Petra, Part 2

After I had coffee in front of my new Mormon friend, our group left for Petra. Arriving around 11:30, we entered the park to be accosted by Bedouin guides offering us horse, camel, or donkey rides down the canyon to the main attractions of the ancient city. Bedouins are, as my friend describes, “hippies in the desert.” They live a nomadic lifestyle, are Muslim, seem generally darker in complexion than Arabs, and are very laid-back. We declined the offer for a ride, and began walking the long corridor through canyon to the city carved from rock (check out my pictures and http://www.see-jordan.com/petra.html for more details). The dramatic entrance facing the Treasury after walking through the canyon was incredible- it was like finding a cut diamond inside the natural beauty of an unfinished emerald. We immediately met up with a Bedouin whom Deb and Leanne had met the day before and shared a cup of tea with him. We then explored the many carved rocks and rooms of Petra, most of which were nearly a couple millennia old. The city is featured in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, but many Christians believe it is the place to where the remnant of Israel will flee in the End Times (for me info, see http://www.worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=22539). Before visiting Petra I thought this belief was superstitious and a bit crazy. After seeing the city and its vast amount of bunkers and rooms, though, it was really easy for me to imagine a large community of people taking shelter there.

For the late afternoon we trekked up some 1000 stairs to see the Monastery. From there, it was a short distance to a mountain peak that offered stunning views of Jordan and Israel. My breath was taken away to see the magnificence of God’s creation, and I was really humbled by the grandeur of the moment. I sat speechless on a very high peak, wondering why God, the Creator of the heavens and earth, would care for me, such a small and insignificant person. What a wonderful and amazing love is our God’s, and what a privilege is it for us to be known by Him!

The mountain was so calm. The sun warmed the rock upon which I sat, and a slight breeze made the day perfect. It seemed like I was a thousand miles away from all civilization, and a few birds flying in the distance were the only signs of movement I could see. Sitting where I was, on the precipice of a lofty cliff, it seems like I should have been afraid of falling. Still, save for being in the arms of my parents as I child, I cannot recall a time when I have felt more safe or secure than I did when looking down from the mountain-top. David’s words in Psalm 62:6, “He only is my rock and my salvation: he is my defence; I shall not be moved,” were made very real to me. Though on my own I may have fallen into very deep chasm, the rock was holding me up. There is hardly a greater feeling in the world than to know that I am able to go to the eternal rock- God- whenever I am about to fall off the cliff of life.

We watched the sunset from high upon our perch. Thankfully, some gracious Bedouins offered to take us out of the park after the sun went down (the mountain-top was nearly a two-hour hike from the entrance to the park). So, after it got dark, we began our hike down the mountain. The stars – clearer and brighter than I have ever seen -- came out and illuminated our treacherous path. One of our Bedouin guides told us, “You go back to your hotel with five stars, I go to sleep under a million.” The park was much different by night, being both more romantic and more treacherous. The way back through the canyon, for example, seemed like the perfect place to “fall among a band of robbers,” but the Treasury by starlight was a sight I will never want to forget.

We made it back to the hotel in one piece to be greeted by an extravagant Middle Eastern buffet that cost us 5 dinari. We went to bed shortly after that. Josh and I returned to the park in the morning to do some more exploring of caves, and decided to leave Jordan on that afternoon.

On the way back to the Israeli border, we decided to take the services. Our cab driver in Petra, who took us from the park to the central bus station, told us the services weren’t running and that he could take us to the border for 25 dinari. I wasn’t about to take his lies, and ended up in a near-shouting match with the driver as I demanded that he take us to the central bus station. Josh thought it was pretty funny, but our manipulative driver ended up dropping us off where we needed to be. We took a service from Petra to Maan, and then from Maan to Aqaba. The total cost of our return trip was $14 dinari, compared to the $35 dinari trip that was required of our initial arrival.

Some general observations about Petra:

We saw a Muslim lady in the park who was wearing a Burka. Her husband was taking a picture of her, completely veiled, with their small daughter in front the Treasury.

On the service from Maan to Aqaba, they made the girls on the trip sit next to each other.

Bedouins are looked down upon by Arabs, but the former were by far the friendliest and most-honest people we encountered on our trip.

Some of the Jordanian land we saw looked like Mars. Other parts reminded me of poppy-seed rolls.

We couldn’t speak in Hebrew or on anything regarding Israel while we were in Jordan, for fear that we might upset the Muslims. This was really tough to do.

