Where We Work - Reflections
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The first time I went to the Holy Land it was with a pilgrimage group from the diocese of Massachusetts, with Bishop Shaw leading us to visit holy sites and to meet people working for justice and peace. Our first day in Jerusalem we Christian pilgrims gathered for lunch in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City. In the restaurant, the Quarter Cafe, there were many Jews at adjoining tables. We were all enjoying our kosher food when I heard for the first time the Muslim Call to Prayer over the loudspeakers. I went out onto the patio to hear it more clearly and at that moment I thought, "This is my life." Sitting together with the Children of Abraham, breaking bread and praying. I want this to be the shape of my life for all the years that remain to me. And it has been!
~ Anne Minton (The Rev. Anne Mansfield Minton)
Suhaila Tarazi
Ahli Hospital Director
Feryal Suliman Ashour is 42 years old lady, married with 7 children, 2 boys and 5 girls. The elder boy is 19 years old and the youngest is 6 years old. She lived in a 3 room home at El Farata Beit Hanoun village. It is near the borders with Israel on the east side of Gaza.
On 6th January 2009 during the incursion of Israeli tanks to Beit Hanoun, she was standing near the front door of her home. A tank bomb hit a neighborhood yard. Unfortunately shrapnel from that bomb injured her left leg and right hand. She fell bleeding and unconscious. Her daughters pulled her inside the home and tried to help her. They called an ambulance to save their mother's life but failed to reach them. No ambulance was able to go to that area.
Two hours later, with the help of the International Red Cross Office in Gaza an ambulance was able to transfer her to Shifa Hospital (The main government hospital) where she had first aid treatment and was immediately referred to Ahli for amputation of her right hand, 3 fingers and repair of the fracture on her left leg. After her departure, her home was destroyed by 3 tank bombs and her family members were transferred to an UNRWA school to have shelter there.
When I have asked her if she would like to say something she said: "Though I am an injured but I am grateful to God that I am still alive and no one of my family members has been injured. I want this war to stop. Enough war and enough bloodshed, I and my family are very much exhausted from this conflict and we need to live like human beings. I am so worried, I have no home to live in and I do not know where to go after my discharge from the Ahli hospital??".
Feryal continued:" Last and not least I am very grateful to the passionate heart of Ahli staff members in particular the doctors and the nurses. For them after God is my gratitude, they have saved my life. To the donors who are supporting Ahli also are my great thanks and appreciation. Without their help to Ahli it would be very difficult for the doctors to save my life.
February, 2009
January, 2009
March, 2009
By Phoebe Griswold
In 1995, my husband Frank and I made our first visit to the Holy Land thanks to The Bishop’s Associates. I remember standing on a dry sandy red hill top and looking out over the surrounding dessert, dotted with a few ragged sheep, a dusty flat topped tent, sides flapping in the breeze and a Bedouin boy atop his donkey scrabbling up the rocky hillsides. It was lovely and warm. But what struck me most of all was looking up into the low clouds and grey sky.
In great contrast to the great wide bowl of a sky in the Midwest, this sky seemed to brush the hilltops. The whole heavens had floated down to rest on the hill tops. It was very easy to imagine a person reaching up into the clouds for the unseen spirit. And at the same time to see the unseen spirit reaching down to touch humankind. Heaven and earth meet in this tiny strip of land along the Mediterranean. It is no accident that the three major faiths of the world claim their holiest of sites in Jerusalem. This site is the home of Abraham, the father of the three Abrahamic faiths, Islam thru Ishmael and Judaism and Christianity thru Isaac.
On this trip we had a Jewish Arab guide whose family had lived outside of Jerusalem for several generations. He was an excellent teacher of Biblical history from Bethlehem, to Jerusalem, Jericho and up the Jordan to the Galilee.
The Bishop’s Associates took a second trip the next year. What I had missed completely on the first trip was that this land was peopled by two tribes, Jews and Palestinians who held very different stories about this land and who it belonged to. Going from the Jewish tour guide and crossing an unseen border in the middle of Jerusalem to the Anglican/Episcopal Cathedral, we were dropped in the ancient Palestinian Christian peoples, our Episcopal family, members of the Diocese of Jerusalem. I could have taken tour after tour and never met or really known the existence of our own family there. By the grace of God and the reality of the global Anglican Communion I was drawn into the ancient sacred story and conflict.
