home sweet home

I’m home again.

I walked back into my flat in Cairo this evening. There were empty Pepsi bottles that we had left on the table from about a month ago and our shower still hardly spits out any water. It feels so good to be back.

Now I’ve got to write 7 papers in 3 days. Gettin’ right on that…

beautiful truth

Jerusalem has a way of making things come alive in a new way.

I was walking down the street with a guy named Vincent the other day. He had given us a tour of the Temple Mount a little earlier and had pointed out so many really cool symbolic things that I had never thought of before. I asked him some questions we had seen and he began to talk to me about the incredible richness that was hidden in this culture—the places, the tradition, the history, and especially the language. Hebrew is still spoken by the Jews and, although it has obviously evolved over time, it still contains so much of its ancient roots that assume a familiarity with the culture…which makes full translation a difficult task. He shared with me an example of what he meant and it blew me away.

“Shalom” is a pretty handy word here. Literally it means peace and it serves as a greeting, a blessing or a farewell. It can also be used to refer to something that has intentionally been brought to pass or accomplished. Picture it as though such a thing, while still unaccomplished is divided into two separate parties that are naturally disconnected, but during a willed action the two parties are brought towards each other until they meet in one successful achievement. Vincent said to think of yourself at the start of a race with the whole track laid out before you separating you and the finish line. As you run the race, every step makes you a participant in the process of shalom and its fullness is reached when you break the tape. Shalom has been attained—peace established—the gap filled. What was incomplete and lacking is made whole. Cool huh?

Ok, listen to this…when we read John 19 in English, Jesus cries from the cross “It is finished!” but in the Hebrew translation he says “Nas shalaam!” (past tense of shalom). Do you catch what that means? How beautiful is that?! Not only is Christ calling out that his mission is over, that the ultimate sacrifice has been accomplished, he is announcing that Peace has arrived. Man and God are no longer on opposite sides; Jesus has joined them. Stretching back through history God’s plan has been in the process of bringing about shalom and with those words Christ bestows it. Redemption, in all its fullness, is realized. It’s as if in that phrase he is saying to me, “this is shalom…take it. you have my peace. you are made whole. with this, I have attained you.”

Here’s something else.

I said in my last entry that at times I get a little frustrated with how built-up everything is with the elaborate buildings and the hypothetical details of traditions, but here is one that I liked a lot. The Church of the Holy Sepulcher is built on the mound of bedrock that they think was probably the site of Calvary and much of the rock is able to be seen through glass windows in the walls. In one section, you can see a deep crack that goes down through the rock directly under the site of the cross—one that was caused by the massive earthquake recorded in the gospels. According to some Christian tradition, Adam’s grave was imbedded somewhere deep in that very section of rock. It is said that Christ’s blood ran down that crack and touched the skull of Adam. Jesus was Adam’s Savior. I think that is amazing symbolism, bringing full circle God’s mercy upon sinners as Christ’s blood transcends time and atones for sins throughout all of history in its exhaustiveness. And along with Adam, it covers me and you.

“Just as the result of one sin was condemnation for all men, so also the result of one act of righteousness was justification that brings life for all men. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous. The law was added so that the sin might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Romans 5.

The richness of these things is so real here. It makes my understanding seem shallow sometimes, like I just glance over it because, hey, I’ve read it before. God, open my eyes and my heart and keep me swept up in your greatness.

trippin' around the Middle East

I’ve actually not been very faithful in keeping this up to date lately, but really, I don’t know how time has gone this fast. Has it really been since Turkey since I’ve written about my big road trip around the Middle East? Because since then…

I booked it through Syria…which was kind of a stick-it-to-the-State-Department’s-travel-warning stay, and ya know, we all like to do that from time to time. It was allowed because we did it “in transit” to Jordan and it was only one night. In a matter of hours we were able meet with a Syrian Orthodox priest and monk to discuss Christianity in Syria and also the compatibility of his Orthodoxy and (largely American) Protestantism. And for the all of the debatable things I could say about that, I’ll limit it to admitting that his epic beard and monkish robes were much cooler than anything I've ever seen a pastor wear. He was a big, portly guy and had a deep rumbling laugh that made you want to sit at his feet and listen to stories, or shake his massive hands so yours gets swallowed, or buy a sticker of him and put it on the front of your notebook. I chose that last one. We also went to Damascus and shopped around for a while. Proudly on display everywhere, even in the windows of the ice cream shop for all to see, where posters of Sheik Nasralla and Hezbollah. You could even buy a t-shirt. It was really sort of weird to see…but I guess that’s Syria.

