Jesus Trail Day #3

The second night of our adventure was much more pleasant than the first. I slept in the second tent we brought along and it kept the mosquitoes away. Being more exhausted than the first, we also slept in a little. We rolled out of our sleeping bags around 7:00am as the sun peeked over the cliffs and instantly turned the valley into an unholy furnace. We all broke a sweat just packing up camp.  Yet, there was still time to pause and enjoy the beauty of it all.

Some of us were just more ready than the others.

The previous night we had left behind the flatter, higher country and descended into a steep valley.   Our trail followed this valley out between the Cliffs of Arbel and eventually to the Sea of Galilee.  These cliffs were made famous by Josephus’ account of a Jewish rebellion during the time of the Romans.  Apparently several families hid in the caves of the cliffs.  The Romans could not reach them from below, so in a very dramatic re-telling Josephus informed the world how a soldier was lowered from the top in a basket.  When level with the caves, he would throw a grappling hook in and snag a rebel.  He would then pull them out and kill them with his sword when they got near.  At a last ditch effort at dignity, many of the remaining rebels threw themselves out the caves to the ground below.  Yes, it is gruesome…and we walked below those same caves.

After we left the confines of the canyon, we found civilization once again.  We filled up on green tea and kosher chicken schnitzel at this gas station.

Although we were quite close to the lake at this point, we were still far from Capernaum.  Our trail then had us wander along the edges of mango orchards and over moderately, not-so-ancient bridges.

With several miles of orchards behind us, we climbed our last hill and took a look back at where we had started that morning.  Can you see the Arbel Cliffs in the background?  They are right below the ball on the powerline.

With only a few more miles to go, our pace quickened and we took off down the last part of the trail.  It emptied us out on a busy highway that we walked along for awhile.  Eventually we found a sidewalk and scurried down it until we found the ancient site of Capernaum.

We soaked our blistered and footsore feet in the warm waters of this historical lake.  During the three years that Jesus was a public figure in ancient Palestine, his base seemed to revolve around this busy port on the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee.  Not too far from here, he gave his Sermon on the Mount, and just down the beach his disciples hauled in a couple miraculous catches of fish.  However, it is only now after a week of recovery that I am really appreciating all those things.  At that moment, I was just glad to be off my feet with a pack no longer weighing down my shoulders.

 

Jesus Trail – Day #2

Goodmorning, world!  I think we might be ready for Day #2.

Day Two of our Jesus Trail adventure dawned promptly at 12:30am. So I guess that really isn’t a dawning of a new day, but it is when the mosquitoes woke me from my slumber. I had packed plenty of repellent and it kept them from piercing me and sucking my blood, but it did not keep them from buzzing in my ears and skimming my eyelashes. Fortunately, sunrise was only five hours away. Needless to say, when the real dawn did come, I was extremely ready to begin the active part of my day.

The instructions we had for the Jesus Trail broke the whole thing into 3 nights/4 days. We were on track with that for the first day, but then we reached the end of Day #2 at 11:00am. We rested for a bit, and then decided to head out into the unknown Day #3. The first part of our adventure took us through a forest of sorts and along a couple of highways. We refilled our waters and food supplies at a gas station that Jesus stopped at 2,000 years ago.

After a bite to eat, we crossed under a tunnel and then made our way uphill to an ancient Roman Road. Now, this is a place that Jesus definitely would have walked over during his life in the Galilee area. It was a major highway of the day and not too far from his hometown.

One thing I haven’t mentioned yet is the weather. August is the hottest and most humid time of year in the Galilee area. During most of the day the temperatures hovered around 95 degrees with a pretty heavy layer of humidity. We were constantly drenched in sweat and covered in dust, making a nasty muddy skim on our arms and legs. In this state we left the forested areas and trekked over harvested wheat fields and along the edges of farmers’ corn fields. Feeling the ick of the sweat and dust, we came up to an old Jewish cemetery that had a wonderful fountain out front. I’m sure what happened next was not kosher in the slightest, but it was necessary to keep our spirits up. By this point, we had already covered 10-11 miles.

