Yardenit

The Start of Something Big.

John the Baptist certainly struck a chord with the people of his time. His baptism - a baptism of repentance - was a real hit.

" Hey, let's go down to the river and see this wild man. Heard say that he's the new Isaiah, and he's calling us all to be baptised."

Or as the writer of the Gospel of Matthew notes: "Jerusalem and all Judea and all the regions around the Jordan went out to him. Confessing their sins, they were baptised by him in the Jordan River" (Matthew 3: 5-6).

Now that is a mass of people even allowing for the writer's hyperbole. I sure that John himself would have been surprised by the number of his countrymen and women who heeded his call for repentance at the advent of the Kingdom of Heaven. These were unsettled times and people were unsure about what was to happen. John's baptism gave them some security.

He would be even more astounded if he were to drop in at the Yardenit Baptismal Site on the Jordan in 2016. The people were streaming in from all parts of his world - assuming he was up with his Mediterranean geography - and from even further afield. They were coming from areas of the world unknown to him. From Sumatra and Suva they were coming. From China and Canada, Portugal and Paraguay, India in the east and Indiana in the west, Norway in the north and Sudan in the south, the crowds were coming in their thousands. The list would go on and include Nigeria, Ghana, United States of America, Mexico ,Taiwan and yes, even Australia.

Hastening towards the cool, forgiving waters of the Jordan they came in their sombreros and saris, their kilts and kimonos, their sun hats and Stetsons, their kimonos and yes, even in their Akubras and thongs. Jesus hoped that his good news of the Kingdom of God would spread to all corners of the world. Sitting in the cool breezes beside the Jordan I was given the impression that the gospel has indeed spread its comfort over the whole world. The joy of the gospel was clearly seen in the laughter and excitement shown by the visitors here. Their presence here was testimony to their faith.

Undergoing a baptism renewal at Yardenit Baptismal Site.

Most people who come to this Yardenit Baptismal Site do not come merely to reminisce on the activities of John the Baptist 2000 years ago, nor does the site commemorate his life and work. The traditional site where John operated was further south on the Jordan, nearer to the Dead Sea and Jerusalem. A baptismal site developed here at Qasr el Yahud where pilgrims could remember The Baptiser and also  undergo a baptism of rededicate. After the Six-Day war in 1967 this site was abandoned for security reasons and Yardenit was developed as an alternative place for pilgrims to visit.

Yardenit caters for Christians desiring to experience a Jordan River baptism, thus reliving the joy of their initial baptism. Probably most Christians were baptised as infants. Most? This is purely an assumption and I could be way off the mark. Now, as adults, they can take the opportunity to choose for themselves to undergo a rededication baptism. Here there  is a special dimension for Jesus himself was baptised by John in the Jordan.

It is uplifting to see the joy on the faces of all those people dressed in their white robes who have been dipped beneath the cool waters of the Jordan. Yes, fully dipped, completely submerged. They emerge shining in the sun and smiling amid the water dripping from their faces. This is truly an uplifting experience for all those who have chosen to renew the baptismal vows. One could only guess at the emotion of someone who is experiencing a first baptism here. Certainly something to remember daily for the rest of life.

To experience this with a group of like-minded Christians adds an extra dimension. Being part of a circle of people, standing in the Jordan River, happy in their faith which they have just now publically proclaimed surely provides a spiritual uplift.

Blessed are those who find joy in their faith, for their life will be fuller.

Jericho

Jericho

In a recent survey 100% of respondents, when asked to list three Holy Land cities or towns, named Jericho first ahead of Jerusalem. I also had placed Jericho first but that was probably because I had just been listening to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing that old spiritual, "Joshua fit the battle of Jericho". Yes, "fit", and old form of the past tense of fight.

It is true that a survey of both my wife and myself nominated Jericho first. I wonder how many others would have Jericho at the top of their list?

This old town does have a certain aura about it. This something special arises out of that Old Testament story (Joshua, chapter 6) when the Israelite army lead by Joshua marched around the city seven times and "the walls came a-tumbling down".

Fast forward a millennium and a half to New Testament times and Jericho gets a few mentions there as well. In the parable of the good Samaritan (Luke 10: 25-37) Jesus had the man who was attacked and robbed going from Jerusalem to Jericho. Here Jericho is incidental to the main thrust of the story and is not often retained by the reader. Luke (19: 1-10) also relates the story of the vertically-challenged tax collector, Zacchaeus, who climbed a sycamore tree to see Jesus as he made his way to his last week in Jerusalem.