Petra, Part 1

Petra was an amazing weekend. If I wouldn’t have taken the pictures, I’m not sure I would have believed the memories that I have of the time I spent in Jordan.

Josh and I left early Thursday morning from the central Jerusalem bus station on an autobus headed for Eilat, Israel’s southern-most city and port on the Red Sea. The trip, which lasted about four and a half hours, took us through the Israeli countryside and through the Negev Desert. The waters of the Dead Sea looked temptingly refreshing as the morning sunshine streamed through our window and warmed the bus.

We reached the border crossing, paid the exit fee from Israel, and walked across a stretch of no-man’s land. It was eerie to be between two nations -- it felt almost like a state of perdition. We reached the Jordanian side, got our passports stamped (they asked us what our religion was), and began looking for a service, a cheap shared-van to Petra. We had heard that we could find one for a dinar and a half (one Jordanian dinar = 1.41 American dollars), but the entire crossing was desolate, save a few Jordanian officials shooting the breeze like Sheriffs in an empty Old West town. As we exited the crossing, a Jordanian official approached us and pointed us to a cab that was waiting. We told him we wanted a service, but he lied through his teeth and claimed that there were none running. There was nothing we could do, because we were foreigners, no one else was around, and it was a really long walk through military checkpoints to the nearest city. So, we were taken advantage of and required to pay 35 dinari for the ride to Petra. We passed up several services on the way there.

We reached the hotel in one piece, paid our extravagant cab fee, and settled into our room. The room, which was just 15 dinari a night for both me and Josh, was huge, looked luxurious, and had an incredible view. The toilet wouldn’t flush anything down and the shower-head was broken, but other than that the hotel was really nice.

For dinner, I met Sam, Eric, Leanne, Deb, and Rachel in the hotel’s restaurant. We had a huge meal of traditional Middle Eastern food. It was Rachel’s birthday, and apparently the son of the hotel’s owner, a fellow our age, took a liking to her. He told us all to go up to the girls’ hotel room after the meal so that he could bring Rachel a birthday surprise. We were kind of worried, thinking that this fellow, whom we had only met that day, may present himself or a friend of his as a birthday present/groom for our unsuspecting friend. Our fears were eased, though, when he brought up a huge birthday caked with the richest frosting and filling I’ve ever tasted. His motives still remained questionable, however, because he then invited Rachel to the hotel’s Turkish bath for a free birthday treat. Seeing through his poorly disguised advances, we decided that Rachel would not be going to the Turkish bath alone with the hotel owner’s son (whom we called the Prince of Wadi Musa, because he knew everyone and was related to just as many in town). Long story short, while I went to bed, many of my traveling-buddies got free Turkish baths (with their swimming suits on) because the Prince liked Rachel.

In the morning, I awoke, had some coffee in the hotel’s restaurant, and was able to spend some time speaking with an older lady I had seen on the bus ride from Jerusalem. Come to find out, she was exploring the Middle East like we were and was spending most of her trip at a hotel in Bethlehem. I spoke with her for nearly a half hour, discussing topics like Israel’s role in the End Times, the dilemma of Palestinian Christians, and many other themes regarding Israel, the West Bank, and our faith. I thought the lady was a saint, and I agreed with her on nearly everything we spoke about. I thought she may be a Baptist or perhaps a Presbyterian with a heart for the people of the Middle East. I noticed later, however, that she wasn’t drinking any coffee. Come to find out, the kind little lady I was speaking with was Mormon. Apparently, Mormons like Israel and discussing End Times theology just like Christians do. It really bothers me, though, that much of her faith is heresy. It was a good reminder for me to pray for Mormons, that they might come to know the Christ and faith of Christianity.

Pre-Petra

I am glad to say that Ulpan is finally over. It’s been an intense five weeks of language study, with me taking Hebrew like it was my job, but I’ve completed the “Aleph” (first) level and am ready to start the regular semester.

My buddy Josh returned from the States tonight, and tomorrow we head to Jordan. I’m looking forward to traveling with him, because he’s the only person I know here that can speak Arabic. I’m sure this will come in handy at the border crossings, hotels, and in other things. Middle Eastern culture is interesting because often-times people who provide you with services or products will try anything to screw you out of money. It is nothing for them to lie straight to your face, telling you that the chitzey cross necklace (the one you can buy at any elementary school Santa’s Shop around December) you’re looking into buying is made of real gold and diamonds. When bargaining, it’s important to start out and remain at a very low price. Jordan should be an adventure because I’m even more of a foreigner there and there will be even greater possibilities for me to lose my shekels to dishonest or greedy salespeople/service providers.