After about an hour resting in the shade at the cemetery, we climbed a hill and then headed back out into the open fields and blazing sun. We walked along the outskirts of a kibbutz and looked longingly through a fence at their delightful swimming pool. We entertained the thought of hopping over the fence and stealing a swim, but none of us really wanted to be shot at.

As we left the kibbutz behind we came out into a field populated by tasty looking cows. We had to walk through the middle of the herd and then in the distance we saw the Horns of Hittim (sometims Hattin or Hattim).

The fields that are farmed today once were an epic battle field that altered the course of human history. In the 12th Century, European Crusaders controlled most of the Holy Land. Their initial successes came because of their better training, overwhelming weaponry, and the disunity of the opposing forces.

Autumn got stung by a honeybee on the forehead here, but fortunately we had toothpaste handy to soothe the sting.

By the 1180s, Salah ad-Din (Saladin) had united the Muslim armies against the Crusaders. He initially met with military losses against the Crusaders. Their strong points were in their castles, heavy armor, and cavalry. In a long series of events, all of the Crusader soldiers were brought out to confront the Muslim armies. The deciding battle took place over the fields we walked. Under the intense July sun and lacking water, the Crusaders succumbed to the more numerous and quicker soldiers of Saladin. In that battle over 1,200 Crusader horseman and around 10,000 footsoldiers lost their lives. This was a scene that was seen in Orlando Bloom’s geographically inaccurate movie Kingdom of Heaven. These somber thoughts filled our minds as we climbed Mount Hittim. Here is Hollywood’s take on the battle.

From the top of Mt. Hittim we got our first look at the Sea of Galilee. Below us spread more farm country and the cliffs of Arbel. It was an amazing view, and we rested for another hour or so. With only a few hours of daylight, we shouldered our packs again and then headed down the hillside toward a massive Druze mosque. We were warned that we needed to get water here because there wouldn’t be much along the next section of the journey. Emily and I tried to enter, but only those wearing pantaloons could go in. I attached the bottoms to my zip-off pants and wandered into the center where I purchased another six liters of water for the three of us.

After hiking away from the mosque, the blisters on Autumn’s feet needed some care. We did our best with bandaids and tape, but in the end she ended up wearing my running shoes that I had packed along for a backup. It is one of the few moments in life that I have been glad that I have small feet.

With only about an hour left of daylight, we split off from the trail markings and took a shortcut through another farmer’s fields. Our shortcut rewarded us with some splendid shots of the sunset and the Cliffs of Arbel. After soaking in the sight for a few minutes, we scurried down the sloaps and found a great spot to camp in the Valley of the Doves between the cliffs. It was a great spot…except for the hyenas. Yep, that’s right, hyenas! Their howling and laughing added a spookiness to our second night, but fortunately they never bothered us. Just occasionally through the night they would wake us up with their eerie voices.

In all, on Day 2 of our adventure, we hiked about nine solid hours and covered nearly twenty miles…all under the blazing August sun. Both the girls suffered from blisters and I ripped my pants, but we think it was worth it.

 

Jesus Trail – Part One

Jesus grew up in Nazareth, a city hidden within a hill. His ministry was centered on Capernaum, a city nestled up along the Sea of Galilee. Between the two lie forty miles of fields and forests and paths that weave among it all. This past weekend I trekked along these trails with a couple of good friends. The adventure began early Friday morning.

DAY 1

I have been housesitting in the Beit Jala area for most of the summer. The family arrived back last week, and I moved back to Jerusalem early Friday morning. I scattered my life’s possession into my new apartment in Abu Tor, which is a neighborhood of Jerusalem.  I then quickly stuffed my backpack full for a three-night adventure along the Jesus Trail in Galilee. I met up with Autumn and Emily around 10:00, and then we caught a bus to the Central Bus Station where we bought tickets for another ride up to Nazareth. We boarded this bus at 12:45.

I brought a book along to read during the ninety minute ride to Nazareth. It’s called The Heavenly Man and is about the underground church in China. If you haven’t read it yet, you should. It will transform your understanding of suffering. But on this bus ride, I didn’t have a chance to open the cover. Emily and Autumn found two open seats together, and I chose to sit down next to a guy who looked about to be my age. I said hello and soon found that he was a native English speaker. His name is Sa’ad and he was born in England, and his parents are from Pakistan. He is a modern British Pakistani Muslim who works as a hematologist back home. Since most of his studies were in the sciences, he knew little about the history and politics of the region. Along the route to Nazareth I was able to point out all sorts of historical sites and give him some updates on what is happening in those places today. It would have made my JUC professors proud to know that I haven’t forgotten everything they taught me.