All the three synoptic gospels record how Jesus restored sight to a blind man (Luke) named Bartimaeus (Mark) or to two blind men (Matthew) as he was coming to (Luke) or leaving (Matthew & Mark) Jericho on his way to Jerusalem. Lastly Jericho also comes up in Hebrews 11;30 but here the reference is again to the walls falling down.

And this is probably the reference we all remember when Jericho comes up in conversation. It has not been placed in the forgotten annals of old biblical cities. Not only biblical scholars, but also geomorphologists, archaeologists, seismologists, historians, to mention but a few have an interest in this old town.

Talking about an old town. A few months ago, my wife and I attended a fund-raising trivia night. One question - Which is the oldest city in the world? - I thought I had nailed. Wrong! The quizmaster gave the answer as Damascus. I appealed but to no avail for he maintained that his googling had come up with Damascus. Apparently this information has not reached the good citizens of Jericho for their sign still claims they live in the oldest city. I'll leave that one to the historians for further investigation.

A claim to be the oldest city in the world but can this claim stand up?

As a student of geography I am always interested in the landscape and landforms through which I travel. Jericho lies in a particularly interesting landform - a rift valley known as the Jordan Rift valley. Features such as this lie on very unstable regions of the world where gigantic tectonic plates are either rubbing together or pulling apart. As a result they are areas where earthquakes and volcanic activity are regular occurrences. It's hard to realise as one drives through this countryside which appears so stable and solid, that throughout recorded history many devastating earthquakes have occurred here. These have been earthquakes which have completely reduced towns and cities to heaps of rubble.

Archaeologists have claimed that Jericho appears to have been reconstructed at least twenty times in its long history. Citizens have continued to resettle here for springs of water emerging from the bordering hills have created an oasis in the dry surroundings. Jericho had often been referred to as the city of palms.

As we drive into this scattered Palestinian settlement the palm trees are there to wave us welcome. But the town we see is not the town through which Jesus passed. It is not the green oasis at which the pleading blind man could marvel after being touched by Jesus' healing hand. Nor is it the town from which the wealthy tax collector extorted his ill-gotten gains. Mind you, we stopped at a sycamore tree but I am not convinced it was the one climbed by Zacchaeus.

Somewhat like Jesus we came and passed through Jericho on our way to elsewhere else. We came here for it was the bottom end station of the cable car which ran up to the Greek Orthodox Monastery on the Mount of Temptation. And that's another story.

Israel's Landscape

Where were the Lilies?

I recently came across a quotation by Hildegard of Bingen which got me thinking about flowers and my recent trip to Israel. (Hildegard of Bingen, a famous polymath from the twelfth century, is a very interesting and inspiring person in herself; but that's another story.) Her statement went something like this:

"If I really see with open eyes what you, my God, have created, I am already living in heaven. I quietly collect roses, lilies and greenery in my skirt while praising your handiwork."

Immediately came to mind those words of Jesus to his disciples recorded in Luke 12:27:

"Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labour or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendour was dressed like one of these."

Don't worry, be happy. Good advice.

I always imagined Jesus standing on a green hillside with wild flowers adding colour to the scene. He and his disciples would be enjoying walking about in God's green, colourful creation when Jesus decided to use nature to make his point.

BUT! I searched in vain for green hills and lilies on our recent journeying around Israel. On the contrary, it was the dry, rocky, barren hillsides which grabbed my attention. And the Bedouins' sheep. What on earth could they find to eat, to live on? Here was no lush, green countryside.

What on earth do these goats find to live on?

My geography background came to the fore with an explanation. Wrong time of year for green grass. Israel is in the Mediterranean region where they have hot, dry summers, when everything in the countryside dries up, and this is followed by cool, wet winters. It is the rain in winter which encourages green growth. W e were visiting Israel at the end of summer when it was at its driest. Wrong time of year! Come winter and the accompanying rains and things would soon look different. It's all a matter of timing.

I am reminded of something I wrote some time ago after a visit my wife and I made to England. I called it "It's all in the timing". Here it is.

Before going on a trip I always check out what the place has to offer. If I plan to spend some time in an area (rather than just passing through) I research it even more thoroughly. Sure, the literature will always present a place in its best light and in its best season. Go in the off-season and you are likely to be disappointed.

