Episode 13: "The Sacred" (+) [V]

Last Wednesday was an incredible kickoff to the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashana. What began as an attempt to catch a little Jerusalem culture turned out to be a kickin' adventure with friends, food, and new discoveries. I'm in awe of Israel's wonders, but even more so of the fortunes I've had in being here. Check it:

And that's just me revving the engine, baby.
Buckle up.

The night before, while I was at Tami's dinner party with my Hebrew class, I finalized Rosh Hashana plans with two of my Arab friends, Nancy and Areej. They had volunteered to drop Val and I off at the Dome of the Rock (the Muslim holy site). They know the area well, and I love their company anyway, so I was especially thankful that they volunteered their time to me. Here are some pictures of them at the party, the day before the craziness started.

Me, Areej and Nico, another friend from class.



Nancy and I.

Val and I met up with Nancy and Areej the next morning, along with other classmates. We walked to a bus stop that was nearby school, but one I had never used before; it was a stop for an Arab bus. I had taken main bus lines in Jerusalem before, but never an Arab one. Once we were on, an Israeli guard asked everyone to show their identification cards. All of the Arabs on the bus showed their cards, Val and I identified ourselves as Americans, and the Israeli guy left. I asked Nancy what the deal was. She told us that the Isreali government forces Arabs to have identification cards in order to have full access to Israeli territory. I was a little sickened, but glad to learn what I did.

After we got to the Old City, the hustle began. The plan was for Nancy and Areej to guide us to the Dome of the Rock, drop us off, and go shopping with the others. But when they stopped to talk to a couple of Arabic guys, I guess they realized the Temple Mount was closing to visitors soon. They spoke with a guy named Morot (spelling is definitely off, here) and he decided to be our unofficial tour guide.

The Dome of the Rock.

The Al-Aqsa Mosque, a separate site
nearby the Dome.

The girls split after making sure we were safe with Morot inside the Temple Mount. Morot took Val and I looking around, but we weren't allowed inside the Dome or the mosque. Not really a problem--the outsides of each were beautiful enough. For those of you who don't know (I didn't before Val told me), the Dome of the Rock is where, according to Biblical tradition, Abraham nearly sacrificed his son Isaac to God. Genesis 22, if you're interested. If not, sleep well and blissfully. It's a pretty unsettling story.

Anyway, Morot surprised me by taking us not only to the Dome of the Rock, but to Christian sites all around the Old City. Specifically, he took us to the "Stations of the Cross," the places where Jesus is said to have walked on his journey to crucifixion. I've got zero Catholic upbringing, so I hadn't memorized the stations or anything, but seeing them in real life was a mixed experience. Stations include:

Where Christ was beaten.

Where Christ was condemned to be crucified
(now a courtyard for a Christian/Muslim school).

Where Christ was given the cross to carry.


And last but certainly not least,
the place where Jesus was crucified.
The Church of the Holy Sepulcher.

Inside the Church, I stood in the spot designated as Golgotha--the place where Jesus was crucified. I stared, completely stunned, at an art depiction of Jesus on the cross there. I was silent there for at least two minutes. I felt a rumbling tension--almost physical, the strain was so raw--of trying to take in the meaning of the place.

Val recorded me standing there, even though I didn't know it at the time, which you can see in the new clip I added to the video bar. And hey, from now on, when you see a [V] labeling the title of the blog, it means I've added a video (or more). So, [V]. A new one's up.

Anyway, we walked around more of the place. Val took me to a lower chamber, ancient crosses etched into the staircase walls along the way. Once we got there we sat there in the room in silence for a while, with beams of light streaming in from outside. On our way out of the Church, we heard a chorus of beautiful voices singing nearby the tomb where Jesus' body was lain. We sought out the music and found that it was a group of nuns singing in another language while waiting to see the tomb. Absolutely gorgeous.

Later that night, I met up with Oded. He's an adult friend of mine, 27 I think, who runs the campus Hillel events. He's incredibly nice, personable and generous. When he figured out I didn't have a family to eat dinner with for Rosh Hashanah, he immediately invited me to his place. So after I got home from the Old City that Wednesday, Oded picked me up in his car and drove me to his house. He, his wife Rachel and I went to a synagogue service, then did dinner with his family. His family was--you guessed it--also wonderfully nice and inviting. Ushering in the Jewish new year like that was priceless; great food, great people, and good conversation with my friend. I was so thankful for the hospitality I experienced. Plus, you can't go wrong when you're eating apples dipped in honey for a "sweet" new year. Life is simply good from then on.

