Unconditional Love

For a long time, I thought that unconditional love was not humanly attainable.

It's probably not fair to say that a childhood pet, 'Princess' , (a dog of course), came the closest.

But I had an experience on Sunday that stops me in my tracks. I visit a nursing home twice a month, and lead a church service. While the nursing home advertises it as the 'Interfaith service', in reality it is a non-denominational Christian service. We welcome people of all faiths, but we talk about Jesus.

Anyway, there is one old gentleman who often wheels his wife in. He is a visitor, not a resident. He is Jewish, and comes to the Christian service because he will go anywhere, and do anything, if it might help his wife. She is in the latter stages of Alzheimer's, and is now totally unresponsive. She doesn't talk. She doesn't even open her eyes. She sits in a semi reclining position, and drools, and he tenderly wipes her mouth. He always lets me pray for her.

Last Sunday, he wheeled her out before we finished praying for everyone, and as I was leaving the building I noticed him sitting with her in the lobby. I approached him, set my guitar down, and asked if I could pray for him. He said,
"What I really want is for you to pray for my wife. " He gently turned her wheelchair so I could reach her to touch her as I prayed. I prayed for comfort. I prayed that the Lord would intervene, and reach past the mind into the place where she now lives, and reveal himself and his truth to her. I prayed that He would reveal to her what it means to dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
He thanked me, with tears in his eyes, and told me that she has been here for 6 years, and he has visited every day. I told him that he is an example to us all. I looked at this quiet, unassuming old Jewish man, and realized that I was seeing unconditional love in action.

And he reached out to me, and pulled me close, and gave me a holy kiss.

Pray for them!

Living in an affluent society - part 2

At Christmastime, it becomes really evident how affluent we are.

This year, I cannot bring myself to buy the generic gifts one gets for people when you don't know what they want. It's one thing to enjoy pleasing someone with the perfect gift. But it's another thing as soon as we start to say "I can't think of what to get". It just seems like such a waste. So I'm going on strike. I'm opting out of the obligatory gift game, and refusing to purchase this stuff. No more sentimental wall plaques. No more cute candles. No gizmos and gadgets. No holiday themed sweaters.

Some of my friends are getting a book that I really like, and I think they will really like it too. Some of my friends are getting homemade cookies.
Some of my friends are getting things I know they are interested in.

But for everyone else... I'm making targeted donations in their name to World Vision [click on ways to give/gift catalog].

I'm taking a huge delight in choosing things that I think are appropriate to the person I'm trying to honor. Are they interested in helping children? In the poor? In conservation? In making people self-sufficient? In sending Bibles to other countries? In growing food? In healthcare? In victims of war? There are so many choices. You can donate as little as $10 to send a hygene kit, or $16,500, to build a health clinic.

So many of my friends and relatives will be getting cards instead of gifts. And the cards will say:

You are a part of bringing hope to the world! A life-changing gift has
been given in your name to bring joy to a corner of our world that
deperately
needs to know others care. Thank you for being a part of the
miracle of helping
children and families in need!

Ten Ducks: Throughout the year, a hungry family will benefit
from more than a thousand large, protein-rich eggs from the 10 ducks given in
your name through World Visioin. The extra eggs and hatched ducklings can be
sold to buy medicine or help pay for children's school tuition.

Or

Wonder Trees: An eco-friendly "wonder tree," given in your name through World Vision, will soon be enriching the soil of a struggling farmer in Zimbabwe or another African country -- potentially increasing his crop yield by more than 500 percent! That means abundant crops and more food for hungry people for years to come.

Or

Drip irrigation kit:In drought-prone regions of Africa, it's essential that each drop of precious water is put to good use. That's exactly what the smart drip irrigat6ion system does. Given in your name through World Vision, this gift maximizes the use of available water, resulting in higher-yielding crops and healthy livestock.

Or

Care for girl survivors of war: Thousands of girls in countries like Uganda are abducted by militants who abuse them or force them to serve as soldiers. Those who escape face a difficult road to recovery. Thanks to this gift given in your name through World Vision, one girl survivor will be empowered to make a fresh start! She'll receive assistance like food, medical care, trauma counseling and vocational training.

Or my favorite! A splurge, but I've really been wanting to order this anyway:

A camel: The gift of a hardworking camel, given in your name through World vision, will dramatically improve life for a poor desert-dwelling family. Able to carry up to 1,000 pounds, travel five days without food or water, and supply nutritious milk, a camel is like a refrigerator and an SUV with a 40-year life span.

Try it! Instead of buying those fuzzy slippers with a santa face on them, or a singing stuffed reindeer, consider a charitable donation. What's the worst that can happen? If the recipient really is offended at not getting a gift, you won't exchange gifts at all next year, and your gift list will gradually get shorter.

Living in an affluent society -- part 1

We don't realize how blessed we are with material things.

Having visited a country recently that has a much lower standard of living, I'm more aware of how much we waste. OK, this isn't really another blog about Turkey, but it does make a good contrast. If you've ever visited a European country, you will recognize at least some of these issues:

• Electricity: they just don't leave lights on the way we do. I know that people reading this (all 4 of you!) are probably saying to yourself: "I always turn out the lights when I leave the room", but this is a different dimension. The main hallway and stairs in a hotel are usually dark until a motion detector notices your presence. The hotel room itself sometimes requires that your key be placed in a little slot in order to turn any lights on (thus ensuring that when you leave your room, all the lights are off). Even public galleries and museums sometimes have the lights dark until you trigger them. Ice is never served without a special request. Air conditioning is available only in the better hotels in the hotter regions. And even air-conditioned restaurants or other public buildings don't have the temperature as low as we are used to. Electricity is considered valuable.
• Automobiles: I drive a Honda Civic, which is considerably bigger than the average car there. The average car is way smaller than we are used to, and that's not even discussing our current fascination with SUVs. Many families can't afford a car, and make do with a motorbike or a motorcycle. It's even better than watching clowns come out of a Volkswagon to see a family of 5 astride one motorcycle. Grandma (with her long skirt and head scarf) gets to ride in the side-car. And people walk for long distances. However, one mistaken gesture towards conservation is that some Turkish drivers apparently think that it wastes gas to turn their headlights on -- even at night. Gas is considered valuable.
• Paper goods: I have to admit that after I returned home, I visited the supermarket, and I actually stood in the paper goods aisle, and sincerely gave thanks to God for the abundance of toilet paper. Some things you really don't appreciate until they are missing! And it is very unusual to have paper towels in a bathroom. Trees are considered too valuable to make disposable items.
• Water: water pressure is often lower than we are used to. Water is considered valuable.

So I'm wondering whether we are being good stewards of God's good gifts. I've determined to at least be more thankful, and try to be more thoughtful about whether I am wasting resources.

Yikes - he thinks I know these things

Today 'P' came to me and asked if I had time to discuss a question that did not pertain to work. I said yes, and he said:
I am coming to you because you know about these things. How do you deal with anxiety?
[little did he know how true that is -- I'm anxious about everything! but I tried to answer] I have two things that I do. First, if I am very anxious, I take a deep breath.
Yes, that is why I have come right now. [He stopped and breathed]
And secondly I pray to God, and tell myself that I am in the hand of God, and nothing can happen that can take me away from the hand of God.
[He listened carefully, trying to understand.] Oh, that is because God is the strongest person, right?
Yes. There is no one stronger than God.
That is what my parents tell me -- I should have faith, and trust in God.
[Meanwhile, I'm wondering which God he is talking about, since he is Hindu, I believe. So I add something a bit provocative:] Have you ever thought about the fact that there is a difference between knowing about God, and knowing God?
[Suddenly he needed to leave.] All right, goodbye.
* * *
Pray for 'P'. Pray that he will start wondering what it means to know God.

cross cultural thanksgiving

Another cross cultural thanksgiving.

I went to work the day after thanksgiving, and found myself to be the token American on the floor. Luckily the work day was relatively slow, because I spent the day answering questions about the Holiday. But I kept getting stumped by trying to communicate across the cultural divide.

How did this holiday begin?
It began in the beginning of our country, when the pilgrims gave thanks for having lived through the year with the help of the native Americans, and having enough food to make it through the next winter.

What is a pilgrim?
Yikes. There I was, proud of myself for remembering to say 'Native American' instead of 'Indian', and yet I used 'pilgrim' which was a totally foreign word to them.

Why do you eat turkey?
We traditionally eat the foods that were in season and locally available, that the early settlers would have eaten. Wild Turkey was a type of a large bird.

What does turkey taste like?
Oh boy, did I blow this answer. I walked right into the classic trap, and said it tasted like chicken. But as soon as I said it, I realized that that is not a good answer for a life-long vegetarian Hindu!

Is turkey very delicious?
I told him that since we associate Turkey with a feast that we share with family and friends, it has such good memories that we all think it is delicious. 'P' was very taken with this answer, and eagerly agreed that his mother always noted that he ate more when company came.

Is this a religious holiday?
People of any religion can celebrate Thanksgiving.

So it is not about God at all?
Well, it is not officially a religious holiday, but I have one question to ask you.

What is that, Ann?
When you give thanks, who are you thanking?

Oh, I never thought of that!

Anyway, I decided to start a new Thanksgiving tradition to include my Indian co-workers. I baked a cake and brought it in for them on Friday. They questioned me about this:

What is the significance of this cake?
I thought that anyone who comes in to work today deserves a piece of cake. How do you like that idea?

I like this idea very much. It is a good tradition!

Turkey: foot washing, and more

I keep remembering little vignettes from Turkey, and realizing that it has given me a fuller understanding of the Bible.

