Independence

Some people have asked what evidence there was of the 4th of July in Jerusalem, and the answer is: none at all. I nearly forgot what day it was, except that it was most definitely Friday (that's another post).

Having been reminded, it is a good excuse to think about the fact that I'm in a place whose own declaration of independence happened exactly 60 years ago and is still remembered by many people. A copy of that declaration is found at the final stop of the Yad VaShem Holocaust memorial, and looks very much like the USA document, with all the signatures at the bottom. There is also a film of Ben Gurion making a speech explaining what is happening, what they are doing.

But I think independence is available to everyone regardless of what moment we are at in history. There is a way of praying that Moshe showed me, where before you eat you dip a little piece of bread in salt and taste it. To him it means that "if you have bread and salt, you have the basics and that is enough." Taking something with a grain of salt means thinking for yourself. Traveling in a place with so much diversity of thought, religion, language and culture, will either make you crazy, or force you, help you, to think for yourself, to be independent.

Yesterday morning I finally got to Bethlehem. I was scared to visit there, and the main reason was actually that I know no Arabic whatsoever. I can't even recognize a few letters and sound out words, and I realize that behind that lack of basic knowledge is a whole language and a sophisticated culture about which I know very little. To admit this is humbling. It also felt scary to me, even knowing that it's a well traveled destination, people have seen tourists before, and in my experience most people want to be helpful. But the instant I arrived, I realized there was nothing to be afraid of.

I visited the Church of the Nativity, of course. I also received a direction to stop in and see Soeur Anne Marie at the Carmelite convent located just next to Bethlehem. Sister gave me the address and some directions that weren't all that clear to me, but the first one was easy ("Get on the 21 bus and go all the way to the end"). After that I tried showing the address and the street name to people I saw, with no success. Then I said "Carmel." Oh, Carmel! Why didn't you say so! I'll take you there.

Sister Anne Marie came running to meet me. She is very enthusiastic, smiles and laughs a lot. She wanted to tell me all about their founder, Bienheureuse Marie of the Crucified Jesus, known as the Little Arab Saint. They have a museum in which you can see the furnishings of her room. The visitor is invited to put on her mantle and recite a prayer which she composed. Marie seems to have been quite an independent spirit. The Carmelite life style is quite restrictive, and in one painting, her veil was depicted as very similar to a Moslem head covering. But Marie clearly chose her own way, and in fact designed the architecture of two monasteries she founded.

Only after I'd heard all about Bienheureuse Marie did Sister tell me a little about her own life style. She is a cloistered Carmelite nun, which means that she spends almost all her time strictly inside the walls, praying. They speak to each other and work with their hands for only a short time each day, and she leaves the convent only for errands. Later this week, she will go to Jerusalem to buy medicines for the sisters and pick up the mail.

After visiting there, and the Church of the Nativity, I stopped for lunch at a place called Peace Restaurant. I didn't see a menu and couldn't have read it if there was one, so I pointed and asked for "something like that." "Sandwich?" asked the owner. Yes, sounds good! The sandwich I got was probably the best sandwich in the world, a generous helping of crunchy falafel and vegetables when I was very hungry.

One boy about ten years old asked me (as almost everyone does) where I'm from. I told him and asked him where he was from. He laughed - "I'm from here." Then he stopped laughing and said "I'm from Palestine. I'm Palestinian." His eyes were shining like he really wanted me to hear that and remember it.


On the way back I took the other bus, from the other side of town. This one takes you through the checkpoint and you have to walk quite a long way along the wall between two territories. On the Palestinian side, the wall has been decorated with controversial statements, such as:


Apartheid is wrong.

Once past the checkpoint, I rode another, different city bus looking out over fields where the shepherds might have watched, and where Ruth might have gleaned in the fields of Boaz.

This is probably my last post. I'll be boarding the plane tonight. It will be good to be home. Thanks for reading and maybe see you soon ...