The Journey Home

Well we’re out of the Holy Land and on our way home. This is the second time I’ve experienced Israeli security at the airport and both times my visions of armed guards and strip searches have been unfounded. They did not open my bags and dump out the contents (I’ve had items damaged by TSA security at American airports). I did not have to take off my shoes, be digitally stripped by a machine which I think I once saw in a Star Trek movie, nor have my buttocks patted down by a neoprene-gloved gorilla – all of which I’ve experienced more than once in American airports. The Israelis were courteous and respectful and amazingly non-intrusive (given, of course, that I in no manner look Arab).

We flew from Tel Aviv to Zurich. The first thing we had to re-adjust to was being in a place without concrete walls and check points, which actually weren’t that bad either. These check points are increasingly being monitored by watchdog organizations so the soldiers have to behave a little better. They actually seemed almost human. One told me he thought I looked like Jack Nicholson (I don’t know, maybe it was the way I arched my eyebrow as I showed him my passport). 

Zurich is a nice place to go through but if you stay there for very long it could quickly empty out your pocketbook. For instance, there was a McDonalds (in the old city, yet) that was advertising what looked like the economy version of a Happy Meal for 13 francs – about the equivalent of dollars. 

Now I thought I’d about figured out every washroom arrangement that one could encounter traveling in that part of the world, but Zurich offered yet another novelty. It was in the Wasserkirk (Water Church) where we went for a Bach concert. I’d gotten used to walking into a “W.C.” seeing a wash stand and two or more cubicles for use by both genders (all very private, of course). Sometimes they were labeled to indicate which gender but sometimes it was first come first served. Now this W.C. (does that stand for Where's the Charmin?) in the Wasserkirk had two cubicles. One was labeled “Toilette,” 

which could go either way. The other was labeled as shown in this photograph. Fortunately all I had to do was wash my hands so I didn’t have to figure this one out. After some reflection I can only guess that it has to do with the sort of equipment that the cubicles contain.

Strasbourg was paradise; sunny, old world, and watched over by a magnificent cathedral. I really think that the nature of a place reflects its spiritual history. Strasbourg was a center of the Rhineland contemplative tradition. One of my favorite Christian mystics, Meister Eckhart, taught and preached here. And after Zurich Strasbourg seemed downright cheap.

We are in Heidelberg now preparing for our flight home out of Frankfurt. The weather is, once again, chilly and cloudy – perfect weather to leave by. I think it was God who planned our stay in Strasbourg to be so nice. Anyway, this whole journey has been immensely fulfilling. I plan to do some deep reflecting when we return home.

Wilderness Wandering

That which makes me genuine is not how I am known by the world but how I am known by God. And it is not even how I am known by God but that I am known by God. I am who I am through my sense of being known by the One who has created me. There is within me that which is eternal. My whole spiritual struggle is the increasing illumination of that inner being. Striving to be known as significant by the world dims this inner light. The discipline of yielding inwardly to the inner light of God transforms me into the person God intends. 

Our journey through the Sinai impressed me with the magnificence of the wilderness. Once one leaves the built up resort areas around the Red Sea (now mostly deserted due to the political situation in Egypt) which cater to the whims and fancies of men and women one ventures into the very heart of the wilderness. It is barren but not without form. One becomes swallowed up in it. I can imagine what the Hebrew people might have felt as they left the lush river valley of the Nile and entered into this formidable land. Even in their slavery they had a certain comfort in the familiarity of their lives. They had at least the security of a world that they could depend on, harsh as it might be. Their daily lives were predictable which afforded them some control. They understood their world and themselves within that world and could thus contain it. 

Mt. Sinai

But here in the wilderness they would have lost all bearings of themselves as being defined by their surroundings. They would have become swallowed up in the wilderness; and in God Himself because here was not a God that they could contain within themselves. He was not the small God of their daily lives in Egyptian slavery but a new God with a new Name. Now they must trust their very lives to a God they did not understand. Even as God called Moses up to Mt. Sinai they became fearful and tried to make a god that they could understand and would be small enough to contain in the world that they had known.

We often face this dilemma in our spiritual lives. We groan for the largeness of genuine being but we cling to the relative safety and comfort of a self that is small enough to give us some sense of having an identity and significance. True spiritual formation leads us out into the desert where we lose the anchors of the false identity to which we cling. We become swallowed up in something greater than ourselves; not shapeless but yet devoid of the familiar. This calls for the discipline of “letting go” of that self which we have called “me.”