We hopped off the bus in Nazareth around 15:00 and then wandered through the Old City in search of the Fauzi Azar Inn. Through the jesustrail.com website we learned that this hostel gives advice and directions for the Jesus Trail. When we found it, though, we quickly discovered that they give more than just advice. There are volunteers who are available to help the random backpackers get started each morning. Since it was afternoon, I called the Jesus Trail number and Linda answered. I was just going to ask her where the trail started in town, but she quickly told me that she would run down to the hostel and lead us to the start. Five minutes later she walked through the door! Along the walk through the city to the start of the trail she gave us all sorts of advice on where to sleep and which routes to follow. She even gave us four sheets of printed directions for the places where the trail isn’t clearly marked. With her blessing and instructions, we started down the Jesus Trail.

The first leg is four hundred steps straight up through a Nazareth neighborhood. When you break out on top, the skyline opens up and you realize just how great the distance between Nazareth and Capernaum really is. The Sea is nowhere in sight and neither are Mount Hittim or the Cliffs of Arbel. With an afternoon breeze flowing from the Mediterranean we re-shouldered our packs and began our descent out of Nazareth. We reached the bottom and walked along a field until we entered Zippori National Park. At the far edge of the park the trail took us up a hill and into the Arab village of Mashad around 18:00.

Israeli trails are marked by stripes of paint, so while in the village we were always looking for the white-orange-white marking that signaled the direction we needed to go. It felt almost like we were on some type of epic scavenger hunt. Hiking like this is completely different than anything I am used to back in the States. The great thing about hiking through Arab towns, though, is the hospitality. Three different times people saw us walking by and invited us in for tea and coffee. We accepted just one of the offers because of the setting sun, but it was the perfect choice. They brought out a type of fried bread dipped in honey that was ideal for a quick burst of energy. After about fifteen minutes, we said our many thanks and goodbyes and with a revived step walked down the road to Cana. The trail took us next to the church that commemorates the place Jesus performed the miracle of changing the water to wine. Sadly, though, the water in our Nalgenes didn’t change at all. The shadows were quickly turning into night’s darkness, so we did not linger in Cana, but followed the trail markers up another hill and into a orchard of some type. We made camp under the starlight around 20:00 at the first flat ground we came to.

That’s Nazareth in the background…or day was only halfway done by this point.

On this first day of the hike, we covered about fourteen kilometers, which is just around nine miles. With aching backs and sore legs we stretched out, ate some dinner, and quickly rolled up in our sleeping bags. I slept outside on a mat, but the girls slept in the tent they brought along. All of us suffered from the heat throughout the night, but the mosquitoes were the worst part. I did bring along mosquito repellent, which kept them from biting me, but it didn’t keep them from divebombing my ears all night long. When you are weary and half-alseep, you don’t always remember that they won’t bite you. So I spent much of the night swiping at the mosquitoes and never really falling into a deep sleep. All this added up to a very interesting second day.

Here Emily and I are stretching our tired muscles

 

forgiveness in a cup of coffee

“Welcome, Cameron!  Where have you been?  I thought we would see you before now.”

With these words I was pulled out of my stroll down the street and into Sami’s front yard.  To be honest, calling it a yard would be overly generous.  What had originally been a driveway from the front gate to the garage had now evolved and expanded.  Concrete was spread over the ground in a style reminiscent of the icing on a cheap wedding cake.  It spread out from the foundations of the house and lapped up to the property line.  Who knows what frustrating yard work led to the hard gray surface that now dominates the landscape around the home.  To be fair, the twelve inches of rainfall each year are barely enough to keep the cactus alive.  I guess packed dirt and constant dust are easier to control when you smother them in a layer of concrete frosting.

“I’m sorry, imm-Fadi.  I would have visited sooner, but I have been spending a lot of time in Jerusalem lately.”

