It's a celebration!

The old zivis are beginning to depart, the first left Saturday night. On Thursday everyone from Church of the Multiplication (my monastery in Tabgha) was invited over to the Sisters’ house. There are five Benedictine Philippine Sisters who live about a 5-minute walk from us. They work in the office at the Church of the Multiplication and do a lot cleaning in the actual Church. They are the kindest and most gentle little ladies with huge permanent smiles. The night was a great time; the Sisters prepared delicious Philippine food (somewhat like other Asian foods) for dinner and then rich desserts. They were extremely hospitable, always trying to get you to eat and drink more. I got up from the table a couple times during supper for: a second helping, a new napkin, to pick up some flowers that blew over, and even when I cleared dishes off after the main course each time one of the Sisters literally made me take another beer. As soon as they saw me get up, they immediately went to the drink table and popped the cap off a cold beer (oh yeah unlike the Germans these ladies kept theirs on ice…I’m in heaven), grabbed my hand put the beer in it, and said, “Here Michael, my angel”, and turned and left before I could say “No thank you” (like I would). The Sisters call Leither and I “Their Angles”. I think it is because we speak English, can’t help but smile at them, and are the only non-German volunteers they’ve seen in their 10-plus years here. After supper the zivis gave “Thank you/ Goodbye” speeches. It was quite clear that these young men had made some great relationships and memories with the people of this community over the last year. They expressed how it was hard for them to leave, how they were not ready to go home, not ready to leave everyone here, and leave the work they felt they were contributing to. The Sisters had singing planned knowing the speeches would produce melancholy, and let me tell you it was a blast. I was laughing, dancing, and singing like I was with all my friends back home. Minus one or two, all of the songs were in English and had actions to go with the words. We looked to the Sisters to lead us in the motions. If you’ve ever seen a Sister in full dress singing and dancing, whirling and waving their arms and bodies you know what I mean when I say it just makes you feel good, puts a smile right on your face.

The next night the Monks returned the favor and invited the Sisters over for a barbeque in honor of the zivis. We had a couple extra guests: 4 monks from our Prior, Dormition Abbey in Jerusalem, and Abraham (our tremendous cook) and his wife who wanted to celebrate the zivis’ work. Let me quickly tell you about Abraham. I had a conversation with him at supper that night. His family is Christian Palestinians (3 sons and a daughter in their 20’s). His wife only speaks Hebrew and Arabic. He is fluent in English, Hebrew, and Arabic. He speaks well enough in French and German to hold conversations. This man is our cook. I kept asking myself, what is he doing with this linguistic ability as a cook? Well like I said, he is a Palestinian Christian in Israel.

Sidenote…Just after I was accepted into the Benedictine volunteer corps for Israel I was told to read a book by Elias Chacour titled Blood Brothers (Chacour spoke at my college graduation ceremony and is a Christian Palestinian Archbishop). Chacour writes about how his family (and whole village) was persecuted, men were tortured, and all were driven from their land, never allowed to return (if they were to return anyway they would see it was destroyed). Chacour notes how his village was like many other non-Jewish villages all around Israel after 1948 (being destroyed), how the country and people around the world need to change, and how we need to love and care for everyone regardless of race and religion.

Abraham’s story was just like Chacour’s. In 1948 the people of his village were told by the government they would be safer if they moved to some land (not as good quality Abraham notes) to the east and then the army would let them know when it was safe to return. They were not allowed to return until 1951 and when they did all that was left of the village was the church. “This country is not a democratic country”, he kept telling me, he has been working at Tabgha since 1987 and was unable to get jobs anywhere else in the country because of his race and religion. This Christian monastery was a Godsend to him, but I can’t help but think it is unfitting to the ability and potential he had when he was younger. Now he is 64 and pulling in a low wage having to work much longer in order to make sure he and his wife will be okay.

We went swimming in the Sea of Galilee the other day, me for the first time. The water was very warm (no salt) and the beach and bottom consisted of golf ball to softball size rocks until you get to your chest. There were a couple young families at the beach too. There were about 13 of us between the ages 18-23 (we all get along like good friends, joking and laughing) and from the way were acting in the water the families just kept laughing at us. I am glad we did not intimidate, as I would think a group of 10-plus young men could in some parts of the world, but not here in Tabgha…paradise.