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.

Pope Benedict

With the arrival of the Pope to the Holy Land this week there was much discussion and joking about Catholicism in the US, Papal qualifications, influence, and stardom between the volunteers. (Opinion) Roman Catholicism in America is not as celebrated as here and the central European countries. I went to Nazareth late Wednesday for the holy mass to be performed by the Pope on Thursday. The town was a buzz that night. All nationalities were out and about.

In accordance with Israeli security the protection was immense and strict. Those wishing to participate in mass had to be bused to the Mount of Precipice (where it was held) after checking through a security point with heavily armed soldiers. After a short five minute bus ride we then waited 2 hours in line to be checked again.

It was 8am when I passed through the final security point to find my VIP ticket seat (nothing extremely special just cement bleachers) and it was already hot. I wore jeans not knowing if I was going to be spending the previous night sleeping in line ensuring a place at mass (they started busing people in at midnight and closed the gates at 8:30am turning back the rest). Denim gets hot boys and girls.

The backdrop to the altar on the Mount of Precipice was the city of Nazareth. It was an appropriate setting for a mass with the houses on the sloping hills behind making the mind serene and untroubled. Except...

Mass didn’t begin until 10am so we sat out under the rising sun for two hours until the pontiff arrived. Had I been able to sleep a full night in a bed instead of on a couch for 4 hours it would’ve been a little easier. Just to test my drained demeanor even more for the whole two hours we waited the student chorus, led by an energetic monk and an off-tune woman, sang the same chants over and over. It seemed more like a pep rally or sporting event than a holy mass.



It continued to get hotter. I continued to get exhausted.


At 10am we saw, on the two huge video screens, the pontiff enter the Pope-mobile. We watched his motor escort with the sharply dressed Swiss Guard on the screen until we realized they were going to drive right by us down the road that separated the VIP section from the general assembly. It was 15 feet behind me and I ran to the rail to get a picture. So did everyone else. It was like teenage girls at a Justin Timberlake concert, just chaos.



Pope Benedict always had two members of the religious community by his side to ensure good footing but he did not need them. At 82 he seems in good health both mentally and physically; he spoke Latin and English during the mass. Other people spoke parts of the mass in Arabic and even short prayers in Italian, Spanish, French, and Hebrew. Some familiar faces: Patriarch Elias Chacour (SJU commencement) and Bishop Fouad Twal (our Archbishop)



Mass was two and a half hours long. At times of long pauses I drifted in and out of consciousness. The sun was so strong. The young children sitting in front and behind us were sprawling out and you could see they were struggling. Water was passed out to the crowd

It was announced at mass that over 60,000 people were present (I was fortunate enough to get communion but about 50,000 didn't). I looked behind me and it was a sea of people up the hill. I was amazed at the excitement in the crowd; people were waving many different huge national flags, Papal flags, and some groups singing songs not from the mass and dancing. They must have gotten more sleep than I did.



I came away from this experience with a different perspective of the Pope. Disapprovals are another story, what I am talking about is his influence. I did not expect it but I found myself with this mystic affection for him. He brings hope, love, and peace. He urged the people of this WORLD, of all different religions to live peacefully and to live like brothers and sisters. He wasn't trying to Christianize. He is not just a Roman Catholic icon. He’s a humanitarian. You don’t have to be Catholic, you don’t even have to be Christian to follow him and his call for peace.

We found the Tabgha Sisters and of course they did the two things they always do when they see us out in public: take tons of pictures and feed us.

Think of your favorite excuse for not writing...its mine.

I can’t believe Palm Sunday was three weeks ago. With that said I will do my best to recap what has happened since then.

While Jerusalem is the ideal place to celebrate Easter Sunday, I stayed in Tabgha to celebrate with our community.

HOLY WEEK:

Thursday night we extinguished all the lights in the church at the end of mass quietly and let the parishioners go their own way. The Tabgha family ate a quiet filling meal setup in fashion of the Last Supper.

Only a little work was done on Good Friday.

The band practicing for Easter Sunday

Holy Saturday was spent preparing for the next morning. ML and I hard boiled and dyed 300+ eggs with three elderly German women and two seminarians.



Easter Sunday began with a 4am mass. I woke up shortly before mass and felt my stomach growl and head slightly twinge, not used to the early hour. The congregation assembled out in front of the church and proceeded in, lighting the individual personal candles on the way. In the first 5 minutes after everyone found a seat an elderly woman keeled over. I thought Ohhh, I’m next there is no way I’ll make it the whole mass…I was alter-serving…you owe me Br. Paul. Consider that my donation to the BVC for the next 10 years.



Three and a half hours later and catastrophe free we headed down the path to the Pilgerhaus for a huge breakfast and (while nothing special added) some of the most satisfying coffee ever.

We chilled in the pool in the early afternoon enjoying our first post-Lent-fast alcoholic beverage (I mean I tried to refrain from consuming alcohol during Lent NOT that I drank this one quickly). I say try; no one is perfect.

The next Friday (17th) we had some of the monks from Dormition to Tabgha to celebrate as a family. It was a great fish and bread feast where I was actually tired of eating come Satruday night. Late in the night on Saturday Martin, ML, and I walked to Capernaum to watch the Eastern Orthodox Christian Easter celebration. Prior to the BVC I had no encounters with Orthodox Christians and I’ve found myself curious after many occasions, this one especially.

On the following Monday a group arrived from Bethlehem. Comprised of children ages 5-13 (I would guess) with varied abilities and disabilities this group makes a yearly trip to Tabgha to relax and let loose. The catch is: the children and adult leaders are only allowed 1-2 day passes to leave the West Bank and return, extending this time limit would result in loss of privilege to leave the West Bank or maybe worse.

Chaos and commotion

Because of the short duration the children spend as much of their waking moments in the pool and after our work sessions we would jump in with them. They would play keep-away with balls or climb all over us. It was constant commotion and laughter (much of mine).

Too strong...come get some

It was an unpleasant realization to think that some of the children only see a pool once a year. It sounds like nonsense and I can only hope that it is.