Oded, the man who saved Rosh Hashana.

After Oded drove me home, I hung out with Val again to close out the night. As we talked, something interesting came up. He mentioned that visiting holy sites had been anti-climactic for him. That on some level he had expected to be spiritually struck by finally seeing all these places in person. And on the other hand, he mentioned, he had learned that those expectations were unrealistic and probably not very productive. Why should his faith be confirmed by a site when the meanings of these places had already transcended their locations? What did Christ's crucifixion mean, rather than what did it look like?

Val had touched on exactly how I had been feeling. The Sea of Galilee. The Upper Room. Golgotha. I hadn't told anyone that I was feeling slightly disappointed in seeing these places up close--and that I'd had a subconscious expectation of spiritual-revelation-upon-arrival that wasn't being satisfied. But Val's words were completely reassuring. Why should I place so much weight on these sites? What was more valuable; their existence as religious landmarks or their existence as religious symbols? I've been valuing the longitude and latitude a lot lately, and that's cost me, I think. I've been disappointed with not feeling God in these places, while feeling God is something that can happen anywhere. I guess I knew that, but Val talking about it really helped me.

All in all, I think I got to see and/or experience something sacred to each of the big time religions here: Islam, Christianity and Judaism. From the Dome of the Rock to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher to the warm and welcoming Rosh Hashana dinner I had with Oded's family, I feel as if I took huge steps toward tapping into the heart of Israel's people. And by the end of the day, I guess I got to reevaluate what was sacred to me. It's the heart of God I'm ultimately seeking, not his zip code. The next holy site I see shouldn't have to spiritually levitate me to help me appreciate it; it should be a bonus to my faith, not the confirmation or the cornerstone.

And with that, I'm off. Thanks for listening. You and I should talk like this more often.

And by "I'm off" I mean to Egypt. For a week and a half. Guess I'll be able to test all this newfound wisdom on myself a bit there, since Egypt is where a lot if the God stuff started. Either that or I'll just go nuts over how amazing it all looks anyway. Either will do.

Shalom,
Eric

Episode 12: "The Invitation" (+)

This past Tuesday turned out to be one of my fondest memories of being here. My Hebrew teacher Tami invited my class and Nomi, our other teacher, to a dinner party at her place. She lives in a neighborhood that I believe is called En Karem, a town on the outskirts of Jerusalem spread across green hills. When we arrived at Tami's house, I was amazed at the soul the place had; the sunlit rooms, the incredible backyard view and the general warmth of the house somehow reflected Tami's wonderful character.

The backyard.


Tami herself.

Tami welcomed us with the same generous spirit she does in class. She showed us the table of food already laid out for us, and everyone added their own potluck dishes. In the end we had a delicious array of options, including pasta, rice, sausage, salad, bread, brownies, and more that were cooked or bought by different people. We ate dinner out on the grass, trading jokes and taking pictures.

Sunlight and good food.


Front to back, Dae Won, me, Carol...

I met Carol in the kitchen while I was cooking pasta that Dae Won and I had brought for the evening meal. A bit after our pleasant conversation by the stove, she talked to the group about the history of En Karem in relation to Christianity. In the picture, she's informing us that the neighborhood is the birthplace of John the Baptist, as well as home to a church built where Mother Mary apparently visited. Exactly when Carol pointed to the church, the sunlight was pouring through its tower windows. I was humbled and amazed by all of it, as usual.

As afternoon faded to evening, we fanned across the backyard, talking and joking around. I played ping pong with my friend Joo Il, who is one of the most kindhearted and happy people I've met here, and milled around talking to other folks, too.

Left to right, Joo Il, Hana and Suzie
at the ping pong table.


Gaby and I, nighttime rollers.

Toward the end of the night most of us were still there. We sat in a circle in the yard and talked about our future aspirations. Hearing what everyone wanted to do with their lives was a really touching experience. Tami noticed that there was a common thread of idealism to all of the dreams we touched upon. It was probably the most intimate experience I've had with my class.