This excuse rolled out with all the grace of a two-ton beached whale.  An arched eyebrow and a withering glance let me know that this floundering excuse wasn’t going to make it off the beach.  It had been over two weeks since I had last stopped by to say hello.  Up until then I had shared a cup of tea or coffee with the family several times a week.  The family welcomed me at all times, and they expected me to come and visit.  I didn’t want to intrude too often, but by staying away I must have insulted their hospitality.

“Come…sit and visit awhile, Cameron.  Would you like some coffee?”

Without waiting for my answer, more coffee was ordered and I was motioned to sit down.  Just like that, I was forgiven…but the slight was not forgotten.  In the following three hours of conversation, my absence over the past two weeks was brought up once or twice.  Just enough to let me know that it shouldn’t be taken lightly.  When the coffee did come out, I heaped praise upon its flavor and perfection.  Oh, how can I describe the Arabic coffee for you?  Maybe if you took two regular Starbucks espresso shots, condensed them down to the size of a half-shot, then added two heeping spoons of sugar, and finally place it all in a tiny tea cup…then, just maybe you might be getting close to it.  But never start sipping as soon as you are served.  You must wait a few moments for the grounds to settle, and then you slurp away.  Each of my sips is a direct punch to the heart.  My heart rate skyrockets and my brain lights up.  While still immersed in the local conversation, my mind travels to exotic places like Kathmandu, Sri Lanka, and Scio; it solves philosophical queries no one has ever pondered; and counts the number of grapes hanging from each cluster on the vine over my neighbors head.  Through the racing thoughts, there is one thing that one should never forget–on no occasion do you ever just knock the coffee back like a shot of jaegar!  Otherwise, you’ll drink the grounds and all…and that could be the death of your future…literally, sorta.

“Ah, this is not so good.  You have many friends, but one of your friends isn’t true.  Hey says one thing, but thinks differently.  He is not a good person.  But for you, you have a very good future.  You will do very well, but there may be trouble with your friend.   Ahh!  Maybe he is part of your family?…or you might not know him yet?  I see an engagement…is there a special girl, Cameron?  You see, right here there I can see a ring.”

I glance inside the cup to the pattern Imm-Fadi points at.  Unsure of how to react to all of this, I mostly just observe what she is doing.  As each member of the family finishes the coffee, they place their cups upside down on the serving tray.  The excess liquid drains out and leaves coffee residue in the cup.  It seems that Imm-Fadi and the rest of the family believe that reality can be seen in the pattern of the coffee grounds. Reading tea leaves and coffee grounds is done throughout the Middle East.  It is only natural, that as a guest, my cup should also be read and interpreted.  Although I’m not sure exactly what to think about it, for the most part it has been good news so far.

As I adjust position in my chair, subtly hinting that I am about to go.  “Cameron, you must come again tomorrow evening.  I want to cook a good meal for you before you go back to Jerusalem.  We’ll sit here and have a BBQ.  It will be very good!”

Of course I agree.  A single guy living alone will rarely pass up an opportunity to get a warm, home-cooked meal.  And it’s pretty hard to beat a Palestinian BBQ.  This offer of a meal is another expansion of their hospitality, but I think there is more to it.  In a way that is counter-intuitive to my Americanness, this meal seems to be another extension of that forgiveness I mentioned earlier.  It’s almost as if in order to show how genuine they are, they must offer even more.  Perhaps I’m reading too much into it–attributing too much importance to just some coffee and a meal, but maybe not.  Either way, this is a tangible form of forgiveness that I will make sure not to pass up.

 

synthesis of the unrelated

Sometimes the greatest inventions really aren’t new inventions at all.  They are just the combining of two seemingly unrelated items for the first time.  The first example that comes to mind is peanut butter and jelly.  It’s a staple in the American diet, but before they were combined who would have ever thought of putting them together?  Well, maybe that’s an obvious one.

Here’s an idea that may not be so obvious, but I would argue that it is just as equally brilliant…Chop Sabers! (aka, lightsaber chopsticks)

Here’s the product description as seen on their website

“Suitable for eating sushi or defending the galaxy, the Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader lightsabers measure 9″ long, with the blades cast in translucent material.  The smaller “children’s size” Yoda saber measures approximately 7″ long. As a special bonus each set includes translucent Star Wars logo chopstick rests.”