Visit to Deheisheh: A Mother and Child of Bethlehem
By The Rev. James La Macchia
During a summer 2004 visit to the Land of the Holy One several years before Israel’s installation of its so-called separation barrier now completely encircling the city of Bethlehem I had the opportunity to visit the city’s Deheisheh Refugee Camp as a member of a small group from Saint George’s College in Jerusalem. Six of us were exploring the roots and relations among the Abrahamic religions through the college’s Abraham: Yesterday & Today course. On our way to the camp, we passed the ruins and debris of buildings that had been destroyed by the Israeli military in targeted actions taken to combat the recent Intifada. The ravages of this asymmetrical, urban warfare on a primarily civilian population and its infrastructure were immediately apparent and served as an eerie prologue to the even more devastating human hopelessness, despair and poverty the worst sort of violence that we were about to encounter in this camp within the environs of Bethlehem.
When we arrived at Deheisheh, our van was immediately surrounded by smiling and very curious young children, clearly excited by this sudden appearance of visitors from the West. As we walked through streets running with sewage and lined with concrete dwellings in various stages of completion, I was struck by posters pasted on many exterior walls bearing the faces of very young men. When I asked our local Palestinian guide who these young people were, he replied that they were martyrs from the camp, celebrated and remembered for giving their lives in the struggle against Israeli occupation. As we continued our slow and somber walk toward our meeting with a Palestinian family, one young boy in particular who could not have been more than ten years old followed along closely, clearly fascinated by our presence. Only when we reached our destination did I learn that he was a young member of the extended family with whom we were about to meet.
Despite the squalor and disarray of the camp’s exterior, we met this extended Palestinian family in their two-room, immaculate apartment. They had to share an external bathroom with three other such dwellings in their block. With characteristic Palestinian hospitality, they immediately offered us coffee and sweets as they welcomed us into their home and their world. They were an elderly mother, father, uncle, son, and daughter-in-law, the mother of the young boy who had been our constant companion since our arrival. She also held in her arms an infant daughter to whom she had recently given birth.
We talked at length about the terrible deterioration of every conceivable aspect of Palestinian life since the onset of the Second Intifada, together with the sheer desperation of the daily struggle to survive with some measure of hope and dignity amidst the manifest injustice and brutality of the Occupation. Only a few miles from Bethlehem’s Manger Square and the Church of the Nativity, Deheisheh could have been anywhere in the occupied West Bank or Gaza. It was isolated, cramped, even claustrophobic, and a whole world away from anything remotely resembling the ordinary joys and hopes, sorrows and anxieties of daily existence in the developed world. The Occupation’s brutality, injustice, impoverishment, and prohibition of real opportunity of any kind had completely stripped the people of Deheisheh of the equal, unique, and transcendent dignity of every human person. It had violated their basic human rights, subjected them to daily harassment and humiliation, and consigned them to a life of futility and suffering without any meaningful horizon of hope. I will never forget the words of the young mother of the newborn infant and young son when I asked her if she had any hopes for the so-called peace process. Hope, she cried, Hope. Who has any hope? We are already as good as dead here.
I left the visit to this cramped Palestinian home in a somber and solemn frame of mind, stung by the gravity and hopelessness of this young mother’s plaintive words, which were both an expression of despair and a desperate cry for help. As we climbed back into the van waiting to return us to our comfortable accommodations in Jerusalem, I felt like a helpless intruder into the sacred lives of these people who, sisters and brothers of Abraham all, were mired in a world of suffering and poverty with little hope for any relief in the immediate or, even, distant future. As we drove away, our little companion smiled and waved good-bye to us, and I suddenly wondered, if were to return to Deheisheh in another ten years, would I find him as an adult living in the same hopeless circumstances, merely repeating his mother’s startling words, Hope. Who has any hope? We are already as good as dead here? Or even worse, might I find his picture pasted to a wall there, a generation later, as another martyr in the struggle against Israeli occupation? I cannot answer these questions with certitude, but at that moment, I resolved to do everything in my power through unremitting prayer and action to prevent such a tragedy. Too many lives have been lost; too many have been blighted by poverty and war; and too many have just withered away in hopelessness. Like the magi in the Gospel According to Matthew, I had been privileged to behold at Deheisheh that day a mother and child of today’s Bethlehem, and they had shown me that the time for every child of Abraham in the Land of the Holy One to experience the fruits of resurrection is long past due!