Jordan was a little bit more welcoming. We were in Amman for a couple of days and went up to see Mt. Nebo, where Moses was shown the Promised Land but not allowed to enter it. I could look out over the valley below and see the corner of the Dead Sea, the Jordan River valley, and the outskirts of Jericho. Then came another two days in Petra where we pretended to be Indiana Jones in the enormous buildings carved into the rocks. I spent most of the day climbing on the mountains all around the rocks though and eventually got to the very top, which in mountain-climber lingo is to say that I summited. The next day, we got our first taste of Israeli security as we crossed the Jordanian/Israeli border. Any other border crossing has taken us maybe 30 minutes or so…add about 2 hours onto that with much more elaborate searching process and many guards packing large machine guns patrolling around and it’s a pretty accurate picture of an Israeli welcome.

And finally, we’ve been in Jerusalem for a little over a week now. It’s been a huge mix of feelings for me being here. On the one hand, I can’t believe I’m walking down the Via Delarosa—the street that Jesus walked for me up to Calvary—or that I’m praying at the Western Wall of the Temple, or that I’m checking out a breathtaking panoramic view of the old city while sitting on the Mount of Olives. It is seriously an indescribable feeling to be in these places…like I’m on holy ground…and I can physically feel it through my feet and legs. This is where Jesus walked.

But then the other side of that is that everywhere that is considered a holy site here has been through centuries of adorning and glorification. Places like the Garden of Gethsemane and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher (which the Greek Orthodox call the Church of Resurrection) are so ornately embellished with gold and silver and towering architecture that it is somewhat distracting from a the real focus of what these places represent and the events that took place there. I don’t think the last hours of Christ were filled with anything big and fancy. I guess that building all these different holy places up is in an effort to honor the significance of what happened and so I appreciate that and I did enjoy visiting them…I’d just rather be in the middle of some trees in Gethsemane instead of a huge cathedral.

This is really the most religious place in the world. The Old City section of Jerusalem is divided into quarters assigned to the Jews, Muslims, Christians, and Armenians, but really everyone is mixed around. The other day I was walking in the Muslim area of the city where people were praying towards Mecca and the Qur’an was being played over the stereo, when all of a sudden a Christian group that was carrying a cross were walking the route of the Via Delarosa singing songs and playing Christian music, while dozens of Orthodox Jews all dressed up were coming from prayer at the Temple and trying to get through the crowds. It was a snapshot into the complexity of at least three major religions competing for the same limited real estate and the inevitable clashes that are a result.

And then start the politics…

I’m not even going to try and touch that right now, but it is so important to recognize the inseparable link that is here between religion and politics. Everywhere you go here, it’s in your face…and for the most part, I’m getting hit pretty hard. And I’m glad for that.

turkish delight

Yeah, I’m still in the Middle East…but the other day I saw snow. Well, I guess depends if you feel comfortable with qualifying Turkey as part of the Middle East, which is actually more complicated than you might think. But still, being in snow made me realize that I was out of the desert and what I remember November feeling like…and also that I did not pack a very heavy coat.

Since last Thursday I’ve been in Turkey, first seeing Istanbul and now writing from Ankara, the capital city. Istanbul is wonderful. I remember even from World History class in high school, thinking that Istanbul would be an amazing place to see, and, well…it is. We toured around some of the really famous places, including Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque (do a Google Image search on both and imagine walking through there) and also some traditional Turkish markets, where I did buy a nice assortment of Turkish delight as well as a scarf to try and make up for my light jacket.

I even walked from Europe to Asia one afternoon.

Everything here is just so unique. It seriously feels like Europe all around the city—the way people dress, the advertisements, the old castles covered with ivy, little tea and coffee shops everywhere…and it might sound simple, but just seeing hills covered with trees again makes it feel more familiar. Turkish people love the feeling of being modern…or should I say, Western (the two terms have become almost synonymous here). Its made me wonder if perhaps Turkey’s current bid to join the EU is, at its roots, an attempt to make the jump from just being up and trendy to officially recognized as an integrated part of the Western world. After a couple of days of walking around Istanbul, it’s something that certainly seems to make a lot of sense.

But Turkey is a lot more complicated than that. Just as warming up to Europe looks pretty promising, up pop some of obstacles that remind the Turks that they don’t really fit anywhere. It not only has to do the requirements of the EU—which, in Turkish opinion, continue to change—but the effort to stabilize many of the internal problems. To cite only one example of the complexity, meet Mustafa Kamel (aka Ataturk), the undisputed and nearly worshipped national hero of Turkey, whose monumental gravesite I just visited today. Following WWI, Ataturk took power during a revolution and united the Turkish people from under rubble of the crumbling Ottoman Empire, thanks to his powerful leadership and vision. His reforms began to secularize the government and society of Turkey, which he saw as essential to bringing about the modernization that the Ottomans had utterly failed to jump on. This plan was a pretty comprehensive remodeling project with implications that included a militarily-motivated nationalism and the institutionalization of religious leaders, the combination of which effectively replaced religion with civil religion. Wow, sorry. In other words, a dude named Ataturk showed the Turks that in order to have a country worth anything, they had to put their total loyalty in the government and be willing to separate government and religion. The crazy thing is, he had this plan something like 80 years ago and its still the heartbeat of Turkey today. Ataturk is the shizzle fo rizzle in Turkey. His picture is hung up in every shop I’ve been in and they even saved his pajamas in the museum I went to today…do you feel him living on in your heart?