A small example -

We were travelling around England with a general route in mind but no particular overnight stops planned. This was the first day and the M3 was taking us west from Heathrow where the hire car had been waiting (Yes, the plane was late!). It was soon time to stop for the day, pull off the motorway and find some lodgings for the night. We ended up in a small town called Stockbridge.The short stroll to stretch our legs before dinner took us to a small church surrounded by the graves of its former members and brilliant patches of daffodils. Lingering in this quiet beauty was just what the doctor ordered after a tiring 24 hours plane trip. And my wife loves visiting old church yards!

What a lovely surprise this turned out to be. What a beautiful experience to finish our first day in England. Stockbridge - actually the little old churchyard and the flowering daffodils - remained as a fond memory of England.

Church at Stockbridge, England, with daffodils - a sight to remember.

Fast forward a number of years.

This time we were heading for Somerset to track down some long-gone relatives. It was again the M3 taking us away from Heathrow.

"Let's stay at Stockbridge again."

Heeding the suggestion of the navigator, we did. We even booked in at the same old inn as previously. It seemed to have changed somewhat - not as cute. Our pre-dinner stroll took us back to the same little old church yard.

But, Oh dear! It looked drab and uncared for. There were no colourful flowers, no welcoming daffodils. It was a place to be passed unnoticed.

This second visit was a few months later in the year than our initial visit. And the difference a few months can make. As my golf coach would always say, "Timing is everything."

Same town, same church, different time of year!

Church of the Primacy of St Peter

The Church of the Primacy of St Peter

In Tabgha on the north-west shore of The Sea of Galilee stands the Church of the Primacy of St Peter.

We were walking down the tree-lined avenue ( including a number of fine, tall eucalypts) when he said to me, "I'm just about churched out. What's this one all about?"

I must admit that the last few hours had been a case of "in the bus", a very short drive, "out of the bus", " forty minutes should be enough", a quick visit to the church, which church? "is everyone back yet?"  short drive.....

But back to the shade of the cooling eucalypts. We were approaching a chocky, blue-stone chapel with the blue waters of the Sea of Galilee shining behind it. A small, rectangular sign near the front entrance reading "Sacellum Primatus Sancti Petri" provided an answer to my companion who was wondering which church we were now visiting. It would provide an answer, assuming that he had not forgotten his school-boy Latin.

This was the Chapel (Sacellum) of the Primacy (Primatus) of St Peter (Sancti Petri). "Fine", he said, guessing an approximate translation of the Latin, "but what's it all about?"

I resisted saying, "read in the Bible, St John, chapter 21 and you will know all about it." This chapter has always seemed a little strange to me. It raises in my mind as many questions as it has answers. But that's another matter and I won't go with that now.

This chapel does commemorate events that are related in John 21. It relates especially to verses 15 - 17.

 When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, " Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?"

" Yes, Lord," he said, " you know that I love you."

Jesus said, " Feed my lambs."

Again Jesus said, " Simon, son of John, do you truly love me?"

He answered, " Yes, Lord, you know that I love you."

Jesus said, " Take care of my sheep."

The third time he said to him, " Simon, son of John, do you love me?"

Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him a third time, " Do you love me?" He said," Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you."

Jesus said, " Feed my sheep."

Keeping in mind Peter's thrice denial at the crucifixion, this three times questioning of his love towards his Lord is taken as Jesus reinstating Peter as the leader of the apostles. Jesus' final reply of " Feed my sheep" implies that he should now dedicate his life to proclaiming the Gospel; a compelling invitation from Jesus.

Bronze statue of Jesus empowering St Peter.

The bronze statue, on the shore of the Sea near the chapel is a graphic picture of Jesus "knighting" Peter for his future job, with the shepherd's crook. This church, according to tradition, marks the spot where Jesus' forgiveness was forthcoming. Whether it is or it isn't, is not really that important. What is important is the story told here by John which has had so many repercussions in the centuries since then.

As with many of the holy sites in Israel, this church is administered by the Franciscan Custody of the Holy Land. It is relatively new, being built in 1933. However it was built on the foundations of a much earlier church dating back to the fourth century.

Inside the church one finds a memorial to another of the events related in John, chapter 21. This concerns Jesus cooking a breakfast of fish for the seven disciples who were present on this occasion. The fish came from a bountiful catch which the fishermen-disciples had just made at the suggestion of Jesus. (Shades of Luke 5:1-11 here!). The limestone rock pushing up through the floor of the chapel in front of the altar is reputed to be the "table" on which Jesus prepared and served this breakfast. It is known as the "Mensa Christi" (table of Christ), as the sign indicates.

