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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.

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We celebrated the Eucharist this morning at Abu Ghosh (thought to be one of the possible sites of ancient Emmaus), followed by a stop at the site where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found in 1947. Heads up, you scientists. You know who you are.

We are working our way up from 413 meters below sea level in the immaculate Mercedes-Benz chariot of our oh-so capable driver/business owner, Issam. Occasionally our beautiful (inside-and-out) guide, Ranya, adds commentary about the exquisite desert scenery and history.

Let’s see…

Why would I ever doubt?

Then we floated in the Dead Sea itself,which was a stitch. MANY laughs!

I have been at this relationship with God for a long time now. Sometimes I allow myself to be distant and sometimes close. More and more often, the distance is less and I remember, regardless, God is there. I marvel at how close I feel now. Every time I experience the cycle, I am more assured. This is life at its richest and fullest.

Thanks Be.

Postscript

Since tomorrow is Sunday, one of the feast days in between the 40 days of Lent, I don’t plan to post. Instead I will celebrate and rest. Most pilgrims return home on Monday while eight of us will continue on to Jordan. ¡Ojala!

Rays of sunshine captured in a view of the Judean Dessert.

Pilgrimage Day 6. There is often this saying that I hear people use about “being comfortable with the uncomfortable”. As our bus rolled into an Israeli settlement in the West Bank: I felt very uncomfortable. I also took to heart the preamble to our visit: we were meeting with a settler who lived there to learn about their perspective and have a respectful conversation. We were not there to debate. So I was fully present with our host as I sat on a (seriously) low bench with an expansive view of the beautiful Judean dessert behind us (photo shown above). I listened to him with an open heart and discerning mind. And I sat there with the resulting tension within me. The journey to seek understanding does not mean that we must agree with one another, but it does mean that we are able to see each other’s humanity. I was grateful for this opportunity to see our host’s humanity. I was also encouraged by his genuine yearning for peace. He believed that finding a resolution to this conflict between Israel and Palestine could serve as a light to the rest of the world.

We subsequently visited Mount Zion and the Church of St Peter in Gallicantu. I felt a deep sadness while down in the dungeon where Jesus spent the last night of his life in human form. Then after group prayer in the dungeon, I spent some time on my own in the upper church. I was awestruck by its colorful interior and the abundance of light that came through the dome. It lifted and soothed my spirit. The verse “All shall be well” started playing in my head from the song “Annunciation” by Kevin Siegfried. It is an Advent song that comes to me often throughout the year. And with this beauty and calm that followed the sadness and tension, I wrote the following epistolary poem while under the glorious dome.

3/10/2023 12:09 pm

Dear All Shall Be Well,

You play on repeat in my heart as I seek peace on this torn land. Sparkle gemstone raised over dungeon depths; I find stillness under arches. Transcending light, you watch over my day. Where you suffered, I ponder the night. I smell fresh eternal words in reflection. Dance the angels in circles above your altar. The sacred made colorful in domes.

Fall from restless grace these moments made series; we are draped in longing robes filled mosaic with glass. A call to prayer breaks the night; I waited for silence. Then troubles all left me to be with you, Lord. It is there I sit, in the light of your love. A New Day. You are the lute that sings hope to me. And in this verse I feel it is true: All Shall Be Well.

Faithful Listening

Confession, While Waiting

On our last morning in Galilee, it was as if God gave me a prayer shawl. I suspected I was going to need one, mostly in Jerusalem, so I could wear it at times to show respect. I was on the lookout to buy.

I was up early enough to watch the sunrise on that last day by the lake where Jesus had ministered and healed. As I approached the lakeshore I saw the blue fabric neatly folded, lying there on a rock. Recognizing someone had mistakenly left it there, I decided to leave it too, until it was almost time for our bus to leave, that is. While I felt awkward taking it, just simply accepting this gift, I acted against my faltering nature thinking I was stealing away with something. While it seemed to be made for me, and even free, I was definitely messing with the ease of it.

Frankly, now, on another very early morning, I feel unsettled again. Not stuck, really, but in between. Today we go to Emmaus. Thank the Good Lord, I know what happens next. On one level, I ache amidst all this teeming humanity. Will I once again accept this fantastic gift of faith? Over and over again, here on this pilgrimage, God has shown up in big and small ways, blessing me. And yet, I pause…hold back. I ask myself:

Will I have enough energy?

Enough clean clothes?

Even enough money (for God’s sake!)?

From this place it is slightly easier to imagine the disciples, the women. Only human…all of us. The waiting is killing me.

And that brings me back around to yesterday’s long, long line as we waited at the foot of the cross at Holy Sepulchre…waited for our turn to bow.

I didn’t know it then but, God, the Ineffable, gave me this sweet shawl for company through another long night and finally dawning morning. Maybe it will help to just go wrap myself in it and keep moving forward, one footstep at a time.

Holy God, Holy and mighty, Holy immortal one, Have mercy upon us.