proves that we were created to be social beings.
Two millennia later, medical science is affirming scripture.  About 10 years ago, California Newsreel produced a public health film series called Unnatural Causes; Is Inequality Making Us Sick?  One episode details the physical effect of human isolation, citing research that isolation increases susceptibility to any number of diseases, both emotional and physical.  Close relationships and being caught in a web of social connections actually acts as a kind of buffer or barrier shield to chronic disease and infection.  It actually strengthens our immune system. This probably sounds familiar in terms of child development, but what may surprise us is this need continues to be as crucial at every point in our lives.  The lack of a caring ear to listen to our concerns, to hear our pain, or with whom we can discuss a big decision, is actually detrimental to our health.
I believe this is true.  Last summer I interned as a volunteer minister on the Night Ministry bus.  I know this congregation is one of the many wonderful ones that provides meals for the bus.  But contrary to what you might think, feeding the homeless is not the main goal.  As ministers, our goal at each stop is to be in relationship with those who come to the bus.  Rather than focus on how we can offer assistance to them, we simply offer friendship.  We try to make the space for comradery and fellowship; to let those who come to the bus know that we remember their name and we care about their well-being.  People who have overcome homelessness will often say the most difficult part wasn’t sleeping in the streets, nor was it going hungry.  The hardest part was feeling invisible to others.  When passersby avoid eye contact or conversation, it takes a toll on your humanity and well-being.  The Night Ministry tries to restore the human dignity of social interaction, maintaining the theory that individual change is easier for people to make when they are in relationship with others.  We must feel cared for to feel secure enough to try change.  Again, I’m reminded of scripture.  It is not good for man, or woman, or animal to be alone.  God created us to live in community, with helpers and partners, and to draw strength from one another.
In fact, many of us might say that’s why we come to church; to re-connect.  And we wouldn’t be wrong; the root of the word ‘religion’ means ‘to bind back’ and reconnect.  So it’s nice to reconnect with you this morning.  Gary Gunderson, an author, lecturer, and pioneer in the field of faith and health, has suggested that congregations, by their existence, operate as healing webs of social interaction.  In a world where we are less likely to know our neighbor on the street or the person behind the cash register, the added social web of a congregation can be the medicine we need in our lives.  Gunderson identifies Five Leading Causes of Life in his book of the same name; these are Connection, Coherence, Agency, Blessing, and Hope.  Connection is the primary element- the web of life that gives us strength and comfort.  Coherence is when we feel life makes sense through enjoying our belonging and finding meaning in our web of relationships.
Blessing, according to Gunderson, is something received from another and something inspiring gratitude.  Blessing comes in connection with others, and leads to hope – whether that be hope for ourselves, our loved ones, or hope for the future in general.  Being in connection with other humans is a blessing to me.  Being in connection with non-human creatures is as well.
In our Psalm today, we sang “let all earth cry out to God with Joy”.  By ‘all earth, the Psalmist means all living things that walk or crawl or swim along creation.  It parallels today’s Gospel; Matthew urges us to look at the birds of the air and take note of their carefree and bountiful existence.  From watching them, we can learn how to live with delight in our experience.  In this, Lincoln is also my teacher.  He reminds me how to praise God with joy, the delight of living fully and gratefully.  There is a moment I wait for when Lincoln and I go to wide-open spaces.  Long after the sniffing, the inspecting, and the marking, there is the moment when Lincoln sheds his crusty shell created by the overstimulation from being cooped up in a city apartment, and suddenly resembles a puppy again.  His curiosity returns, his ears come forward, he runs with abandon, often straight into pigeon clusters just to see them fly.  He becomes canine in the truest fashion.  In this moment, I see pure joy at being alive, and I am grateful. I believe we give praise by living into joy with gratitude – and sometimes I learn that joy and gratitude from Lincoln.
But I also want to talk about Gunderson’s third element; Agency.  Agency is one of my favorite words. Agency is the human capacity to do.  Made in God’s image, it is the reflection of the divine “I am”.  It is the confidence that “I can”; it is empowerment personified.  One of the best characteristics of the American mentality is the sense of agency – of “I can” - or collective agency – of “we can”.  On the other hand, one of the most disabling characteristics of people in decline or depression is loss of agency.  For the longest time, I delayed getting a dog because I believed “I can’t”; can’t manage the cost, schedule, or responsibility of caring for a pet in addition to my workload.  But, by some twist of God-given luck, I ended up as a dog servant.  And it is in serving my 4-legged companion that I’m reminded of my humanity as well.  Serving is an act of agency and an act of love; and serving builds more confidence with each act.  This relationship of dependence actually turns out to be the main driver in Gunderson’s Leading Causes of Life.  Counter-intuitively, it is in serving that we realize ‘we can’ and are empowered to keep on.  In serving my dog, I’m reminded of the web of life that connects us all to each other.  I’m reminded that I, as God’s created human creature, have a purpose in serving others – whether that be in serving a cup of kibble or the cup of communion; in feeding the hungry or feeding the earth with compost.  The act of serving reminds me that I have worth and function in God’s great scheme of things.  But, here’s the thing; Alone, we are unable to serve. To be servant requires the company of others – whether they be 2 legged, 4 legged, feathered, finned or scaled.
So today we celebrate that pets give people a way to connect with others, to help them feel better about themselves, and to help them feel empowered and grateful to God.  We recognize here in Creation Season, that being creatures of the earth ourselves, we are not only connected, but we are better together.  With God, we are drawn into relationship with each other, and given the opportunity for comfort, joy, and servitude. 