I haven’t tasted this next one, so I’m not sure if it can be called brilliant yet.  However, it is highly offensive to about 1/3 of the planet’s population.  I probably would have a hard time getting through customs with it in Tel Aviv.

Here’s the legit product description from thinkgeek.com

“What’s so great about Bacon Gumballs? Well, what better flavor can you imagine for gum? Mint is boring, cinnamon is overdone – it’s time for Bacon Gumballs to be the first choice of gum aficionados. Each tin of Bacon Gumballs is loaded with bacon-y goodness, and after you’ve eaten all the gum, you can reuse the tin. And the tin will retain the scent of bacon for some time, blessing all you put in it with that wondrous and holy of smells. Bacon Gumballs – the gift that keeps on giving.”

Staying on the bacon theme, check out what they have done this time

It’s only $7.99 plus s/h.  You can also find it at thinkgeek.com.  This one comes with a hilariously, poorly dubbed video.

“Vilhelm Lillefläsk’s Squeez Bacon® is fully cooked 100% bacon. Due to the patented electro-mechanical process by which Squeez Bacon® is rendered, it requires no preservatives or other additives. Each serving is as healthy as real bacon, and equivalent to 4 premium slices of bacon! You can put it on sandwiches, pizza, pastas, bacon, soups, pies, eat it hot or cold (warm Squeez Bacon® on toasted rye is to die for), substitute it for bacon in your recipes, or even eat it right out of the tube like we do! If it’s edible, it’s better with Squeez Bacon®. In the immortal words of Vilhelm Lillefläsk, “Aldrig kommer att ge dig upp!” Once you get a taste of Squeez Bacon®, you’ll know exactly what he meant.”

Just imagine all the wonderful culinary creations that one could creat with Squeeze Bacon!

Hmmm…I might have just de-koshered my blog.

 

do I look like a Jewish cowboy?

This summer I am taking a class at Hebrew University on the last six decades of Israeli cinema.  It is a fascinating course where we watch the development of Israeli thought and national identity through film.  Each class session we screen one full-length movie and watch parts of four or five other movies.  My professors are a brilliant tag-team duo of PhDs whose specialty is Israeli cinema.

Many Israeli films over the past two decades have begun to highlight the multicultural and multi-ethnic makeup of Israeli society.  During the early years of the country, Jewish immigrants to Israel were told to drop their old cultures and adopt the New Israeli image.  It is not dissimilar to the melting pot ideology that used to be prevalent in the States.  However, old customs, behaviors and beliefs are hard to get rid of.  Second and third generation immigrants are now showing a revived interest in elements of ethnicity and culture from their grandparents’ countries of origin.  This is especially noticeable among the immigrant families from Morocco, Yemen, Iraq, India, and other North African and Asian countries.

This discussion of a revival of ethnicity led the students to draw parallels from our own homes and backgrounds.  I began talking about the type of agricultural community that I grew up in and how I worked out in the fields next to Hispanic immigrant workers when I was younger.  My professor seemed fascinated by my story.  She kept asking more and more questions about farming and the type  of farms that my parents grew up on.  When she heard that both sides of my family were farmers, she said, “This is amazing!  I have never met a Jewish farmer outside of Israel before!”

At that point in the conversation, I had to interrupt and break up the myth.  Apparently it was just assumed that since I travelled halfway around the world to study at an Israeli university that I must be Jewish, right?   She then asked, “So why are you here?”  This led us in a very different direction, but after class we talked a bit more about the farming concept and life in Oregon.  Apparently her vision of Oregon is something of a natural paradise where man and beast live in harmony together.  From the midst of the Middle Eastern deserts, Oregon seems lush, green, vibrant and exotic.  I think she still had an image of the Wild West with Cowbows and Indians.  Thus for a few minutes I was known as the Jewish cowboy from Oregon.  Alas, that fantasy had to be dispelled, for I am much more Gentile than I ever will be Jewish.

Though, I’m not Jewish, I still love my Oregon trees!

This is Silver Falls not too far from my home in Oregon.

 

what’s a zubble?