Inside the Church of the Primacy of St Peter with the Mensa Christi forming a dominant feature in front of the altar.

Churched out or not, people who visit this chapel certainly are encouraged by the various elements displayed, to go back to the sources which refer to Simon, or Peter, or Rocky. They also have the opportunity to ponder more deeply on the loving forgiveness so freely given by Jesus as shown in his relationship with Peter. For many there is the urge to look more closely at how this idea of the primacy of St Peter has played out within the Christian Church throughout the ages. There is also the spur to study more carefully and critically John, chapter 21. For many biblical scholars John's gospel appears to end at the conclusion of chapter 20, and chapter 21 is an afterthought, a PS.

A visit to a holy site can lead the pilgrim off onto many different paths. Where did  this visit to The Church of the Primacy of St Peter lead you who have visited it? Or had it, as I could well understand, become indistinguishable from the many other churches you saw when you were a little "churched out"?

Pomegranates

Red Seduction 

 No, you are no fair maiden, secretively bathing, surrounded only by the evening air. You are standing boldly, your arm outstretched, ready to deliver your delights.

The moment I first saw you I was seduced. I had to have you. I had to taste the sweet nectar you had to offer. The royal blood red of your seduction. You jezebel, you! Can I taste you now?

But alas, no. The marching flag at the head of our small group would not wait, would not stand still. That which is up ahead is awaiting us. It kept moving forward, striving towards the next, leaving me no time to tarry and taste.

But you would not go away. Should I be in the Shepherds' Field; you were there. You came with me to Bethlehem to remember the Saviour's birth. Should I climb the walls of the Holy City; you were there. In every alley, Arab, Jew, Christian, your arm was there beckoning, welcoming me. Even in the coolness of the Garden tomb, your agent was here, on a tree, smiling, tempting.

Hidden shyly behind the leaves of the tree but still ed and appealing.

For how long, oh, for how long shall we be apart?

You hid in the walls of God's own synagogue, even in the city where Jesus walked, talked and taught. There in the ruins of the Capernaum holy place you lay, rejected, but reaching. I smiled, walked away, waiting for another time, another place.

Carved in stone looking down on Jesus as he attended his synagogue.

 And I am weak. I could not refuse you. Here on the shores of the Dead Sea, I tasted of your sweetness, of your coolness. Here beside the Dead Sea, you brought life back into my tiring, salty, thirsting body.

Here beside the Dead Sea I had finally tasted your delights and was satisfied.

Plump, red pomegranates.

( Note.  An alternative version of this post would read as follows: After a few days thinking, " I wouldn't mind a glass of that," finally at the Dead Sea I did have a glass of freshly pressed pomegranate juice.)

Holocaust museum, Israel

Yad Vashem

Here the victims of the holocaust have been given a place and a name. Ezekiel 37:14. I will put my spirit in you and you will live, and I will settle you in your own land.

How does one describe the scent of a rose, the colour of a rainbow, the laughter of children, the sadness of the mourner?

I have, you have, we all have smelled the rose, seen the rainbow, heard the children and experienced grief. Our reactions remain our own. They become part of us. We may feel some communion with people who have had a similar to our own but.... One's words are not able to express fully and accurately the inmost feelings of the individual.

A walk through the concrete triangle at Yad Vashem leaves us all with emotions which cannot be communicated. They will remain with us and.... and then what?

Yes, a highly emotional experience,

a compelling educational experience,

a deeply challenging experience

and for me also a many-questioning experience.

A Time for thinking and remembering.

Yes, I came away with many questions in my mind. And yes , many were WHY questions. They have been asked time after time and I wonder if anyone has ever received  satisfying answers. I'll pass on them this time. Instead, I want to share an IS question with you, an IS question in various alternatives.

Is murdering a child more monstrous than-

euthanizing an aged person,

or aborting a pre-natal life?

Or speaking numerically: Is taking one life less sinful than taking two, or ten or a thousand?

Perhaps speaking nationally: Is there a hierarchy of mass murder? Or being specific, which should be judged the more barbaric -

Russian tanks killing fleeing German citizens?

British Lancasters bombing German cities?

Nazi Germany's warped ideology murdering Jews?

Israelite swords slaughtering the residents of ancient Jericho?

How the lists could go on.