Hospitality to a stranger: we were all impressed by the family who hosted our group for one night. While it is true that the tour group compensates them for housing and feeding us, their welcome was heartwarming, and not something that can be bought. After all, how would you like to have 13 guests who don't speak your language, and might not like your food, and don't understand your culture? And I also remember the woman who saw us gaping at her rock house, with two little windows cut into the stone. She ran out and asked (in Turkish) if we wanted to come in and look at her home. I don't know about you, but I would not spontaneously invite a bunch of strangers into my apartment. It was a wonderful experience, to see how cosy a cave can be.
Footwashing: I never really grasped the footwashing story in the Bible. Because I had never really wanted anyone to wash my feet. Now that I've experienced Near Eastern dust, I get the point. You just can't imagine how dirty and dusty your feet get, and how refreshing it is to wash them off.
The shade of a fig tree: In the South-eastern region, where Abraham lived, it is really hot. Every living creature looks for shade. And it turns out that the best shade of all is that of a fig tree, because it has big leaves.
More about Ephesus: I know I already told you about Ephesus, but it keeps popping into my mind -- the fact that it was a wealthy, hedonistic, pagan city. It gives a different picture of what the gospel was competing with.
More about Antioch: I also remember a particular statue of Orontes in the Antioch museum. This statue was a beautiful marble work of art, dating back to the first century. The significance to me was that Orontes was the river god, and the statue indicated how important the god was, otherwise it would not have been honored with that beautiful, expensive statue. And again, it gives the flavor of what Christianity was competing with.
The stars: Since I felt claustrophobic in the tiny cabin in our gulet (a traditional Turkish boat), I preferred to sleep on deck. I've never seen such stars. I thought about Abraham, and God telling him that his descendents would be like the stars in the sky. I thought about psalm 8. There were so many stars that some of them overlapped with each other, making blares of light that I could see even without my glasses. There were so many stars that I actually got up at around 3 in the morning, just to sit and look, and behold. I can't imagine looking at those stars without being overwhelmed with awe at the creation of God.
Communion: ok, this one is stretching a little bit, but I'll try to explain. I've never really considered bread and wine to be core features of a meal. But we made an unscheduled stop at a local village wine festival in Cappadocia, and the only items being served were wine, grapes, and homemade village bread. And I could imagine centuries, and millenia, of villagers sharing bread and wine together.

Goodbye, Aunt Elaine

My Aunt Elaine recently passed away. She was a vibrant, energetic woman, with a lifetime passion for peace. She wore bright colors, laughed with abandon, asked pointed questions and obsessively sketched people, and lived life with zest. She loved to share her interests with people -- whether it was a matter of tofu, or chelation therapy, or erotic art, she couldn't grasp that some people simply had different tastes. Whenever I think of her I still feel like protesting "just because I eat beef and work for a bank does not make me a bad person!" But her overriding theme was working for peace. She boldly went all over the world to advocate for peace.

So in honor of Elaine, I want to talk about peace.

In spite of all the wars that have been fought in the name of religion, God is actually for peace.
The Bible talks a lot about peace. But this peace is more than just an absence of war, it also encompasses the presence of God's kingdom. Isaiah says:

52:7 How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who
proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion,
"Your God reigns!"

Earlier, Isaiah gave us a description of what this will look like:

2:2 In the last days the mountain of the LORD's temple will be established as
chief among the mountains; it will be raised above the hills, and all
nations will stream to it. 3 Many peoples will come and say, "Come, let us
go up to the mountain of the LORD , to the house of the God of Jacob. He
will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths." The law will go
out from Zion, the word of the LORD from Jerusalem. 4 He will judge between
the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their
swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not
take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.

5 Come, O house of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the LORD .

I believe that in spite of the efforts of activists such as my aunt, that the only true and lasting peace will come when the Lord rules and reigns in our hearts, and upon the earth.

So my way of honoring her will be to work for peace in my own way. To tell people about the peace that God brings. To introduce them to Jesus, because Ephesians tells us that

2:17He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who
were near.

So I'll end with the words of Paul, writing to the Romans:

15:33The God of peace be with you all. Amen.

That's what makes America Great

Yesterday I had an interesting discussion with 'P', an Indian colleague at work.
He asked me if I was happy or sad with the results of the election. I answered him honestly -- I was half happy and half sad. He asked me if I had ever heard the term WASP, and if it was true that the WASP contingent voted for values which caused Bush to be re-elected.

This was way too complex for a sound bite. Finally I told him that the Bible says many things, and that I think it is unbalanced when someone uses the Bible to point a finger at someone else, and says "don't! don't! don't!" without looking at himself and the things he should do. I gave some examples, such as caring for the widow, the orphan, the stranger in our land (i.e. the marginalized).

My colleague was amazed. "I have never heard this before", he said. I have never heard that the Bible says 'do' as well as 'don't'. "

And then I explained that I struggled with what this meant for the election, and that I was actually crying in the voting booth because there was no party I felt I could vote for with a contented heart.

'P' stared at me with a look of amazement on his face and proclaimed "That is what makes America great!" I wasn't quite sure what my crying had to do with the greatness of America, but he continued: "the fact that you find this difficult, but you vote anyway. That is true democracy. That is what makes America great."

Turkey: afterthoughts

It's been about a month since I returned home, and I still am thinking about Turkey a lot. I keep talking about it, and I'm probably boring all my friends. It's funny to see people's reactions. Some are truly interested, but some are disappointed in me when I fail to reinforce their expectations. They would rather hold to their assumptions rather than listen to anything different. Here are some examples:

The food: most of my friends continue to assume that the food is spicy. But in reality, most of the food is not spicy (except for the Adana Kebabs). And they keep saying that I must be relieved that I'm home so I can eat normal food again, while actually I loved the food and was perfectly happy to eat it. Tasty, healthy, and someone else cooked it three times a day -- what's not to like? (We'll skip the topic of food poisoning for now).

Safety: people keep saying that it must be a relief to be home, so I don't have to worry about security. HELLO - I work in one of the 5 buildings targeted by Al Qaida. I felt a lot safer in Turkey than I do every day at work. Even the roadblocks near the Syrian border were handled easily, and did not seem ominous in any way. And the extreme security involved in the flight home made us feel safe rather than nervous.

The dress: people assume that all the women wear a chador or burka (the long black cape seen in Iran and Kuwait, for example). Actually, it was very very rare to see a woman dressed this way. There was quite a variety of dress. Especially in the Eastern regions, the women dress conservatively, with long skirts, long sleeved shirts, and a headscarf, but usually the faces were shown, and there were various colors-- all together a totally different effect from the head-to-toe blackness of a chador.

The attitudes towards us: Contrary to popular expectation, everyone was friendly. I wore my cross, and did not encounter even one nasty look, much less any kind of harassment. Even when we visited in conservative areas where we were inappropriately dressed (shorts and T shirt), no one gave us a hard time -- although sometimes they quietly giggled.

The trip: Was three weeks too long? Not at all -- actually every minute was filled, and I keep thinking about things I didn't get to do. I didn't manage to get to a hamam (Turkish bath); I didn't try the tripe soup (ok, maybe it's not good, but would be an experience); I didn't find a Christian congregation to talk to or worship with; I didn't make it to the spice market; I didn't buy enough souvenirs; I didn't have a chance to just sit and pray in some of the notable Christian sites.

But everyone is right about one thing. I do prefer our bathrooms.

Turkey: a sad epitaph

One day we hiked through what is called a 'ghost town'. It had been a village of Greeks, peacefully living in Turkey for centuries. Then after the Turkish War of Independence (called the great catastrophe by the Greeks), all expatriates were forced to move back to their native country, so the Greeks left Turkey.
So now the hill is covered with ruins of homes that have been untended for 75 years. But what really saddened me was not just the homes, but the church. A Greek Orthodox church, showing faint traces of grandeur, mixed with devastation.
One of our group couldn't understand why a church would be allowed to fall into ruin, and kept asking why it wasn't fixed up and used. Finally the tour guide answered simply:
"There are no Christians here".

It was a devastating epitaph. It was said with no malice or agenda, merely as a statement of fact. It reminded me that Turkey, once a Christian nation, now has only 1/3 of one percent who are Christians. And if you look for evangelical Christians, the numbers are even worse. Out of a country of 65 million, the estimates are that there are between 2,500 and 5,000 born again believers.

Pray for Turkey. Pray that the revelation of Jesus would strike people's hearts.

Most of my friends in the nursing home like to pray for the world, but that's too big for me to visualize. But I can pray for Turkey. I can pray for Selcuk, our secular Muslim guide. And I can pray for the family who graciously welcomed us, and cooked us breakfast and dinner, and opened their home for us to stay overnight. And the woman who realized that we would be curious about her house carved out of rock, and simply invited us in. And Ahmet, our driver who carefully kept us safe on dangerous roads. And the sailor, who flirted with every woman on board, but immediately ran to help me clean and bandage my injured foot. And the captain, who tried to explain that a real worship song has to be in a minor key -- or at least that's what I think he was trying to communicate as he reverently hummed and warbled. Or the cook, who never said anything, but served us some excellent meals.

Or the boy who sold me a pashmina shawl, and explained in broken English that he knows about America because he watches TV [yikes, no wonder they think we're depraved]. Or the two little Syrian children who posed for me in front of the ruins of the oldest mosque in Turkey. Or the woman who scooted from gulet to gulet in a little motorboat, offering to make sweet or savory rolled 'pancakes' on the spot.

Or the doctor who rushed to the hotel when a member of our tour was ill. Or the musicians in the cacophonous military band. Or the little boy dressed up in embroidered satin because he was King for the day [don't even ASK what was in store for him, the poor thing]. Or even the would-be Romeo in the hotel who didn't quite understand "No" in either English or Turkish (but who did finally understand a closed door).