April, 2009
April, 2009
A Mission in the Making
Rev. Deborah Dresser, St. George’s, Newburgh
There is nothing quite so breathtaking as the West Bank in early spring. It was a free day in the course schedule of St. George’s College and Barbara and I left Jerusalem on a mission to visit St. Matthew’s Church in Zebebdeh, as guests of the new vicar George Kireh and his family. We were blessed with a Palestinian taxi driver willing to take us north into the West Bank, stay with us and deliver us home. He was well equipped with cell phones targeting which check points were best to avoid on this day. The landscape of this part of Palestine rolls with hills flowering with mustard and poppies. Roads wind around the hills, rise up and cascade down from the Judean hill range into the rich fertile plain where ancient olive trees produce the rich crop of oil. Zebebdeh is situated in the heart of this fertile farm land.
It was hardly the time for a visit as the Kireh family had just moved in the day before but their hospitality was gracious and we treated to a full tour of the church, the Penman Clinic, which is in the lower level of the church building, and the farming town of Zebebdeh. The highlight of our time was with the parish children who had gathered for religious education. (Friday is a Jewish holy day, so schools are closed.) It was a lively gathering of song and bible stories; we were impressed by the dedication of the teachers who nurture the children in the Christian faith.
Barbara Shelley and I were part of a large group from the Hudson Valley area of New York who had come to the Holy Land in March as course members of Jesus of Palestine at St. George’s College. We were also there to make a vital connection with the Diocese of Jerusalem. As the rector of St. George’s Church in Newburgh, I carried news to Bishop Suheil that we were interested in forging a partnership with one of the diocesan parishes. St. Matthew’s in Zebebdeh appealed to us; Bishop Suheil gave us his blessings and arrangements to meet the new priest were made. The first effort in this venture is to support twenty children in St. Matthew for two weeks of summer camp.
An international mission is new for our Newburgh, New York parish. As the parish began to deepen its understanding of the Diocese of Jerusalem through prayer and study, the possibility of a partnering parish took shape. AFEDJ missioners such as Sandy and Sue Smock gave us useful tools to begin the work. We are now looking forward to an enriching mission relationship with St. Matthew’s Church in Zebebdeh.
June, 2009
Meg Carter
There’s a Portuguese word, not easily translated, which means a longing for what has been lost and simultaneously a hope for its unlikely return. When I think of Palestine, and especially Gaza, "Saudade" is the best way I have to express the nature of those peoples and that land.
Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.
25 Old King's Highway No., Suite 13 Darien, CT 06820
Bernice Youtz
I met Mrs. Tarazi and toured the Ahli Hospital in Gaza in 1993 - 16 years ago. I was impressed by the hospital - old, decrepit and immaculately clean. A few days earlier I had toured the sparkling, state-of-the-art Hadassah Hospital. What a contrast.
I have often thought of Mrs. Tarazi and find it difficult to believe she, or anyone, could have survived that stress for all those years and now this latest catastrophe. I only wish I had more to give.
July, 2009
September, 2009
Dr. Harry Gunkel in Jerusalem
Sometime between 3 and 4 in the morning now comes the sound of drumming. I wake and hear it distant at first, then closer as someone moves along the streets in East Jerusalem pounding a big drum. No particular rhythm, just noise. Not long after that, a cannon fires once. A very big, very loud cannon.
It's Ramadan.
Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar and it is the month in which the Quran was revealed to the Prophet Mohammad. The Islamic calendar is a lunar one, so the dates of Ramadan, according to the Western calendar, are different each year. By the Western calendar, it occurs one month earlier each year. That is, next year it will be from mid-July to mid-August.
Ramadan is intended to be a prayerful and observant time as befits the revealing of the Quran. The faithful fast from before sunrise until the moment of sunset. The drumming in the morning is intended to wake people so that they might eat before the fast begins and that is signaled by the cannonfire. At the moment of sunset, the cannon fires again to let everyone know the fast is broken. So now, during the summertime, the fast lasts about 15 hours.
