Pictures - finally!

Here's a smattering of some of my recent experiences.

My little cave hostel in Jerusalem.

But the view from the roof was amazing. If you notice, you can see the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in the background, and the Luther Church of the Redeemer (tall tower) much closer. I think this was the church that rang their bell every morning at 6.

Again, notice the Dome of the rock in the background.

Turns out you can rent a mattress to sleep out on the roof! I think this might be the way to go!

 Look at this amazing salad I got from a little cafe near the Hebrew University.

 I trust this one needs no explanation.

Atop Mt. Scopus, looking down over the city.

And the sunburn I earned for walking around without sunscreen. You'd think I'd know better by now!

 I thought this was funny. An old discarded couch, right next to the ancient city wall of Jerusalem. This little out-of-the-way street was strewn with trash and debris. Not the most touristy part of the city.

 I woke up at o'dark-hundred to catch a bus down to Beer Sheva for the AIS conference last Sunday morning. This was how I found the streets. Notice that this is a bit of a hill. This is one of the lesser ones. Now imagine me pulling my poor (rather heavy) suitcase up and down these hills/stairs! (The wheels are beginning to get a bit loose. I hope they last!)

 The Valley of Tzin in the Negev Desert - where the Israelites wandered for 40 years. I don't know about you, but the complaining we read about seems a lot more understandable when you've experienced this!

 Dinner at the Bedouin camp (obviously meant for tourists like us!)

 The entertainment. They were a lot of fun!

 Walking through the desert to the Bedouin camp for our AIS session on Bedouin issues.

 The part of the camp where the camels and donkey reside.

 These camels were every bit as stand-offish as they appear. Wherever we (the group) came, they walked the opposite direction. (Notice the shadows of all of us taking pictures. Kind of funny.)

 The view of the Negev from the Bedouin camp.

 Our Bedouin guide informed us that this little plant is good for acne.  It's hard to see, but it is just a small, gold-colored flower, a little like sage-brush.

 More tourist-accustomed camels.

 And the friendliest donkey I ever met. I loved to be rubbed on his ears and face! When I tried to walk away, he kept following me (until he came to the end of his tether).

 As part of the entertainment that night, the band handed out dozens of these drums, and we all pounded in rhythm together. I know this photo of  me looks ridiculous, but my friend was trying to capture the moment. Maybe she succeeded. Maybe I really looked that ridiculous!

We had a little visitor during the last session. I think he was looking for food (he could use it!), or maybe just escape from the desert heat. In the end, he just lay down beside me and slept through the session. I kind of wanted to join him.

Things blown up

On July 22, 1946, the southern section of the King David Hotel in Jerusalem was blown up, killing nearly 100 people and injuring dozens of others. The bombers were right-wing Jewish fighters angry at the British mandate authority, located in that section of the luxury hotel, for raiding Jewish military groups and confiscating damaging documents.

I visited the King David Hotel yesterday for lunch and contemplated things blown up. The hotel, which obviously was later rebuilt; hundreds of people in dozens of busses, cafes and crowded streets; the prospects of a peace resolution; the lives of those left to heal and mourn the losses. This region of the world has blown up in recent years, making the violence between Israel and Palestine seem almost like small skirmishes. My heart aches for the millions of lives torn to shreds only a few hundred miles from me, as I sit comfortably in my small hotel room. The people all around me here, too, have experienced the devastation of lives and hopes and dreams blown up. I meet them all around me. There is much anger and fear. But there is also much hope and celebration.

I would dare say all of us have experienced lives being blown up. I have. My family has, on multiple occasions. We have healed, usually with scars. We are still trying to find the pieces from the most recent explosion, to begin putting them back together now. But I have faith we will heal. I have faith in a Savior whose greatest purpose was to make that healing possible. I am certain that the greatest thing lacking in this region, in the world, is that knowledge, and the desire to let healing begin.

The problem is, it's scary. Healing means moving on, finding joy again. And that seems to undercut justice, or the hallowed memory of those lost. We as humans are obsessed with justice. We sometimes forget that, try as we may, we can never attain full justice. Like the seemingly impossible task of finding room for healing, the task of reaching final justice simply must be left to the master of the law. I do not mean to say that the pursuit of justice is futile and unworthy. On the contrary, it must be a sacred part of social and personal experience in order for civilization to survive and progress. But it cannot be pursued at the expense of ultimate peace and healing.

I digress. I'm supposed to be talking about Israel, aren't I? I guess, in my way, I am.

