The Wall

Yad Vashem

We went to the Holocaust Museum in Jerusalem on Monday. Emotionally it was a very tough experience. I cried multiple times which for me is highly unusual. The two things that wrenched me the most were the pictures of the kids and the displays of family photos that had been found among the belongings of the dead, often in their pockets. Seeing so much life and happiness in these photos was like seeing everything that they missed out on and ultimately lost forever. I think that they could make an entire museum with just those photos and it would be enough to capture the horror. There was one photograph in particular; of a wedding party taken several years before the war and the caption read, "Of the 56 people in this photograph, 48 were killed in the concentration camps."

I've always been interested in the role of joy during times of great pain and so it was the items that were related to joy, or some form of redemption that I copied to share below:

Before we went in to the museum, I took a walk through the Garden of the Righteous which is dedicated to Gentiles who rescued Jews. Each tree is named for an individual hero and walking under the shadow of these trees looking at the nameplates I felt as if I were in a hall of giants, and with this great cloud of witnesses to the goodness that can be found in the human heart sheltering me, I cried, hot tears running down my cheeks, and they were heavy and buoyant all at once.

The following is the suicide note of a young woman who took her life before the Nazi's could. The joy in it struck me because at this point she would have already experienced much pain and suffering in one of the ghettos that the Jews were forced into before they were shipped off to the concentration camps.

Beloved Stefanie, Forgive me, remember me with love. There was no choice. My life was beautiful to the end because of your love and the friendship of those who surrounded me in loving care... I hope to die at peace with the world and in the hope of grace and love. Be strong. Maybe someday justice and humanity will live anew. Signed, Anna Trauman

I went back there, in the shadow of the chimneys, in the breaks between the pain, there was something resembling happiness... For me, the happiness there will always be the most memorable experience, perhaps. - Imre Kertesz

To the One Who Restored My Belief in Humanity by Yehuda Baron

As we were leaving the museum and walking back towards the bus, one of the teenage girls starting doing ballet moves, pliés and leaps upon a curb of stone and it was just such a wonderful moment of beauty and a reminder that life marches on. That light shines in the darkness and that the darkness cannot overcome it.

Day Two

Sunday morning, after a lovely breakfast at the hotel, we went and worshiped with a group of Palestinian believers at their church in the Old City. It was so much fun to watch the kids running in and out just like they do back home. Then it was off for a stroll through the Jewish Quarter and a visit to the Wailing Wall. There was really something special about being there and offering up a prayer with my hands and forehead pressed up against the stone. It was the most powerful and moving experience I had at any of the holy sites. In the photo above, you can see the discoloration in the stone from all the years of people touching it.

Later, on a tour of an archeological site just around the corner, we came upon a group of about 120 Charismatic Germans of Russian origin singing praise and worship songs with gusto in Russian. What?! I want to know the back story on that one. They were really getting into it, even the men which is somewhat atypical.

The purpose of this trip is to introduce us to peacemakers on both sides of the conflict. Here is a brief summary of the people we met with in the first two days:

Saturday night we met with Rami Fellamon, a Palestinian believer who lives in Jerusalem (there are about 117,000 Arab Christians in Israel) and he talked to us about his life. Rami is a professor at Bethlehem Bible College and works for Jerusalem Evangelistic Outreach, a group that does relief work and evangelism in Israel and Palestine. The spirit of this man was incredible, it was apparent that he had a heart full of grace and love.

Sunday afternoon, we met with a group of Palestinian and Jewish women called Joint Ventures for Peace who are collaborating in teams of two to create products they can sell. For example, one of the Palestinian women makes olive oil soap and one of the Israeli women fires clay, so they designed a soap dish together and sell the Palestinian's soap in the Israeli's soap dish. The women were all a lot of fun and clearly had genuine affection for each other.

Sunday night we met with two men from The Parent's Circle which is a group of bereaved family members from both sides who have lost loved ones in the conflict. We met Ben, an Israeli who lost his daughter in a suicide bombing at a bus stop and Mazzan, a Palestinian whose unarmed father was shot by an Israeli soldier while driving home from a friend's house during the second intifada. They sat side by side, patting each other on the back, complimenting one another, and laughing at the other's jokes. It was an emotional and blunt conversation at times light and hopeful and at other times very matter of fact tinged with a weary sadness.