Walking around in Western Jerusalem (the Israeli and Jewish areas), I’ve noticed that many Jewish fellows with peyos (those long locks of hair that fall from the sides of many an Orthodox fellow’s temple) enjoy curling them in public. They twist the curls around their fingers, wrapping and re-wrapping them in public. It’s amusing to see older gentlemen restlessly curling and playing with their hair as they wait for the bus or walk to the market.

It’s citrus season here in Israel. There seem to be orange, lemon, tangerine, and kumquat trees everywhere bearing down under the weight of their succulent fruits. Even trees that line the roads, planted here like the maples or oaks on the tree-lawns of Westfield, are full of luscious fruit to tempt the passer-by. This land truly is the land of “chalav o’dvash,” of milk and honey, as Exodus 3:8 points out. The smallest trees, perhaps planted only last year, are full of fruit even now. It seems a miracle that these tiny and often sickly looking trees bear anything at all, let alone a handful of citrus. It reminds me of how I am as a believer in Christ. I’m a small, sickly-looking tree without much to offer on my own. It’s only by the grace of God that I can produce anything of value. With His help and through His mercies, however, it’s possible that I “produce(d) a crop, multiplying thirty, sixty, or even a hundred times." (Mark 4:8)

Hallelujah, I'm a (beach) Bum!

Last night I returned from a weekend trip to Tel Aviv, Israel’s largest, and perhaps hippest, city. We left Friday morning on a school-sponsored tour to see the oldest part of the city, Neve Tzedek. I must admit, I wasn’t that impressed by the historical spot. It is scarcely over 100 years old, and the tour guide seemed hard-pressed for stories about the significance of the area. We saw, for example, a dilapidated kiosk that was, according to our guide, the “second oldest in Tel Aviv.” It reminded me, though, that the modern state of Israel is so young (approaching 60 years), and that contemporary history there doesn’t go very far back.

After the tour we visited an artists fair. We had a lunch of humus and pita -- something I’ve eaten much of here -- in a small café, and then headed down to the beach. The weather in Tel Aviv is significantly warmer than in Jerusalem. Friday the weather was in the low to mid-60’s, and Saturday it was around 70, with bright sunshine nearly all day. We hung out at the beach both days, getting ourselves sunburned, wading in the ocean (the water was still chilly), and enjoying the nearly-tropical weather. Friday night we stayed in a $10/night hostel, which was cosier and far more eclectic than a hotel. Overall, it was a great, sun-filled weekend. If I return to Tel Aviv, it will certainly be for the beaches there.

I was able to spend some more time speaking with my Christian Palestinian shopkeeper friend in the Old City, this past week. He is actually an elder in his church, a very dangerous position in which to find oneself in the largely-Muslim West Bank. He told me that at his church are former Muslims and former Hamas members, and that, if certain people knew he was a pastor, he could lose his life. He also shared that there is a large underground church in the West Bank where people secretly worship Christ out of fear that they may be hurt or killed for their beliefs. span>

The pastor told me that he, and most Palestinian Christians, believe in replacement theology. This set of beliefs teaches that the Church has completely replaced Israel in God’s plan of redemption for mankind. Thus, God’s old covenant with Israel no longer is applicable and his new covenant with the Church, inaugurated in Christ, is the only covenant that matters. With this view, Jews no longer hold any special place in God’s unfolding plan, and the modern state of Israel cannot be justified using biblical or theological arguments.

My Palestinian ach (brother, in Hebrew) lives in a refugee camp in the West Bank with his family. He has to cross the wall that Israel is building to separate the West Bank from the rest of Israel every day on his way to work. He shared with me that he had once been asked for a 500 shekel bribe from an Israeli soldier for easy passage.

He said the Church in the West Bank is continually in a difficult situation because it is neither Jewish nor Muslim. It seems to get caught in the crossfire of the two groups, and suffers particularly under the PA leadership (http://www.jcpa.org/jl/vp490.htm). Recently, many churches in the West Bank have been persecuted for the European cartoons of Allah. He, and many other Palestinian pastors, published an ad in the Palestinian newspapers renouncing the cartoonery.

When I told him that my mom, neighbor, and youth pastor were coming to visit, he invited us all over to dinner at his home in the refugee camp. He said we’d be all right as long as we went with him. When I told Mom about the idea, she sounded thrilled.