Speaking of life and celebration, I wandered into the Old City today around lunch time, and was a bit taken aback. It must have been around the time of the Islamic afternoon prayer, because most of the shops were closed as I walked down. But when I arrived to the city, I found it teeming with life. All kinds of small, make-shift vending tables with anything you might imagine - from shoes and small children's toys, to clothes and fresh fruits/vegetables. And then, all of a sudden, people were streaming from Damascus Gate. I mean, streaming! I wondered if something had happened inside the city. I wanted to go down in and grab something to eat, so I pushed my way through until I reached a vendor about 200 yards from the front of the gate. I still don't know why everyone was leaving, but it was astounding.

I do remember that Friday afternoons at Damascus Gate are especially crazy, and Ramadan begins tomorrow, I believe. So that may have had something to do with it. Tonight begins the weekend in Israel. And perhaps I shouldn't have been alone there - I remember a friend getting cornered and groped in a similar situation, at Damascus Gate, even, in 2000. But I have always been a bit impetuous in these kinds of situations, much to my mother's chagrin. I assure you, I am fine, Mom.

As you might infer from my earlier ponderings, I am feeling a bit lonely and pensive. I knew that spending a month and a half largely alone in Israel would be challenging for me. Now that the conferences are over, the challenging part is beginning. I struggle with feeling overwhelmed by the research I need to do. I struggle going out alone. Always alone. It is so very tiresome. I am trying to remain busy and actively engaged in my work, but it is hard for me at times. I apologize for throwing that out there. I want to be nothing but happy and uplifting, but I actually find value in honesty - about the wonderful and the painful. So, that's where we are right now.

And still I can't figure out why this darn blog (or Facebook) won't let me upload the most recent photos from Dropbox. It's really beginning to irritate me! I have some good ones!

Time to sit and think

Come join in this experience with me. Moments ago the electricity (and internet) returned, for the fourth time, after going dark for about 30 seconds each time. I'm sitting comfortably on a bed in a room of white sandstone walls, and a window open behind me that allows me to hear and occasionally look out on the efforts of some loud but well-meaning Palestinian men attempting to put up a big string of lights back and forth across the small, ancient Jerusalem street. Each time the electricity goes out, a chorus of shouts replaces it until the light comes back on. I wondered briefly why they are putting up lights, until I realized it's just about time for Ramadan to begin. How lovely to share in this moment that might, for us, compare to all the fond memories of frustration over Christmas lights.

I've had quite a remarkable few days, and far too much has been packed into it to relate it all. It has consisted of several cold showers (I successfully conversed with the repair man in Hebrew about it, and he could not figure out why we were getting cold water - so it never got fixed), lots of beautiful desert vistas, bedouin tents and discussions about bedouin rights and life, peeling skin from a foolish afternoon in the hot, Jerusalem sun, and my first paper presented at an Israel Studies conference. This is just a sampling. It has also consisted of dragging my big suitcase (I MUST learn to pack lighter for 6 weeks in Israel!) up and down the streets and stairs of the old city, arriving this afternoon at the highly-recommended hostel, only to realize I made my reservations for tomorrow - so for tonight, I had to fork out big bucks for a single room (but it is rather luxurious, I must say!).

Since I can't possibly share everything from the past few days, I'll comment on a few things. As I sat in the early morning market last Saturday, I had the wonderful experience of just sitting and people-watching. It was mostly Palestinians and Orthodox Jews walking in and out of Damascus gate, and just sitting quietly and watching, eating my breakfast of sesame bread with salty spices, was a treat. I noticed a few interesting things. First, Palestinian men of various ages push their carts full of wares to sell in the market, they have a clever little technique to brake them. Dangling from the bottom of the cart, just below where the man's feet are walking, is a small, old rubber tire. Not the tube, mind you, but the tire. I was intrigued by this, until I realized that they stood on this to slow the heavy cart down quickly, or when they're going down hill (Jerusalem is mighty hilly!). Brilliant!