Or the clerk at the internet cafe, who thrilled me by understanding when I asked: "yerem saat kac lira, lutfen?" (or something like that!). Or the family that rose to a new height of togetherness, with 5 people riding on one motorcycle. Or the man who let me make 3 bathroom visits without paying [because he recognized an emergency when he saw it] . Or the merchant who gave us free samples of a Turkish dessert [too weird to describe - think rubbery walnuts with a sweet brown coating]. Or the caretaker at Zeugma who climbed down into the dig to remove the tarp so we could see a huge mosaic still in it's original site. Or the little boys who sell the postcards in front of the tourist sites.

Let's start by praying for them...

Turkey: food

I would be remıss ıf I dıd not dıscuss turkısh food.

For breakfast the usual thıng ıs whıte cheese (sort of lıke feta) and olıves, served wıth varıous kınds of breads dependıng on the regıon. Also yogurt wıth good jams. For example cherry jam ıs a favorıte. And tea - çai -- the most popular drınk served ın small tulıp shaped glasses wıth lumps of sugar on the sıde. Contrary to popular opınıon Turkısh coffee ıs not served ın the mornng, ıt ıs a drınk for the afternoon -- especıally for old men solvıng the problems of the world ın a local cafe.

Then at lunch and dınner there ıs a varıety. Lots of eggplant cooked ın wonderful ways. Roasted, grılled, pureed. Ive never been an eggplant lover but thıs has made a belıever out of me. The texure and flavor are both dıfferent from at home. Lots of lamb ıs served, maınly grılled. And lots of vegetables and salads although we are afraıd to eat the raw vegetables for fear of food poısonıng. Thıs ıs truly sad because the produce ın Turkey ıs absolutely beautıful.

Other popular dıshes are börek -- stuffed fılo, sometımes wıth cheese or sometımes wıth meat. And there ıs a funny flat thıng sort of lıke a Turkısh versıon of a pızza but wıth ground lamb and spıces on top. Of course the most famılıar dıshes are varıous kınds of shısh kebab.

Besıdes the ubıquıtous tea they serve ınterestıng fruıt juıces -- I buy cherry juıce and peach juıce and aprıcot juıce ın the can. These are not as sweet as the versıons Im used to and I wısh I could get them at home. Then I am exasperated to fınd out that the manufacturer ıs Coca-cola.

And who can forget Turkısh desserts. The baklava ın Gazıantep has much pıstachıos ın ıt and ıs less sweet and more flavorful than I have had ın the past. And there ıs a dessert that tastes better than ıt sounds -- shredded wheat stuffed wıth cheese. It ıs not my favorıte but ıt really ısnt as bad as ıt sounds.

Turkey: Perge

What a place of history. The ruıns show acre after acre of toppled stones, but you can still see the grandeur that must have been here. Pıllars, frıezes, busts. Whıle the vısıble ruıns are Roman from the 2nd century, we know that Paul vısıted thıs town, and probably passed through this very gateway at the entrance to the cıty (although ıt would have been the Hellenıstıc gate at that tıme.

And ruıns of the old Roman baths. Raısed floors so that the hot aır could ciırculate underneath and warm the floor -- I wısh I had that feature ın my own bathroom at home!

The next day we went to the Antalya museumö where they had many of the statues that had been recovered from thıs sıte. I cant iımagıne the work to do all that carvıng ın stone. To top ıt off ıt ıs very hot. Evem walkıng feels strenuous due to the heat and the unevenness of the ground. I ımagıne Paul walkıng from town to town on hıs travels, and decıde that İm glad to have an aır condıtıoned bus!

Turkey: Göreme cave churches

Thıs area of Cappadocıa has very soft volcanıc rock, and that ıs how ıt ıs possıble to burrow ınto ıt. The cave churches are found ın a regıon where tıny monasterıes were clustered together, each wıth about 20 monks. We saw the churches themselves. Usually there was a low entranceway maybe 5 and a half to 6 feet tall. Then the cave ınsıde was hollowed out ınto the shape of a church. Sometımes wıth a barrel vault as ıf ıt was archıtected out of blocks. Many stıll have vısıble frescos although ıt was hard to see sınce they were pıtch dark, lıt only by the rays of lıght that showed through the doorway.

Some of the artwork was sophıstıcated and ındıcated that the artısts had been traıned ın the bıg cıty -- Constantınople. Other churches were sımple and rustıc, decorated by local artısts. And most of the eyes of the fıgures had been scratched out by modern Muslım extremısts.

Turkey: Kaymaklı

The underground cıty of Kaymakli.

Imagıne thıs: an entıre city carved out of rock, extendıng many storıes underground, where the belıevers fled to escape persecutıon.

The entryway ıs sort of lıke a foyer -- thıs was actually the stable. You can see ındentatıons carved ın the walls that were used as mangers. The ceılıng here ıs relatıvely hıgh -- maybe 6 and a half feet -- and ıs well lıt, but as the guıde pauses there to gıve us an orıentatıon I am already begınnıng to feel claustrophobıc.

Then we go through twısty narrow passageways -- so short I need to duck just to walk. After a tıme the passageway opens ınto a chamber that was used as a church. You can stıll see the marks of the cross carved ınto the rock on the wall.

Thıs ıs all I can cope wıth. I am very aware of beıng underground. The ıdea of lıvıng thıs way for weeks at a tıme, wıth thousands of people crammed together underground ıs ınconceıvable to me. We have electrıc lıght and are only one level down. A few hardy souls follow the guıde 5 levels further ınto the earth whıle the rest of us cant waıt to escape.

Apparently thıs partıcular cıty sometımes held up to 15000 people, and was constructed wıth aır shafts and food and water storage. Totally amazıng.

It humbles me to see yet another example of how belıevers had to cope wıth persecutıonç

Turkey: Harran

Harran -- known as the cıty of prophets.

Abraham lıved here for a tıme. We saw the ruıns of the cıtadel. The ruıns themselves are Medıeval, but ıt ıs known to be buılt on an ancıent sıte, and ıs plausıble that Abraham hımself was on thıs exact spot, sınce ıt ıs an advantageous locatıon.

We also vısıt wıth a local famıly of syrıan orıgın -- the mother does not even speak Turkısh. We are only 10 mıles from the syrıan border. She has a small famıly -- only 10 chıldren. They show us a beehıve shaped home. not orıgınal, but ınterestıng to enter and see how cool ıt ıs compared to the blazıng hot sun outsıde. thıs ıs how people lıved many centurıes ago. we see the dung and straw pattıes they stıll use for fuel.

Turkey: the Euphrates

The Euphrates. The very name conjures up hıstory.

We embark on a small boat for a trıp on the rıver. The water ıs a beautıful deep green. I fantasıze that ıf we go far enough we wıll reach the Garden of Eden.

We dısembark and hıke up steep paths to the ruıns of Rumkale. The ruıns vısıbly remaınıng are from the crusaders but ıt ıs belıeved that there were orıgınally Hıttıte structures there, and there ıs a legend that St John wrote hıs gospel here.

It ıs beautıful lookıng out over the water. The day ıs hot, the path ıs steep, the water ıs green. Some of the ruıns shelter a herd of sheep, who are enjoyıng the shade.

It ıs almost deserted. Durıng our whole boat rıde and hıke, we see just two other small boats, but most of the tıme we are entırely on our own.

Thıs tour ıs called turkeys magıcal hıdaways, and today the name seems very apt. Sımply beautıful.

Turkey: St Peters Grotto

St Peters church ıs a facade buılt ın front of an ancıent grotto. It ıs belıeved to be the actual place that Peter preached, where the belıevers were fırst called Christıans.

It brought tears to my eyesç Dımly lıt wıth some 6th century mosaıc tıle on the floorö what drew me was the actual rock cave. Centurıes of candle soot lınes the walls. In the back there ıs a nıche used as for an altar.

Chrıstıans have prayed here for 2 mıllenıum. There ıs a sense of stıllness and quıet. At the back there ıs a tunnel, that ıs belıeved to have been an escape tunnel. whether or not that ıs so, ıt sobers the mınd to realıze that such thıngs were necessary. And I am humbled at the sıngle-mındedness of those followers who sacrıfıced everythıng to preach the word.

Turkey

well, I'm about to leave for Turkey. There are massive delays at their airport, and our plane will be late reaching NY, and therefore delayed too, which means we'll miss the connection to Adana...but somehow it will all have to work out.

I was just reading my class notes which stated that the gifts of the holy Spirit are the most effective ways to reach Muslims. So please pray that God will be working through us.

maybe it wasn't an accident

Well, yesterday I made a fool of myself at work, by going in to Manhattan for a meeting only to find out that the meeting was in Queens. Oops. But maybe it was not an accident.

On my way in the door, I passed a Turkish co-worker (whom I do not normally see). She commented that I must be leaving soon for my trip, and asked if I was preparing by eating Turkish food, etc. I agreed that I was, and then mentioned that I had obtained a CD of worship songs used in my church, but sung in Turkish. She was fascinated, and said she had never heard of such a thing. And then she said that she would be interested to hear it, and asked if she could borrow it.

So I will have the opportunity to lend my Muslim co-worker a Christian worship album. All I can say to that is:

Gorkemin bu yeri dodursun

No, I'm not positive exactly what it means -- but it's the first line of "Let your Glory Fall"

Vegemite

Some things are an acquired taste.

I love tasting new foods. Even if I don't especially care for them, I like the opportunity. But sometimes certain tastes puzzle me.

Yesterday, I walked by the pantry at work just in time to notice 'C' (Australian) and 'S' gleefully buttering some toast, and then spreading some dark brown paste on it. They happily announced that they had obtained a new jar of Vegemite, to replace the jar that had disappeared (surely not stolen?). They were so delighted to have it, that they wanted to share their joy with someone, and I was elected. Craig cut me a slice of the toast and watched with happy anticipation as I tasted it.

