Author: alwaysbridging

Favorite Memories

Imagine a band of pilgrims gathered around the giant pottery font full of clarified water from the Jordan River. We have come full circle, having prayed with our larger group the week before from the other side in Israel.

This was a spontaneous service. One of us read about John the Baptist—John 1:19-28—then two of us led singing three verses of “Come thy Fount of every Blessing.” Again, unexpectedly, the call came up at the end, “Remember your baptism,” and we all sprinkled each other. What was next? Why, the Passing of the Peace, of course….undirected and unscripted. You might have thought we were Baptists ourselves.

And then, they were like magnets, more that half of us, stripped our feet and stepped down the slippery steps to the cool, muddy water again. Not predicted, as I had done this already, for Heaven’s sake, from the other side.

Zaid says Jordanians are discussing changing their country’s name to the “Kingdom of Peace.” I can imagine it. I am feeling hopeful as we drive toward Queen Aliah Airport in Amman to fly home.

People of the Book

Yesterday we traveled south-to-north, from Petra towards our hotel on the Jordanian side of the Dead Sea. The trip was broken up with stops at Shoback (a crusader castle), Madaba with its exquisite mosaic map, the Tree of Life Handicraft Center, and Mt. Nebo where Moses saw the Promised Land before he died.

En route, Zaid answered our questions, the ones he had shored up for this road trip…

…about how the four names on his i.d. line up (his first name, given by his parents; his father’s given name; his grandfather’s given name; and finally, his tribe name of Bedouin heritage),

…about his arranged marriage, and

…about the meaning of the word jihad. One translation is “hard work.” It can be useful in Arabic. For instance, after a long, hard day’s work, a person might come home and respond when asked how their day was, “Jihad, ha Bibi,” meaning, as I understand it, “It was a long, hard day, honey.”

I know of another translation, “Holy War.” Remembering the history of the Christian Crusaders today as well as extremists/fundamentalists the world over, I agree with Zaid that religion can be used as an excuse for gaining money and power.

I am sad through and through. Will we ever learn? It is time to close my eyes, put in my ear buds, shuffle my music and cry .

*Photo taken by Zaid Mohammed Abdel Rahman Al Abadi

Pi Day in Petra

31 years ago I had one of the best days of my life, my 2nd Birthing Day, when my daughter, the marvelous Carolina Jane came into the world. No matter what, I was determined to make yesterday one of the best days too. What could possibly get in the way of that? After all, this was our day to explore the ancient ruins of Petra. At one point, I remember saying to our guide, “I can’t imagine being more content.

First we strolled through the most fantastic slot canyon, with carved sandstone cliffs rising up all around us (think Indiana Jones). This was experiential learning at its best at the hands of our knowledgeable guide Zaid. I also enjoyed some of the most fun shopping with the birthday girl as my excuse.

After lunch, it started raining in earnest such that flash flooding threatened and the siq (gorge) was closed for safety sake. By then, we had separated for our free afternoon. Let me just say, we all have wild and fascinating stories to tell about how we each got home via foot, shuttle, donkey and pick-up truck. All the town’s residents must have been called to service to get the masses home and settled for the night. I’m happy to report we nine finished uninjured with stories to tell.

And anyone who tells you it’s hot in the desert, hasn’t enjoyed a good downpour where it rarely rains.

Sometimes on a pilgrimage you have to dig deep but it’s pretty easy to find something interesting going on internally and/or externally. I laughed as my donkey ZuZu and I plodded along. Thirty minutes prior I would have not imagined I’d be riding half the way home on this magnificently strong beast of burden then traveling in the pick-up driven by the donkey owner’s brother for the second half of the trip.

One’s attitude must be flexible as just about anything can happen.

*Today’s photos courtesy of James Violette and Stuart Meeks. Can you believe I forgot to bring my phone/camera today of all days?

The Ineffable

On Friday afternoon, when we were due to leave the house and head to SeaTac, I remembered that my EFM-Grads book group would be meeting a few days after our return. I threw the next selection into my bag, hoping I could read enough on the plane to join the discussion. Then, as we were on our front walkway, heading to the car with my suitcases, the mailman handed me our bundle of mail for the day, including the quarterly Rubric. My reading material for the pilgrimage was set.

Since there was time to spare yesterday before launching for our road trip to Petra, I returned to the nearby garden at St. George’s (Anglican) Guest House. If you count coffee hour after yesterday’s Eucharist at the neighboring cathedral plus an afternoon visit during free time, this was my third visit (who needs more shopping when you’ve found church?) After ten days of group travel, I was ready for the quieter daytime rest, reading and writing alone outdoors in a park-like setting.

The chapter I read, titled “God,” explained the names used for God in the Judeo-Christian tradition, including YAHWEH, YHWH, G-d, etc. Talk about complicated. I am reminded of my preferred name for the Divine, “The Ineffable,” that which is too great to be described in words.

Having recently crossed the Israel/Jordan border at the King Hussein crossing—a process that is also too great to be described in words, I am grateful:

…for my friends, especially this circle of nine pilgrims,

…for water,

…for our Jordanian driver, Mohamed, and guide, Zaid,

…for my US passport that lets me travel freely,

…for cash in my pocket and finally

…for delicious take-out chicken shawarma.

Travel Mercies

Early in the pilgrimage, my friend asked, “Penny, what’s your favorite word?” Today, it is ¡Ojalá!, a Spanish word derived from Arabic during the VIII century when Muslims ruled Spain. Today, across religions, it means “I/we hope” or “hopefully.” I prefer the translation, “God willing.”

Borrowing a term from my time as a camp counselor, today is Change-over Day. Most of our group is already en route to Tel Aviv, beginning the long trek home. Nine of us are extending our trip into Jordan. While we are all adults and each responsible for the continued success and blessing of our pilgrimage, we will also be looking to our leaders, Emily and Steve, to shepherd us until we are back in our hometown or in our next home-away-from-home tonight.

My understanding is that our smaller band of pilgrims will meet our next Arab guide “on the bridge” between Israel and Jordan during the afternoon, after Israeli soldiers finish their scheduled maneuvers in the area.

While our plans seem more nebulous on this day of transition, I am excited. I am leaning on prayer and curiosity, hoping all will go well for both groups. Ojalá…’Iinsha’ allah…God willing.

Postscript

We are in Petra, Jordan! Team approach to leadership was great today with Deborah handling the papers; Erik, Mary and (again) Deborah chipping in to tip our luggage porters on both sides of the terminal; and Melanie offering Grace. All is well.

‘