Walk the walk, talk the talk

Two weeks ago ML and I had Sunday and Monday off. We headed to Jerusalem to do some hiking in Wadi Kelt where we visited St. George’s Monastery (Greek Orthodox).



Out in the middle of the desert between Jerusalem and Jericho is this isolated monastery. The walk down to the monastery is a hike alone even though it is on a paved surface due to the steep inclines. It is extremely hot there, I started sweating profusely upon leaving the car and it was 7:20 am. From what I could gather from the monk I spoke with (communication problems between us) all the living supplies are carted in with a donkey.



The actual monastery is tucked into the side of the wadi (river gorge). The water that comes from a natural spring (which we hiked to) is intercepted by families living along the water duct and adulterated with waste, feces, and chemicals making it undrinkable.



We hiked 5 hours in tremendous heat, both drinking 4.5 liters of water while out.



In Jerusalem we met up with the St. John’s theology graduate program and those making the trip to the middle east. Later that week while back in Tabgha Fr. Jerome, leading the May term group of Johnnies and Bennies, stopped by Tabgha on their way south to Jerusalem. We explained a little of how we are living here and what we are doing. We got words of encouragement and interesting questions from the students and the good Father. Seeing both groups brought back a flood of great memories from the last 4 years and all the great people who have influenced me.




Every Wednesday in Tabgha we have buffet night, which as the name points out we are allowed to stuff ourselves till the puke reflex kicks in. I’m not sure when, but it slipped that I flipped za’s for money and along with my outgoing enthusiasm for the dish necessitated a test of my skills.

I was asked to make pizza about a month ago and it was barely above something I would’ve ordered for my drunk college roommates, just poor. It was my crust, I don’t want to make excuses for poor work, but so many factors were not in my favor: manual temperature oven, unknown yeast, inter-religious conflicts. Really though, I think they find more edible material at the earth’s core.

Apparently it was not bad enough to warrant a lifetime ban. This last Wednesday I was asked again to make pizza. Well guess what? Today we spell redemption M...I...K...E. I by no means call myself Julia Child, but the Germans’ idea of my pizza is at least at a level I can be content leaving with.


You are constantly in my thoughts Jan. Hope you are smiling. God bless.