I’m making plans to visit Petra next weekend with some Jewish and Christian friends. Let me say, though, that traveling with Christians is much easier than with Jews. This past weekend in Tel Aviv I was with a mixed group. As Christians, we were able to eat anywhere regardless of dietary regulations. Our Jewish friends, though, needed to eat at Kosher restaurants. They also were not able to drive anywhere on Shabbat so, while we took a sherut (a giant cab) back to Jerusalem in the afternoon, they waited until after dark to return. Next weekend, my Jewish friends want to spend Shabbat in Israel instead of in Jordan. We have a long weekend, and doing this would allow us only a day and a half in Jordan. The group is certainly going to split up, with me and some Christian friends remaining in Petra and the devout Jews probably going back early to Israel. Knowing all of these Jewish rule and regulations certainly gives me a greater appreciation for the practical freedoms from the Law that I have as Gentile Christian.

Tu B'Shvat

Happy Tu B’Shvat! Wait- you don’t know what Tu B’Shvat is? Well, neither did I until yesterday, the first time I attended a Tu B’Shvat seder and celebrated the holiday with some Jewish friends. The holiday originated with God’s command in Lev. 19:23-25 not to harvest fruit from trees until they reach a certain age. So, in order to measure the age of trees, Jews celebrate a birthday of sorts for our arborous (word?) friends every year around this time. I heard that the holiday is big in Kabbala Judaism, complete with a seder (a meal with certain rules and regulations to be followed- the Passover meal is another example of a seder) and all. It is customary here in Israel to plant a tree on Tu B’Shvat to celebrate the special day.

Any ways, I was able to attend a Tu B’Shvat seder last night. In the course of the meal, there were cups of wine (starting with white and proceeding to darker varieties) that represented, if I remember correctly, the progression of the season from budding and new growth to harvest. In between the glasses of wine we ate several different kinds of fruit, each representing different categories of harvest here in Israel (example: one course had bananas and kiwi, because they are fruits with a tough, inedible outer skin). By the end of the seder, we had all eaten a lot of fruit. Many people celebrate the holiday today as well so, as I’m sure you can imagine, there are plenty of gassy people walking around Israel. Personally, I bought an air freshener for our room yesterday because it got so bad.

There are toothpicks here in Israel, but they're often incredibly difficult to find. Israeli society isn't nearly as coutreous as American society. Most felafel stands (serving a very messy product, mind you), don't even carry napkins. This leads to an oft-times barbaric, but strangely gratifying, eating experience.

Since tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, I’d like to share with you about all the romance I’ve had here in Israel. Basically, I haven’t had any (and the prospects aren’t good). There are plenty of attractive ladies here, don’t get me wrong, but they’re all Jewish. I take very seriously the Apostle Paul’s (and God’s) admonition in 2 Cor. 6:14 not to be “unequally yoked together with unbelievers,” so dating is out of the question with Jewish ladies. Thus, I’m a free man this semester, without any worries about what the girls might think. I don’t have to suck in my belly, comb my hair, or even take showers (although I do the last one out of propriety). I’m single and free, thank goodness, without a female in the world to please. I think it may be appropriate at this point in my life to say that I’m in love with Jerusalem. Be that as it may, I’d like to send along my best wishes to everyone back at home for a blessed and content St. Valentine’s holiday.

Speaking of love and romance, I was involved in my first riot the other day. Well, I wasn’t involved, so to speak, but I did witness it. I arrived at the scene just as the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) were breaking-up the scene. Apparently, some Muslim youths with ties to Hamas were burning a Danish flag outside the Damascus Gate to the Old City (this is the entrance to the Arab shook where I always buy my vegetables and pita). Things got out of hand, so the IDF decided to put a stop to the demonstration. One thing led to another, and the youths began assaulting the soldiers. Soon enough, the Israelis were chasing around the Palestinians with clubs and throwing stun grenades and smoke bombs (enter Jason to witness the fray). It was incredibly exciting, as I was by myself and witnessing a real Arab-Israeli conflict, but I learned an important lesson: Don’t mess with the Israeli army. They always win.

My Great-Aunt Pat Steidl passed away last weekend. If I were in the States, I would probably fly back to her funeral in Ohio. I always enjoyed talking to her and Uncle Andy at family reunions -- something I missed greatly after they moved out to California. If I ever become a policy-maker involved in government, my platform on social security and Medicare will reflect the conversations I had with Aunt Pat. Another thing I will always remember Aunt Pat for were her hugs and kisses. As a young kid, I’d always run away and hide from her when she arrived at family get-togethers because I knew she’d give me a big smooch on the cheek. She always found me, though, and I always gave in to her hugs and kisses. As I got older, I came to appreciate and look forward to her warm greetings of love.