The evil that initially forcefully ruled in the triangular tunnel of Yad Vashem was finally defeated. That evil which did not overcome those people who were seen speaking about their ordeal in the memorial, is now seen as a black page in history. Thank God for that.

It is right that the past should be remembered, and that victims of injustice be honoured. In all of this it is important also that optimism for the future be not forgotten.

Through the Memorial and Oh! the spectacular vista, not only for the visitors but also for those who in the words of Ezekiel  "are now settled in their own land" .

Bethlehem, the Shepherds' Field

The Shepherds' Field

I must admit that when I first considered going on a trip to Israel I had no idea of what would be involved. It was not so high on my bucket list. What would one really see there? No doubt one would be visiting the various obvious places like Jerusalem, the Sea of Galilee, Bethlehem, Nazareth, perhaps Cana. That's about as far as my thinking went.

Then when the detailed itinerary came to me, and I looked at it seriously, I was somewhat surprised, at the list of sites which would be visited. Such places as the Church of the Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes, Mount of the Leap, Shepherds' Field, the House of Simon the Potter were far from my mind. These are biblical references I am aware of, but to give them a specific geographical location, to place these events on a map, this I was not expecting.

Yes, I realised, I would have a lot to see and think about. But let's jump forward a few months and here I am on the outskirts of the Palestinian town of Bethlehem, visiting the Shepherds' Field - well, one of them.

Entrance to the Shepherds' Field of the Franciscan Custody of the Holy Land (Glory to God in the highest).

The entrance arch to the site certainly has a biblical, Christmassy ring about it : Gloria in excelsis deo. Glory to God in the highest (Luke 2:14). Then the wide path leads up to a small chapel resembling a tent. The interior is decorated with angels, shepherds, sheep and mosaics depicting appropriate nativity scenes. The light that shines through the circular glass panels in the ceiling is a more subtle reminder of the light (the Glory of God, Luke 2:9) that shone about the shepherds on that eventful evening.

The interior of this chapel did create the right atmosphere to hear St Luke's account of the shepherds' experience, and to sing a couple Christmas carols. (The reading had to come from St Luke's gospel, for Mark, which is Pastor Peter's favourite gospel, does not contain any nativity stories; but that's another story.) It may have theoretically been the wrong time to sing carols but in this chapel any time of the year would be the right time.

Oh, and our Italian architect Antonio Barluzzi was responsible for the design of this building as well with its simple but pointed decorations. No doubt we shall meet him again.

The chapel at the Shepherds' Field.

As for the actual shepherds' field which opened out to the side of the chapel, it was dry, barren, stony; certainly not good sheep grazing country, in my mind. The only sheep I saw were marble ones which formed part of the fountain beside the chapel.

Water fountain beside the Shepherds' Field chapel.

Making a bee-line for the "souvenir" shop. Boaz also has laid claim to a nearby field.

Talking about fields. I noticed a few interesting names as we made our way under the Glory to God in the highest arch in leaving this site. Ahead was Bo'az Field Souviner Shop, to which some members of our tour group were hastening. A little further down the road was a sign to Ruth's Field Restaurant. It appears that other people were laying claim to the field, or one nearby, as well as the shepherds.

Boaz and Ruth. Now there are two names that ring a faint bell.

Ruth. That's that short book of the Old Testament squeezed between Judges and Samuel. Can never find it easily when you want it! I usually have to look up the page number at the beginning of the Bible to find its exact location. And yes, we know the story of Ruth and her mother-in-law, Naomi, especially that bit which goes, " Where you go, I will go and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God" (Ruth 1:16). Ruth was the model daughter-in-law. But how does the story end?

Then Boaz. Some of us may be a little hazy about him. He ended up being Ruth's husband, with a little help from Naomi. When Naomi and Ruth left the land of Moab, they came back to Naomi's hometown of Bethlehem, where Boaz was a land-owner. So it seems that Boaz and his family were grazing their flocks on these fields as well. It's a small world.

Boaz and Ruth had a son, Obed, who was the father of Jesse. Jesse was the father of King David. This means that Ruth was King David's grandmother. When you think about it, this makes the great King David, the hero of all the Jews, part Moabite. But that's another story as well.

Painting inside the Shepherds' Field Chapel. A picture can represent many words, but the words which the artist had read and interpreted. The viewer does an individual reading. 

