Blog

It has been four weeks since we returned from the Holy Land pilgrimage. I did not post on the last two days of our trip for the sake of my sleep: the whole falling asleep after dinner and waking up to post before midnight was taking its toll. But I did maintain my daily poetry writing, so I have two last poems to share. Consider this the wrap up for the “Holy Land 2023 (Seyi)” series! This will actually be my penultimate post to cover our second to last day; I’ll post the last day of the journey separately.

Note: While the poems were written four weeks ago (and dated accordingly), my preamble reflections are from today looking back at memories and photos.

Pilgrimage Day 7: We started our day visiting a crusader church in Abu Gosh. The church had a beautiful crypt where I felt this somber peace. Then we journeyed up a hill to have our last group Eucharist overlooking the city (photo shown above). I remember it was so windy that day; I tightly wrapped my prayer shawl around my head. There were a couple highlights for me that morning. We sang “There is a Balm in Gilead” twice: first as a group inside the crusader church and then during the Eucharist as Dean Steve prepared the table for communion. This is one of my favorite songs, a traditional African American spiritual, and it melts my heart every time I hear the Compline Choir sing it at St. Mark’s Cathedral. A second highlight was that we did the peace during service in the tradition where everyone says peace to every person in the group. I found this very special as we were approaching the end of our journey together.

Later we returned to the Judean desert to visit Qumran, the site where they discovered the Dead Sea scrolls. I took the photo below as we left Qumran, with a view of the Dead Sea in the background. We then spent the afternoon swimming in the Dead Sea, which was fantastic! You had to float on your back and keep your head above water; it was an unexpected core workout. I kept trying to face the mountains of Jordan as I floated in sea. The view of the mountains was epic. I felt both tranquility and awe as I watched them on the beautiful clear day. And thus my inspiration for the penultimate day of our pilgrimage.

Dead Sea Drift

3/11/2023

What is dead shall perish in salt mine stars. What is life shall lift on

To sea above. Then greet forward the mountains for Jordan as you

Stand. We float under, together, this journey through these

Remembered lands. Hide our truth in caves with a whisper, on

Scrolls to make a poor man’s shoes. Walk path of The Teacher,

Your Prophet, My Redeemer, Our Lord.

The procession continues.

We hold our heads above to find our feet have already

Arrived. You cannot stand on this floor. You cannot face

The dead world down. You can only lift your heart

Up to sky, wrap your skin in mud ancient, and give

Thanks for your dried eyes. We entered this journey as

Strangers, learned to sing as friends; now our harmonies are

So subtle. You might have to be silent to see

This joy. Here we are, adrift in the Sea

Dead. Some hold on to land, others release the water. I wade

In clouds. Together we float on. Unified in memories,

Tethered by God’s grace in this,

His Holy Land.

Today is our 40th wedding anniversary.

And Christ is risen. Alleluia!

This Book

While many in my faith tradition gathered to mourn together on Good Friday, I finished reading The Awakened Brain by Columbia University scientist and professor, Lisa Miller. I couldn’t put it down. I started rereading it this morning.

The book begins by describing a robust study that compares the brain images of those who report high personal spirituality or religion to those who report low or medium levels. Lisa has been on a quest to see how spirituality correlates with risk for depression; to see if this tact might help her patients.

My academic fields of study are education and psychology. I measure off the charts as “intuitive” (as opposed to “sensing”…I am not a scientist per se.) I have always believed that eventually science would show the efficacy of spirituality but honestly, I never thought it would happen in my lifetime.

I am pretty thrilled to have This Book in my hands. I commend it to you on this Holy Saturday.

SMH

Yes, shaking my head. All is well.

Last night Carolina and I took Mom to the Maundy Thursday service. My head was clear, no more vertigo, a miracle in itself. Mom and I arrived with her wheelchair moments before the procession. Carolina slipped in just before the first hymn. I cried all the way through singing.

And then we washed each other’s feet. There were big smiles and giggles as Carolina is ticklish. Well also she is just like that…often an absolute celebration wherever she goes. And with good reason!

Knowing full well Jesus was given up to be crucified—I had even seen the stubs for the shackles that held his wrists in that dungeon, for Heaven’s sake,—in that quiet cathedral, I was holding her healed foot, metal and all, broken and unusable six months ago. Thank you, blessed God!

Oh to acknowledge such pain and such joy at the same time. This is Life.

Currently Disoriented

Occasionally I suffer vertigo. I hate it. And no wonder! Speedy yoga move + Ramadan + Holy Week + full moon + Passover + a friend’s back surgery + first Spanish quiz of the quarter….the list goes on and on.

The good news: I know the Epley Maneuver. I am reading a great book. I pray in community on Thursday mornings. And recently, when I bike to the university for class, I travel by this magnificent crop of cherry trees.

I still hate the dizzies. And, with God’s Grace, I am learning to lean into their benign-ness.