After a free morning, we headed to the Old City of Jerusalem for an “official tour”. This is ground that I’ve wandered a number of times, enough to be familiar with. But never before had I been led by a guide. How worthwhile would it be?
Extremely! Continue reading
If we can slow ourselves and quiet ourselves, these words may speak into that question:
“It is through prayer… that one will be given the most powerful light to see God and self.” (Angela of Foligno)
Reflecting on her years in monastic life with its prayerful patterns that she didn’t always value, Joan Chittister adds this word:
“It took years of repetition, years of chant strung high as a wire, years of recitation droned into space for me to realize that like water on a rock, the words were melting into my soul, etching furrows in my mind, turning me into themselves, disappearing into the whispers of my heart. Prayer, the regular discipline of resting in God, had become a way of life.”
Later, I found this, in response to Angela of Foligno’s quote:
“When we turn God into a vending machine, when we pray to ‘get’ things rather than to get God–there is no ‘enlightenment’ in that. When prayer is a journey into the mind and heart of God, into the nature of life, into the shaping of a holy heart, then it is necessarily enlightening. We come to understand ourselves: our fears, our darkness, our struggles, our resistance. Then we are faced with choice. That is enlightenment.”
Then a final section spoke of one other danger in prayer, that we might try to use it as an escape from life. This was addressed swiftly:
“If prayer becomes the way we give ourselves permission to escape life around us, it is not prayer. It is some kind of self-induced hypnotism, at best. Real prayer plunges us into life, red and raw. It gives us new eyes. It shapes a new heart within us. It makes demands on us. It requires that we become the hands of the God we say we have found.”
And that is plenty for today.
Today was the start of summer school. It began with an early breakfast and a lecture by an Muslim professor from one of Jerusalem’s universities. He presented us with an Introduction to Islam. Some of what he shared was familiar from things I’ve read or studied before, but he certainly went more in-depth on some of the inner workings and schools of thought within Islam than I’d ever heard about before. As well, to state the obvious, an interactive dialogue with a devout and scholarly Muslim is certainly a different experience than any book on my shelf is capable of providing to me. I’m not convinced that it was it was the most profound lecture for my personal journey, but I’ve had much trouble connecting one idea to ten other ideas, so I’ll take what I was given and run with it somewhere, I’m sure. Continue reading
For the next seventeen days, home is Tantur Ecumenical Institute. Arriving in my room yesterday, I read through the informational packet left on the desk.
This was the first page:
Welcome to this holy place. You are embarking on a holy journey. We have said many prayers for you as individuals and as a group. Each of you has your own purpose in coming here. Each of you has a longing for more of God and less of self and worldly distractions; you want balance, re-creation, and the spiritual energy to be co-creators with the Great Creator.
Settle in. Listen. Pray. Listen. Walk. Listen. Be still. Listen.
A great work is about to begin.
And my heart said, “Oh yes, Lord, let it be so.”
When home calls at the end of May, I’ll board the plane eagerly. But for the next seventeen days, this place will do just fine.
Beneath that portion was a quote:
It is not thou that shapest God;
it is God that shapest thee.
If then thou are the work of God,
await the hand of the Artist
who does all things in due season.
Offer him thy heart, soft and tractable
and keep the form
in which the Artist has fashioned thee.
Let thy clay be moist, lest thou grow hard
and lose the imprint of his fingers. (Saint Irenaeus in the 2nd century)
This I will try.
Eilat was the “rest spot” after what’s been a fairly fast-paced twelve days. From supper last night to lunch today, the time was completely ours. Some shopped, some swam, some slept. I chose to retreat a touch myself. A bit of re-exploring a city that I saw two years back, a couple great meals, a search for a currency exchange booth (no easy task when you arrive on the Sabbath), and my best sleep of the trip so far.
This afternoon had us spend some time at Eilat’s aquarium (I love aquariums) before hitting the road for the nearly five-hour drive to Jerusalem. We stopped midway for a breather at the Ein Gedi, on the shore of the Dead Sea. I ordered and enjoyed a chicken sandwich from the lowest Burger King on the planet. Continue reading