I also observed a moment that disturbed me a bit. Two Israeli police men were coming down into the market as three young Palestinian men/boys (one must have been about 13, the other two 16-17) were walking out. The police men stopped them, and they appeared to be having a friendly conversation. This, I thought, is encouraging. But then I saw the three young men turn around, complaining but not resisting, and saying something about "beit-sefer," or school. The group of them walked into the city together. Now, I have no idea what went down there. I don't know if they were targeted because they're Palestinians and of a trouble-making age (although, I have seen several police walking around and no one seems to even bat an eye generally), or whether they really had been making some trouble somewhere. But it caused me to ponder. I just don't know the situation, and it bothers me that I don't know whether that moment was one of minority oppression that is so often talked about in Israel. In other words, I didn't feel as if I could totally trust that those police men were in the right. But nor could I trust that the Palestinians were either. This moment epitomized the way I feel about the conflict: everyone has a narrative; everyone is right, and everyone is wrong.

The next day, however, I got the chance to witness a much more encouraging scene. (As I type this, the evening prayer call has begun to sound loudly outside. I always find it to be such a haunting music, especially when multiple voices join in the call. It is also lovely and melodic.) I was sitting outside the bus station at a miserably early time (I had to leave my hostel by 5 am to catch a bus down to Beer Sheva for the conference, if that gives you any indication), waiting for my friend Gangzheng to join me. As I sat, chewing on my breakfast yet again, I saw a woman across the street with a rod in front of her, feeling her way along. I realized she was blind, and she kept bumping the stick into the bench across the way, and then the tree next to the bench. She couldn't find the way around it. I wanted to run over and help her, but I didn't feel I could leave my luggage sitting there. I was saved by a young man, who might have seemed a rowdy punk by his hair and clothes, who ran over and took her by the arm and guided her around the obstacle. Then he stayed with her for quite a few minutes to make sure she got on the right bus.

I love to see plain, unselfish goodness in the world.

A final story. Saturday I went to church at the BYU Jerusalem Center. My Chinese friend Gangzheng had expressed interest in going with me, so we walked up the Mount of Olives together (literally, from Damascus gate, across Kidron Valley, and up the mountain - hence the sunburn!) and arrived hot and sweaty. I was dismayed to learn, however, that he could not attend the services, nor even enter the premises: he is not a member of the Church. Now, I know very well about the Church's non-proselyting agreement, but I did not know that meant that NO ONE that is not a member of the Church, not even when they're from another country, can come. I was so upset, it was difficult to enjoy the services. He was allowed in the building, and spent Sacrament Meeting in the foyer reading. He was really good about it, even when, afterward, we were told we also couldn't walk around the grounds until Church was over, in two hours. Being from China, he is quite familiar with religious restrictions. Being from America, I was good and angry! But we went and visited the Hebrew University just down the road, then walked back and visited the gardens. I had prayed during the meeting to have my heart softened about what I considered a great mis-judgment of the Church's agreement with the Israeli government, and I will say that, while I still think the whole thing is far overdone, I was at peace by the end.

Well, 45 minutes later, and the string of lights outside is still stubbornly dark. There are at least 15 men talking (loudly), trying to get it to work. With any luck, I'll be able to sleep anyway. And with any luck, soon I'll be able to upload photos! Until then...

Ancient stones

In 1989, a Palestinian Anglican pastor published a book in which he employed Liberation Theology in the Palestinian case. Liberation Theology began in Latin America, where local priests in the 1970s began to push back against the wealth and what they saw as oppression of the Catholic church in relation to the indigenous peoples. The theology based its notions on passages in the New Testament, particularly the Beatitudes, that talk about how the poor and oppressed are beloved to God; and the oppressors condemned. An implication of this perspective is that the poor are blessed and revered simply by virtue of their being poor and on the receiving end of oppression by large, powerful institutions. It's an interesting perspective, and whether or not one buys into it, Liberation Theology has had a huge impact on how much of the world views Christianity and world poverty. Take, for example, Pope Francis's view on world poverty and strong nations in relations to poorer ones. (And remember, he's from Argentina.)

In Ateek's Palestinian Liberation Theology, the Israelis became the illegitimate oppressors, and not only are the Palestinians the revered oppressed: the Palestinian Christians, which make up to 30% of overall Palestinians, are called the "Living Stones," the ancient-modern witnesses of Jesus Christ, the descendants of the earliest Christians. Within that framework, Palestinian Christians in Israel and the West Bank have begun creating a new sort of pilgrimage experience - in some ways, more authentic in terms of the way ancient pilgrimage would have looked. Christians from around the world who want to tour or do pilgrimage in the Holy Land can come and stay with local Palestinian families, enjoying local accommodations and Palestinian hospitality. 

It's a unique experience, and one sure to introduce westerners not only to true Arab hospitality (which is unparalleled), and also to Palestinian grievances. It is a rather effective tool in the campaign to delegitimize Israel. I don't say that disparagingly - other Christians often experience tours that emphasize the Jewish presence in the land, and generally acknowledge Palestinian claims only peripherally, if at all. One of their best tools is, of course, the archaeological sites that Evangelicals just eat up - proving "scientifically" that Jews truly lived anciently in the land, as described in the Bible. Never mind the other layers of ancient civilizations that are simply overlooked and thrown out as useless dirt, many of which well-precede the biblical civilizations that the Jewish archaeologists are vent on uncovering and showing the world. Yes, pilgrimage and tourism is political!

This is one of the aspects of Christian pilgrimage/tourism that I'll be researching while I'm here. How does the tour one participates in affect one's perspective on Israel/Palestine? How does one's denomination determine which kind of tour one is likely to engage in?

Right now, however, I'm sitting in a youth hostel surrounded by different ancient stones. I'm in the Citadel youth hostel in Jerusalem. It was highly ranked, but I think I'm going with cheap hotels from here on out! If for no other reason, than just for the AC! Surprise, surprise - Jerusalem is hot! The hostel is a little claustrophobic, although also rather atmospheric. Upon entering, you find yourself in a small, tomb-like room made of cream-colored Jerusalem sand stones, with an arched ceiling about 7 feet high at its center, and sloping down from there on all sides. I share a room with 7 other girls, and there is no TP in the bathroom. That's right - they're having problems with the plumbing, so they have installed a water sprayer. (Upon hearing that, I stare at the man for several seconds, waiting to hear him say he's joking. Nope, he's dead serious. So glad I brought wet wipes!)

Maybe I can hold out on the more "solid" bathroom activity until tomorrow morning, when I will go to church at the BYU Jerusalem Center. I know they have state of the art restroom facilities, with all the soft, white paper I could hope for. I hope I can manage.

For now, I'm wrapping things up and heading to bed. By the way these "ancient" white, lumpy stones, leave quite a bit to be desired as a back rest! Now to see how the bed measures up!

A time for shmoozing.

I had almost an hour before dinner to sit down and make a blog post. And guess what I did. I spent about 20 minutes trying to get the darn blogspot program to let me upload one of my own pictures - but it adamantly refused each time! (Something about the file being too large. Grrr!) So, I settled for a silly notebook-type background, then I wandered over to Facebook to see what was happening (as the computer was thinking about uploading the picture, you see). One of the reasons I don't check FB much is because I get sucked in - and I don't have time for that! I got completely wrapped up in reading one of those links describing stupid things people say on the internet. Then another about stupid things people have made (even funnier). And now, my hour is wasted. I haven't been very productive, overall, but I do think I have produced some endorphins from the chuckles and snorts, and possibly some annoyed neighbors.

(Two hours later, after dinner...)

Well, it has been an interesting few days. From basking in the glory of being wined and dined, I later succumbed to the despair of the dreadful job prospects for a PhD student (thanks a lot for that roundtable discussion!), but was distracted as I chuckled at an old man walking by in a neon yellow speedo as I talked with a fun guy from Zimbabwe. I feel a bit bi-polar!

I arrived in Tel Aviv on Monday at about 5 pm Israel time and rented first a phone and then a car. I drove the car up to the very northern, tip-top part of Israel (Kfar Giladi), but I really shouldn't have been on the road. I was so very tired. But here I am, having successfully swerved back into my lane several times, alive to tell the tale (as are the other drivers I encountered on the way).

On Tuesday morning we had a great breakfast (we have been well-fed, I must say!) and then a few lectures that really weren't so interesting. After lunch I got to hear from a big, important guy in the Israel Studies world: Benny Morris. He landed a big bomb on the Israeli academic community when he published his 1988 book, The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem, in which he showed rather conclusively that Israel had indeed expelled hundreds of thousands of Palestinian Arabs from their homes in 1948, confirming much of the 40-year complaints. Anyway, Morris talked about the impact of that and other books like it in the 1980s and early 90s. It was nothing especially new, but cool to hear from him.

Later we boarded a bus and went out a-touring. We road to a little observatory at the top of a mountain, overlooking Lebanon (which was literally about 20 feet away) and Syria (a few miles away). It was a beautiful view and downright windy. I learned a bit about Syria and Lebanon that I didn't know before. And to look at these beautiful little villages, you would have no idea that a savage war has been going on for the last 2 years just a few hundred kilometers away.

From there we drove to a winery. I wish I could say I soaked in the beautiful view all the way, but my stomach was not appreciating the twists and turns coming down the mountain (really, I think car-sickness is all in the head - quite literally - but it comes out through the stomach). So, lay my head back, closed my eyes, and try to make sure I didn't drool or snore. I think I succeeded.

The winery was also rather uninteresting to me. It was nice - any time I get the opportunity to see rolling hillsides covered in greenery, I'm happy to just sit down and gaze at its loveliness. But the talk about Israel's wine industry just missed its mark with me. When we went across the street to the reception center and did a wine tasting, it was likewise lost on me. But the cheese was good! And so was the dinner. I tell you, they have treated us like royalty!

Now, my friends who came with me to Israel last summer will find this hard to believe, but truly, it was downright chilly! They had nice fleece blankets ready for us, and we all wrapped up in fleece blankets as a startlingly cool breeze whipped through my hair and listened to live folk music, sipping coffee (herbal tea, for me).

On the ride home, I repeated the attempt to prevent any drooling or snoring.

Today I enjoyed a little extra time sleeping in. I don't know if it's pure laziness, jet lag still working on me, or recovery from my jaunt in the Grand Canyon (I must admit, my calves are still rather sore, and my ankles have become swollen! It's embarrassing! Any advice on getting rid of swollen ankles?), but I've been ready to sleep at the drop of a hat!

We had meetings this morning in which we discussed our concerns about our work and finding jobs in academia. I'm now much less optimistic about my future, but I s'pose I'll keep plugging along.

The dinner tonight was again preceded by a cocktail, with an open bar. Now that I think about it, I could have gotten a soda, but I am trying to stay away from that too. I sat at a table with another big name in Israel Studies: Sammy Smooha. He is an older man, a retired professor, and an Iraqi Jew. His eyes don't focus when he looks at you, so he always has a little bit of a crazy look. Add to that his typical Israeli bluntness, and he's a hoot to talk to. He had caught wind that I'm Mormon (I did spell out the full name of the Church for him at one point), and he began to interrogate me. What is the Mormon position on bigamy? How do I feel about polygamy? Do I have to be married to man with multiple wives? Do I know any polygamists? Why don't I drink alcohol? Can Mormons get a divorce?  How do I interact with them? Why didn't Joseph Smith get to keep the Gold Plates? It would have made his story so much easier to believe. How do Mormons feel about Jews returning to Israel? Do Jews have to convert to Christianity before the Second Coming? Why don't we proselyte in Israel? And on and on. At one point, the director of the program, Ari Roth, who knows an astonishingly large amount about Mormons (he actually told, accurately, about the period of plural marriage, and about Wilford Woodruff ending the practice - and did so as a defender of Mormon faith!), told Prof. Smooha to lay off, to let me eat. It was true, I wasn't making much progress on my veal (my first time for veal!), but I didn't mind. How often do I get to talk so openly about my faith to an Israeli? It was a lot of fun.

At all of these things, I had a good time. And it was beneficial to talk to people from all different areas and stages in their careers in topics related to Israel. But these events are so overwhelming to me! I have to really gird up my loins to get out the door and put on my confident, intelligent face. I realized, sitting there, that the reason I don't enjoy big group things like this, and especially these things meant to network and push forward professionally, is that I feel like it's all so forced. I feel so out of my class! I have to keep talking about my research, as if I have it all settled, know what theories I'm using and know what the results will be! I DON'T KNOW! I'M A BIG FAKE!

And then I go to my room, flop on my bed, and enter a self-induced coma to ignore the whole thing.

Well, at least I got to tell an Israeli all about Mormons and polygamy.

Here we are again.

Hello out there to anyone crazy (or bored) enough to read this thing! I'm writing to you from a nice little hotel room in a tiny little kibbutz in northern (I mean, tip top!) Israel, called Kfar Giladi. I have had a tremendously busy past few days and weeks, and I'm exhausted in ways I haven't been in a long time. But I'm in Israel for the next month and a half and wanted to share it with my family and friends. I won't post much now - as I mentioned, I'm crumbling into myself, and it is almost midnight. But I will be keeping this updated every day or so.

For now, let me just do a shout out to my dad, who, with his high school buddy Glenn and me, hiked 24 miles last weekend, from the North Rim to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. I doubt my calves will ever be the same! (I kinda hope not!) And I know my dad's won't be! I'll share some pics, if I can, and tell more about it next time.