On another sad note, my friend, who flew back to the States because his mother was on the verge of death, is today mourning at her funeral. He and his family are “sittin’ in the need of prayer,” as the song goes, so please pray for them if you can. May God welcome Aunt Pat and my friend’s mother into His Kingdom of everlasting life, and give comfort to all those whom they’ve left behind. As believers, we can praise God for the hope of eternity with Him in the presence of our Savior. “O death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory?” (2 Cor. 15:55).

Boker Shabbat Shalom

Some new pictures...

Boker Shabbat Shalom (Shabbat Morning Peace),

I’m waking up this morning to a beautiful Shabbat here in the city. Yesterday was a day full of more exploring Jerusalem, from the Mount of Olives to the Via Dolorosa.

I began the morning with a view East of Jerusalem- fromthe West Bank on into Jordan. Mount Scopus, the hill I live on, has commanding views of the Old City and surrounding areas (it was once used as a Roman garrison, I’ve been told, and has been utilized by many invading armies to conquer Jerusalem). At the outlook point were some German(?) believers singing “He is Lord.” There was also an Arab shepherd-boy riding around on a donkey, offering the tourists the chance to take pictures. I didn’t want to patronize him, but I did take a few pictures when he wasn’t looking.

From Mt. Scopus I went over to the Mount of Olives, where I visited the Auguste-Victoria Church of the Ascension. Built at the turn of the previous century by the German royal family, the church has one of the highest towers in all of Jerusalem and offers commanding views of the region. After buying the ticket to climb the tower, I raced up its steps to see the view similar to the one Christ saw when he ascended, and the one similar to the one that he will see when he returns a second time (Acts 1:9-11). When I got to the top, I didn’t receive so much of an epiphany as I did sore legs- it was quite hike. Still, the song that came to mind was “When He Cometh:”

“When He cometh, when He cometh
To make up His jewels,
All His jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.

Like the stars of the morning,
His brightness adorning,
They shall shine in their beauty,
Bright gems for His crown.”

After seeing the Tower-Church, I went over and visited the Church of the Beatitudes (also on the Mount of Olives), the traditional place where Christ gave his Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5-7). On the walls of the compound was the Lord’s Prayer in countless languages.

The second phase of my day was with Christian friends doing the Via Dolorosa, the traditional path that Christ took through Jerusalem carrying the cross. We began at the first station, which has two chapels- one remembering the condemnation of Christ, and the other remembering the flagellation. We continued from there with a group of around 70 pilgrims, led by some Franciscans who spoke on the significance of each station (Check out this site for a fuller explanation). In between each station many of the pilgrims said the “Our Father” and “Hail Mary” prayers, which I didn’t participate in because 1) they were in Latin and 2)I don’t care much for Mary. Still, it was a really meaningful experience. We ended up in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher for the final stations, after which we joined a Catholic procession (led once again by Franciscans) that went around the church touring the significant area therein. They chanted and sang in Latin, which I attempted to follow and sing along with, but it was very difficult. I was able to pick up some of the things they talked about but my ignorance of Latin was pretty clear.

After leaving the church, we walked back to Mount Scopus through the Christian and Muslim Quarters. Along the way, I saw a shop with a Christian dove sticker and a Palestinian sticker right below it. I met the Evangelical owner of the shop- he is a pastor and goes to the Arab Christian Missionary Alliance Church. He said that God is doing great things among the Palestinians, and that the Holy Spirit is really moving. He invited me to his church service, which is done in Arabic but offers headphone-translation. I plan to visit soon.

Meeting the Palestinian pastor made me wonder what his view of Israel is. As a Palestinian, does he believe that Israel is an unjust oppressor? As an Evangelical, does he believe Jews are God’s chosen people (not that all Evangelicals believe this, but let’s assume that now for the sake of argument)? Furthermore, as his brother in Christ, how do I approach him if he is a Palestinian nationalist? When it comes to my perspectives on the Arab-Israeli conflict, to whom do I owe my allegiance? Do I take the perspective of my Arab brothers and sisters in Christ(assuming they are pro-Palestinian), or that of God’s chosen people who have largely rejected the Messiah (assuming they are pro-Israel)? An interesting question, but I’ve decided to take up neither viewpoint. I, like the Apostle Paul, am “determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” (1Cor. 2:2). If Christ is my number-one passion and the Holy Spirit is my guide, I cannot go wrong.

