Quick info
Services:
Sundays
9 am during summer
Child care provided
Office hours:
Tuesday - Friday
9 am - noon
Location:
5705 Lacy Rd.
Fitchburg WI 53711
View map
Phone:
608-273-1008
Calendar
Our events
Contact info
Names, e-mails
Become a fan
| O LIttle Town of Bethlehem |
|
This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it
(Please feel free to send questions or comments) Dec. 6, 2009 Micah 5: 1-5; Luke 3: 1-6 May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable to you, O God, who sent your word to live among us. Amen. Those readings we heard this morning have some pretty vivid imagery in them. Micah talks about a city walled off, under siege from its enemies. He was writing about Jerusalem. We saw walls like that between Israel and the West Bank as we traveled through the Holy Land last month. We saw the wall that separates the Jerusalem metro area from Bethlehem. Micah talked about a little city called Bethlehem, out of which would come David, the warrior-king, one of the heroic figures of the Hebrew Bible; and Jesus, the one whom Christians sometimes call the Prince of Peace. The tensions between war and peace define life in this city just to the south of Jerusalem. And as Luke begins his gospel -- his good news about the life of this Jesus -- he sets the story in the occupied lands of Galilee, where Jesus grew up, and those of Judea, where he was born and where he would die. The Romans occupied those lands then. Other great powers have fought over this turf across the centuries. Now Israel governs the lands in Galilee where Palestinian Christians and Muslims live as second-class citizens and it occupies the West Bank, where daily life is defined by walls and checkpoints and soldiers. In the midst of this first century scene, where the rulers seemed to hold all the cards, Luke writes about a strange man who emerges from the wilderness, calling to account both the Jewish leaders who collaborated with the Romans and the individual Jewish residents who had lost their sense of purpose in life . But John’s message was not simply one of scolding. He also echoed earlier prophets with a vision of hope for a different kind of future: “Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill made low, and the crooked straight and the rough ways made smooth and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.” It almost makes you want to break into an aria from Handel’s Messiah. These readings help set the stage for the story of Christmas as we move through Advent toward our celebration of God entering into our world through Jesus. But as you might have already guessed from some of the references I made, they are also readings that resonate with the situation right now in places like Jerusalem and Bethlehem. So let me pick up a few themes connected to these readings and relate them to the stories of some of the people our small group from Memorial met last month during our two-week trek through Israel/Palestine. (Stories are at Pastor Phil's Place.) One of those themes is displacement. When Micah was writing about the siege of Jerusalem, he was foreshadowing what was to come. Eventually, the Babylonians would drive the leading lights of Judaism out of Jerusalem into exile in Babylon – present day Iraq. Jews throughout the centuries have known the agony of displacement, often accompanied by persecution. In our era, the story has particularly horrific overtones from the Holocaust perpetrated by the Nazis in World War II. Dalia Landau’s family lived right at the edge of that. They were in Bulgaria during World War II and barely missed being sent to a concentration camp. After the war, when Dalia was just a baby, her family moved to the new nation of Israel, where they thought they could find safety in a Jewish homeland. It was not that simple, of course. Dalia’s family moved into a house in the city of Ramle that had previously been the home of the al-Khairi family, which had been driven out by the Israeli Defense Forces. Over the years, Dalia came to know Bashir al-Khairi, her contemporary from the family that once lived in that house. She was troubled by his story and troubled by his involvement with Palestinians who supported violent acts. She eventually used the house as a place to try to create peaceful co-existence between Israeli Arabs and Jews. (Read about the Open House project here.) We had dinner with Dalia at a restaurant in Jerusalem and listened to her talk about her fears and her hopes in this land filled with displaced people. Amal Othman’s family is among those who know displacement. Amal lives in Madison. She is the person who delivers those wonderful bottles of Palestinian olive oil to us. She has joined us here before on occasion. She was in Israel and Palestine