It tasted...salty. But not just salty, sort of dark. In fact, it tastes sort of like it looks. Brown and pasty. It wasn't horrible, but I just couldn't grasp the immense fondness that it generates. We finally agreed that it must be an acquired taste. 'C' felt that when you eat it as a child, you remember it as something good when you grow up. Of course, the flaw in that theory is how in the world you would get a child to eat it in the first place, unless you starved them first. But I'm still happy that I tried it.

But my day was not complete. 'R' also noticed me passing by, and called me over to try a special dish she had made for an Indian festival. It looked like a yellow rice pilaf. I have to admit that this dish was much easier to describe than the vegemite. Imagine rice pudding made with some raisins and cashews...and then add LOTS of hot curry powder. I tried to be complementary without being too enthusiastic -- I had this sudden fear that if she thought that I really loved it she might go to a lot of trouble to make it specially for me as a treat. I'm glad I had the opportunity to try it, but one bite was plenty!

So today when I saw her, I sociably asked if she had cooked anything else good. And she graciously offered me a taste of her lunch. So I ran and got a fork, and took a bite of some innocent looking but lethal curry. Actually, the flavor was excellent, it was just...hot. As I put it in my mouth, I had an audience of 4 Indian women watching me intently. I commented truthfully that the flavor was very good but it was rather hot. At which point they mildly explained that normally you mix it with the rice rather than eating it straight. Oh. I'm so used to skipping rice that it didn't occur to me that it was there for a reason! But I think they were rather proud of me for eating something they described as true Indian flavor.

Wisdom

The other day, one of my Hindu colleagues confided that he wished to be wise, and he wondered aloud if it was OK to pray for wisdom.
I responded that the Bible told a story of a very wise man, who had gained his wisdom by asking God. 'P' was very interested at this.
"Would you like to hear the story of how Solomon became wise, and what he did with his wisdom?"
"Yes, please tell me this story"
So I told him the story of Solomon, and of course the story of the two women who disputed over the child. He was very curious that such a thing would be in the Bible. But he agreed that one would have to be very wise indeed to think of such a solution, to reveal the truth. I explained that Solomon was only able to be that wise because God had given him wisdom. Then 'P' questioned me again:
"This is in the Bible?"

I seem to have stumbled on a method for being 'allowed' to talk about the Bible in an excessively secularized, politically correct, religiously diverse workplace. By keying off of a topic that is of interest to the other person, and mentioning that there is a relevant Bible story, I have found that every time the response is:
"Tell it to me!"

I am the Hula Queen!

Now for a short interruption in the VLI and cross-cultural themes, to bring a moment of comic relief.

Yesterday, I shocked everyone at work.

We had a corporate picnic, with various planned events: horseshoes; spoon race; balloon splat; chicken fling (don't even ask!);bocce; volleyball; and hula hoop. Well, most of my co-workers did not know that my one and only athletic expertise is the hula hoop. Of course, I peaked around 30 years ago (and 60 pounds ago).

The competition was better than I expected, but I was clearly the champion. Apparently, some of my colleagues were even laying bets on the outcome. We had to hula while walking a few steps forward and backward, and rotating in a circle, with our hands on our heads. Finally, they made us each spin two hoops at once. I don't remember whether I ever tried that as a child. My claim to fame was hoola-hooping while readying a book. The trick is you have to choose a book with rather large print, and you have to learn to not swivel with large movements. Frankly, that is a bit harder than merely putting your hands on your head.

I know that some people spend their lives and their careers hoping for a super bowl ring (or vicariously thinking of what could have happened). As for me, I'm happy with my own prize -- a shower radio. In fact, maybe I will try it out now, as I soak out all those little muscles that I have suddenly become re-acquainted with. How thoughtful of the game organizers.

Moti hears the story of Ruth

Today Moti came and asked me something at work. I had trouble understanding him. And then I had to ask him what his name was, and had trouble understanding hs name. But when he realized that I was really trying, he added:
M: It means something
A: Really? what does it mean?
M: It means puhl.
A: Puhl?
M: Yes, puhl [finally he wrote it down for me]
A: Oh, pearl! That's a beautiful name.
M: I don't like it
A: Why not?
M: In my country, we use this for a dog's name.
A: Oh, that is too
beautiful for a dog. But we sometimes give very fine names to dogs
too-- we sometimes call a dog 'King'.
M: I wanted to change my name, but my father wouldn't let me.
A: I'm always interested in how different names are popular at different times. Do you know the talk show host Oprah Winfrey?
M: Yes, we can see American TV in my village.
A: Well, many mothers names their babies after Oprah. But there is only one problem.
M: What is the problem?
A: When Oprah was born, her mother intended her to be named after Orpah, who was a character in the Bible, but they wrote it down with a typo, so now all the little girls who are being named after her actually have the wrong name too. And to top it off, it is also funny because the character Orpah in the Bible is not a very important or special character. Do you know the story?
M: No. How does it go?

So there I was, giving a dramatic re-telling of the story of Orpah to Moti. Even now, trying to blog the conversation, I can't quite figure out how I ended up there!

VLI at a distance, at a distance

I guess it's one of my flaws that I always think that if something interests me it will interest other people too. As a result, my co-workers hear a surprising amount about VLI. It's sort of like VLI one step removed.

On Tuesday, I was trying to find every opportunity to get in a little bit more studying time: walking to the station, on the train, in the elevator. At lunch time, I brought my notes to the cafeteria, only to bump into two colleagues with whom I've never eaten. It seemed to be better to join them, for some reason. So I sat down with them, and explained that the papers in my hand were study notes. Well, my office-mates have been quite puzzled as to why I am putting this effort into something that will not increase my earning potential, and 'D' finally felt he had the opportunity to see what it was about. So he asked if he could see my notes.

I handed him my notes, and then sat amazed when I thought of how God had worked this out. 'D' turned the page, and started reading the section on 'Eternity in their Hearts'. Here I was, lunching with two Hindus, while they read the stories from around the world of various people and tribes who had ancient beliefs in one true God.

I don't know what he thought of it. But his only comment was to ask "is this an open book test?" When I said no, this absolutely brilliant man shook his head and said, "this is too much to learn. "

Steve Robbins, do you hear that?

A Free Gift

We did a servant evangelism outreach this morning, and I suddenly realized that it's sort of a metaphor for salvation.

We gave out free water, gum, and popcorn, and received various responses.

• Some people walked by and pretended they didn't see our big 'FREE' signs.
• Some people were pleased and appreciative.
• Some were sure that they were supposed to pay, somehow.
• Some took it for granted.
• Some wanted to understand what it was about
• Some were hostile, and didn't even want us giving free stuff to other people.

Isn't that just like the free gift of salvation? Responses range from uninterested; pleased; appreciative; wanting to earn-it; trying to understand; to hostile.

A Beagle, a plane, a convention

A couple of days ago, 'S', my co-worker called me up and said:
Well, it worked pretty well when you prayed for Barney (the beagle); and when we went on vacation the plane stayed up in the air when you prayed, so now my wife has something else for you to pray.  She wants you to pray for safety during the convention, that New York City won't have any terrorist event.
I agreed to pray, but reminded him that many people would be praying for that. And he replied:
Yes, we already discussed that, but I said that you should pray, because you have connections!
He's kidding, of course, and yet there's a germ of truth -- he's recognizing that there is some sort of relationship going on.  He's mentioned this before, and if someone looks puzzled when they hear the word 'connections' he then adds:
She knows somebody. 
He's joking when he says it, and he does his best to make it sound as if I'm in the Mafia or something, and yet I think there is a tiny part of him that wonders if it is true. And after all, don't forget that the beagle and the plane both turned out ok!
So now, let's all pray for the safety of the city.

Context is Everything

In VLI, Steve Robbins keeps telling us that "all meaning is context dependent", but I'm not sure that the example today is what he meant!

Imagine the nursing home. Today is the Fourth of July. The residents are lined up in rows in the activity room, but there are fewer than usual -- often on a holiday some of the aides don't show up, and so it takes longer to get everyone up and dressed.

It's sort of like the movie 'Groundhog Day'. As I enter carrying my guitar case, one lady notices it and says 'Oh, you play violin?' I expect this of course, because she asks that every week. She prides herself on being one of the more cogent ones.

Since it's the Fourth of July, I tried to find patriotic songs. Vineyard style worship doesn't strike a chord for this population (no pun intended). I've got America the Beautiful, and Battle Hymn of the Republic, but I don't have God Bless America, so when 'R' shows up, I ask him if he knows the chords. He doesn't know them, but starts strumming and figuring them out, as I madly try to write it down. We end up with a reasonable facsimile of the song, but in the key of C (which isn't a great key to sing it in). There isn't time to transpose it.

We start with America the Beautiful. There is an unusual swell of response from the 'crowd'. The ones who are awake are actually singing along, with gusto. I'm touched, and then blindsided by a flood of emotion when we get to the words "America, America, God mend thine every flaw". I suddenly think of the abuses in the prison, and realize that this should be the desperate prayer of us all. My voice cracks and shakes as we sing on. Then comes the Battle Hymn of the Republic. The last line says "as He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free" and I suddenly realized that this is the World War II generation. They really were dying to make men free. Usually I sing strongly, so that they can follow my voice, but now my voice is quivering. On to "God Bless America". Like many of us, I'll never be able to hear that song without thinking of 9/11. And I really do pray that God will bless America. So now I'm trying to belt out the song, in the wrong key, while trying not to cry. I'm thinking that it's lucky that most are too deaf to notice.

At the end, there is an outpouring of response. The lady who asks about the violin shouts "very good" (she always does). The man who always wants to show me his colostomy shouts "Amen", but the final verdict was unexpected, as he gleefully asks:

"Do you know how I know it was good?"
"No", I reply.
"Because my teeth didn't fall out!"