Some Random Jerusalem

I saw my second full rainbow arching across Jerusalem today. Now, back in Ohio, it’s something special to just get ¼ of a rainbow. I’d never seen a real full rainbow, therefore, until I saw my first Israel rainbow, which was from horizon to horizon. It was absolutely beautiful, and filled the sky over the city with magnificent color. I was reminded, as I always am when I see rainbows, of Genesis 9:16, where God establishes the rainbow as a sign of his promise never to flood the earth again. The rainbow seemed strangely appropriate here in Israel.

I’ve taken up drinking Turkish coffee. It’s by far the most potent coffee I’ve ever had, since it’s made by mixing the coffee grounds right in with the water. When you get to the bottom of the cup, there’s plenty of grounds-goodness to slurp, depending on how much energy you need. The second time I bought a cup from the school’s coffee/deli place, I requested cream in it (the first time I thought it was entirely too strong without it). The Israeli guys behind the counter just looked at me and laughed, and let me know that no one drinks their Turkish coffee with cream in it. Since then, they poked fun at me when I go to buy my coffee.

Israelis always wait for the walk sign to light up when they cross the street, even when there is no traffic coming in either direction. I suspect it’s the result of a few thousand years of following God’s law, which naturally leads to a respect for man’s law as well. It’s certainly different from DC, though, where people try to cross fast-moving traffic. It’s not the same here, though, because cars in traffic just don’t stop. There is no pedestrian right-of-way, and if you get hit by a car I suspect it’s your own fault. The drivers here are crazy.

We’re making plans to go to Petra- the ancient city in Jordan carved out of rocks- two weeks from now. I’m incredibly excited. Plus, Mom and Stephanie are coming to visit at the end of March. They’re in for quite an adventure- the Israeli elections will take place when they’re here.

Well, I’d better be going. Have a great weekend, all.

Eifo Hashalom? (Where’s the Peace?)

Greetings from Israel! It’s Tuesday night, and there’s much for me to write and talk about. I’ll begin talking about the current events here in Israel. First on my mind is the Muslim rage taking place around the world. In case you missed it, some newspapers in Europe published cartoons depicting Mohammed in unflattering ways. Muslims, outraged at such blasphemous portrayals, have taken to burning and pillaging European embassies in the Middle East (for more info, check out http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/asiapcf/02/07/cartoon.protests/index.html).

Let me say that, while I don’t condone the actions of the Muslim rioters, I think it was inappropriate of the European newspapers to publish the cartoons. Many European nations tend to be, in attitude and action, anti-Muslim, and I feel that this protest is a reaction that should surprise no one. Anyways, everyone here is pretty tense about it. The protest struck close to home when Haaretz, a leading Israeli newspaper, published a picture of Muslim protestors burning a Danish flag in front of the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem- the same ‘Little Town of Bethlehem” I visited last Thursday. Needless to say, I won’t be visiting the West Bank (or much of Eastern Jerusalem, for that matter) again until this situation calms down. The news struck even closer to home when I went to the Arab market the other day. The fellow I bought pita off of (delicious, by the way- fresh, aromatic, mmmmmm…), asked me, in broken English, “From Denmark?” I told the seller I was from another country- a good country, in his opinion- and he let me go with a smile. Had I told him I was Danish, I’m sure he may have pinned me down and pulled out my entrails. People have told me I look Northern European, and I always thought that would keep me safe here. Well, not anymore, apparently.

There is also a situation with Iran that continues to get more and more exciting with each passing day. Iran, apparently, wants nuclear weapons and power capabilities that the rest of the world doesn’t think an extreme Muslim state ought to have (see http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,183975,00.html). Israel has made threats that it will not stand by as Iran gains nuclear capabilities, and most Israelis believe these threats should be taken seriously. You may recall that Iraq, like Iran, once wanted nuclear weapons. Israel, once again, wouldn’t allow this to happen and, in 1981, destroyed the Iraqi nuclear weapons facility at Osirack. People here seem to think Israel will do the same thing to Iran. I don’t doubt that they will, but I think Iran will be a much tougher nut to crack than Iraq. Personally, I’m thankful I’m studying in Jerusalem, where the threat of an Iranian nuclear attack is relatively low compared to Tel Aviv or other places in Israel.