Where Have All The Children Gone?

Araceli Sanchez had a harrowing week.  Last Tuesday, she left her 3-year-old’s birthday party to grab more paper plates.  She was pulled over for making an illegal turn to avoid construction.  If it was me, I’d have gotten a ticket and been on my way.

But Araceli has a Spanish accent, and no driver’s license.  And she lives in Arizona.

Araceli is married to US Citizen Guillermo Garcia, an Infantryman in the Army.  Contrary to popular belief, for most undocumented, marriage to an American Citizen does not guarantee you status in the US.  Quotas, which vary by country, keep official, legal immigration artificially low – even before the recession when businesses were crying for more workers.  Even if married to a US citizen, if you come from a country whose quota is full for the year (which usually happens within the first few days of the new quota year), you must be deported to your home country and wait ‘your turn’ (which will likely never come).  Usually the penalty is a minimum of 10 years in your home country.  The law does not bend when children are involved.

The Obama administration has been deporting record numbers of immigrants.  In 2010, the President had achieved 10% more deportations that President Bush did in 2008, and 25% more than Bush in 2007.  In the first half of 2011, 46,000 parents of children were arrested, detained and deported.  5100 of those children ended up in the foster care program.

There was no mention of who cared for Araceli’s child during her 48-hour stay in prison, since her husband was stationed, and panicked, in Germany.  But Araceli was lucky; one concession of the Obama administration is to decline to deport spouses of military personnel.  According to the provision, Araceli should never have been handed over to Immigration, Customs and Enforcement (ICE) after showing her military spouse ID. 

In 2010, I met a woman who wasn’t so lucky.  She was arrested in Harvard, Illinois for allegedly crossing the white line, midday, in her vehicle with her child.  Even though a friend arrived with bail, she was held for days for detention proceedings.  No member of police enforcement followed up on the location or care of her child while she was imprisoned.  She was turned over to ICE, booked, and given a deportation hearing date.

Starting from the 1870’s, American colonists took Native American children to re-education camps to ‘kill the Indian, save the man’.  Although some Indian boarding schools still exist, the practice is widely condemned now.  From the period of 1869-1969, Aboriginal children in Australia, known as the ‘stolen generation’, were forcibly removed from their parents in order to ‘civilise’ them, and in hopes that the tribal people would ‘die out’.  A formal apology was made in 2008. 

In my mind, American deportation policy toward undocumented immigrants is no less cruel and immoral.  The children are sometimes left here willingly, out of their parents’ desperation for a better life for their child.  But a nation that purports to value ‘families’ cannot ignore the tragic challenges these children will face in a flawed and financially-starved foster system with no local source of support.

Thankfully, the US might have a legal opportunity to change their policy.  The Latino Policy Coalition has submitted a complaint with the United Nations regarding the human rights record of the United States.  The complaint asserts that the 5100 children placed in foster care are now missing, and must be accounted for and reunified with their parents.

For the health, not only of these families, but also the fabric of our society, and our integrity as a nation, I hope this complaint forces the Obama administration to reconsider its deportation policy.