Intellectual Honesty

I'm so impressed by my co-worker, 'J'. We've managed to have conversations on some hard topics, because he's willing to honestly listen to a point of view that he disagrees with. He's not just being polite until it's his turn to talk, he's actually listening to see if I will say anything he can learn from. And given his level of education, that keeps me on my toes!

I've been trying to read Constantine's Sword, by James Carroll, which he had recommended to me. I admitted to him that I'm finding it hard going, because the author (a Catholic priest) repeatedly makes statements about Christianity and Christians that don't match my understanding, or my experience. I don't know if it is a Catholic / Protestant divide, or if it is simply the author's own bias, or if I'm the one who is naive. But in any event, it's uncomfortable.

So I told him that, and he asked for an example. I quoted a concept from page 59, where it says:

Christianity's self-awareness depended on the continuing existence of the Jewish people as the negative other against which positive Christian claims were made...Only Jews, because of what they deny, tell us Christians who we are...

This passage, and others that claim that Christianity by its very nature must be anti-Semitic, rubbed me the wrong way, because I think it does a dis-service to both Christianity and to Judaism.

Anyway, the other day I was reading this quarter's VLI assignment (Turning Points by Mark Noll) and came upon a passage with a different point of view, on pg 29.

As the Christian church moved out into the Roman world, its Judaic roots would be obscured, but even beneath the surface, those roots remained a critical part of what Christianity had been and what it would become.

I called 'J' over to my desk to show it to him. I wasn't sure what he would think, but 'J's response blew me away. First he acknowledged that he pretty much agreed with that description, and then he said "I might want to read that when you're done."

Wow -- what an example of educated curiosity. Here I am, trying to stretch my horizons as a matter of simple fairness, in order to build the groundwork for conversations, and yet I'm not showing the honest interest that he is.

And while I'm on the topic of fairness...

A couple of months ago, my cousin 'P' visited. Although he had no interest at all, he explained that he came to church because he recognized that it seemed to be important to me that he go (for some obscure reason!), and he went just to honor and please me. Well, I certainly was pleased! But I'm hoping that he will forget the conversation we had at lunch afterwards, when he tried to convince my brother and me to listen to hiphop music. 'H' made it clear that he has a real antipathy to this genre, and had no interest in listening. Then 'P' turned to me, with an unbeatable argument:
Well, if I went to church because it was important to you, you can listen to my music because it's important to me.
So to all my friends out there...if you hear hiphop leaking out of my headphones one day, it is not because I like it, but rather it is a peculiar consequence of attempting integrity in Evangelism.

God's fireworks

Last night God put on a light show!

I've never seen anything like it. I guess it was heat lightning. It was a dark, cloudy night, and the lightning was streaking back and forth between the clouds. It wasn't the king of huge bolts that light up the whole sky, and shake you to your shoes. Rather, it was a shimmering series of flashes, about one every two seconds, with no rain, and little noise. With each flash, the light radiated out and silhouetted the cloud in front. Occasionally the streak was in front of the cloud rather than behind it. I have no idea how close it actually was, but it looked as if it was about a block away.

Again and again and again. Dark sky, and then rays of shimmering light bursting out from behind the cloud, about every two seconds. At it's peak, it was nearly continuous. I stood on the sidewalk watching in awe. At one point, I counted 10 lightning flashes in 10 seconds. Tomorrow is the Fourth of July, but in my mind, no fireworks on earth will compare to this.

At first, some neighbors were watching with me, but then they went inside to see if there was anything about it on TV.

What a strange commentary on our society -- TV seems more real to people than the wonders of God that they see with their own eyes.

I can hardly wait to learn about church history

This quarter in VLI we will be studying church history, and I can hardly wait.

It's kind of ironic, but two of my Jewish friends know more about Christianity (in the intellectual sense) than most of my Christian friends do, and perhaps more than I do. For example, 'J', a Jewish co-worker, listened to a conversation about the movie 'The Passion', and mentioned that he didn't remember reading any references to Veronica in the gospels and asked where it was. At least I knew that answer to that one (no place!). But that pales besides a conversation we had the other day when he mentioned the split between the Roman Catholic church and the Greek Orthodox church due to the 'filioque' clause. Seeing my look of puzzlement he kindly explained that the issue concerned a disagreement over whether the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and from the Son (filioque), or only from the Father.

'J' is so quiet that you don't immediately notice how smart he is. But as you can guess, he gently and respectfully skewers me if I show any sloppiness in my reasoning, when we are discussing religious topics.

Since this is the break between quarters for VLI, I've started reading Constantine's Sword again (which he had lent to me). I mentioned to 'J' that I was finding it difficult reading, because there are a lot of generalizations about what Christians think and believe, that I just don't agree with. According to the author, the very premise of Christianity is rooted in anti-semitism, and Christianity finds its identity in opposing Judaism.

He seemed dubious of my protestations to the contrary, so I ended up quoting the VLI mantra to him ("all meaning is context dependent"), and explaining that I am being taught to try to put on a 1st century Jewish mindset in order to properly interpret the New Testament. That caught his attention, I believe, because it is different from what he expects of Christianity.

The big sticking point for him is that he sees Christianity as violating monotheism. So he deems it fundamentally impossible for a Jew to become a Christian. I had to agree that even though I believe that Christianity is monotheistic, it is hard to explain how the Trinity fits into this.

Oh no, I'd better wrap up now...I feel a discourse about 'filioque' coming on...

concrete and weeds

I work in Long Island City.
It is gray.
When you look out the window, you could be seeing something in black and white film, except for the fleet of yellow taxicabs. I mentioned to a co-worker that it looks to me like a second-rate industrial city in an Eastern bloc country, and he thought for a moment and then agreed -- the only difference is that he has actually lived in those places, so he knows what he's talking about.

Anyway, on my way to work I was thinking about all the concrete, and noticing the vigor and persistence of the weeds growing by the sidewalk, and it suddenly occurred to me that I'm probably one of the few people in Long Island City who sees the pigweed and views it as a food object -- it's just the right age now, to lightly steam it, and serve it like spinach. And then I turned the corner and the weeds changed and I saw milkweed, and thought about cooking the milkweed pods.

And then I realized how far we've gotten from nature, because people assume I'm kidding if I mention that these weeds are edible. (It is true that the last time we ate the milkweed pods we got a bit stoned, but that's another story). And yesterday walking past the train station, I saw dark purple berries on the sidewalk and wondered if it was a mulberry tree.

It reminded me that God gives us good gifts all the time, but sometimes we don't notice. I bet someone could starve to death without realizing that edible plants were all around.

p.s. It's important to not eat pigweed that grows around fire hydrants, or other favorite dog places...

Sunday in the Nursing Home

Sunday I went to the nursing home, as usual. We go twice a month and lead a church service. This week was a little hard, because 'R' was out of town and so I was the only one there.
The aides were a little late wheeling people into the room, and at one point there was quite a commotion. 'L' was blocking the doorway like a stopper in a bottle, because she kept standing up, so the aide couldn't wheel her in.

She wanted to walk, but couldn't seem to quite remember how, so she would reach behind to steady herself on the arms of the chair, lean forward to walk, and then forget to move her feet. We were all afraid she would fall flat on the floor. The aide tried to get her to sit. "NO" she roared. Other residents tried to get her to sit. "NO" she roared. Then, feeling unsteady, she turned sideways to lean both hands on one arm of the chair. Now she was really stuck. She couldn't walk or sit, or go forwards or backwards.

The aide had left to bring other people in, and I was afraid 'L' was going to fall, so I went over to try to help. As soon as I got near, she roared again "NO". So I asked her "What do you want?" "I'm going to WALK!" she proclaimed. "If you want to walk, you need to face this way" So I oriented her facing forward, towards me, and suggested that she watch my feet, and take a step when she saw me take a step.
Suddenly, this determined old woman who was desperately trying to walk without moving her legs, took two big steps, aiming for my feet. Aiming Exactly for my feet. She ended up standing on top of my feet, like big toddler who is pretending to dance with her father. By this point, the bystanders were enjoying the show -- this was much more interesting than the sermon they had come to hear. We successfully took several steps (I even managed to reclaim my feet), and then she decided she had had enough, and sat down.

Then 'D' started calling for help. She is a sweet, tiny little lady, with huge insect-like eyes, who slides lower and lower in her wheelchair until she is afraid she will slide off. Her only prayer request is world peace. I don't know how to help her when she slides like this. I've seen the aide struggling with her before. It's like trying to nail jello. So when I saw another aide walk into the room, I called to him for help. He came over and gently lifted her back to her seat. Then he sweetly kissed her on the top of the head and asked if she was ok. I finally noticed that his nametag was marked 'building services' so he wasn't even a patient aide, but I watched in awe as he went up and down the row, greeting each one, giving a pat or a kiss or a word. Love in action. So real, so true, so heartfelt. Their faces lit up. He called them beautiful, and they were. He asked how they were feeling, and they felt better. He made them feel cherished and pretty. He was a big, strong, black janitor, and they were tiny, frail, old white ladies, and he made each of them feel like a princess.

I don't have a fraction of the love he showed. I asked if he could come back for the service; I asked if he could sing, anything just to keep him in the room. But he had to go. I really wanted to watch him in action. It's a special gift. I can show kindness and respect, with maybe a bit of love thrown in on a good day, but he has the capacity to make each person feel special.

Don't despise small beginnings

Remember my post from last month about praying for Barney?
I was hoping that praying for the dog would open the door to praying for the humans. Well, I was really excited today to get a phone call from 'S', who said that he and his wife were planning to travel by plane next week, and she asked if I would pray for their safety, since Barney was doing so well.
It reminded me of what we learned in VLI in the courses on Church growth and Evangelism -- that people respond best when you address their felt needs.

