Middle Eastern Hummus

 

In Arabic, “hummus” means “chickpeas.” In America, chickpeas are commonly called garbanzo beans. This hearty bean is the main ingredient in hummus. Thanks to Muteib and Sandra for the pointers to help make this an authentic Middle Eastern hummus recipe.
3 cups dried garbanzo beans
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 cup hot water
6 large cloves garlic, crushed
3 tsp salt
1/4 cup tahini
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/4 tsp ground cumin
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice

Soak 3 cups garbanzo beans in 12 cups water overnight.

Rinse garbanzo beans well and place in a large pot; add 12 cups water and baking soda. Cover and bring water to a light boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook until beans are soft, but not mushy, about 1-1/2 hours.

While beans are cooking, in small bowl, combine garlic, salt, tahini, olive oil, cumin, and lemon juice; set aside.

Drain and rinse beans thoroughly.

Transfer beans to a food processor. Add hot water and blend. Then, pour in garlic mixture and blend until smooth.

Refrigerate for at least an hour before serving.

Makes approximately 7 cups

~ We like to spread hummus on toasted artisan bread or pita bread, and then top it with sundried tomato spread. Absolutely delicious!!

~ Depending on the size of your food processor, you may need to make the hummus in batches.

~ I have never frozen hummus, but I have read that it can be done. Use a glass container.

Ben Yehuda and Hebrew

To those of you who follow our blog closely, this entry might look familiar to you. In past blog entries, I have written about Ben Yehuda and Hebrew. This entry, however, I have specially designed to be included in the book I am writing about Middle Eastern manners and customs.

From our apartment in Jerusalem we can see Ben Yehuda Street, Jerusalem's lively pedestrian mall. Here you can purchase anything from Cuban cigars to flowers to Judaic gifts. At night, the street becomes even livelier, as people come out of the woodwork and street musicians set up camp. A harpist frequents the plaza with her lovely music. Further down the street you might hear a clarinet or drums. A small group of young people might gather to sing a cappella. At the end of the street is Zion Square, a site that hosts political demonstrations from time to time. It is not uncommon to see a group of Haredi men plying pamphlets across the street from dreadlock-wearing hippies making a statement by strumming box guitars and singing American songs from the ‘60s.

Ben Yehuda Street in many ways is much more than a tourist trap. It is the modern expression of youthful hope and activity. The little alleys and roads that meet it beckon pedestrians to explore them. Bounded on one end by Jaffa Street and the other by King George Street, Ben Yehuda Street is a tidy rectangle of bustling activity, where friends meet for a French crepe or an elegant dinner. Since I am really a city girl at heart, I find it fun to step out of our apartment building each day, walk a few steps onto Ben Yehuda Street, and go from there to our destination. At night, voices and horns blend with the calls of cats and doves, creating quite an interesting backdrop as we close our days.

When we first arrived in Jerusalem, we were told about a Hebrew language class. Unfortunately, the level of most of the students was far beyond ours, so we did not continue with the lessons. But the elderly instructor told us something interesting. At some point in her life, she had lived with Eliezer Ben Yehuda's daughter for a while. The two of them studied Arabic together.

I had read a biography of Eliezer Ben Yehuda and became mildly fascinated with his life. He was born in Lithuania as Eliezer Titzhak Perelman. His parents were Hassidic Jews, but eventually Ben Yehuda became less religious and more politically attuned, especially in regards to Zionism. He changed his name to the more Hebrew-sounding Eliezer Ben Yehuda.

Ben Yehuda is the father of modern Hebrew. Hebrew had fallen out of use. Because Jews had been dispersed throughout the world for almost 2,000 years, many of them had adopted the language of the country where they lived, whether it was Germany, Russia, Romania or some other place. Many of them did not speak Hebrew.

In the late 1800s and early 1900s, as Zionists became more aggressive and Jews began returning to the land of Israel, Ben Yehuda knew that a united language was necessary to bond the people. He devoted his entire life to creating this language and writing a dictionary. He was opposed and persecuted by many people, even Jews, who at the time could not envision the necessity of a common language among them. He persevered, despite battling tuberculosis and bearing the grief of the deaths of his wife and several children. He was persecuted by Haredi Jews who believed that he was profaning the sacred by making Hebrew a language for common use.

Yiddish is a German-based language spoken by Ashkenazi Jews since the 10th century. It was highly influenced by other languages besides German, including Hebrew, Aramaic, and Eastern European languages. These days, it is primarily spoken by Haredi Jews. Ben Yehuda rejected Yiddish because he considered it a corrupted language.

Ben Yehuda Street is named for Eliezer Ben Yehuda. The man who endured poverty, ridicule, and rejection is now celebrated for contributing to the modern nation of Israel’s success, where Hebrew is one of the official languages. (Arabic is the other.) But in a strange twist of irony, through the years since Israel's inception in 1948, Ben Yehuda Street has become a preferred location for terrorist bombings.

One day, 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, since our neighborhood is noisy, and we didn’t understand much Hebrew anyway. But a few minutes later, we heard it again so I stepped out onto the small 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. It was black and bulky, about the length of a motorcycle. It went down Ben Yehuda Street to “sniff” for bombs. Thankfully, the coast was clear. The next day, however, we heard a bomb explode near the central bus station, about a mile away from our apartment. Bus #74 was hit, about 20 people were injured, and one woman died. The bombing was a sober reminder to us to always be aware and cautious, especially when walking down Ben Yehuda Street and when in other congested areas.

Eliezer means “God helps” and Ben Yehuda means “Son of Judah” or “Son of Praise.” Truly, God did help Ben Yehuda and used his life to provide a unifying language for modern Jews.

When Ben Yehuda died, finally succumbing to tuberculosis at the age of 64, 30,000 people came to his funeral over a three-day mourning span. Before His death, the last word Ben Yehuda restored was “nefesh” which means “soul.” This word is used many times throughout the Bible. One of the first mentions is Genesis 2:7, which reads, “And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.” It seems fitting that nefesh was Ben Yehuda’s final word to study. God is truly the One who gives and takes the breath of life. He alone is the Source of life eternal. Nefesh is a reminder to us of our frailty when contrasted to God’s greatness and power.

Zephaniah 3:8 is the only verse in the Old Testament that uses all 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet.(1) The very next verse says, “For then will I turn to the people a pure language, that they may all call upon the name of the LORD, to serve him with one consent.” The placement of these verses hardly seems coincidental. I find it interesting that “pure” in this prophetic passage translates to mean “to examine, to cleanse, to choose, to polish.” This is what Ben Yehuda did. Though modern Hebrew differs from biblical Hebrew, Hebrew is once again the language of the land of Israel, the tongue by which “they may all call upon the name of the LORD, to serve him with one consent.”

1. http://torahlawform.com/Documents/Hebrew_the_pure_language_of_Zephaniah_3_9.pdf

Photo: http://truthpraiseandhelp.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/eliezer-ben-yehuda.jpg

Aramiac

In Syria is a small village called Ma’loula. It is one of the few places in the world where you can hear people speaking Aramaic. This ancient Semitic language is related to Hebrew. It is considered an endangered language since so few people still speak it.

Most linguistic and biblical scholars agree that Jesus spoke this language. “The towns of Nazareth and Capernaum, where Jesus lived, were primarily Aramaic-speaking communities.”1 For several hundred years, including the time during which Jesus lived, the Aramaic language dominated the areas of Galilee and Samaria, where Jesus spent most of his time. Hebrew and Greek were also spoken, but Aramaic appears to have been the most common day-to-day language of Jesus’ day.

The New Testament was written in Greek, but several phrases have been preserved as they were originally spoken in Aramaic. Here are some examples: “Maranatha” is Aramaic for “Our Lord is Coming” (I Corinthians 16:22). To a deaf man, Jesus said, “Ephphatha.” This means, “Be opened” (Mark 7:34). When Jesus was on the cross, He cried out “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?” (Matthew 27:46). This means, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

To the little girl who was dead, Jesus said,“Talitha cumi.” This means, “Young girl, arise” (Mark 5:41). As I was studying this phrase, I excitedly recalled a monument I had seen just a couple of blocks away from our apartment in Jerusalem at the intersection of King George and Ben Yehuda Streets. The monument was the original façade of a girls orphanage and school that operated on King George Street from 1868-1948. (Eventually, in 1980, the building was demolished.) Over an arched doorway was the name of the orphanage: Talitha Kumi. The name was no doubt thoughtfully chosen to hearten young girls as they entered the building with the hope of improving their lives. How wonderful that these beautiful Aramaic words with their message of hope have been preserved in the middle of modern Jerusalem!

Some place names are uniquely Aramaic, most notably Gethsemane, which means “Oil Press” (Matthew 26:36; Mark 14:32) and Golgotha, which means “Place of the Skull” (Matthew 27:33; Mark 15:22; John 19:17).

Even some people’s names – such as Cephas (Simon Peter), Thomas, and Tabitha – were distinctively Aramaic.

Of course, as all languages do, Aramaic has evolved over time. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that modern forms of Aramaic would sound exactly like the Aramaic spoken in Jesus' time, but I wanted to hear it anyway.

We have a friend in Jordan who frequently travels north to Damascus, Syria for business reasons. He volunteered to take us with him during one of his trips. At that time, for security reasons, it was not advisable for Americans to tour in Syria. And, other than my interest in hearing Aramaic spoken, we did not have much of a reason to go there anyway, so we never crossed over. The closest we got to Syria was viewing its majestic purple mountains from the northern area of Jordan, where we went once a week to give home Bible studies to Arab Christians.

Aram was one of Shem's sons (Genesis 10:21-23). Modern Syria includes what was once called the region of Aram and historians seem to agree that it gleaned that name because it was settled by Aram. Aramaic originated in this area. Syriac is a form of Aramaic.

As I studied about the Middle East, I learned about a lady who works at St. Mark's Church in Jerusalem's Armenian Quarter of the Old City. (St. Mark's Syrian Orthodox church is one of two proposed locations of the Upper Room, where the events of Acts 2 occurred). This lady, whose name can be spelled either Jostina or Yostina, speaks Aramaic.

During our stay in Jerusalem, we went to St. Mark's Church and I was pleased to find that she was working there that day. A former 12th grade mathematics teacher, she speaks English and Arabic in addition to Aramaic. She has been living in Jerusalem for 11 years, serving as tour guide and caretaker. She told us that as she cleans the church she prays, "As I clean your church, clean my heart. Please my Lord."

I asked Jostina if she would speak some words in Aramaic and allow me to record her. She refused to speak in Aramaic, but volunteered to sing the Lord's Prayer in Aramaic for us. She closed her eyes and folded her hands in a traditional posture of prayer. Her voice was clear and her prayer-song resonated off of the stone walls. To my ears, it was a mournful tune, but it was thrilling to hear the syllables and nuances of this ancient language. The sounds seemed to resemble Arabic somewhat, due to its occasional guttural inflections, but it seemed smoother, a little more mellow than Arabic. I was thrilled that I was able to hear Aramaic spoken, and that I did not have to travel to Syria to hear it!

Jesus did not speak English, or French, or Spanish. The language of His time was one far different from ours. As I listened to Jostina singing her prayer in this nearly-extinct language that day in St. Mark’s Church, for a moment I allowed my imagination to travel back 2,000 years. Oh, what it must have been like to hear Jesus tell His parables in this language, to hear him speak lovingly to little children, and how beautiful the words “Talitha cumi” must have sounded to the brokenhearted parent of a young girl. Aramaic…it was a privileged language, blessed to be used by Jesus as He transmitted His message of hope to the world.

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aramaic_of_Jesus

The Blight of Barrenness

Bill and I have been married since 1993. We never anticipated that we would not have children. We both wanted children, but they never came along. From time to time, that maternal instinct tugs at my heart. Sometimes, when Bill and I are around children and young people, we talk later about how nice it would be if we had some of our own children to love, train, and nurture.

Yet, in our society it is acceptable to be childless. And it is possible to live a fulfilling life without children. We have prayed many times for God to have His will in our lives. We don’t want to push open a door that God has closed. So, at some point long ago, we subconsciously settled into a place of acceptance. We are content with life as it is, just the two of us.

God told the first couple – Adam and Eve – to be fruitful and multiply (Genesis 1:28). Jesus loved to have children around Him (Matthew 19:14). I like the word picture of Psalm 128:3, which promises blessings to a man who fears the Lord: “Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house: thy children like olive plants round about thy table.” Psalm 127:4 is also picturesque: “As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them.” It is obvious from Scripture that bearing and raising children is God’s plan. In Bible times, deviation from this plan was the exception, not the norm.

Yet, occasionally God must have other plans. Though we do not understand His ways, we have learned to rest in His knowledge and wisdom. And since America is in the process of redefining the term “family” and altering God’s original design for marriage and family anyway, a childless couple experiences little societal pressure. In America, life without children is not considered unusual.

But it is not so everywhere. Living childless in the Middle East is an educational experience. I am often asked how many children I have. When I tell them I do not have any, people think something is wrong with me. Once I told an elderly Arab woman that I was content with my life. She looked at me like I was crazy. I don’t remember meeting even one Middle Eastern married woman without children.

Why is childbearing so important in the Middle East? Because that culture, which is vastly different from the West, follows the model of thousands of years of tradition. In their society, a woman’s worth is determined largely by her ability to marry and birth children. Thus, if a woman is barren, her worth is compromised.

In Jordan, if a child is not conceived after two years of marriage, the wife must go to a doctor to see what can be done to help her conceive. Fertility clinics are easy to find, because they serve to address a key issue in society.

Grandparents will pressure their children to give them grandchildren. Family lineage is very important. It is shameful to not provide your husband with children to carry on the family name. So boys especially are anticipated. I know one family with three daughters. They are lovely girls, but because the wife did not bear a son, it has created problems in the marriage.

In both the Arab and traditional Jewish world, barrenness is a terrible state to find oneself. Why a woman would be unmarried or married without children is unfathomable to the minds of many Middle Easterners.

This is reminiscent of biblical times. In addition to the pain of not being able to fulfill instinctual maternal longings, a barren woman endured ridicule for her shameful, childless condition. She lived, day in and day out, with a stigma. She could not provide a male heir for her husband, a man to continue the family name.

I find it fascinating that the patriarchs of the Bible – Abram, Isaac, and Jacob – all had barren wives.

When Sarai, Abram’s wife, could not conceive a child, she resorted to an acceptable custom of her time. She offered her handmaid Hagar to her husband. The custom dictated that a barren wife could adopt the child birthed by the handmaid and it could become a legal heir. (This is why, later, God told Abram to cast out the bondwoman and her son. According to God, only the child of promise, Isaac, was legitimately entitled to inherit and enter a covenant relationship with Him. See Genesis 17:19; 21:10-13; Galatians 4:23-31. God and Abram had a similar conversation about Eliezer. See Genesis 15:1-4.)

Human nature being what it is, this custom was not ideal and was not void of jealousy and resentment between the two women. Once Sarai had her true birth child (Isaac) in her arms, she no longer wanted the surrogate child (Ishmael). In the end, Sarai's attempt to control circumstances backfired on her. Rather than wait on God to fulfill His promise, she chose a human, almost businesslike arrangement, to achieve the goal. It is hard to fault Sarai, since she had no Bible to read. She was one of the Bible's first leading ladies. She was a pioneer and had no previous stories about miraculous births to bolster her faith. All she could see was the shame of her barrenness.

Listen with your heart to the words of Rachel, Hannah, and Elisabeth. These are three biblical women that lived during different time periods, but they had one thing in common: They bore the shame and reproach of childlessness.

Rachel, Jacob’s wife, pled with her husband, “Give me children, or else I die.” “Jacob’s anger was kindled against Rachel: and he said, Am I in God’s stead, who hath withheld from thee the fruit of the womb?” Here we see barrenness triggering marital conflict. When Rachel finally bore a son, Joseph, she said, “God hath taken away my reproach” (Genesis 30:1-2, 23).

Hannah had a good husband, Elkanah, but no children. Her husband’s other wife “provoked her sore, for to make her fret.” Elkanah asked her, “Hannah, why weepest thou? and why eatest thou not? and why is thy heart grieved? am not I better to thee than ten sons?” It is apparent that Elkanah loved Hannah and wanted to comfort her in spite of her inability to give him a son.

But Hannah was driven by the shame on her life. With anguish in her soul, she said to the Lord, “If thou wilt look on the affliction of thine handmaid, and remember me, and not forget thine handmaid, but wilt give unto thine handmaid a man child, then I will give him unto the Lord all the days of his life” (I Samuel 1:6,8,11). The Lord heard Hannah’s heart’s cry, and gave her Samuel, who she then committed to the service of the Lord. Thus, she was released from her shame.

When Elisabeth, the mother of John the Baptist, conceived, she said, “Thus hath the Lord dealt with me in the days wherein he looked on me, to take away my reproach among men” (Luke 1:25).

Psalm 113:9 is a beautiful verse which summarizes the role of a woman during Bible days: “He maketh the barren woman to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children.”

Because biblical people would clearly understand the analogy, God often used barrenness to describe the nation of Israel’s spiritual condition. If Israel would follow His plan and serve Him, He promised to bless their land with fruitfulness. The women would not be barren or “cast their young” (miscarry). Their land and animals would be fruitful as well (Exodus 23:26; Deuteronomy 7:14; 28:4; Job 21:10; Malachi 3:10-11).

There is a similar principle outlined in the New Testament. As we cultivate the fruit of the Spirit in our lives, we will “neither be barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ” (II Peter 1:5-8).

In the New Testament, the Greek word for “barren” – argos – also translates to mean “idle” and “unemployed.” (Read Matthew 20:1-7). Just as the Israelites had to be pro-active in their obedience and service to God, so we have to be willing to work in the Lord’s vineyard. In these New Testament times, it is much more shameful to be spiritually barren than it is to be physically barren.

Keeping in mind the spiritual analogy we can draw for our own lives, a fresh understanding of how biblical people viewed barrenness enables us to better understand their unique challenges. In particular, we can view with greater sympathy and appreciation the women of the Bible whose lives swung the pendulum from bitter barrenness to blessed bountifulness.

Martha's Dilemma

Luke 10:38-42
"Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard his word. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me. And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her."

When the story of Mary and Martha is talked about, Martha often gets slightly berated for her failure to sit at Jesus’ feet. It is tempting to simplistically conclude that Mary was spiritual and Martha was carnal. While Mary wanted to listen to Jesus, all Martha was interested in was doing.

Mary gets the star and Martha has to sit in the corner of the room. We figure that it is better to pray than cook for the potluck supper, and spiritual things always trump natural things. While there certainly is truth in this, there is a much deeper dynamic and lesson here that few people realize.

Beyond the simple spiritual-versus-carnal lesson, I think Jesus was trying to teach two less obvious principles that we can apply to many areas of our lives and which shed light on the spiritual-versus-carnal concept: 1) Sometimes it is okay to break free from cultural norms and 2) Misplaced priorities can be detrimental.

According to cultural norms, Martha was doing exactly what was proper: She was serving her guests. To do otherwise would have been a terrible slight to visitors. In Martha’s society, failure to prepare food and drink for guests was unthinkable. Her womanhood was defined in great part by her ability to serve her family and guests.

During our time in Jordan, we spent a lot of time in people's homes. I do not remember one instance of being in a home where we were not served food (usually fruit or cookies) and drink (usually tea or juice). Middle Eastern women are such gracious hostesses that I feel quite clumsy by comparison. The picture above features Umm George, or Mother of George (her eldest son). She and her family do not have a lot materially but they are generous with what they have.

When Martha asked Jesus to tell Mary to help her, she was appealing to their society’s inbred understanding of a woman’s place in their culture. Their proper role in society dictated that women take care of the home and children. Even today, in Jordan, few women work outside their homes. Even if you walk into a women’s clothing store, nine times out of ten you will find a man serving as the clerk, not a woman. Although a few women work in grocery stores and hospitals, it is understood that these are exceptions to the norm.

Then as now, as a traditional woman living in the Middle East, it was unacceptable to mix with men. Many of the homes we visited were guided by this rule. To a great extent, men fellowship with men and women fellowship with women, sometimes even in separate rooms.

When Mary opted to sit at Jesus’ feet instead of helping Martha in the kitchen, she became a woman in a man’s world. By entering a room full of men, as though she was one of them, she removed herself from her proper role in society. So, although we understand that we should be like Mary and not Martha, there is more here than at first meets the eye.

Jesus was trying to help people understand that sometimes the gospel contradicts culture. And when it does, we must follow the gospel. In this case, although what Martha was doing was entirely right, there was a higher law at work here. Mary discovered that “good part.” She somehow realized that her acceptable role could be set aside for a higher way of life. While Mary instinctively understood this, Martha had to be taught it.

Jesus invited “whosoever will” to follow Him (Matthew 8:34). Anyone and everyone – male or female, Jew or Gentile, poor or rich – was welcome. Jesus did not validate the barriers in His society. In fact, during His ministry, Jesus was constantly uprooting traditions and unseating cultural norms. He fought against deeply rooted mindsets. Some of the mindsets, in and of themselves, were not necessarily evil. But when they caused people to be stuck in a rut, Jesus referred them to a higher way of life.

When Jesus told Martha, “You are careful and troubled about many things,” He was letting her know that her problem was her adherence to cultural norms when something more important was occurring. Although she was doing what was right and proper, she failed to recognize that there was a higher law trying to work in her life. Note that nowhere in the passage did Jesus actually condemn Martha for her hospitality and service. He only pointed out her misplaced priorities, which were causing her to be agitated and upset. It is okay to do as long as our deeds are motivated by pure love for Jesus.

We can learn a lot from this passage. Sometimes we feel so compelled to mirror the customs and mindsets of our society. We feel pressured to conform. As our world gyrates with change, from modesty limits in clothing styles to the acceptance of once shunned sins, we are bombarded with pressure to follow their trends. Because we are Americans, we do American things and we think like Americans. We never pause to consider that our loyalties to American culture should be far exceeded by loyalty to our King who rules a nation far superior to America or any other earthly country.

Some things about America are not necessarily evil but our adherence to them can inadvertently cause us to have misplaced priorities. For example, America was built on principles of hard work, entrepreneurship, and solidarity. These are some of the concepts that made America great. Here, you could become almost anything you wanted to become. Dreams could become reality.

Whereas these principles are not evil in and of themselves, for some they could become detrimental. A man could become a workaholic and neglect his family, creating insecurity and resentment among them. An entrepreneur could become so focused on making his business successful that he fails to spend time in prayer and misses church services to work late, eventually becoming spiritually lukewarm.

We must dedicate ourselves to keeping the Kingdom of God in sharp focus. It will not happen automatically. In the Old Testament, God warned His people against assimilation (Leviticus 18:26-27; Deuteronomy 18:9; 12:29-31). You will live among them but don't worship their gods, He said. Don't follow their customs. Blending was never acceptable.

When we try to fit in with the world around us, we are attempting the impossible. We are simply not one of them. We are peculiar, or special, people (Titus 2:14). We are a holy, or separate, nation that has been called out of darkness (I Peter 2:9). We might be Americans, but we are also citizens of a greater nation. When choices have to be made, our loyalty to our heavenly home surpasses our earthly home. Sometimes we will have to completely abandon certain activities and concepts. With other things, we will just have to keep first things first. As it was not wrong for Martha to serve, so some things will not be wrong for us to do, as long as our priorities and motives are right.

Mary was misunderstood by her sister Martha. When we go against the status quo and break free from cultural norms, we should expect to be misunderstood, even ridiculed at times. Until onlookers break free from the kitchen and enter the presence of Jesus, they simply will not understand the beauty of things they find so repulsive.

Just as Jesus admonished Martha to readjust her priorities and lay aside her innate habits that were so comfortable to her, He sometimes asks us to do the same. When we must make a choice, our guiding charter must be the Bible and the principles of the Kingdom of God. It is a higher law, a superior way of life.

The Place of the Skull

I come down one road. You come down another. We all meet at the foot of the cross.

The title of an old song is “The Ground is Level at the Foot of the Cross.”

At Calvary, Golgotha, the Place of the Skull, we are all the same.

When we understand Calvary, we forgive. When we view the blood streaming from a broken body, we love. When we hear the women crying, we have compassion. Calvary enables us to overlook faults, because love covers a multitude of sins.(1) Calvary is our greatest example of suffering, sacrifice, giving beyond what a human being seems capable of giving. Jesus gave everything. He gave all He had to give. There was nothing left.

Calvary, oh what it means to me.
Since Jesus set me free, I think of Calvary.
Jesus’ blood, oh what a cleansing flood.
He did it all, for me, on Calvary.(2)
Whenever I am tempted to lift myself up, I need to kneel down…at the foot of the cross, where the ground is level.

Part of me wants to look away from Calvary, pretend it didn’t happen. I don’t like to read the last chapters of the gospels that detail the trial, the beating, the crucifixion of this man named Jesus. It is repulsive. “We hid as it were our faces from him.”(3) He was despised. We didn’t want to look! What an ugly sight. Why did He do it? Why? Why? Why?

He did it all for me…on Calvary.


References:
1. I Peter 4:8
2. Song Lyrics, “Calvary,” Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, Giving Him Thanks, 1981
3. Isaiah 53:3