Third in the news is the evacuation of the Amona settlement, an illegal Israeli outpost in the West Bank (http://web.israelinsider.com/Articles/Politics/7734.htm). There have been big demonstrations here, as the article says, and Israeli society is incredibly torn on the subject. Personally, I find it really exciting to read the news and then hear from friends how the protests affected or prohibited there visits to downtown Jerusalem. I have encountered a few protestors- mostly hippy types- beating on drums in downtown Jerusalem. I have also seen the signs that say, in Hebrew, “Olmert is bad for the Jews.” The elections here at the end of March ought to be incredibly charged, exciting, and historic. The fate of the West Bank will hang in the balance. Be that as it may, it’s wonderful to be able to witness the political system here and not have to take sides. Truth be told, I’m still burnt out on political rhetoric after the 2004 presidential election.

The weather today was beautiful. Lower to mid-60’s, sunny (the sun has a special way of reflecting off the Temple Mount Mosque), and a great day for a walk. The climate is semi-tropical, but we're in the mountains so the wind often makes it really chilly. It's also the rainy season, so it's more wet than usual (in the summer, Jerusalem turns into a desert). The weather now is reminiscent of early May in Ohio- still a little nippy, but summer is on the way. The grass is green, though, flowers are blooming, and the palm trees wave in the wind.

The university turns off the hot water during the day. As long as I take my showers in the morning and the evening, I’m all right, but at any other times it’s a chilling experience. Most buildings here have solar panels on the roof that serve as water heaters and, with all the sunshine, they must work quite well.

I had the chance to take a Jewish fellow to see the Church of the Holy Sepulcher today. It was quite a humbling experience. The more I’m here, the more I realize how inadequate I am on my own to share the Gospel. My words of witness and testimony are completely insufficient apart from the power of God, but I trust and pray that He can, and will, use me in peoples’ lives. I’m so thankful that the work of God does not depend on my efforts (although, with His grace, I’ll try as hard as I can), that He wants a relationship with everyone (Rom. 5:8, 2 Peter 3:9), and that He can use me, a sinful and deficient person, to share the Good News.

I hope you all have a great week. All the best and God bless.

Bethlehem!!!!!

Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem. As I write this (Saturday at 6:00 pm), the Sabbath here has ended and the city is starting to come alive again. It’s been quite an exciting week since I last updated. Yesterday was perhaps the most exciting day since I’ve been here. Me, Josh, and Elliot were exploring the Mount of Olives some more. We hoped to see the Church of all Nations while it was open and do a little sight seeing. On the way, we stumbled onto the tombs of the prophets Haggai and Malachai. The tombs were basically in someone’s backyard, and were marked only by a small sign and a hole in the ground. The amazing thing about Israel is that sights like these are so commonplace. When walking in the Old City today, we came across the birthplace of Mary, the mother of Christ. Go figure- and it was just a hole-in-the-wall place, too.

Anyways, after seeing the prophets’ tomb, we were traveling down the Mount of Olives in the rain. A taxi cab driver pulled up to us, and asked us if we needed a ride. We declined, since we were Americans who wouldn’t be swindled by a persuasive native. Well, he offered to take us to Bethlehem (which is in the West bank), and we were persuaded. None of us had been able to find anyone who would drive us there, but this kind Palestinian was willing to on this quiet Shabbat eve when business was slow. We piled in the car, and began our first trip to (Gasp!) the West Bank (play dramatic music now). Our trip there was very nice. Our driver was Muslim, named Cojack, and had a family that lived on the Mount of Olives.

We arrived to a deserted Bethlehem after a half hour ride. We didn’t have to stop at any Israeli checkpoints on the way in- it was a straight shot to the church. Once we arrived in the holy city, our driver hooked us up with his friend from Bethlehem for a tour around the church. The building was beautiful- by far the oldest and most authentic of all that I have seen. In the main basilica were pillars with graffiti on them- from the Crusades! We were able to visit the area where Christ was born and then laid in the manger- a place that used to have 6000 visitors a day, but sees very few since the second Palestinian intifada. The church was so beautiful, old, and strangely comforting. It smelled of rich incense- an aroma I have come to associate with Christian faith since I’ve been here.

After our tour of the church, we were guided to a souvenir shop. The shop mostly sold olive wood crosses and other souvenirs, but Josh and Elliot decided to buy some jewelry and a nativity set for friends back home. The owner of the place treated us like royalty- he gave us tea to sip while we were looking around his shop, along with wine straight from the Christmas service they have every year in the city. I didn’t buy anything, but I felt good because the guys I was with certainly helped out the struggling Bethlehem economy. The town has been economically decimated in recent years.