My vision of the world of toys just got shocked today.  Before fifteen minutes ago, I lived under the assumption that all cool new toys would be based in technology.  Yet, a picture and video just made me a believer in the simple toys once again.  Have you heard about zubbles?  They are colored bubbles…and they can create them in any color!  The best part is, the color disappears fifteen minutes after popping!  My only question, do they sell them in this hemisphere yet?  Check out what msnbc.com says about them here.

Here is a snapshot of part of my summer kitchen.  All these have made up the majority of my diet for the last month.  Notice the essential veggies, fruit, coffee, humus, pita, and rice.

One of my favorite parts about living in Jerusalem or Bethlehem is the easy access to the most tasty, fresh, and cheap fruits and vegetables.  Another part of my world was rocked today when I discoverd mini-pineapples at the fruit market.

Combining most of the ingredients from the first picture, I made a phenomenally spicy chicken peanut recipe tonight.  Chopping the onions made me weep like a brokenhearted school boy, and the bell peppers and jalapenos made my bald spot sweat like never before.  Losing your hair isn’t all bad.  The current bald spot seems to enjoy acting as a thermostat.  For whatever reason when I eat extra spicy foods, it starts to sweat before everything else.  Weird and gross, eh?  Here’s a sample of that spicy peanut chicken and veggies looked like while cooking.

And yes, occasionally I do contemplate how the meaning of life is wrapped up inside one mini-pineapple.

Check out the yellow pepper in comparison.

 

literature

I have been catching up on my reading of literature classics this summer.  This is a good idea.  However, the selection and timing of each reading is absolutely crucial.  Otherwise this good idea can go horribly off-track.  I committed several tactical errors in my reading of Frankenstein last night.

• First, one should never read this book after dark…by the light of a flashlight…during a windstorm…while the power is out.
• Second, one should never read this book while housesitting in a big creepy, empty house in a strange neighborhood.
• Third, one should not drink a mug of reheated morning coffee while reading said book.
• Fourth, by no means should one fall asleep after said reading.  Dreams will contain little peace.
• Fifth, if phone rings twenty minutes into deep sleep, one should not look at Caller ID before answering.  Otherwise, the caller known as Unregistered Number may freak out said reader of Frankenstein.

Sadly, last night I committed all five of these tactical blunders.  I woke up with eye strain, a kink in my neck, a headache, and a jittery jog to the coffee maker.

 

history and time

Life in America is busy. More than anything else, I used to complain about the busyness of my life. Yet, until I came to Jerusalem, I did little to actually change that busyness. It is an American cultural value. Rarely did it matter what I was busy doing. Often it was just being busy for busyness’ sake. Our awareness of Attention Deficit Disorder and ADHD gave us all permission to be overly busy, multi-distracted, and scattered-brained. We have been bred into a culture and civilization that never ceases.  It counts time in the nano-seconds. It seemed that the busier I was, the more irreplaceable, and hence more important, I became. Or so it seemed.

Time in the Middle East is measured in eons, ages, civilizations, centuries and millennia. This conception of time is fundamentally different from the culture that I grew up in. It is definitely a specific thought process, and to some extent it is fostered by the environment. There are over 5,000 years of recorded history in this land. And by recorded, I mean written. There are thousands of places where we have found human activity that predates this written record. In Jericho archeologists have found a tower that is estimated to be the oldest man-made structure on the planet. THEY FOUND IT SIXTY FEET UNDERGROUND! They date it to 8,000 BCE…5,000 years before the first pyramid was built. In comparison, my college building is about 150 years old, but its foundations are built on the wall that surrounded the city when Jesus was alive. The current walls of Jerusalem are relatively young at less than 500 years old. The people of this land live in the shadow of this ever-present witness of history. It colors every thought and every action.

Here is a section of that 10,000 year old tower.

Both Israelis and Palestinians connect their current existence to this ancient history. Their justification for their continued presence in the land today is based upon their connection to this past historical legacy. Both groups trace their heritage to a common ancestor in Abraham. He walked throughout this land some 4,000 years ago, give or take a couple of centuries. Current day residents in the land see themselves as being a link in this chain of history. They are not at the end of the timeline. Rather, they are in the middle of it…and time stretches out to the far distant generations in both the past and the future. As they see their past and their identity as rooted in this land, so also do they see the future. This theme is woven throughout the Scriptures, and is still very much active today. Without diving into politics, military strategies, oppression, or peace plans, this idea can be seen as a main reason for the ongoing conflict, but that is for a later posting.

