April

    Drawn in by the lure of the unexpected, time moves at a more mysterious pace and the future seems more unpredictable. Each sigh blurs a mass of irredeemable minutes gone by and we stand on the cusp of anxiety, success or failure.
    April reflections again remind me that life runs-on irrespective of its occupants; it wisps away its journeymen without pause or permission. The thing is, too many cliches fit this kind of entry. "I can't believe how fast time how gone", as if time had a mind of its own and because the feeling is so accessible.
    This month ran-on full with normal activities: work, school, volunteering and recreation. Our garden bursts with blossoms, school awaits a final two chapters, my students continue to put up with my scheming and I still find Thursday night soccer one of the most helpful outlets to this Jerusalem life. Yesterday, I ran yet another small tour hoping that this kind of work looks good on my CV or that the connections made here will procure a job there, wherever there is (and because its so fun:)).
    I suppose there were a few exceptions. The month started off ending Pesach, then a week in we remembered Holocaust Memorial Day; two weeks in, I.D.F. Memorial Day and Independence Day. The twenty first I started digging at Tel Burna with a mix of Israeli's, students and tourists. The dig lasted a week and uncovered new features and material belonging to the Iron Age and Late Bronze Age. Last week, Lag BaOmer marked the thirty-third day of the omer, a celebration venerating the memory of Shimon bar Yochai. This is done with camp fires and so fires and smoke dominated the city from Saturday night to Monday morning this year. These were the more significant happenings in April.
    This month I have wrestled with what it looks like to embody injunctions to not worry about tomorrow, to rejoice always, and to love. Maybe it's all too cheeky to spell out three rather general trials, but they have been particularly challenging in light of old fires and new flames, tired chores and tricky applications, saying goodbye and awaiting opportunities. These personal challenges are not in any way unique to me. Though my experience of them perhaps provides a personalized set of variables, many have traveled through similar and more difficult roads, humbled by God's kindness and faithful in his service. And so it is, failing or falling doesn't determine the man, that we can get up each morning is itself a grace...

March Madness

    The thrill of the center burns with the same pace and friction as the beginning and end, though it lacks motivation of entry and pressure. The semester here has crested into a middle ground between entry and exit and somehow I am hoping coffee might miracle my manic, fear and frustration that accompany too much to do and too little time.

    This year March hosted the passion and resurrection of Jesus, at least its memory and celebration, and for a moment offered a massive kind of reprieve from the daily grind. The whole month in a small sense was directed at this event with Lent an important part of things in Christian circles here, so I felt the force of the holiday with a bit more awareness than I have in previous years.

   While the progress of the month drew on other time-line worthy elements, I found myself wandering with pilgrims of all sorts from Bethphage to Lions gate on Palm Sunday. I walked from the Western Hill to Gethsemane, and then to the Herodian quarter on Maundy Thursday. A group from school made sure to visit the Holy Sepulchre on Good Friday, watch a Holy-fire Catholic procession in the Christian quarter on Holy Saturday, and then wake up for a sunrise service on the Mount of Olives Resurrection Sunday, which were followed by visits to the Garden Tomb and the Holy Sep, once again.

   This Maundy Thursday, I was struck by the ominous night lit bright with a full moon and so littered with shadows. Remember Passover follows a lunar calendar and is therefore set on a full moon in Nisan. Jesus would have made his way from an upper room dinner somewhere on the Western Hill in Jerusalem to a garden space somewhere east of the Kidron Valley. And so we followed a similar itinerary and read Luke's account in its corresponding setting having chosen to walk about at a corresponding hour. The four cups of wine, thanksgiving-type dinner, and usual nature of feast time leisure would have been reason enough for the disciples to have struggled with understanding why staying awake at midnight would have been helpful and appropriate.

   Along with these physical setting and contextual factors or maybe because of them, I found myself identifying with Peter's character. Peter's unwitting humanity full of relentless presence was emblazoned onto my psyche as I heard countless cock crows. Think of it, the last time that you see your most trusted mentor, he is carried away as a shameful castaway, seemingly discredited publicly by nature of an horrific execution. This, after you look heavy into his eyes after having denied any sort of meaningful connection with one who solicited your loyalties and then you hear it. Would you not also find yourself conflicted? Remember, it’s not as if the disciples were seated together on Saturday waiting on Sunday to come 'round and it’s not as if cocks only crow on time, if you will. Failure would have been the mark of the whole rigmarole. That of dating a giant only to find out he comes down with a stone or investing in promising stocks only to watch the whole enterprise crumble with your contribution among the whole.

    Also, thanks to Danny Kopp's reflections on Saturday morning, I found myself deeply moved by Jesus' interactions with the thieves and how the whole narrative follows. Three apparent failures expelling last breaths close enough to be heard one by the other: one mutilated ex-Messiah figure and two thieves. The one mocks and the other asks to be remembered. Jesus follows with promise that must have sounded just as foolish to onlookers as to the mocking miscreant, "Today, you will be with me in paradise". This is truly compatible with his message, after all, he had said to Pilate he was born to die and earlier he had said this was to save sinners from their sins. However, it looks so confounding and pathetic that you can empathize with the disciples despair and the thief's mockery. Instead, I found myself identifying with this deserving reject who has come to terms with the reality of his situation. He has come to his end without anything and finds a figure that warrants his trust. The thief understands Jesus doesn't deserve the death he is dying and he sees reason to believe that this "King of the Jews" indeed has a kingdom.