Ship of Fools, and kindness

Have you seen the website called 'Ship of Fools'? It is an online church, in 3D. The description on the site says "Church of Fools is an attempt to create holy ground on the net, where people can worship, pray and talk about faith."

It's an interesting experiment in bringing church to the people. And as could be expected, it is already bringing out both the best and worst in people. So many people rushed in to yell and swear and otherwise disrupt the services that they had to turn off the 'shout' function -- which was originally conceived as a way for visitors to contribute an 'alleluia' or two.

It's more than just a novelty -- there are actual scheduled services. The Bishop of London delivered the sermon at the opening service. He spoke about the danger and promise of the internet:

So let us take the wings of the morning and fly to the uttermost parts of the sea to discover ourselves in the light of the Spirit. Let us use this gift which has been given to our generation to heal and not to hurt; to open spiritual ears and eyes and not to add to the noise of self-justification and the rhetoric of hate.

An article on the website summed up a child's response that was embarrassingly accurate:

Church of Fools is a cross between a computer game and an 11th-century Romanesque sanctuary. One visitor looked around with her five-year-old son on her lap. "Wow!" he said. "Who's on your team and which ones do you kill?" – a sentiment many traditional churchgoers will recognise.

Wouldn't it be great if we could all learn to walk into a regular church without the seeds of that same question in our hearts? Jesus prayed that we might be one, but all the inventions of civilization have not helped us to grow in unity (either inside or outside of the church).

Last week's sermon, by Steve Tompkins, used the story of the Tower of Babel, and applied it to the internet:

Our failure and refusal to understand others is deeper than words, bigger than Google, as old as Babel and as (de)pressingly up-to-date as al-Qaeda and George Bush.

This is an ailment no tech, however hi, can remedy. The only cure is something as hard to learn, in its own way, as ancient Babylonian: listening, seeing the other's side. The internet cannot unite people who will not hear each other, but it gives us an invaluable chance to listen.

The other day members of my kinship complimented me on being kind to someone I find irritating. I was totally embarrassed -- clearly, they had gotten used to my usual impatient response with this individual, and were trying to give me positive feedback. It's odd how stressful it can be to simply act kind. At one point, I intentionally dropped something on the floor so I could literally hide under the table and have a little intermission.

Why is it so hard to be kind?

Come Holy Spirit

As one of my VLI leadership projects I'll be helping to lead the Alpha Holy Spirit weekend next Friday and Saturday.

In preparation, I've been praying and studying and teaching on the Holy Spirit. That's one of the advantages of being a leader -- you get to choose the topics! So this week, at both kinship and the nursing home, we studied the Holy Spirit.

The scary part is the ministry time. The reason it's scary is that our church is in a phase where the manifestation of the Spirit is pretty subtle, and many of the people in the church have never experienced a wave of the Spirit, or spoken in tongues. So standing up in that context and praying 'Come, Holy Spirit' is scary because sometimes nothing (apparently) happens. And even if the Spirit does manifest, people are suspicious of anything that they have not seen happen on Sunday morning. So I'm ironically scared both that something won't happen and that something will happen. Because half the kinship will be disturbed with either result. I am committed to waiting on the Spirit regardless, but it is not without its stress.

And then there's the nursing home. They're pretty sure that the Holy Spirit isn't actually part of Christianity. When I try to teach from the Bible, they are pretty sure that I'm wrong, although they are usually very patient with me because I'm 'young' and don't know any better.

Because we visit the nursing home on the 1st and 3rd Sundays of each month, and because this month actually has 5 Sundays, we won't be there on Pentecost, so I decided to teach about Pentecost today. Along with that, we sang songs about the Holy Spirit. Usually I try to choose hymns, so there is a memory the people can connect with, but today I really wanted to stress the Holy Spirit theme, so we sang Be Thou My Vision, and then some contemporary songs. As we sang 'Sweet Sweet Spirit' I was cringing at how 'modern' it was -- copyright in 1962. After all, if you are in your 90's that is pretty cutting-edge. And then I prayed 'Come, Holy Spirit'. There were 33 residents there this morning, as well as 3 staff coming in and out. About half were still awake at the end of the teaching time, which is about par for the course. But that's ok -- if they don't get bored and fall asleep they are not sure it 'counts' as having been to church. (Parenthetically, that reminds me of one time someone in my kinship complained to me that someone else was asleep, and that it was rude. I laughed and said that it didn't bother me until more than half the people were asleep).

Anyway, I was surprised to find that when we went around to the people in the nursing home individually at the end of the service, that more of them than usual seemed to be desiring specific prayer. So while we didn't have any miraculous healings (that I know of), we did seem to have more people connecting with God than usual.

One gentleman was getting a bit agitated, because he had a speech impairment, and I couldn't understand what he was saying. It sounded like he had had a stroke, and also perhaps a stutter, and was speaking a foreign language. Finally I asked him if he was French speaking and he said yes. I know a little French, but the last time I studied it was in 1977, and we certainly were not learning any Christian vocabulary words. So I resorted to reciting the words from a musical composition by Poulenc that we sang in college, in around 1979.
Dieu le pere, createur, ayez pitie de nous, dieu le fis redenteur, ayez pitie de nous, dieu le sante esprit, santificateru, ayez pitie, ayez pitie de nous. [or something like that]

And the agitation in the man immediately left, and he became peaceful, and seemed to be listening and comprehending when I switched back to English.

Who would have thought, when I was in the college choir, that God had a plan for Litanies a la Vierge Noir?

What does it take to be 'openminded'?

We're studying evangelism in VLI, and there was considerable discussion about communicating with post-moderns.

A friendly colleague of mine has been busy planning her weddings, and our lunchtime conversation usually touches on the latest highlights. You probably thought that 'weddings' is a typo, but it's not: she will have a 'Christian' wedding in Columbia, and then a Hindu wedding in India. She mentioned the difficulty of finding a minister who is open-minded enough to marry a Christian and a Hindu.

It was clear that the expected response was to sadly bemoan the narrow mindedness of the pastors who won't officiate at this kind of mixed marriage. I'm not sure what I should have said, but what I actually did was chicken out -- I said something that was non-offensive and was true, but that did not shine any light either. I simply said: "I can see that that would be a problem". Apparently, they even considered having one of them convert, just to make the wedding simpler, but they didn't really think that made sense. And again, I chickened out and said something that was non-offensive and was true, but that did not shine any light. I agreed that it didn't make sense to convert just for the purposes of a ceremony.

Frankly, I've never understood the logistics of double weddings. I can see the appeal, for people with divergent backgrounds, but what I don't understand is whether both weddings really 'count'. After the first wedding, are you married? If so, is the second wedding just for show, or does it mean something? What if you go through with the first wedding, and then someone gets cold feet and you don't accomplish the second wedding? If the first wedding is in the 'A' tradition, for person 'A', and the second wedding is in the 'B' tradition for person 'B', and you only have wedding 'A', could you end up with a scenario in which person 'A' is considered married, and person 'B' is not? If this is the case, then to whom is person 'A' married?

Maybe my problem with this isn't religion, maybe it's logic!

But in any event, I'm getting a real-life example of the post-modern worldview.

Pray for 'C'

What do John and Barney have in common?

I don't know much about John. In fact, all I know is that he is in the air force. I've never actually met him. I don't know what religion he is.

I know a lot more about Barney. I know he celebrates Hanukkah. He lives on the upper West Side of Manhattan, likes to sing when he's happy, and suffers from sinus and lung problems, so he hasn't been singing as much lately. When I first met him, and heard him sing, he made me laugh so hard I sat down on the sidewalk and held him in my lap. Barney is a dog. The 'singing' is because he is a basset hound. He sounds as if he thinks he is in an opera: awooo, awooo, awooo-oo-oo-oo-ooooooo.

You may be wondering what John and Barney have in common. They are both on my prayer list. I signed up through The Presidential Prayer Team to 'adopt' a troop, and commit to pray for him/her. It's probably pretty understandable why I pray for John, even though I don't know him.

But I bet you're wondering about Barney. Barney belongs to a co-worker and his wife, 'S' and 'S'. They have become friends as well as colleagues, and I enjoy eating dinner with them every couple of months. They are non-practicing Jews, who have been very courteous about politely asking me how my various Christian activities are going. One day, 'S' said to me:
"Ann, you tell us all about the people you pray for, and you told us you even prayed for a rabbit, so why haven't you ever prayed for Barney?"
She was right. There in Niko's Greek restaurant, while nibbling on grilled octopus, I had to apologize for not praying for the dog. So of course, I then promised that I would start praying for him. He was suffering from a chronic respiratory ailment, requiring daily medication. It was so expensive that they were even considering going to Canada to stock up.

VLI taught me that the most effective witness is one that meets felt needs. So it seemed right to pray for Barney.

Anyway...Barney has begun to feel a little bit better. And even though we have not discussed it, I think that 'S' and 'S' are wondering if maybe there is something to this prayer thing. Maybe the time will come when they ask me to pray for them.

Remember to Pray for Barney! (and John)

Did Jesus do Yoga?

One of my co-workers has been taking a meditation class, and knowing my spiritual interest she eagerly shared the fascinating insights she is being taught.
I was taken aback to hear that Jesus was a practitioner of Vedanta Yoga. I didn't handle it very well. In fact, I think I gave an unfortunate little yelp. What?

'C' explained that Jesus was very spiritually advanced, and that's why people didn't understand him, and so he intentionally covered up his advanced Vedanta practices so his teachings would be simple enough for all people to understand.

I was so torn -- I wanted to just jump up and refute this, and yet I also wanted to keep the lines of communication open, so after my strangled yelp I tried to mildly say that this was a new way of looking at it. With a glowing face, she explained that all meditation is actually the same.