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This understanding of time has led me to alter some of my thought processes. My first reaction to the physical surroundings of history is to see my life as getting smaller and smaller. What is my 80 years when put next to a water channel constructed under a mountain of solid rock in the 7th Century BCE? My life really is but a vapor… here today and forgotten by tomorrow. It’s kind of a depressing thought–I’m not quite as important as I would like to think that I am. Yet, it is a right thought. It gives me a more proper understanding of my place in history. As such, it also makes my life feel much larger at the same time. It’s a bit of a paradox, isn’t it? Well…yes, but it works. Here’s how.

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For whatever reason, a Holy Grail of my culture is youth. Apparently the most important things in life happen when you are in your twenties. Maybe you can do cool things while still in your thirties, but by the time you are forty, you’re almost dead. You become a grandparent in your fifties, and you are mostly seen as irrelevant and worthless by your sixties. This may not be what the average person on the street thinks, but it is what is taught by most TV shows, celebrity appearances, and educational classrooms. At the heart of the standard American dream is the goal of doing nothing in old age. Oooh…am I being cynical? Am I stepping on toes? Probably, but that’s not the main point I am trying to drive home. In direct contrast, a cultural value of the Middle East is old age.

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Yet, this value is deeper than old age and the wisdom and hard work it represents. The underlying concept is a value for the whole life, the entirety of life. Just as children are the key to the future, so are the grandparents the connection to the past. They are woven together and intricately connected.  Each tells a part of the story, but neither group ever tells the end. It goes back to being in the middle of that timeline again. These thoughts have caused me to change how I look at my own life. If my youth is the most important part of my life, then I will become like Napoleon’s Uncle Rico.

However, I am beginning to see that my greatest contributions may come thirty years from now. That’s more than half my lifetime away. What I am doing next year is important, for sure. But it becomes just one small step when I’m planning on what I want to be doing when I’m 55 or 75. Here’s an example…

If I wanted to understand theology better, it would be important for me to go learn German. What better way of doing it than by moving to Germany and immersing myself in normal life for two years? If that was just for my own benefit, and didn’t have a career objective attached to it, then the current American culture would see it as a waste of two years of my youth. Am I wrong? Yet, what are a couple of years in comparison to a long lifetime?

And this is one way that the Middle Eastern concept of time and history has begun to reshape my thoughts.

 

stability

Let’s start with a very broad statement today.  People in the Middle East crave stability. It affects most of their choices and is an organizing principle for life. Perhaps on some level, though, people everywhere crave stability. Let me rephrase it then…stability is a highly esteemed cultural value here. This can be illustrate by describing an alternative cultural value from the West.

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One of our most cherished ideas in the States is personal freedom. This is evident in our choices of living, vocation, education, counter-cultural and pseudo-rebellious actions. Often we try to express this freedom by making non-conformist choices…just like everyone else. We usually fail to see the irony in it. This freedom or liberty is also expressed in the way that mobility is considered an irreplaceable virtue and necessity in life today. Two examples should demonstrate this quite nicely.

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A couple of generations ago most Americans were born, lived out their lives, and were buried around an unmoving place called home. There were such things as family farms and often the children never made it too far from home. For a variety of reasons, that doesn’t happen so often any more. To pack up one’s possessions and move to another house every couple of years is relatively normal, and sometimes even highly valued. It allows us to find the next job promotion or step up in the social status ladder. In affect, our society has become and is becoming more transient. We take our homes with us, rather than going back home.

The second example is related to the first. Our thirst for freedom is also seen in our wireless civilization that connects every moment of our lives. Can you even remember how you once survived without a cell-phone? Just imagine what it would be like to be stuck to one location by a receiver and a cord plugged into the wall. Personally, I cannot even conceive of a life without my laptop. As far as grad school is concerned, it is a necessity of life. It is the centerpiece of my research, writing, brainstorming, communication, and correspondence. If it was not mobile, I absolutely could not have accomplished what I have done over the past two years.  Now, only if the iphone could transform into a pup tent with a mattress…what else could you really need in a home.  It can’t do that yet, but the iphone can repel mosquitoes while you are camping.  Check it out here.

