my birthday love language

Allyee, Sarah, and me at Wadi Qelt

Those who know me well know that material gifts are not what I want on my birthday. My love language is relational and that means that the best birthday gift would be spending quality time together, creating memories to treasure, and connecting through meaningful conversation. So I could not have been more excited to have my family arrive from the States just in time to celebrate my birthday here in the West Bank. 

Sarah & Coty at the Wadi Qelt Overlook

Although they were a bit jet lagged, we had a marvelous day wandering through the markets of old town Bethlehem before driving out to the wilderness of Wadi Qelt. I’ve blogged before about this hauntingly beautiful place of prayer and contemplation. It is simply my favorite spot in all of Israel. I have been there many times and have admired the St. George Monastery and the ancient “wadi” or stream from across the canyon. Surprisingly, I have never been to the monastery before. With some encouragement from the Bedouins we met there, we decided to hike down the very, steep path to see if the Brothers would open the doors for us even though it was Sunday.

Allyee, me, and Jenn at the Wadi Qelt Overlook

After the over-stimulating experience in the bazars of Bethlehem, the overlook was a welcome relief of stillness and calm. The ear, eye, and heart reset until you begin to notice the slightest mummer of the wind, the seemingly imperceptible of movement of life, and the whispers of your inner voice. Whether it is the heightened perception of a man on a donkey across the vast canyon, the tinkling bell around the neck of a wandering goat, or your own breathing, focus shifts and beauty emerges in this most desolate of landscapes.

riding up the hill on Bedouin donkeys

the cliff hanging monastery of St. George 

When we finally left the overlook and headed down the trail, the conversation with the Bedouins proved fascinating. One of the men told me his family numbered around 10,000 but that his immediate family was only about 50 people. Dependent on herding and living off the land, this small, nomadic Arab minority has been deeply impacted by Israeli land development. But on this day, there were no complaints as the men were content to sell us rides on their donkeys whose importance became clear as when we reached the monastery. Hiking up that hill would be a challenge to my 56 year old knees!

one of the many Bedouins we met with Coty & Sarah

Once there, I was reminded of the beautiful gift I was given on my last pilgrimage to Israel in 2011. It is a photo of Bedouin shepherdesses tending sheep beside this very same ancient stream. I have often thought about whether or not women shepherdesses were part of the community that heard the angelic chorus announcing the birth of Christ in the fields surrounding Bethlehem. It is marvelous to think that in this part of the world, it is just as likely that women were tending their flocks by night as it was men. Just like at empty tomb, perhaps it was women who first perceived the good news.

with Chris, Allyee, Jenn, Sarah, and Coty
in front of the monastery at Wadi Qelt

It was a perfect day. My greatest birthday joy was being with my family. I am passionate about my daughters, Sarah and Allyee, and enjoy their boyfriends, Coty McClung and Chris Hunter. I could not ask for more kind and considerate additions to our family. Rounding out our Bethlehem gang is my former housemate, Jenn Reimer, who is currently a professor in Turkey.

This is certainly a birthday I will never forget!

birthday gift

Impressions from a guest blogger 

The family arrived just in time for my birthday on Dec 23rd 
and this Allyee's initial take on our first full day in Bethlehem.
The gang includes daughters Sarah and Allyee, 
their boyfriends Chris Hunter and Coty Mc Clung, 
and my "adopted  "daughter" Jennifer Reimer.

Chris and Allyee walking to the market

Jet-lag woke us up bright and early just in time to watch the sunrise over Bethlehem while sipping on Turkish coffee. The sun slowly revealed shepherds, donkeys and an array of homes across the vast landscape. Then it was off to the open market in Manger Square for fresh produce and delicious falafels! The background was filled with car horns, beautiful Arabic chatter, and the amplified call to prayer from the Muslim mosque.

Separation Wall with Bansky tag

On our way to Jerusalem we passed the dividing wall - twice the height of the Berlin Wall - and although it broke my heart, the protest graffiti art was filled with hope: "make hummus not war." We passed the checkpoint easy breezy but the machine guns sent shivers through most of us. We stopped at a view point in Jerusalem for a brief lesson from Mama Whaley - the quote of the day being, "how can you tell the difference between an Israeli settlement and an Arab village?" The answer of course lies in water - those who have access to it and those who don't.

watering the donkeys on the way to St. George Monastery

We traveled back into Palestine and headed into the massive dessert of Wadi Qelt where we befriended a group of nomads - the Bedouin people - who let us ride their donkeys and served us fresh pomegranate juice. With their encouragement we hiked down to St. George Monastery (built around the 3-4th century BCE), where it is believed St. Elijah hid from persecution.  

a few of the many Santas we saw

After Mama Whaley's birthday dinner in Bethlehem, we headed back to Manger Square to see the giant Christmas tree and got stuck in a parade of Santas! In the square we quickly befriended a shop owner who has two degrees, social work and physical therapy, facilitates trips for National Geographic, and has met Banksy TWICE and assisted him in maneuvering his art onto the Wall!  We sat with his family, drank tea and talked for well over an hour before our jet-lagged little butts needed to head home for some more sleep.

our crew with shop owner, Adnan, and his family 

a bundle of love

Saloom, Joyce and Joanna Shreydeh

For those of you who do not track me on facebook, here is a photo of my Palestinian family.

In less than a week, my daughters, Sarah and Allyee (and boyfriends Coty and Chris) will be joining me here in Bethlehem for the Christmas holidays.  Also coming is my former housemate, Dr. Jenn Reimer, who is currently teaching in at a Bilkent University in Turkey.

Palestinian and American family all in one place.  What a blessing!

drive-by coffee

drive-by checkpoint coffee
see the wall in the background?

While my sample may be small, I haven't seen a drive-through restaurant in all of Israel. My travels in the West Bank have not given me any reason to think I will find one there either. In this part of the world, a meal is an opportunity for conversation, connection, and community. Stuffing your face while driving is just not done here.

So it was a bit of a surprise to find myself face to face with "Drive-By Checkpoint Coffee." Well, actually, I made that up. But that is what I call the young man who sells the Turkish brew to drivers at the Bethlehem Checkpoint.

I noticed "drive-by checkpoint coffee man" on one of my first forays into Jerusalem. He was there with his thermos hawking coffee for a few shekels a cup. As is common with the occasional hucksters who sell to the people waiting in line, he engaged me in a conversation. He wanted to know where I was from and was surprised when I told him I was staying in the West Bank for the next 3+ months.

When the line is long, we often chat about his family and his circumstances. I've seen Khalil there as early as 6:30 am and as late as 9 pm in the evening. He supports his lovely wife and two children which includes his beautiful 6 week-old daughter. I've seen the pictures! He lives in the nearby refugee camp, his family displaced decades ago during the 1948 so-called Israeli War of Independence or as the Palestinians call it, al-Nakba, the Catastrophe. He also takes care of his father and mother who are both ill and unable to work. And he does this selling by coffee to people like me for 3 shekels or about 80 cents a cup.

Khalil with his portable coffee cart

In the few months I've known him, I've been surprised by his initiative. His business is apparently growing. Last week, he bought a cart and is now selling tea and soft drinks as well as coffee. He is eager and never complains even when the rain is freezing. He is optimistic, glad to have this little business, and motivated to take care of his family.

"Drive-by checkpoint coffee man" does not seem that unusual to me. Here in the West Bank, most of the businesses are operator owned. Whether you offer some type of service or product, the business is often housed in a little store front. Department stores and chains are rare here in Bethlehem. People seize opportunities and invest in their fledgling businesses until they begin to flourish. You see the same attitude among the street vendors, the sheep herders, and the shop owners - even the outreach ministries of the church seems to be cut from the same cloth. The motto seems to be, "start where you are and help it grow!" Perhaps it is a function of having to survive in this political and economic environment but the Palestinians are among the most resourceful and purposeful people I have ever met. No excuses. They will get it done because they have no other choice.

I'm not really sure why I find this so inspiring but I do. I realize that in my own life, I am often reluctant to take a risk that doesn't have a guaranteed or at least the expectation of a good outcome. This means I often play it safe. I can be a creative and innovative thinker but I like to have the supportive net of others alongside me. And who doesn't? I work as part of a great pastoral staff that provides leadership for a large and stable church organization. But being a good team member doesn't often nurture maverick maneuvers.

The Palestinians remind me that nothing is really "guaranteed" or safe in this world and that one needs to live well and courageously. I don't mean "well" in terms of economic gain but living with heart and conviction. This means navigating life with passion, energy, and a bold commitment to venture into those liminal, uncharted places that God brings into your life.

As a result, the Palestinians are not afraid to fail. In fact they push through their disappointments, constantly reassessing and refining their goals. Life here is anything but boring. It is hard, vibrant, unpredictable, and necessarily responsive to a very fluid political environment. The Palestinians roll with what is given them, or more accurately, what is forced on them. And they make it work. They move forward. They keep growing.

While I didn't anticipate this months ago when I planned this sabbatical in the Bethlehem, I now see that being here has pushed me to live more courageously than ever before. I am living in the unexpected and unexplainable culture of the West Bank and I am loving it. Every day I pray that God will start with what and where I am and push me to me grow.  

I think my prayer is being answered.

Whirling Dervishes

All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.

What has come into being was life.

While I was in Turkey over the weekend, my friend Jenn took me to Konya to see the Sufi Whirling Dervishes. Although familiar with the slang meaning of a whirling dervish here in the States, I had no idea that the Whirling Dervishes were an Islamic version of a monastic movement dating back to the 13th century and founded by the the great Islamic poet and philosopher, Rumi.  

The Dervishes "perform" during special festivals and prayer days. But performance is really the wrong word. The audience shares sacred space with the Dervishes who are engaging in a very ritualized and mystical form of union with God. All the Dervishes have spent years in study and prayer, renouncing worldly concerns. The "whirling" part is the embodiment of the belief that all objects and beings are made up of things that revolve, e.g. electrons in atoms. By spinning in harmony with the smallest cell and the stars in the firmament, the Dervish sets his mind, heart and body to revolve around the Divine center in love and submission. 

I can't capture in words the simple elegance and deep devotion expressed through this prayer dance. It was poetry in motion - minimalist, profound and sublime. Although our role was different, the audience was also invited into the prayer. Captivated, I found myself remembering the joy and freedom of spinning in circles as a child. The dance isn't particularly exuberant but rather more contemplative, rich with love and euphoria.  

When was the last time I had that sense of pure harmony in my life? 

Last May, I was lying on my back in one of the meadows in Yosemite Valley looking up at El Capitan. The breeze flirted with the trees until the leaves kissed back. The jays startled these natural lovers with their occasional reminder that they were not alone. The meadow grass was alive with earthly energy while the granite overhead was still, solid, and sure. Above, below, and within - all things were one held by the One.   

I don't want to privilege this memory as some sort of talisman but rather as a reminder to be more attentive to my dependence on God's presence with each breath. Is this what Paul meant when he wrote, "he himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together"? How can I entrust myself more fully to this One who holds all things together? 

Like the Dervishes, perhaps it involves more synchronized spinning around the sacred center. 

Who wants to join me in the dance?

Gratitude

If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, “thank you,” that would suffice

Meister Eckhart

After a great weekend in Turkey with my dear friend, Jenn Reimer, I am happy to be back "home" in Bethlehem. Surprisingly, passport control entering Israel was only a 5 minute wait which was wonderful since I was detained for about 45 minutes when I tried to leave Turkey. It is so interesting when there is some sort of problem at customs because they will never look at you in the eye or explain what's going on. They just keep bringing people over to look at your paperwork, make dozens of calls, and then type mysterious things into their computers. When I finally was cleared, everyone in line behind me kept asking me what I had done. I think they thought I must be some kind of subversive terrorist type.  I know what you are thinking: "I can totally see that. Debbie Whaley always looks a bit threatening."  NOT!

My driver, Habib, dropped me off at my apartment around 1 am. The streets were empty, the air still. I was mesmerized by the twinkling Christmas lights that lit the way home. It was pure delight to be back in this little town of Bethlehem.  "How still we see thee lie . . .!'

It seems strange but the contentment I felt in the quiet of the night was the same sense of shalom I felt waiting at the Bethlehem checkpoint the next day. Despite the pouring rain and the bitter cold, I looked around and saw people and places that have become so familiar and friendly to me now: the graffiti on the Separation Wall, the men gathered around the mechanics shop, the young guy selling coffee at the checkpoint for 3 shekels, and even the drab green uniforms of the IDF soldiers. I was grateful, deeply grateful for the privilege of living in my Palestinian pit stop. I was overcome with emotion as joy flooded my soul.

Gratitude is a uniquely human experience. While our pets are happy when we do things for them, gratitude is deeper. It is shaped by an awareness of blessings that are generated by something greater than the sum of one's own effort. For the Christian, gratitude is our heart-felt response to God's generous beneficence. We perceive God's providential protection and provision and, as a a result, find ourselves embracing the unquantifiable abundance already present in our lives.  It stops us from giving priority to the long list of life's deficits and disappointments.

I'm aware that many may counter that gratitude is a function of temperament. After all, there is truth in acknowledging that people often fall into either the glass is half full or half empty category. But I believe gratitude is not simply temperament or even an emotion. It is a way of relating to the world that places God as the center around which our lives revolve. We then perceive that life is truly a gift and not some sort of entitlement. Entrusting ourselves to the Creator who shapes and molds our lives, we snuggle into the warm dependency of God's maternal care. The alternative is not so lovely.  When we orient our lives solely on ourselves, or even when we try to share that orientation with God, we always fall short and fail. Sadly, others always fail us. Disappointment becomes bitterness which leads to contempt. And contempt, whether directed towards the self or another, poisons the soul.

I admit that I am a person more inclined towards a positive, optimistic worldview. I have never endured clinical depression although I have deeply suffered in my life. The dark night is not a metaphor for me - it is a reality I have experienced. I have weathered the tumultuous tempest of incest, been betrayed and abandoned by those committed to love me, and have grieved the loss of many potentialities and people along the way. Even more tragic, I have had to face the truth of my own brokenness and navigate the debris and wreckage I have caused by my immature and sinful behavior. Even so, I am grateful for every breath I have been granted. Life is good. God is even better. The delightful wallowing in the sticky, thick mud of God's glorious grace is a gift I daily claim. Gratitude is the natural response.

Because the gravitational center is no longer focused on us, we are strengthened to endure circumstances that might crush others. We are enlightened to perceive beauty to which others are indifferent. We are invited to humbly speak the truth about injustice knowing that we are not and can never be the righteous judge. Living hopefully becomes possible because God's provision is not dependent upon perfection - mine or others. Gratitude remakes us, reorients us, refreshes us.

No one sums this up better than Melodie Beattie in her book, The Language of Letting Go Journal. She writes:

Say thank you until you meant it. 

Thank God, life, and the Universe for everyone and everything sent your way. 

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. It turns problems into gifts, failures into successes, the unexpected into perfect timing, and mistakes into important events. It can turn existence into real life and disconnected situations into important and beneficial lessons. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow. 

Gratitude makes things right. 

Gratitude turns negative energy into positive energy. There is no situation or circumstance so small or large that is not susceptible to gratitude’s power. We can start with who we are and what we have today, apply gratitude, and let it work its magic. 

Say thank you until you mean it.  If you say it long enough, you will believe it.