Internally, I feel a drawing to spend more time in communion with the Lord, so I have more personal experience to bring into the conversation. And then I wonder whether that is a good motivation or not, even though my goal is evangelism. After all, I should want to spend time with the Lord for no other reason than Himself. And yet it doesn't seem fruitful to avoid spending time with Him for fear of having the wrong motive. Maybe I need to resort to the Nike slogan: just do it.

Meanwhile, pray for 'C'! She's clearly seeking for something...

Aslan

Trivia for the day:

To everyone who ever wondered where C.S. Lewis got all those creative names from, it turns out that Aslan is actually a Turkish word that means.....

...lion!

I am now the egg and idiom expert

More bridge-building with my co-workers.

Back on the topic of food, some of my co-workers describe themselves as eggetarian (vegetarian but also eat eggs) while others call themselves vegetarian (no meat, fish or eggs, but they do eat dairy). And some like to consider themselves vegetarian, but will eat foods such as cookies that might have a bit of egg mixed in, as long as it's not the feature of the dish.
I asked if it would make a difference to them to know that in America, the normal eggs that are found in a supermarket, or in processed foods, are not fertilized. As it turns out, they had wondered, but were pleased to have this confirmed, since it makes it easier for them to find stuff to eat if they don't have to avoid eggs. So I am now considered the egg expert. I've had worse titles.

I've also been sharing idioms. I used to avoid using idioms with foreigners, but now I do the opposite -- I use the idiom, and then explain it. For example, when the cricket matches between India and Pakistan were almost over, 'P' kept running over to share his excitement that India was ahead, but then he would catch himself and say "but it is not over yet, so you cannot be entirely sure". This was a clear setup for "it's not over until the fat lady sings". And yesterday one of the developers was trying to explain that a certain error condition had not repeated while he was monitoring the situation. Obviously, it called for "a watched pot never boils". They eagerly ask followup questions to verify that they understand the usage, and then they recite the idiom a couple of times to make sure they can say it properly.

How is evangelism like a mammogram?

Our VLI class in evangelism has been discussing the need to be culturally sensitive. And I came across an article today that explains this perfectly -- in the context of explaining why some women get mammograms more often than others!
The article was available online from Reuters, quoting from the journal Cancer, June 1, 2004.

To improve mammogram rates, it is important not to lump together all women of the same racial or ethnic group, according to Magai.

"For example, there are various sub-groups of black women, including U.S.-born African-Americans, Jamaicans, Haitians, Trinidadians, Nigerians, South Africans," Magai told Reuters Health.

"To assume that they all share identical social histories and cultural values, beliefs and attitudes would be a mistake, yet much medical research is not yet aware or tuned in to this kind of intercultural variation," she said.

To encourage more women to get mammograms, "we must understand and address the particular groups we want to reach in their own cultural language," Magai said.

So if we just make a small change in that quotation, and replace 'mammogram' with 'evangelism', we'll have a good approach!

Another interesting lunch

This lunch was with two other co-workers, 'A', a Hindu and 'M', a Moslem. I had arranged the lunch because 'M' is from Turkey, and I wanted to hear her say something in Turkish, and try some Turkish food with her, in anticipation of my vacation to Turkey in September. 'M' paid for my lunch, showing me true Turkish hospitality.

I was glad it was a buffet, because I would never have ordered the lentil soup, since it doesn't sound appealing to me, but it was extraordinarily good. I still don't know how to say it, though. The guidebooks say that they even serve it for breakfast, so I asked 'M' about that and she said "No, Never. Well, not in Istanbul. Maybe in the rural areas. Yes, probably in the country". That's probably a sequence that will hold true for other topics, such as the need for women to dress respectably, with arms and legs covered. I want to be respectful of local customs.

'A', the Hindu, commented that we had three religions represented at the table, and noted that this would only be possible in some places in the world, and 'M' jumped in and acknowledged that since Turkey is 98% Muslim, you would be unlikely to see this combination at one table. And I have found that except for 'Mosque' the phrase-books don't have any words about religion, because it doesn't even come up.

The 'T' project continues to inspire!

Last fall, my VLI classmate and I did a servant evangelism project where we went to local merchants and cleaned their bathrooms. That one event continues to bear fruit. 'M' has returned to one of the shops, and is building relationships with the people there. As for me, I had mentioned this to my New Age co-worker at the time, and she was fascinated by the story (sort of like watching a snake, or picking a scab -- interested and horrified at the same time.)

Anyway, when I had lunch with a couple of co-workers, my friend 'C', the New Ager, asked whether I had had any other unusual church outreaches. So then 'R', the Moslem, became curious, and asked about it. The surprising result was that she decided to go to her local Catholic Church and ask if they had any community activities she could join in.

I was so amazed I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My confusion was then compounded by the fact that she tried to explain that her husband goes to Mass a couple of times a year, but in her beautiful Bombay English accent, I thought she was saying 'Mosque' instead of 'Mahss'.

IT'S SPRING!

After a long, hard winter, Spring is here. But everyone I meet keeps saying "it's unbelievable". I look at it the other way -- I thought the winter was unbelievable. Today is an example of what is supposed to happen in Spring!

But all joking aside, it was a beautiful day, and I was so grateful. And then I thought about my own reaction, and realized that I need to exercise my awareness of gratitude. So I tried to be observant of God's good gifts today. And here is what I learned:

• I am healthy and strong (when I walked into the nursing home this morning, on my own two legs, I was reminded to not take that for granted)
  
• If you have a good personality, people will still like you even if you get old and lose your memory, and have no idea who they are.
  
• Sometimes forsythia and daffodils are exactly the same shade of yellow.
  
• Pink and red actually do go together after all -- when it is a pair of cardinals in a deep pink flowering tree.
  
• Spring smells different from Winter. But it also smells different here from in the Adirondacks. In the Adirondacks, it smells like thawed earth. Here it smells like flowers.
  
• Sometimes I just don't have the capacity to be grateful. Such as when the 75 year old man drove up on the sidewalk to ask me out. Sigh.
  
• Ice cream is a wonderful gift from God. So it's important to eat it often, in order to be fully appreciative.
  

HAPPY SPRING!

Did I really say that?

In VLI, we are studying evangelism. So I've been trying to be aware of people around me, and to notice conversational openings.

I had lunch today with two co-workers. 'C' is a nominal Christian who is drawn to New Age concepts, and is engaged to a Hindu. She is very interested in Yoga, and meditation. 'R' is a Muslim, who attended a Catholic school as a child. She automatically recites Muslim prayers when she is scared, but remembers reciting the 'Our Father' in school.

The conversation turned to Yoga, and the benefits of meditation, and the difficulty of clearing one's mind. I tried to say that the difference in Christian meditation is that one doesn't empty one's mind, rather one focuses on God. But that distinction didn't end up communicating at all, because C felt that Om is the same as God. So I decided to try a post-modern, experiential approach.

Sitting there in the middle of the corporate cafeteria, I contributed that when my mind is too cluttered to meditate on the Lord, I pray in tongues. I asked them if they were familiar with the phrase, and then tried to explain that praying in tongues is a way of switching from a mind communication to a spirit communication. It opened up the conversation to a real dialog about different types of prayer. It's not that they necessarily understood what I was saying, but they were interested to find out that there was a dimension of Christianity that they had never heard of. I still can't believe that I told them that speaking in tongues is like Yoga. I'm not sure whether it was inspired or whether it was heresy.

We actually discussed 5 different prayer languages: Arabic, Hindi, English, Latin, and tongues.

I was still recovering from that conversation this afternoon, when I left work early to take a Jewish friend to the Alpha celebration dinner. I was a neurotic wreck during the whole thing, obsessively noticing every time someone said the word 'Christian'. She was pretty stressed, but handled it graciously.

Clearly, the day had not included enough languages. On the way home she compensated by sprinkling her conversation with Yiddish.

No unwholesome talk

In Ephesians 4:29, Paul writes:
Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths...

This little verse is quite a challenge to me. I used it for one of the sermons I had to write for VLI, and so of course I felt repeatedly convicted. My temptation at home and with my friends is to be sarcastic, and my temptation at work is to be negative and defensive. I'm always afraid that I'm being a bad example of a Christian.

So I was interested by something that happened at work today. T, my new boss, was frustrated at not finding one of the developers we were looking for, and he said "shoot", or "darn" or something like that, and then turned to me and said "you know, I try to clean up my language when I'm around you". So here I was worrying that it would look bad that I sound pessimistic, and all the time what people were noticing is that I (usually) don't curse.

And then I realized that a former boss had also had the same reaction, and had announced one day that he wasn't going to curse in front of me any more. The man really struggled, but I have to give him credit for a valiant effort. Occasionally, when he just couldn't stand it, he would warn me first -- "Ann, cover your ears!"

What's funny about all this is that I've never asked any of these guys to stop cursing. They just decide on their own that it's not appropriate.

But my next personal discipline will be to stop taking the name of the Lord in vain. I never realized until recently that I was doing this, and I'm not even aware of it, so I'm not sure how I will stop. So I will use my former boss as an example, because if he was able to change his habits, so can I.

What do you get if you mix 7 Indians, an Indonesian, a Brit, and an American?

It's either the beginning of a joke, or it's a description of a little gathering we had after work.

There were two purposes, the first was to say goodbye to one of the consultants who will be returning to India tomorrow, and the second was to collect donations for the march of dimes.

Since the guest of honor had not yet arrived, 'S' was making conversation, and commented that often the consultants go on vacation single, and come back married. A few acknowledging grins ensued, and then a discussion of arranged marriages. Several were strong proponents. 'P' explained that his own marriage was arranged.

I had an immediate flashback to the one other thing I know about his wife. She is said to be a good cook. One day 'P' called me over and kindly offered me an 'Indian donut' that she had made. He told me that it was not sweet, and that it perhaps had a surprise in it. I was happy to have the opportunity to try something special --- but when I got to the 'surprise' I realized why Dunkin Donuts is probably not going to roll out a line of pastries flavored with chunks of jalapenos.