We ended the night sitting around Tami's living room, with bread and fruit and beer on the table. Brett, our Louisiana guy, talked to us about conditions in New Orleans for a bit, which was of course mellowing and interesting. A jazz CD was playing in the background. Hanging with them was just as good, if not better, than any of the organized trips. The calm and the comfort of chilling with my classmates and teachers, outside the context of the classroom, was priceless.

Shalom,
Eric

Episode 11: "The Hot Spot" (+)

This one's a long one, folks. Pull out the popcorn.

Last weekend I hit the hot spot of Israel, Tel Aviv. It's a port city on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea known for its beach-side beauty and its happening night life. Everyone goes there to club it up on weekends or to check out bars with friends. This was my first time there, though, and I was curious to see exactly what all the hype was about.

In the morning I took a cab with Roni, Brian (my roommates) and Stef, our friend, from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. The girls wanted to go shopping, so Brian and I split off from them and found an art fair to check out. Along a path of stores and restaurants were booths of people selling trinkets, jewelry, decorations, etc.--everything handmade. You're thinking, "here's the part where Eric says everything was beautiful."

Can't help it.

I kept thinking of Mom the whole time. At almost every single booth, I thought there would be something she would enjoy having in our house. The color, creativity and cozy feeling of "home" I got from seeing all that homemade merchandise really made think of her--how she could make our place warmer with pretty much any of it.

I circled around the fair for hours. Brian and I ate a hearty meal at a cafe there, I met up with a friend named Ariel I'd met on the Tzfat trip, and I never really got bored at all. Even after seeing some booths two or three times, the novelty of the fair never wore off. While I was there I ended up calling my friend Nick for his birthday, so that ended up being more icing on the cake. Toward mid-afternoon, I parted with Ariel, slowly reunited with the original crew, and we made our way toward the beach.

The water was not only incredible to look at, but at a perfect temperature, too. Warm enough to walk into without wincing, but still unmistakably refreshing. Israel doesn't know when to quit being breathtaking.



After spending a couple hours on the beach, the four of us walked through Tel Aviv until we found a restaurant. Val, the guy I rode a camel with, met up with us there. I shamelessly asked the waiter/bartender guy for a cheeseburger, hold the veggies, with nothing but ketchup. Yes, I went McDonald's all over that restaurant, and I loved every bite of it.

Once we were done with dinner, we checked in at the Gordon Inn Hostel and went out again to the Port District, or whatever it's called--the spot where all the serious clubbing and drinking happens. After we got some fantabulous ice cream, we tried to do up the clubs. Problem being: the clubs we tried to get into were pretty exclusive. The first one we tried was 25 and up. I wish I could think about the next part of this outing without cringing a little bit.

We happened upon a club that sounded pretty bumping from the outside. There was a packed group of people waiting to get in, a bouncer waiting outside the door, and a woman selecting people from line to come in. Val said something pretty early on about not being pressed to go to this club, but I was a little excited to try something new. I'd already been out to my first dance bars in Israel, but never an official club, and the idea of getting into one with a line and a bouncer had a kick of "celebrity" to it that I found kind of attractive.

After twenty minutes my excitement began to fade. I had assumed that the woman selecting people to come in was choosing people that had exclusive guest passes, but it was becoming clear that nothing that official was going on. The people in line were begging her. Once they got her attention, she selected them based on any number of things--maybe the gender ratio inside, maybe how fashionable the person was, maybe even the fact that she knew some of the people in line--but I was starting to realize that whatever it was, I didn't have it. I told Val if he wanted to go, I was okay with leaving. All the while I was actually moving closer, though. I guess I thought I'd get in because I'd made it to the front entrance by simply waiting my turn. I wasn't willing to demean myself my begging the woman to let me in, but patience had gotten me to the front, and I had faith that that would see this through.

The bouncer was told to let another batch of people inside. I was standing on the threshold of the entrance, but not directly in the middle of it or in their way. Guess the bouncer didn't see it that way. He put his hand on my chest and pushed me lightly, but firmly, out of the way of the entrance, saying "Excuse me" in Hebrew. Then he asked me in English, "Do you understand Hebrew?" The people he made room for walked past me, into the club. About a minute later, Val gave me a "Let's go" and I went with him. The silly part is, even after the bouncer had put his hand on me, there was a part of me that still wanted in after all the waiting I'd done. But I left with Val, and my mood began to take a free fall. Here's why:

1) You all know I'm not a tough guy, but there are sparks of alpha dog in me that can sizzle when the right button is pushed. And the bouncer had pushed it. He'd put his hand on me unprovoked as far as I was concerned, and the testosterone in me was flickering something fierce. After the fact, of course. I was already walking away. The moment was gone, and really, what would I have done anyway?

2) The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I had waited patiently, without complaining or shoving my way to the front, and not only had this woman completely ignored me, but this bouncer had no problem shuffling me aside for people deemed more worthy of getting in. My basic sensibilities of "far and unfair" had been violated.

3) I didn't get to dance. I had really been looking forward to it.

4) There's something about being excluded that just hurts your feelings.

The five of us all regrouped later to go home. When Stef asked me whether I'd had fun tonight, I pretty much didn't answer her. I was in a foul mood and didn't know what to do with my anger. And on top of that I was afraid I had come off as rude to Stef and temperamental to all four of them. It was just a mess; I'd let this one guy's disrespectful--but certainly not personal--actions ruin my entire night. I tried my best to engage with my friends on our walk home, but it was a struggle. I apologized to Stef and Roni about if I'd come off as rude, and they were cool about it.

I still woke up the next morning feeling extremely ashamed of my behavior. I was disappointed with how I'd handled the situation, given what I expect from myself according to my faith.

The hostel expenses covered a free breakfast at a beach-side restaurant, so we went first thing. We had some decent food, got out on the surf and chilled. I got in the water a couple of times, refreshed myself among its perfect waves, read some of the Bible on the sand and caught the sunshine glinting off its golden-edged pages. All this beauty and the one thing that defined my weekend was a non-altercation with a bouncer. That kind of thing happens all the time at clubs, and I let my first time put a blemish on experiencing Tel Aviv.

Lesson learned, I hope.

Shalom,
Eric

Episode 10: "The Desert" (+)

This past Monday, I was pretty glad when I got out of class. Ulpan is always interesting, but I was feeling particularly tired and just wanted a nap once our lesson was over. After class I ran into Val, my friend and Christian partner in crime. Before we could head back to campus, we heard there was some trip to the desert involving camel riding that was happening in a matter of minutes. Both of us were pretty wiped, but my roommate Roni was enthusiastic enough about the trip to convince us to go.

So instead of sleeping, we were soon on our way to “Genesis Land”. The trip took maybe a half hour tops, and the terrain changed drastically from the cityscape to an awesome desert expanse within that short amount of time. Before entering a small building to prep, we saw our camels chilling out in front of it, marking the first time I’d ever seen a camel in real life. They are just as amusing and cool as they look in the movies.

Ridiculous.

We got a talk from a tour guide about the desert’s significance. We were in the desert where Abraham set up shop and Biblical guys of old camped and conquered. That’s the short version, and pretty much all I know. Anyway, after his talk, Val and I saddled up on a camel. I decided to name him Sonic. He was a pretty chill ride, although he had the gumption to try speeding it up from time to time. Dude had a little personality, and I felt pretty secure on his back.

Val and I doing a little desert pre-gaming.

Satisfied clients of "Pimp My Mammal".



A production still of "Miami Vice 2: Israeli Vice".

The desert itself was amazing, but I guess that’s pretty predictable given how I’ve described the rest of this country. There were fantastic panoramic views of brown rock and a wheat-like flora (grass?) that made the sides of hills golden. God obviously knew what he was doing with this part of the world.

I've given up trying to make a "Riding Dirty" pun.
It was based on the fact that there was a camel to ride.
And a lot of dirt.

Afterward we sat on pads in a huge tent, where a guy pretending to be Abraham talked to us about his own history. He and his guys served us food, based on the fact that back then, showing hospitality to strangers earned a blessing from God. He said we were to be treated like kings and queens as his guests, and promised us food until we were full. There were dates, humus, pita bread, avocados, tomatoes, cucumbers, and more. All of it was delicious. He and his guys also served us incredible hot tea with cinnamon. All the while the opening of the tent faced a valley, which was a terrific view itself. All this and we were in the area that Abraham may have actually put up his tent in. A lot of Biblical “booyah” vibes. Classic.

I almost passed all this up for a nap.

Don’t worry. I embarrass me, too.

Shalom,
Eric

Episode 09: "The Christian Quarter" (+)

I didn't know what to expect going into the Old City yesterday, but what I got was yet another memory to treasure. This place has so much to offer.

Corina, my roommate, set up a meeting between our developing Christian Bible group and an elderly nun by the name of Dr. Pederson. Dr. Pederson is a kind, extremely knowledgeable lady that has no end of information to give about religious history. We met her at Damascus Gate, one of the entrances to the Old City. The entrance was abuzz with the noise of the marketplace. People sold all sorts of merchandise, from DVDs to shoes to whatever. Once we passed through the gate and into the narrow passageways of the Old City, the market became crowded, chaotic and even more colorful.

The group waiting at Damascus Gate.

We did the Pac Man thing through the maze that is the Christian Quarter, passing by countless shops selling anything and everything to tourists. Dr. Pederson led us to certain churches and gave soft-spoken history lessons about them, quizzing us on what we knew and filling in the gaps if we couldn't guess. It was strange and reassuring to see crosses around during the walk, on building tops or as store merchandise, after having gone without seeing them for so long.

Dr. Pederson giving us the low-down
on Christian history.

The group prepping to fight crime
after seeing the Christ-signal.

Our first big stop was a Greek Orthodox church. The inside was gorgeous and regal, overdone with paintings of different scenes of the gospels. Being inside was very humbling. You know the kind of place you go into and you automatically start whispering, even though there's no one there to disturb?

This was one of those places.

After hitting up a Christian bookstore (that happened to have one of Dr. Pederson's books for sale...ridiculous...) we made it to a St. Mark's church. The outside was very modest, nothing glamorous.

So I guess I didn't go in expecting anything huge.

We went inside and sat down in the pews. The place was very Catholicized, with a standard Christ-on-a-Cross/crucifix up at the front, if I'm remembering correctly. The nun who was there gave us the regular schpiel (sp?), although it didn't feel like one. She told us that the church had been destroyed in the 70s (as in, not the 1970s) by Titus and rebuilt. She also told us that it was the first church established after Christianity, or after Jesus died and rose. According to the nun, the apostles chose to build the church there because the room below it was where Jesus had his last supper.

She went on discussing two instances in which she experienced the Holy Spirit. (Quick reality check for those not in Christian circles: the Holy Spirit is not simply a "ghost" that compels black people to jump up and down among church pews. During the early days of the church, the apostles saw the Holy Spirit as a force that empowered people to understand foreign languages, heal the sick, prophesy, and truly feel God as a physical presence among them.) In the first story, she talked about how she spoke with a man in English for an hour, only to find out much later that he thought they had speaking in Hebrew. Another story she told was about when she put her hand on a woman's cancer lump, felt the Holy Spirit course through her, and felt the lump dissolve in her fingers. Believe what you will; I was touched by the stories.

We went downstairs to the room of the Last Supper, which is called the "upper room" for when there wasn't a church on top of it. It was another modest place, surrounded by rock, enshrined a bit at the far side with a wooden frame and paintings. I suppose I could have held back from the experience, questioning the historical accuracy of siting the Last Supper here, but I didn't. I believed her. But even then it didn't completely sink in, much like when I saw the Sea of Galilee. I didn't have the time to fully conceive of the room as a place where Jesus had actually been. What would it mean? What should I feel if that were true?


I did have a moment alone in there, though, after the nun and the tourists left. I leaned against a wall and felt like I could have cried for a second, then the feeling was gone. I was left with something like confused awe.

We went to an Ethiopian church afterward and parted ways with Dr. Pederson. She leaves for Denmark soon, and I'm sure she'll take us on more excursions down the line. I guess the question is whether I can handle what I see when I go back to the Christian Quarter, whenever that might be. For the second time on this trip, I felt as though I couldn't fully grasp what was right in front of me.

Maybe next time. Maybe never. I just hope I can keep the meaning behind the room alive.

We'll see.

Shalom,
Eric