The fast is absolute. No food, no liquids, no gum, no cigarettes, no sexual relations during its time. But more, the mouth should also be prayerful. There should be no idle gossip, or silly chatter. No profanity or harmful speech.
When the fast breaks every evening, there is a general gathering of friends and family for "break-fast" (iftur). So there is an extremely important social and family-strengthening aspect of the time as well. And this is shared with all. A few evenings ago, I was returning to my apartment just after 7 in the evening and waved hello to the guys in the barber shop across the street. They called me over and invited me to share their iftur with them. I did and enjoyed getting to know my new neighbors.
The evenings also find the streets lit up festively. The photo at the head of this blog shows a scene in the Old City at Ramadan.
I love the rhythm of Ramadan. It is rather noisy where I live, with the sounds of life all day long from the street. But around 6:30 pm, a quiet begins to descend. It is noticeable and makes you stop - "what's different?". It lasts until about 8 pm. Everyone is indoors eating and drinking after 15 long hours without, and enjoying their friends and family. Around 8, the streets fill again, but then it becomes quiet again about an hour later. It is now Evening Prayer time and most people are at the mosque for prayers. I live near Al Aqsa Mosque, one of the holiest sites in Islam, and thousands of people attend prayer services there during Ramadan.
As an outsider and one with an extremely superficial understanding of Ramadan, I am struck by the profundity of this time. I am moved by it and in awe of the faithfulness it calls forth. I sometimes try to join in the fast and admit it is extraordinarily difficult. But what moves me is that the difficulty is minor for the observant's. They are much more focused on the intent. The Quran tells that the purpose of the fast is "in order that you might become more pious"; to find humility; to recognize the bounty of Allah by noticing its simulated absence; and to find empathy and compassion for those everywhere who everyday do not have enough to eat. From where I sit, this is profound and I feel blessed to be here in the midst of it.
October, 2009
This cathedral was built during the 1890's, under the watchful eye of Bishop Blyth and with the cooperation of the Greek Patriarch of the time. The relationship between the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate and the Anglican community here had fallen upon hard times. Repairing and restoring this relationship was the calling of Bishop Blyth upon his arrival in 1887. The Greek Patriarch and Bishop Blyth brought forth a cooperative spirit and through their renewed relationship, the Patriarch became enthusiastic in his support of the building of an Anglican cathedral on this site which had long been known as "tel Kineseh" – hill of the church.
Subsequent excavations preparing for the foundations of the Cathedral revealed traces of a church from the Byzantine era, perhaps in the 5th or 6th centuries, along with tombs and cisterns of other centuries on this site. Remnants of stone work of that time grace the grounds of the cathedral even today along with small mosaics which have been preserved in the floor of the Chapel of St. Michael and all Angels.The Greek Patriarch urged Bishop Blyth to include a residence for the Bishop on the grounds of the Cathedral to provide oversight for services held in the Cathedral; thereby ensuring that worship was indeed according to Anglican tradition, liturgy and theology. The Patriarch wanted to ensure that "episcopal" oversight was not merely in name only. Bishop Blyth included quarters in his plan which has provided housing for subsequent bishops and now for Bishop Suheil and his family.The Cathedral was built in two stages. The first stage came down as far as what we now see as the crossing. It was not until 1910 that the crossing, transepts, two additional chapels, choir, high altar and bell tower were completed. This building has seen its share of conflict throughout the past 111 years. The Ottoman Turks took over the property, including St. George's School on the adjacent land for the duration of the First World War. The Cathedral was closed; Bishop Blyth went home to England; the surrender agreement which ended hostilities in Jerusalem in 1917 was signed on what is now the Bishop's desk. During the 1948 and 1967 conflicts, the Cathedral saw considerable damage – stained glass windows were blown out, an organ and the original pulpit were destroyed and the roof was damaged.During these times of armed conflict, prayers were held regularly in the Chapel of St. Michael and all Angels where it was safest for those who came to pray. The places where you see clear glass throughout the Cathedral today provide mute testimony to the violence and destruction of earlier times.