at the same time our group was there. She was with a group called Interfaith Peace-Builders, an amazing organization. While she was there, she went to find her mother’s family home just outside of Jerusalem. Her parents were forced out of Israel in 1967 and fled to Jordan, where Amal was born. So for her, this trip was more than one of observation. It was also a trip back to her family’s home before their displacement. She wrote this: “We went to Jabel Al Mukaber , a small town near Jerusalem where my mother was born. We drove by the 27-foot high wall that separates, in some areas, Palestinian towns from Palestinian towns slicing through the lives of families and friends, farmers and their land, students and their schools. “I’ve read about it. I’ve seen pictures of it. And now I have no words to describe it after seeing it with my own eyes. It’s a beast; a devastating reality that prevents any kind of dialogue between the two peoples to achieve a just peace.” Remember those words from Micah: “Now you are walled around with a wall, a siege is laid against us.” If one theme of our readings today – and of our trip – was a theme of displacement, and another is a theme of occupation, there were other themes. Just as John the Baptist challenged the powers of First Century Israel, so are there people in both Israel and Palestine challenging the powers of today – not with guns or rockets or bombs, although those are part of the reality here, but with the telling of stories and the creation of new ways of living, much as John the Baptist called the people of the first century to a new way of living. The work Dalia Landau and the work of the Interfaith Peace-Makers are examples of this. So, too is the work of Hani Abu Haikel, a Muslim in Hebron, and of Rami Khader and of Raida Jeries Monsour and of Naila Kharroub, Christians in Bethlehem. Hani’s story captured the hearts of all of us who visited him. He is the father of four wonderful children, living on a hill in Hebron. But right next to him is an Israeli settlement, so he cannot use the regular roads in the city. He and his children (and visitors like us) have to hike up and down a steep and winding path to get to his house. When his wife was in labor with their youngest child, the ambulance he had pre-arranged to take her to the hospital could not get through three Israeli checkpoints, so he wound up carrying his wife down the treacherous icy path in the dark to get her to the hospital. He told us how his neighbor’s house had been occupied by Israeli soldiers and then destroyed. Yet instead of living in bitterness or resorting to retaliatory violence for all that has happened to him, Hani and friends have rebuilt the neighbor’s house as an after-school educational for children. They have classes in English and in video production and in non-violence. "My culture was to throw rocks," Hani told us. "I don't want my kids to be like that." When they see a settler or a soldier harass a Palestinian in Hebron, these youngsters get it on video and post it on You Tube instead of grabbing rocks. Rami and Raida and Naila are part of the projects generated by our partners at Christmas Lutheran Church in Bethlehem. Rami manages the ever-expanding health and wellness center. Raida is the parish nurse. Naila is the principal of the school. They are part of a team of people creating a future for Christians and Muslims in Bethlehem in the midst of occupation. They are doing just what John the Baptist was talking about two millennium ago – making the crooked places straight and the rough places smooth. Overlaying all of this in a land that three great faith traditions call holy is an amazing mix of spirituality. We woke up to the Muslim call to prayer coming from the mosques and to church bells ringing from steeples. We listened as very orthodox Jews prayed on the Sabbath evening and we sang along with our Christian companions at Christmas Lutheran Church on a Sunday morning. One of the richest moments for our group came beneath the streets of Bethlehem in an old cave discovered under the International Center that is part of Christmas Lutheran Church. We gathered there one evening for a time of prayer and reflection on all that we were experiencing while we were in Israel and Palestine. And then Nancy Baumgardner took out her wooden recorder and played the music she had learned on an earlier trip to Bethlehem for an Arabic version of the Lord’s Prayer – a prayer that goes back to the time of Jesus, using some of the tones that are embedded in this culture. In a few minutes, we’ll hear an even earlier version in Aramaic, the language that Jesus spoke as he walked the roads of this land. But for now, please ponder some of these images as Nancy plays the Arabic Our Father. |