With satellite links and ever-present wifi, we also can be connected to every aspect of our lives, at any time, and in any place. With this reliance and acceptance of technology, we have become finely attuned to dynamic and changing systems. We expect things to change around us constantly and continually. What was new yesterday, is everywhere today, and will be forgotten tomorrow. To remain unchanging is to become irrelevant. Our identity is based more upon our future hopes than in our rooted past.

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One of the prevailing images Americans have of the Middle East is one of the overwhelming presence of the desert. The desert is not everywhere. There are sections of lush forests and vegetation with abundant rainfall. Yet, the desert is never that far away. If not right in front of you, it is always in the peripheral vision. When I look at the desert, I have a hard time imagining that it was ever anything but a desert. It seems that the sands of time have ground to a halt, leaving this vast emptiness unchanged for millennia. Little affects the desert. A Bedouin caravan or an Israeli tank will leave tracks in the sand, but they are gone by tomorrow. Each day slides into another with little to set it apart. Generations come and go without leaving a mark, but the desert always impresses, leaving a mark on each generation.

Brittany and Ian enjoy one of the greener sides of the Middle East.

This desert imagery has been overly used to make broad generalizations that attempt to explain Middle Eastern cultures. Sometimes, though, it offers insights into a way of life here. The desert is predictable, although it is often harsh. Sandstorms and flashfloods can wreak havoc in the moment, but they are gone by tomorrow. Although it can be violent, it can be seen as a stable presence. And so it is with the rest of life here.

Sunrise over Wadi Rum

It is expected (and is considered an honor) to inherit and carry on the family business. Whether this is as a farmer, shepherd, restaurant owner, or politician. As such, people have a deep connection with the land. They see themselves as in the middle of an unbroken chain of ancestors and descendents. Did you catch that? Whereas, we often view ourselves in terms of a family tree that produced us, they would add the roots to the family tree. They are a link in a chain that stretches unbroken in both directions, into the past as well as into the future. Just think of the genealogies scattered throughout the Bible. They connect the present to the past, and it is their duty to continue that link into the future.

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In the Arab Middle Eastern culture people are usually identified with the village where they were born. Even if they have not been there in years, they still use it as an identifying marker. I am currently living in Beit Jala, which is a sister city to Bethlehem. Another nearby city is Beit Sahour (pronounce… bayt suh-huor). These three locations would all fit into the limits of downtown Albany back home. I have met dozens of people whose last names are Sahouri, Jala, Al-Khalil (Hebron), etc. There are some Palestinian refugees who have been absent from their towns for three generations, and they still identify with the home where their grandparents were born. When I get into a taxi to go somewhere, I do not tell them street names (mainly because they don’t exist). Rather I tell the driver a family name. “I need to go near the house of the Tawwiil family,” and he takes me to the front door. You give directions by naming family businesses, homes, and fields. It’s not unlike my uncle Roger who is a farmer. He used to give me directions to certain fields by naming the different family farms I would need to drive by.

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I grew up in a culture that had a love affair with apocalyptic imagery. Perhaps this was connected to nuclear proliferation and the Cold War. Yet it was also fostered by the End Times prophecies and scenarios that I learned at church and Bible College. They basically viewed human history in a giant toilet bowl, rushing round and round in circles until it reached the ultimate climate of nastiness in the sewer of decadent tribulation. I grew up thinking the end was near. In the Middle East, I have learned that time is perceived as a continuum or a cycle, rather than a timeline. Although tomorrow could be better or worse than today, there will still be a tomorrow. As such, that which ensured survival in the past will guarantee their arrival in tomorrow. This is one reason that stability is so highly valued.

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Now, can you see why there is often a disconnect between the Western and the Middle Eastern mind?

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[This posting has the potential of becoming a series based on observations of local culture.  However, I don't post blogs just to have something to write.  If I receive feedback, I might be encouraged to write more often.  Yes, this is a shameless plug for comments, but I just need to know if should continue writing or not.  If you don't want to make a comment on the blog, just email me at crsimon18@hotmail.com]