Yet the wilderness is not nothingness. In fact it is majestic in form. Those who wander through its valleys and defiles find not pleasant green pastures and rolling hills but stark and barren mountains towering above them. One understands why God had to guide the Hebrews through this wilderness as a cloud by day and pillar of fire by night. In our own experience of the wilderness it becomes critical that we look to Him however He might appear to us. Religion as a sort of cultural form or life ritual no longer works in the wilderness. Here we must seek the reality of God. The testing of the wilderness is to open ourselves to an unseen God and one whom perhaps in our heart of hearts we do not really trust. Our God has been a God of safety to whom we look to keep our lives running smoothly and manageable. But when we come into the desert it is easy to shake our fist at God and blame Him for failing us. He is taking away our comfort and security to which we have become accustomed. The wilderness is out of the groove. 

Do we react any differently than the Hebrews? Do we not murmur against God? If we really look deep within us we will likely find a fist-shaking, fearful, person railing against a God who has allowed such disorientation to come into our lives. There is a degree of comfort in our self-pity. It lets us hold on to ourselves and maintain a sense of control over ourselves as we try to cling to that small plot of land that we call “me.”  But the first step toward finding a transcendent security that enables us to face our adverse situation is to recognize and confess the complaining part of ourselves. Then we can bring this fearful, weak person into the light of God’s grace. 

One proven method of desert travel

This is the teaching of the Exodus. The murmuring generation must die in the wilderness before that generation born in the wilderness itself might enter the Promised Land. We then begin to get some sense of God Himself holding us and containing us within this wilderness. It is here, not in the lush valleys of the Nile, that God forms Christ within us. To walk in the wilderness is to allow ourselves to be swallowed up in God’s transformational work. 

Between Gerizim and Ebal: Streams of Living Water

Internet Photo

On this trip having visited Geneva and Rome I have struggled with the merits of both Protestantism and Catholicism. The question that is developing in my mind is, if I am not one does that mean I have to be the other? Can I not identify myself as Protestant without becoming Catholic? Our recent visit to Nablus helped me toward resolving this dilemma.

In Deut 11 God gives His people the choice to obey or disobey his commands. To obey brings about the blessing while disobedience brings on the curse. The two mountain peaks of Gerizim and Ebal represent the fundamental consequence of fallen human nature; the struggle between what we should do and what we should not do. 

Nablus, which is the site of ancient Shechem, lies in the valley between Mt. Gerizim and Mt. Ebal. These two peaks represent our moral dilemmas. God commanded Joshua upon taking possession of the Promised Land to set the blessing on Mt. Gerizim and the curse on Mt. Ebal  (Dt. 11:29). It is thus puzzling that after conquering Ai Joshua built an altar on Mt. Ebal; the mountain of the curse (Josh 8:30). But what does Mt. Ebal represent? It represents our disobedience. Obedience to the commands of the Lord, then, is to give up our disobedience; for it is the disobedient heart that brings on the curse.  Obedience is really the nature with which God has created us. This is our true state and thus what we truly desire. True spiritual healing is not so much to cultivate a life of striving to follow God’s commands but to put to death our disobedient nature. Jesus preached repentance not morality:

From that time Jesus began to preach, saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Matt 4:17"

Thus to repent – to turn from disobedience – is to come naturally into obedience. It is to build an altar of sacrifice on Mt. Ebal.

Altar stone at ancient Shechem

At Shechem in the valley between the two mountains Joshua brought the Ark of the Covenant, which represented the Presence of the Lord Himself. Here also after the conquest of Canaan Joshua took a great stone, and set it up there under the oak in the sanctuary of the Lord (Josh 24:24). While the altar on Mt. Ebal represented a sacrifice - a relinquishing - of their disobedience, the altar at Shechem was a witness to their obedience to the commands of the Lord. 

Internet Photo

Truth itself lies on neither mountain but in the valley between. Here flow the living waters of Jacobs well. It is one of the holy sites that we know for sure is the actual site. Our guide, an orthodox priest, demonstrated the depth of this well by having one of our group let down a bucket which required a huge length of rope to reach the water. Then he poured a bit of water into the well which took several seconds to splash into the water below. It is about 130 feet deep: 

The woman said to him, "Sir, you have nothing to draw with, and the well is deep; where do you get that living water? John 4:11-12

The springs of spiritual truth lie deep within us, not on the “high grounds” of morality. Truth lies not so much in our religious orientation as in the Living Water of Christ. Our orthodox guide emphasized this point more than once:

Jesus said to her, "Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father (John 4:21-22).

“God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth (John 4:24-25)." 

Certainly our religious orientation takes us to the well. One must enter the church to reach the well but it is in the depths of the well itself where the actual Living Water is found. Will we actually convert to Catholicism? That is an unknown. What we have in hand is the added depth of spirituality into which our experiences on this journey with the Catholic Church has led us.