But in the meanwhile, the conversation was continuing, assisted by a pitcher of sangria. They explained that the advantage of an arranged marriage is that your family knows and checks out the other family, so you are less likely to be faked out by someone. I mentioned that you would really have to trust your family, if they were going to pick your mate for you. They all thought that was very funny. But they admitted that some of them now use a hybrid approach which they feel gives them the best of all worlds -- their families check out the candidates, but they retain veto power. 'P' claims that their divorce rate is only 2%, because they take their marriage commitment seriously. We all agreed that that's way better than the American averages.

So then I tried interjecting a monkey wrench into the conversation, and informed them that in my religion we also behave differently from the rest of America, for example, we don't live together before marriage. It seemed a new idea to them that all Americans were not the same.

It may have looked like an evening of Sangria and Tapas, but it was actually bridge building.

Even English isn't understandable any more

It started with an email inviting me to a conference call for work.

The only problem was that the email said that the meeting was at 16:00 GMT+1.
So first I translate 16:00 to 4pm, and then I try to figure out where GMT+1 is, versus where I am.
I know that we're usually GMT-5, but we just changed our clocks for daylight savings time.
Does GMT+1 also change their clocks, keeping the time difference at 6 hours, or are we now 5 hours apart, or is it 7?
So I went on the web and found a site that would figure out what time it was in NY. But for that site, I had to indicate which time zone was using daylight savings time.
So I had to find a different site. No problem. Except the website said it was 13:00 and I knew that had to be wrong.
So I finally let my pride bite the dust and asked a co-worker. The answer was 10am.
Unfortunately, I had another conference call at 10, but that one is pretty quick, so I decided to dial-in to the short one first, and then join the international call.

However, the phone number started with the city code, and I realized that I needed to dial the country code first. I tried dialing 01 which didn't work (I think that's actually the US code) and I needed the other country code.
Then I realized that while I knew that the other country was in the GMT+1 time zone, I wasn't sure where I was calling. But some of the people are stationed in Zurich, so I figured Switzerland, but then I needed the Swiss country code, which I didn't know.

Would you believe that I actually started dialing random combinations of ones and zeros followed by the city code and the phone number, and the pin number, and I actually got through.
And then I ended up in the middle of the call, in the middle of the project, and didn't have any idea what they were talking about.
The good news[!] is that this is a weekly call, so I get to try again next Wednesday...

What do you know about St Paul

tonight, on the ABC network special about Jesus and Paul, Peter Jennings asked people on the street (in Rome) what they knew about St Paul. It would be interesting to know what the full set of un-edited responses was. The responses that made it onto the show were unanimous -- "I don't know".
I felt like a little kid who was eager to be called on in class, but the teacher was ignoring her and calling on the other kids. After all, we're in the middle of a VLI class all about Paul. So I retaliated by talking back to the TV. My upstairs neighbors might have heard the following scraps:

"He was from Tarsus -- and by the way, did you know that's in Turkey?"
"He was Jewish, knew Greek, and was a Roman citizen, which made him uniquely qualified to spread the gospel across the known world"
"Not just Jewish, but a Pharisee, educated at the feet of Gamaliel"
"Taught that gentiles did not have to be circumcized, or follow Jewish law, to be followers of Jesus"

I had such mixed feelings about the program. On the one hand, it was pretty amazing that they even aired the program at all -- 3 hours in prime time on a major network. On the other hand, there were only about three sentences in the whole program that evidenced any faith. However, the back-door benefit of the academic approach is that the historic reality of Jesus and Paul came through clearly. So perhaps some viewers will find that sticking in their minds, and causing them to consider Christianity.

sports as a bridge

Knowing the interest among my co-workers, I made a point to note the results of the 5th cricket match between India and Pakistan. 'P' was amazed to find that I had sought out the news, so I was ready to share his joy when I saw him on Thursday. I still know nothing whatsoever about cricket, so my facts were sparse: the series was 5 one-day games, best three out of five, between India and Pakistan, played in Pakistan. The score was 2 to 2 going into the last game, so the stakes were high. The key player on India's team is named Sachin. P feels that Sachin is so adored that people would willingly die for him, if necessary. But the games (and the fans) were peaceful -- way better than anyone expected.

I am working hard to build bridges. Of course, the irony is that I've never been interested enough to even follow American sports. Each year I think that I'll at least keep straight which sport is the superbowl and which sport is the world series, but it doesn't stick in my head. I'm just not much of a sports person. (However, I would be glad to discuss the thrill of Mary Lou Retton's two-in-a-row perfect 10's, or the ice skating scandal with the French judge!)

All these years, I was afraid that that God would send me to Africa to eat bugs and learn some strange clicking language so I could communicate His love, and instead, he's sending me to NYC to supply snacks from Trader Joe's, and to talk about cricket.

And now for a piece of trivia. Did you know that the word for tea is pronounced the same way in Hindi and in Turkish?

I hate it when things are out of my control

What is the common factor in all the items below?

• Tomorrow evening we are holding a Harp & Bowl style prayer meeting, which is my leadership project, and there is supposed to be a snowstorm tonight.
  
• I'm studying for the VLI final, and I'm still frustrated that I got many questions wrong on the midterm due to misinterpreting the questions, even though I was well prepared and knew the material
  
• There is an odd odor at work, a sort of hot metal smell, with a chemical edge -- I'm not sure what it is, or whether it migt be dangerous, and the engineers haven't shown up yet to examine it.
  
• On the way to work, I'm trying to learn a few words in Turkish
  

The common factor is pretty apparent for the first three -- they are all things that are to some extent out of my control, but they are worrying me because I'm trying to make sure that I do whatever IS under my control.
The last one is more subtle -- but I realized this morning that it is also a control issue. I don't want to be unable to communicate on my trip to Turkey. But at least that one I can do something about!

Hosca kalin [but the 's' and the 'c' should both have accents, and the 'i' should not have a dot, in order to say 'good bye'

It is a war without the shooting

There's a big cricket match tonight between Pakistan and India. 'P' came over to my desk today and said "I am very tense". So I of course asked him why, and he explained the phenomenon of cricket, and especially the huge significance of a game between India and Pakistan, given the political unrest between the two countries. His final description of a passionate cricket match was "a war without the shooting".

He will be going to a theatre on 74th street tonight, where he expects to watch a satellite feed of the match from 11pm until around 5am. In India, life will pause as the whole nation remains glued to their TV screens. Apparently, this is expected to be the most watched event in the history of TV. After all, there are a billion people who live in India, and this is a national passion.

In fact, 'P' is so concerned about this, he has been fasting and praying for a win, and even asked for my prayers. I think he is trying to improve the odds by getting everyone's various gods involved. I wimped out and said that I hoped he (India) would win. I've never been sure whether it's 'ok' to pray for a sports win. But I was excited that he even views me as a praying person.

And then it suddenly occurred to me to ask if anyone on the floor is Pakistani, and he said yes. And I didn't even realize. So I will need to be careful of whom I congratulate and who I commiserate with on Monday!

He was dumbfounded when I admitted that I know nothing about the sport, and wouldn't even recognize what it was if I saw someone playing. He showed me a picture of Sachin, the best player in the world. But I have already forgotten if he is a bowler or a batter, (since I don't grasp what the players do).

He patiently tried to convey how important this is to both Pakistan and India, and showed me the major newspapers of both (online). What a dramatic example: The front page news headlines were over 50% about cricket, and there wasn't even a mention of yesterday's terrorist bombings in Madrid.

I see that if I am to try to bridge the cultural gap and learn something about my Indian co-workers, I must learn something about cricket.

Tomorrow morning when I wake up, I will find out whether 1/4 of the world's population is happy or sad.

The Passion of the Christ

Here is my stream of consciousness response to the movie:

• Bloody, brutal, sickening (the scourging);
  
• Dispassionate (both Jesus and Mary);
  
• Catholic (the nails in the traditional - but incorrect -- places);
  
• Betrayal;
  
• Inconguous (why use Latin instead of Greek?);
  
• Inevitable (it's not about "who killed Jesus");
  
• Compassion (Jesus, of course, and the woman with Simon);
  
• Creepy (that weird baby that Satan held);
  
• Disappointing (the resurrection was weak);
  
• Touching (the flashback of Mary running to her fallen child);
  
• Anticlimactic (I was relieved when Jesus died);
  
• OJ Simpson (when Barabas was released)
  
• Jewish (certainly a more authentic portrayal of Mary than we usually see);
  

I was truly puzzled that anyone could watch the movie and view it as anti-Semitic. Given that the events centered in a Jewish context, there was a full range of Jewish characters: heroic, good, weak, bystanders, and malicious. And even the role of villains (to use a move term) were split in a tie between the Romans and the Sanhedrin.

My theory is that there is something about this movie that causes us each to see what we are looking for (or what we are afraid of).

So I saw something different. I saw a world filled with weak people who made choices out of expediency. And I saw a few people whose faith shone through. But my final 'proof' for saying that the movie is like a mirror in which we see what we're looking for, is that there was a theme that seemed huge and blatant and obvious to me, that was mysteriously not noticed by any of the notable people who have publicly commented on the film. Are you ready for it?....

Did you notice how many of the people with faith (or at least an open mind, and compassion) were WOMEN? In addition to the obvious example of Mary the mother of Jesus, and the other Mary, you also have the wife of Pontius Pilate, the woman who exhorted Simon to 'help the holy man', and Veronica offering her head-covering to Jesus to wipe his face(extra-Biblical, but moving).

I was stirred to question myself and ask if I would have the courage to make the choice for faith and compassion in such a situation of danger. I don't know. But I want to be that kind of woman.