Cathedrals provide the symbol and center of a bishop's pastoral, liturgical and teaching ministry. The word "cathedral" refers to the place where the bishop's "cathedra" – the bishop's chair or seat – is housed. When the bishop speaks "ex-cathedra", it is from the chair, from the seat of authority as bishop of the diocese that the bishop has something very important to offer the clergy and people of the diocese.Cathedrals are powerful symbols of hope in a world which is desperate for good news. Cathedrals are sometimes larger than life, engaging our imaginations, lifting our spirits and encouraging us to look up as we seek out the details of stained glass windows, stonework and ceilings – we are drawn heavenward by our eyes as we look above for the peace of God which passes all understanding. Cathedrals are intended by their design and their presence to gather God's people for prayer and to lift them out of the ordinary, out of the normal and, in a sense, to bring us to a fresh inspiring insight into our relationship with our Lord and Savior. Bishop Suheil has made it a cornerstone of his ministry to be clear to all who have ears to hear, that this Cathedral, in the holy city of Jerusalem welcomes all who enter her heavy doors. Here in Jerusalem, all of God's people are welcome. We welcome all, we welcome all to pray, to listen for the Holy Spirit, to sing their praises, to shed their tears, to confess their sorrows, to celebrate the gift of life, to reflect upon the sacrifice of Christ, to discover what that offering on Golgotha means to each faithful soul. The heart of a pilgrim is the heart that is open to the work of the Holy Spirit; we are all pilgrims and all are welcome here.
I have not been able to discover the exact reason why St. Luke's Day was chosen for the consecration of this Cathedral. Could it be that the date was merely convenient for all the participants – I would like to think there was a more inspiring purpose. St. Luke the Physician, St. Luke the Evangelist emphasizes throughout his Gospel the good news of Christ as a healer and reconciler – bringing people with contrite and penitent hearts to a new faith in God, a faith which truly brings healing to heart, soul, body and mind. Saint Luke records our Lord Jesus Christ spending a lot of time and energy, by word and example, on the need to restore peace and wholeness among all people with God, within ourselves, and with our neighbors.This message rooted in the good news of Luke's Gospel has been important throughout the generations. This message of peace and healing was important under the Ottoman administration of 1898 throughout this region on the Feast of St. Luke and it is no less important for the political and religious leadership of the Middle East of our own time.May this Cathedral, by its presence and through your participation in prayer and praise, continue to be a symbol of hope; a reminder by its very presence of God's call for peace among all of God's people; a place of proclamation where Bishop Suheil may continue to inspire and challenge all who have ears to hear in the way of justice and peace.October 18, 2009
Feast of St. Luke the Evangelist
The 111th anniversary of the consecration of the Cathedral of St. George the Martyr, Jerusalem
On this day in 1898, at 10:00 o'clock in the morning, on the feast day of St. Luke the Evangelist, this Cathedral was consecrated for use according to the worship and practice of the Church of England, as part of the Anglican Communion. The Bishop of Salisbury, the Rt. Rev'd John Wordsworth, representing the Archbishop of Canterbury at the request of the Anglican Bishop in Jerusalem, the Rt. Rev'd George Francis Popham Blyth, took the principle role in the consecration, which was witnessed by a host of Anglicans, and ecumenical and political representatives from throughout the holy city. As near as I can tell, you are sitting in the very chairs used on that morning, 111 years ago today.
The Rev'd Canon Robert D. Edmunds
The Edmunds
The Rev. Donovan Cain
St. Peter’s Church
Paris Kentucky
He said to them, But who do you say that I am?
Two years ago, I had the amazing opportunity to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and to study at St. George’s College, the Anglican/Episcopal College and Cathedral in Jerusalem. The Jerusalem Cross hanging on the wall in my office is made of Olive Wood grown in Palestine, and it is purposefully there to identify me as a Christian who has been blessed to have visited and spent time in prayer at the most holy sites of our faith.Using this cross to remind me of my pilgrimage to the Holy Land is really nothing out of the ordinary. All of us take photos and buy souvenirs when we visit places, and very often those items end up in our homes in some place of prominence to mark our visit and to remind us.In this particular instance though, my decision to mark my pilgrimage to the Holy Land in a public way with the Jerusalem Cross is more than just a fond souvenir of pleasant memories. In fact, it comes directly from a tradition I stumbled upon while visiting the Muslim Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem.