    It's here that these gospel stories take on real character and substance for me. Where I can identify with figures of the past and their estrange sentiments, thoughts and emotions. They are, after all, clothed in more flesh and blood than I had realized... more than cantata drama all told in graphic detail in their respective accounts. They all tell of a God-man that figures into a heritage and tradition selected to be a light among the nations only to live a life that men should have lived, pay a debt for failing, as we do, and procure a promise for those who believed, believe and will believe.

    This, of course, is dependent upon the resurrection. Without it, the whole exercise in sacrifice stands for very little. God raised him from the dead. For those who believe, this is the greatest news in the world, for those who don't its either a stumbling block or a bit of rubbish, that's all… perhaps, a good story with a crazy revolutionary, but hardly a Gospel that warrants any kind of attachment. Can you now understand the panic and haste embodied by Peter and co. as they run to the tomb? Can you begin to appreciate why their hearts would have burned within them as they make sense of the peculiarity and necessity of his death? It made all the difference in the world for them... and for me.

  I thought it worthwhile to share a few reflections from the month seeing as it was full on all kinds of activities and celebrations; however sensational or boring. My March started off with a half-marathon, entertained six tours and pressed on with the normal: volunteering, work and school. This, as I continue to look for a teaching placement or other work for this up and coming summer and fall. Your encouragement along the way has been extraordinarily meaningful to me. Know that I am deeply thankful for the generosity that has been extended. As always, I am grateful for your prayers and support!

Love,

Seth

February.

  Two of my siblings share February as their birthday month, Lent commenced with Ash Wednesday, and Valentines Day fell serendipitously after this. Add on my favorite Great-Aunts Birthday and a friends fatal car accident, introspection and reflection help to frame questions about life and love, among other things.
  I remember exactly where I was standing that Wednesday in 2004 when my father called to tell me that Phil had died. I remember telling him that this was impossible and that, "I am sure he will get better - right?" It wasn't until I called my boss to ask for the evening off that the gravity of the event had buried its way into me. I could feel the finality - unalterable, fixed forever without an undo button. My poor sister's birthday came a day later suspending celebrations and trading them for tears. We have not forgotten.
  Aunt Erma's birthday was on the 10th. Phil died the 18th. Grace's birthday was on the 19th and Sam's on the 22nd. These, surrounding other events, more catholic in nature - Lent and Valentines Day. This year, I celebrated Lent with our Anglican community in the Old City and found the phrase, "Repent and believe the Gospel" as it was juxtaposed to, "From dust you came into the world, to dust you shall return" resonating in my ears for some time. This, due to sobering realization that life is terribly transient - pent up in a symbol, ash - set in contrast to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
  These heavy thoughts were not alleviated the next day. Valentines Day followed in sequence bringing a number of images to mind, good and bad. It reminds me of Dad and Mom sharing little gifts. I remember that my sister and I set up a little candle light dinner. We set up a little card table and dressed up in our finest, just a simple and probably silly-looking thing.
   Truth is, holidays and memorials are powerful. Perhaps its their ability to bring pause to life or the way they pressure you into a relative kind of introspection. In the end we evaluate our current relationships or connectedness to God and people. As for me, Psalm 73 has been on my mind a lot recently:

Whom have I in heaven but you?

And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.

My flesh and my heart may fail,

but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

For behold, those who are far from you shall perish;

you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you.

But for me it is good to be near God;

I have made the Lord GOD my refuge,

that I may tell of all your works.

(Psalm 73:25-28 ESV)

   As for the everyday life, February was full up with new visitors and new opportunities alongside of responsibilities that I have already taken on. New students arrived at JUC a bit before the month started and programs and classes have been a part of their first month. For me, it has been incredibly meaningful to be a part of the cycles here. The availability of thesis materials, church, campus work, the Olive Branch Institute (OBI), etc. are themselves the reasons why I came back to Israel.
   That said, my schedule has a pretty constant run with a mix of different kinds of interruptions. My mornings are devoted to my thesis and my afternoons to work on campus. After work, depending on the day, I have church, teaching responsibilities for the OBI, soccer and more time for my paper; this, between tours, private and for the OBI.
  Trips 'round with groups remind me that this small stretch of real estate is extraordinarily diverse from the Negev to the Galilee; from mountains to desert plains; from Hermon's heights to Dead Sea lows. Its striking how life runs along a similar tenor. Fully engaged we encounter joy and heartache; whether as a result of love and betrayal or community and disenfranchisement. Life contains the ups and downs of journey... a journey that, once started, "will be carried on to completion".

 “The Lord bless you and keep you;

  The Lord make His face shine upon you,

And be gracious to you;

  The Lord lift up His countenance upon you,

And give you peace.”

Know that I am ever grateful for your prayers and support.
Love,
Seth