Church of the Redeemer, Jerusalem

Church of the Redeemer in Jerusalem

Sonntag, der neunte Oktober, und wir sind alle sehr früh aufgestanden, weil wir...Moment mal..Just a minute. We are going to the English service at nine o'clock and not the German one? That changes everything. Let's start this all again!

Die Erlöserkirche in Jerusalem must now be referred to as the Church of the Redeemer in Jerusalem. Same church, different language. We are headed there for Sunday morning worship service before making our way up to Tiberius on the Sea of Galilee. This should be a memorable occasion; going to church in this massive Lutheran Church in the middle of old Jerusalem. And it is just a stone's throw from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which many see as the holiest of Christian shrines.

The Lutheran Church of the Redeemer in Jerusalem (Die Erlöserkirche).

Inside the beautiful side chapel of the Church of the Redeemer where English worship is held every Sunday at 9.00am.

This huge limestone church was built on land given by Sultan Abdulaziz of the Ottoman Empire (which at this time was in control of these areas) to the German Kaiser Wilhelm I. This seems to be another case of it's not what you know but whom you know. So the present church has German origins, hence being called die Erlöserkirche. The church was built over the site of the twelfth century Crusader Church of St Maria Latina. This isn't surprising for most buildings in the Holy Land are built on the site or over the remains of an earlier construction. It was dedicated on Reformation Day in 1898 and today is the home to a multi-lingual group of Christians. Services are conducted in  Arabic , Danish, English and German.

But enough history. We have come here to worship and not to be given a history lesson. Salah with his impeccable driving got us to the church on time and we filed in full of expectation. I was a little disappointed that our service was held in a smaller side chapel rather than the main church. No matter. It's the Word not the where, and the side chapel was lovely.

I had taken a seat in the second back row of pews for I wanted to get a few photographs. Then Wendy, who had taken the back pew, tapped me on the shoulder and asked, " Is this really a Lutheran church?"

"Yes," I assured her. "Why do you ask?"

" Well," she explained, "the front pews were filled first  and there is an ordained female Pastor, a woman Pastor."

"This is Jerusalem, Love, not Australia!"

Then the service progressed in a liturgical format with which we are quite familiar - except for the occasional "foreign" insertion such as " Yarabba ssalami amter alayna ssalam".  But wasn't it great to be worshipping with folk from around the world, communing with them,  united in a similar faith? And what made it all the more poignant was that we were gathered here in the land where Jesus also worshipped.

And had he been here with us in person I'm sure he would have given his nod of approval. Listening to Pastor Carrie's address I'm sure he would have been shaking his head in disbelief in what he was hearing from the pulpit. Not that he would disagree with anything she said but that she needed to repeat the same message which he was giving two thousand years ago.

"Oh you thick-headed people! Didn't you get the message I was trying to give you those many years ago? I came trying to break down barriers - well, social ones mainly- and here you are erecting high walls, walls to exclude and not to include. My message of love did not exclude people, but embraced them."

Pastor Carrie's address, if you remember, was based on the reading from 2 Tim. 2:8-15, and she emphasised especially that "God's word is not chained" (2 Tim. 2:9). It cannot be contained by walls of any kind. She has agreed that I could remind you of some of what she said in that address. Here is a short extract:

The Rev. Carrie Smith welcoming tour leader, Graeme, and his group from Australia.

The word of God is not chained! 

These seven words, written from a prison cell and sent to an unsure disciple, are a love letter to all who wonder if love really wins. 

These seven words come to us as a much-needed letter of encouragement this Sunday morning, because there are some weeks when the brokenness of the world can really bring a disciple down. 

Almost every day this week brought shocking news out of Syria…or out of the United States.

This week a long and hard-fought peace deal fell apart in Colombia…by the vote of the people…just days before their president won the Nobel Peace Prize for his work to negotiate it.

This week, Israel once again announced the building of a new settlement, deep in the West Bank, in direct violation of previous agreements with the international community…and my country is still sending 38 billion dollars. 

All around us, it seems the Gospel principles of love, peace, justice, and dignity for all creation are being imprisoned by walls of fear. 

All around us, we see the preachers, advocates, and workers for this same Gospel being persecuted, reviled, and mocked…while the voices of division, racism, sexism, and even fascism seem tolerated and accepted. 

So who could blame us for feeling a bit like Timothy? 

Who could blame a disciple for feeling, at times, that maybe we just aren’t up to the task of preaching peace, of advocating for justice, of promoting human rights, or of speaking truth to power? 