I learned during my visits through the Damascus Gate and into the Muslim Quarter that pilgrimage is something that is taken very seriously in the religion Islam. Some of you probably know that for the faithful Muslim, a pilgrimage to the Holy City of Mecca in Saudi Arabia is a Holy obligation, expected to occur at least once in the lifetime of every faithful Muslim. If you visit Jerusalem or any other city or town in the Muslim world, and wander through the streets, you will notice that some doors of the houses are painted with bright colors, with symbols, and with Quranic verses in scrolling Arabic script. These homes have been marked to commemorate the owner’s fulfillment of that special obligation to take part in the Hajj, which is the Arabic word for holy pilgrimage.As a person of faith, even a different faith, I was moved by this particular act of celebration by those faithful people who have completed their pilgrimage, and so I decided that when I returned home, as a Christian who has completed his holy pilgrimage, that no matter where I go, that Jerusalem Cross will always hang near the entrance of my home or office to tell out my joy in having visited the places where Our Lord Jesus Christ was born, lived, taught, died, and rose again.On my first trip to Jerusalem, I visited the most important and holy site of our Christian faith, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which contains both the sites of Christ’s crucifixion and the empty tomb of Christ’s resurrection. As I made my way into this cave like church and walked up the stairs that lead to Calvary, I soon found myself making my way to the foot of the cross, getting down on my knees under the altar, reaching my hand through the small opening, like so many Christian pilgrims before me, to reach out and touch the rock of Calvary, the rock of my faith. To this pilgrim, I had reached my spiritual goal in that dark chapel. I was ready at that moment to proclaim that Jesus was much more than a great prophet or mad man. Jesus to me and Jesus to us as Christians, is the very Messiah of God. His message and his actions are most importantly the very message and actions of God. He asked them as he asks us, “But who do you say that I am?” And we with Peter answer, “You are the Messiah.”
The path for the followers of the Messiah of God, Jesus proclaims, is a similar path. Jesus says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.” It is a hard phrase to hear and comprehend as American Christians.
In Palestine, I saw a different side of what it means to call oneself a Christian. Palestinian Christians have dropped to a tiny remnant in the land of Jesus in the 21st Century. Some estimates today hold that less than 2% of the people living in Israel, in the West Bank and in Gaza, are Christians today, down from upwards of 20 to 30 percent at the turn of the last century. To be a Palestinian Christian today in the West Bank and Gaza means in many ways being a stranger in your own community, cut off from neighbors who are almost certainly faithful Muslims. To be a Palestinian Christian today in the West Bank and Gaza still means you are a Palestinian to the Israeli authorities and to nearly all tourists. You still must travel through the check points, you still must have paperwork to visit the economic centers of Israel. To be a Christian takes great faith and great determination.
Let’s remember, pray for, and follow our brothers and sisters in Palestine on their daily pilgrimage. Let us remember their path and commit ourselves to bear a similar cross that shapes our lives as Christians in different, meaningful ways. And let us paint our doors, hang up our crosses, write our faith in bright colors, in celebration of what this daily pilgrimage means to us, if not literally than through our life and witness in the church, the community, and the world, through giving and service to build up the Kingdom of God coming and to live out eternal life, the gift given to us all. Let us deny our selves and follow Christ.
January, 2010
The continued presence of Palestinian Christians in the Holy Land is critical to the slow, stubborn work of "getting to know you", for the people of the three religions. What we do is bring adults
March, 2010
The Rev. Sharline Fulton
Volunteer Acting Dean, St. George’s College, Jerusalem
and children together when they are vulnerable and needy, as we treat them in the hospitals we support; and as we gather them into our schools where they learn and play together. In daily life, for almost all Jews and Muslims, there are walls of fear, prejudice, and concrete that keep them from one another and from the possibility of experiencing one another's humanity.
I'm learning, as a three-month volunteer at St. George's College, that the ex-patriate community here bears the pain of witnessing abuse and domination of the people they know and love, while also knowing that nothing must be done to make the Israeli Government react against the Diocese. This would jeopardize the critical works of mercy that Bishop Suheil initiates and supports. In an indirect way, they bear this burden so that the financial help that the AFEDJ gives can be effective.