(As a side note, there was a picture of the store’s owner, who was very friendly to us and offered incredible hospitality, with Yasser Arafat.)

We got back in the car after seeing the church and gift shop, and then proceeded through Israeli checkpoints on our way back to Jerusalem. There were no problems- just an Israeli soldier asking our driver who we were. We didn’t even need our passports- ein biya (no problem). As we drove through the checkpoint, though, I glanced to our right and saw an Israeli soldier with a machine gun pointed toward all the cars that go through the checkpoint. I’m glad I hadn’t seen the fellow while we were being questioned. Our chauffeur quipped, “Don’t worry, they just shoot the drivers.” We kind of laughed nervously.

Our driver offered to take us anywhere we want to go in the West Bank (Hebron, etc). He really was the nicest guy in the world- I feel like I’m a part of his family now (American naivety, perhaps). We’re definitely going to use his services when we want to travel in the future. It’s surprising to me- all the nice people I’ve met here, as far as hospitality services go, have been Palestinian. It’s funny how stereotypes here get broken so easily.

All the best, and God bless you all. Thanks for your prayers, and let me know if you’d like me to talk about anything specific.

P.S.- for a live view of the Kotel, the Western (Wailing) Wall, check out http://english.thekotel.org/cameras.asp. Another website, http://wwweyeonisrael.com/ , offers maps of Israel and a lot of history on the biblical lands. www.followtherabbi.com, finally, helps piece together a lot of the culture, religion, and scripture. If you’ve got time, they’re most helpful for figuring out this often-confusing land.

P.P.S.-please say a prayer for a good friend of mine from the program who flew home tonight. His mother is in really bad shape, and he went back to spend a few last precious days with her. He and his family really need God's grace in this tough time.

Ulpan Mania

Shalom m’Yerushalayim,

So far, this week has been pretty quiet. Ulpan is getting intense- we have studies for six days this week. Still, it hasn’t stopped people from going out to have a good time. Last night some friends and I went out to King George Street, which is in Western Jerusalem. If any part of Jerusalem is American, it is the area around King George and Ben Yehuda Streets. There is a McDonald’s, a Levi’s, and about anything else one can think of to make Americans feel at home. I’ve gotten ice cream- the same as at home- from McDonald’s more than once.

I got hooked up to the internet in my dorm room yesterday- something for which I’m incredibly thankful. I feel much more connected to the world and to home, but at the same time I feel like I’m a sissy American who can’t go very long without checking his email and the news. Still, I’ve downloaded a program, Skype, that allows me to talk for free, telephone-style, to other people with the same program and for about 2 cents a minute to people back home on landlines. The internet really is a great thing.

Yesterday afternoon, me, Josh (my good and similarly minded middle-American friend from Montana), Elliot (a very bright Catholic theology major from Chicago, with whom I have plenty to talk about), Leah, and Lee took a walk through the Kidron Valley up to the Mount of Olives. Along the way, we stopped and saw the Tomb of Mary, the Grotto of the Garden of Gethsemane, and the big Jewish cemetery facing Jerusalem on the Mount of Olives. We watched a beautiful sun set below the horizon over Western Jerusalem- it was quite a sight to see with the Old City and all. I’ve put up some pictures from the walk at http://georgetown.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2008083&l=fe023&id=1407506 . Afterwards, we had dinner at a Palestinian Pizza Place in the Old City. We were the owner’s only patrons while we were there, and boy did he treat us kindly. The hospitality here really is something. Even though I’m sure he was motivated by the prospect of free-flowing shekels, I feel like I walked away from the restaurant having made a new friend. I ordered shish kabob- which turned out be patties of meat made from sheep and spices. Still, it was good after a long walk.

I’ve been through the Orthodox neighborhoods a few times now on my way to other parts of the city. I really love looking at the faces of the Heredim (the ultra-religious) because they remind me so much of people I know back home. I see little kids running around on the street and mothers walking down the road with their arms full of groceries. It really breaks my heart to know that these folks don’t know Christ. Mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins -- zealous for the God of Jacob, and yet they’ve missed the mark. Whole communities – an entire nation – blind to the truth and hope of the Gospel. I pray that I’ll see the day when, as Paul says in Rom. 11:26-27, “All Israel shall be saved: as it is written, There shall come out of Zion the Deliverer, and shall turn away ungodliness from Jacob: For this [is] my covenant unto them, when I shall take away their sins.”

Well, I’ll be going. Have a great week, all.