My roommate Nick and I wrapped up day two on the hotel roof overlooking the city. I love taking it all in from a high point, you get a little tiny sample of God's view and for a moment, the sounds of humanity carried up to you on the wind, a glimpse of his heart.

Day One

Bethlehem. My heart is heavy tonight as it is actually Day Three and we have seen many terrible things today, but I am going to do these in order, so back in time we go to a happier day.

Grace Hotel, Old City Jerusalem. The first thing that really reaches out and grabs you in this ancient city of stone are the sounds. First there are the church bells, then the Muslim call to prayer, add to that the sound of footsteps click clacking down stone corridors as Orthodox Jews hurriedly rush off to Temple, mix in the chirping of birds, the low murmur of the marketplace, and finally the pièce de résistance; the sound of pilgrim's from all over the world breaking into song (both spontaneous and planned) in their own languages as they walk down the narrow streets or sit in one of the many chapels celebrating events in Jesus' life. There is music e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e and it is wonderful! The highlight of the entire day was walking into the chapel at the Pool of Bethesda and there was a group of elderly black women from New York up at the altar singing like the angels in Latin with outstretched arms and faces pointed skyward. It was beautiful. Shortly after they finished, a pigeon tucked away in the massive ceiling somewhere signalled his approval with a hearty cooing that echoed and re-echoed in the perfect acoustics of the massive stone building.

The lowlight of the day was visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre which is actually a series of competing and very divided churches parked under one roof on the site where Jesus was crucified. One minute, you are walking through a crowded market and then you turn the corner and across a small plaza there it sits - one of the most depressing places on earth. I felt a bit like Larry Mullen Jr. in Rattle and Hum as he reflected on visiting Elvis' grave at Graceland, (Irish accent please) ''I really wish he hadn't been [crucified] there, I wish it would have been somewhere I couldn't have gone.''

There was so much bowing and kneeling, the kissing of objects, lighting of candles, rituals and recitations, etc... by so many people in so many different religious outfits that it all just became too much. I can't judge any pilgrim or even any act that I saw; and taken one by one they would have all been quite moving, but I think it was seeing all of them together, competing and jostling for space and knowing all the arguing and separation that occurs and has occurred in history over rituals and traditions that pushed me over the edge. I felt absolutely nothing emotionally in that place except sadness. Galatians 5:6 kept running through my head over and over:

For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision has any value. The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.

I was so disturbed by my lack of emotion during the initial visit that I decided to give it one more try and went back to the church later in the afternoon right before closing. It was mostly deserted as I watched from a distance as a young mother from Africa knelt and kissed the slab of rock that Jesus was supposedly laid upon in the tomb. Her young son was kneeling beside her but kept acting up and she repeatedly had to stop to correct him, Finally she had had enough and got up to go. She motioned for the boy to get up and join her. Much to her horror and my delight, he got up and ran across the slab nearly knocking his head on one of the low hanging lamps. She hurriedly ran back to the slab and began reverently brushing with her hand every place her son's feet had touched the stone. Her devotion and his exuberance were both so real and beautiful, I knew that this was a scene I was meant to see. (I imagine this next line being spoken by my British roommate, Nick, so you must read it with a cheery British accent) Ahhh... a bit of redemption in the end, it's quite nice really, isn't it?

Blue: Storm over the Pacific

Big Bend

Spotlights sweep over a thousand shades of green

Contemplating a swim on the border


View from an abandoned mine

< "...under a black belly of cloud in the rain, she brings me white golden pearls, stolen from the sea, she is raging, she is raging, a storm blows up in her eyes..." -U2

Mas! Mas!

White Sands, N.M.

El Paso & a Poem

Brothers

Rolling down 54

between

the setting sun and rising moon

so fat and full tonight

they hang there like scales

and I can't help but feel that we are

the ones being weighed

On the Road Again

and

I've Always Been Crazy

blaring from the radio

as we blast down that desert highway

the music coarsing through our veins

like blood

cause their ain't no song

like the one you're livin'

All day long we fought

the desert wind

and dust

but never

let them get the

best of us

so

we're off to celebrate

at Andale's tonight

Gathered round the table

we eat and drink our fill

cause tommorow

we'll die

again

between the rising sun

and setting moon

only to be

resurrected

by the beauty of mountains

and the strength of brothers

Ray's doing his best Cosell

and Brett is cracking jokes

as Shawn takes it all in

up on the hill

overlooking

dirty Juarez

Nobody's smiling

but its not cause

we aren't happy

the night wind

is blowing now

and it picks up our souls

Spinning, spinning

it carries them

high up into

the mountains

We can't get there

any other way.

California Love

The last four years I have had the fortunate privilege of visiting Southern California in the spring when the snow is still capping the peaks above Los Angeles and wildflowers carpet the high desert. I have mixed feelings about California, I love to visit and I love to leave. They have every conceivable variety of vegetation, desert, and mountain all jammed into a pretty small area. All four years my head has been on a constant swivel just trying to take it all in. The negative, of course, is all the people jammed into that same small area. Don't stop to smell the flowers - you'll get run over.


A little slice of heaven off of Interstate 5 south of Lebec



A Texas-like view on Highway 138 between Gorman and Palmdale


The RR tracks running along Historic route 66 in Oro Grande


My co-worker Shawn with Mt. San Antonio in the background last April. Getting to see this sight was a total surprise and near accident.

West Texas

Went out to west Texas this week to do a little work. It is a beautiful part of the state, full of lonely highways, rugged mountains and flat deserts. The people are both tough and friendly. I love it. This picture was taken at our work site off of Highway 17 halfway between Pecos and Balmorhea. Shortly after I took it, a coyote peeked out from behind that little mound of dirt in the foreground and then ran off to the west.

A Cure for Wanderlust?

The crew just got back from a week of work out in West Texas and New Mexico. We had a great time out there, surrounded by and working in the mountains. The views were breathtaking and put all of us in a mild state of ecstasy that took the edge off of the 15 hour days. I got out there half a day early and was able to run around in the Sacramento Mountains for a little bit before heading down into the valley to hike in White Sands National Park in the early evening. The entire trip floored me but the first day was by far the highlight.

When I was a teenager I absolutely could not comprehend why anyone would choose to live more than 20 miles from the beach. I can remember making a list ranking all 50 states according to how I perceived their worth. New Jersey, where I grew up was #1 followed by Florida, California, Hawaii, and Massachussets. I don't remember where I had New Mexico ranked but I know it was in the bottom five, with most of the rest of the non-coastal West filling out the bottom half. I can remember my Dad laughing and shaking his head as he read my list. "But they don't have beaches", I protested. Youth is, as they say, indeed wasted on the young. What I wouldn't give to be able to put my current brain in my 18 year old body. I would have taken the road trip of a lifetime, and with the exception of what was needed to get out of the state, none of it would have included New Jersey.

White Sands sits in a flat desert valley surrounded by mountains to the East, North and West. It is a large deposit of white sand that is constantly being sculpted by the elements and at dusk, when I was there, it is essentially a giant white canvas upon which the deteriorating light lays an evolving work of shadow and muted pastels. It is also a place where you can leave the only visible footprints or sign of man and get far enough away that it is so quiet that all you hear is the ringing in your ears (which actually was very loud, having just driven 500+ miles with the window down and the stereo cranked). To add to the scenery, thunderheads were building over the mountains on all 3 sides and the light played off the ones in the East and peeked in and out of the ones in the West like a bank of spotlights at a rock show. I was forced to walk forward in circles just to take it all in and by the time my head made it 360 degrees around the view in front of me had changed again. I felt as if I were walking on holy ground.

As I walked through the sand I suddenly wanted to see it in every possible situation, what does it look like at sunrise, at high noon, in the dead of winter, on a cloudy day, in the rain, in the snow, with a red sunset, with a pink sunset, in the middle of the night? I didn't just want to see this place, I wanted to know it. I wanted to set up in a lawn chair with a year's supply of grilled cheese and Dr. Pepper and do nothing but watch the seasons come and go from every possible angle until I had fully experienced the place. But unfortunately, I had work to do and I don't think I could get the kids to sit still for that long. Old age I thought wistfully, is wasted on the old.