Who could blame us for hesitating before following the Apostle Paul to prison—or following Jesus to the cross—for the sake of a Gospel the world seems determined to fight against? 

But hear again the words of Paul to our brother Timothy: 

The word of God is not chained! 

It’s true, the powers and principalities of the world may oppress and imprison the preachers of love and liberation…

The powers and principalities of the world may conspire to bind the Gospel of love, to keep it from being preached and lived… 

But such attempts will always fail, because the word of God is not chained! 

The word of God is not chained because Christ is both crucified and risen, liberated from the tomb!

The word of God is not chained because we have been given an Advocate, the Holy Spirit, who teaches us and reminds us of all Jesus has said!

The word of God is not chained because it is alive within all who have been washed in the waters of baptism!"

(The rest of the sermon, and who knows, maybe some good knitting patterns, can be found on Carrie's blog: knitpurlpraypreach.blogspot.co.il )

We pray that Pastor Carrie's work there in the Holy Land will be abundantly blessed. I'm sure she was given the thumbs up by Jesus sitting in the pews on that Sunday . He may have been shaking his head but he had to be thinking, "I'm on your side, Carrie!"

The proud tower of the Church of the Redeemer in Jerusalem. This late nineteenth church overlooks the centre of the Holy City.

Dead Sea Mud Bath

A Highlight at our Lowest Point

For some: " Do you remember..?"  For others: " Have you ever heard of ... Flanders and Swan?"  First a quick reminder  just so that we are reading off the same page. Flanders and Swan were the names of a popular English comedy duo who entertained numerous Revue Theatre goers in the 1950s and 60s. They would present clever, amusing songs which they had composed themselves. One such song that I remember was entitled The Hippopotamus Song, the chorus of which went:

                Mud, mud, glorious mud,

                Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood.

                So follow me, follow, down to the hollow,

                And there let us wallow in glorious mud. 

OK, no prizes for guessing why this particular song came to mind during our visit to the Dead Sea and the mud treatment there. I wonder, however, how many of us would have opted for this rather dirty treatment if Graeme and Gail had not forced it upon us? A few comments I overheard on the bus driving down there seemed to indicate a reluctance. Yes, we were cajoled into tasting the experience. Perhaps not tasting.

Having accepted their gift (thanks to both of you!) we applied it as best we could often with a little help from a friend. It felt so slithery and slimy, so smooth and sensuous, that it had to be good for us.

When it all boils down we are all kids at heart, wanting to play in the mud.

I was very surprised at its feel and I am no stranger to mud. As a child I was constantly exposed to it, playing in it, eating it, creating with it, throwing it, tramping through it.

An example: the local creek also doubled as our swimming pool. The main swimming hole, just down from Jimmy Logan's place, was deep, long and wide - well to us kids anyway - with clear, clean water. The banks consisted of rich, fertile, black loam, the signature of the Lockyer Valley in Queensland. As a hot Saturday afternoon wore on, these banks became wetter and wetter, slippier and slippier and muddier and muddier. Teams were chosen and the mud fight began. The clear, clean home of the resident Jew fish and eels soon became a muddy water hole being totally abused by a group of shouting, shiny, black kids.

Compared with the Dead Sea mud our Tent Hill Creek mud had a similar colour but the texture contrasted greatly.  The small stones, the grit, the small sticks and rotting vegetation  which were part of its fertility, added an extra dimension to its feel. And they heightened its impact. Bruises, scratches and sore eyes were often after-marks of our Saturday afternoon fun. And maybe, I'm thinking, our mud-baths were just as healthy as these Dead Sea equivalents. After all they were accompanied by vigorous exercise.

Undoubtedly the Dead  Sea packs have a very high concentration of salts and minerals. I have read there are about 35 present. The main ones are magnesium, sodium, potassium, calcium, bromide - a regular chemistry lesson. And these are able to produce some healthy results.

Prevent hair loss ( Can't give my childhood mud fights a tick for this).

Reduce the appearance of cellulite (No comment here).

Reduce arthritic knee pain ( the way most of us were running around the Dead Sea seemed to indicate that this was the case).

Improve the look of facial skin ( I'll leave you and your mirror to give a verdict on this).

Three happy mud larks enjoying a cleansing mud bath.

This all added up to many photographs of shining white teeth and a lot of good, healthy fun.

Advertisers note: If you want to relive this therapeutic experience you can order packets of Dead  Sea mud on the net and bring it right into your own home.

Mud, mud, glorious mud,

Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood....