Parting

We are preparing to bring our three-month assignment to a close. As we walked through the crowded shuk yesterday, I couldn't help but be a little sad. I have enjoyed our time in Israel. We have grown to love the fellow believers we know and work with and will miss them so much.

We have spent over ten years of our lives traveling within the U.S., ministering in churches and I have grown accustomed to partings. When we first began evangelizing, it was difficult for me to say goodbye to people that we bonded with during meetings. When you worship, pray, and grow with people, a bond is formed. After a while, I realized that I would probably see all those people again, in maybe a year or two, since we developed a preaching circuit that usually took us back to the same places, so I learned to not be sad when we parted ways.

This is our second extended stay overseas and overseas ministry is different than U.S. ministry. For starters, it is a whole lot easier to get to Indiana than it is to get to Israel!

As in Jordan, I have grown to love these people. Will we ever come back here? Right now, we simply do not know. Even if we do return, some of the people that are here now may have returned to their own countries, since most everyone - like us - is here temporarily.

But God is in control. Our ministry schedule for the summer will take us from Arkansas to Massachusetts to Maine to Minnesota. We are looking forward to this next phase of ministry, even as we have been grateful to have been involved in the work here. We have grown and been immeasurably blessed by those whose lives have touched ours. Even if our paths do not cross again here on this earth, the good that has been done in the spiritual realm will last into eternity!

Robot

Last night, as Bill and I were working in the school office, we heard someone speaking Hebrew over a loudspeaker. We didn't pay a lot of attention to it, because things can be noisy around here. But, a few minutes later, we heard it again so I stepped out onto the balcony to see what was going on. A police van was parked on Ben Yehuda Street, with a ramp lowered. As I watched, a robot came down the ramp onto the street. (Sorry, I did not grab the camera in time to get a picture.) It was black and bulky, about the length of a motorcycle. It went down Ben Yehuda Street out of sight, so I could not see what it was doing, but Bill came out on the balcony in time to see it go back into the van and we both assumed it was a bomb sniffer checking out a report. Apparently, and thankfully! it was a false alarm.

Explosion

Somewhere around 3 o'clock this afternoon, we heard a loud boom. To be honest, neither of us mentioned it to the other, though we noticed it. We live in a noisy area and, although it was a little out of the ordinary, we did not know what it was. We went to the store to get a couple of things. On our way back to the apartment, we noticed an emergency vehicle trying to get through the congested traffic. Again, this was nothing particularly unusual.

A short time later we found out that something out of the ordinary was going on after all. A U.S. embassy friend called us and told us that a bomb had exploded near a convention center and the central bus station, about two miles from where we live. It hit two buses and injured about 20 people. One of the buses is thought to be #74, one of the buses we frequently ride. Also, we see God's protective hand at work since we'd planned to go the Israel Museum this afternoon to purchase some items for Bill's mom and also go to the post office in Talpiot. The museum is rather near the site of the explosion. Bill kept putting off running the errands, doing things here at the school instead. This reminds me of my Purim post, in which we discovered that God's hand is not always visible. But. later, we can clearly see how He has been at work. We cannot say with certainty, but perhaps we would not have been in or near Bus #74. Either way, we are enormously grateful that God kept us here in a safe place during the explosion.

Now, the streets here are quieter than usual. Some shops are closed and traffic is light. People are no doubt staying at home, as we have been advised to do.

Purim

  

This morning, the streets are fairly quiet. Yesterday evening was filled with the sights and sounds of the celebration of Purim. This is the holiday that commemorates the Jewish deliverance by the hand of Queen Esther. We were outside for a little while last evening, but we came back inside when things started getting a little too wild and crazy to suit us. Many people were adorned with costumes, some of them posing as Esther, Mordecai, or Haman. It is a bit like Halloween without all the diabolical undercurrents. With the exception of a witch or two and a few skeletons, most of the costumes were pirates, princesses, and the like.

One book I read quotes the Talmud as saying that during Purim Jews should "drink so much that you can't tell the difference between Mordecai and Haman." Apparently, Talmudic writers were trying to emulate the banquets of wine that Esther prepared, although Scripture does not indicate that anyone present at those banquets were intoxicated (Esther 5:6; 7:2). To their credit, however, while we did see more alcohol than usual, some people were drinking non-alcoholic beverages or nothing at all.

People were yelling, singing, and dancing. Every few minutes, someone would throw a firecracker into the crowd and a few girls would scream, adding to the festive chaos. All of the buildings here are made from Jerusalem stone, and since they are so close together, they capture and magnify sound. It was a loud night and we could hear the sounds of celebration into the early morning hours.

This holiday is called Purim because Haman cast lots, or Pur, to determine the date when the Jews should be destroyed (Esther 3:7, 13; 9:28).

A Jewish friend told us that Purim is celebrated one month before Pesach, or Passover. He said that this is significant. In Passover we see the undeniable, magnificent hand of God working openly. It was a spectacular deliverance. In Purim, we see God working behind the scenes to deliver His people. The lesson is that, even if God's hand is not clearly visible, we can be assured He has not forgotten us and is still working. Although God's name is never mentioned in the book of Esther, He is there nonetheless.

Sahlab

I’d seen this dispenser during previous trips to Mahane Yehuda market. I assumed it was coffee, but when I asked about it, the vendor told me is was sahlab. He said it was made from a flower. “Oaker” is how he pronounced it. I researched sahlab and dsicovered that he was referring to a type of orchid. (For those of you who are flower/plant experts, the type of orchid used is “Orchis mascula.”) Evidently, sahlab is popular in Turkey, Egypt and other Middle Eastern countries.

I have decided that I like sahlab, albeit in small quantities. It is a warm beverage, thick, creamy, and white. Its main component is powder made from the tubers of the orchid. The sahlab powder is blended with hot milk and usually seasoned with orange blossom water or rose water. The vendor sprinkles coconut flakes, ground walnuts, and cinnamon on top of the individual cups of sahlab. This is definitely not something I would want to drink every day, but it is a nice deviation from tea, which is what I usually drink when I want to drink something hot...and it is certainly an interesting cultural experience.

The Saga Continues

Occasionally we run into Boris outside our apartment building. I snapped this picture on Agrippas Street when we were returning to the school and he was on his way home.

One of Boris' favorite subjects is politics. Israeli politics. American politics. Russian politics. We don't enter into many conversations about Israel, since we aren't adequately informed to warrant intelligent participation. Fortunately for us, his opinions of specific American politics parallel ours. Russian politics? Well, our specific knowledge is somewhat sketchy. He has enlightened us about Russian life under Stalin and other Russian leaders. Apparently Russians love to read nowadays, since for many years their selection of reading material was chosen for them by the government. He says that books are only now being written about terrible things that happened there years ago. Though he is Russian, I doubt if he will ever return. I don't think he considers it his country any longer.

A few weeks ago Boris discovered that my name is "Sylvia" rather than "Sophia." I kept wondering why my name would be difficult for him to pronounce since a popular Russian beverage (vodka) contains a "v." I suppose he had just not heard my name correctly. Anyway, it is nice to have shed the alias "Sophia."

One morning Bill said, "Our alarm clock has a new name."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Boris," he replied.

His dental office adjoins our little apartment. Even with achey mouths, people here are capable of talking in elevated tones of voice. (Such talent!) When they arrive, we can hear them clearly, though fortunately we have no idea what they are saying. The soothing sound of Boris' drill and his compressor kicking on adds to the gentle waking-up procedure. (His compressor is stored on our balcony, just a few feet from our bed.) I must say this is a new experience, since I have never lived next to a dentist before.

All in all, having Boris as a daytime neighbor and landlord has been pleasant. We are nice to him and he is nice to us. As our friend James tends to say, "It's all good" - drill and all.

The Most Holy Place

During a break in studies yesterday, I sat at the keyboard, playing and singing one of my favorite songs. It mirrors Psalm 27:4. "One thing have I desired of the LORD, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to enquire in his temple." The holy presence of the Lord could be felt in the room. Then...

"Take me past the outer courts, into the holy place,
Past the brasen altar, Lord I want to see your face.
Pass me by the crowds of people, and the priests who sing their praise.
I hunger and thirst for your righteousness, and it's only found in one place.

Take me into the Holy of Holies.
Take me in by the blood of the Lamb.
Take me into the holy of holies.
Take the coal, cleanse my lips. Here I am."

I was struck by the irony that I was sitting only about one mile from the site of the original Holy of Holies. I have visited the Western Wall and stood among ladies holding books, some of them bending slightly at the waist and turned in the direction of the Holy of Holies as they read their prayers.

The Ark of the Covenant is gone and the Western Wall is all that remains of the magnificent temple. The exact location of the Most Holy Place is debated. Most believe it is under the Dome of the Rock, which is currently inaccessible to Jews. Others believe it is elsewhere on the mount.

I must say that I have been disappointed by my visits to the Wall. Maybe some have had profound experiences there, but I did not. What was I expecting? Even I am not quite sure. But, I found it stifling. I could not even speak the name of my Savior very loud, for it is not a Christian place, but a Jewish place. Though I know He was there, I could not feel Him.

Yet, as I played and sang this personal prayer to the Lord, His presence filled our pleasant but certainly not magnificent classroom. Others there with me were weeping and feeling Him too. He does not require a grand cathedral or temple. Just how drawn is He to the place where His presence used to dwell? I am not sure and will leave that for others to discuss. But of this I am certain: For Him to commune with us, He only asks us to approach Him with open and truly humble hearts. Then, He can fill us to overflowing with indescribable peace...a beautiful indication of His holy and sacred presence.