Anyways, the reason things are complicated is that Turkey wants this “secular” government in a place where 97% of the people are Muslim. They don’t fit anywhere: people in Europe are afraid of admitting a whole country full of Muslims into their club, and the people in the Arab-Muslim world think Turkey is a copout on the true religion because of the secular political trends and the desire to be Western, while Turks are in the middle trying to figure this thing out.

And I’m not even going to go into other EU issues, the Kurd situation, the problem with Cyprus, Turkish foreign policy, anti-Americanism, social Islamic movements…needless to say, a lot is going on here and I don’t know the half of it. And, gosh, who’s ever even paid attention to Turkey? The only reason I can even scratch the surface or identify any of these matters is because of the phenomenal speakers we’ve had over the past few days—serious experts on the issues that have graced us with their time and knowledge to help us understand a little better. I didn’t know I ever even had this interest. But I’m fascinated.

Taking time to understand their lives from their point of view, is (not too surprisingly) very meaningful to people. It fosters a relationship from which to grow genuine knowledge and to hack away at the all too popular, but sadly true “arrogant American” stereotype. Today, our group sat down with college students from a Turkish university and probed their minds with questions about their country and their politics and listened to their answers. They are students, just like me and after we talked politics, we talked about LeBron James and our favorite movies over lunch as we both only ate a couple of bites of this nasty pile of vegetables.

I love Turkey (yes, the country, ok?). They have their problems that they are trying their best to figure out, just like anyone …especially us …especially me. It’s beautiful and exciting and cold and welcoming. We only have a few days left here, but really, I only have to learn to speak Turkish…then I’ll come back and stay awhile longer.

halfway done

We’ll see how that Arabic final that I just took turns out… whew, I’m just happy that its over with. I actually thought that the written portion was pretty easy and straightforward—things like verb conjugation and sentence translation and other grammatical stuff that I’ve been preparing for. The tough part of the exam was the spoken portion…sitting in a room with our oostezah (professor) and having a 10 minute conversation about anything she wanted to bring up. It was a little bit intimidating. Maybe she’ll be merciful…

This past week was also our final week of Islamic Thought and Practice. The exam was an in-class essay assignment detailing how several different groups having shaped Islam over history. I wrote about 5 pages on the caliphs, ulama, Mutezalites, and Sufis. Two days before that, we turned in our major research assignment on methods and applications of Qur’an interpretation. We each studied different passages in the Qur’an and basically did like a commentary study on it and interviewed scholarly sources. I got to focus on what Muslims do with alcohol—it was great. But yeah, it definitely feels so good to all that have accomplished too. They tell us all the time here, “this semester is not about gluing you down with academics” …I think I believe that a little more now that I get to breathe for a couple of days before I start working on my building list of other assigned papers, which is up to about 10 or 11 now.

I really have enjoyed these classes though. Even the small time that we did spend in the classroom here was so enhanced by the fact that we were in the setting of all the history, culture, language, religion we were learning or reading about. For most assignments, research consisted of talking to our neighbors and roaming the streets taking notes on how everyday life went on...which definitely beats holing up the in the library (even overnight).

The semester is going to be totally different from here on out though. On Thursday, we’re flying to Istanbul and starting a month of travel around the region. We’ll be in Turkey for awhile, then Syria and Jordan for a couple of days, and finally end up spending about 2 weeks in Jerusalem. Like I already mentioned, assignments continue to pour in during this time and I’ll spend a lot of time writing responses to the many important, interesting speakers that will have the chance to meet with in each country. It’ll be busy, but my goodness, can you even believe that I get to do this?! I guess you could say that I’m kinda excited about it.

I looked over the last couple entries I’ve had on here and realized that I’m probably depressing anyone that might read this. I don’t mean to sound overly negative when I write about some of the hard things here. It’s a challenge…a struggle sometimes, but my eyes are being opened wider than they ever were before. And in the middle of seeing some of the hard and hurting things all around me, I see God’s goodness in Egypt. Really, really, I love it here. Everyday is an adventure…the unexpected is normal—and while that may sound a little like what Darkwing Duck used to say, its true in Cairo… just hop in a taxi.

And if you don’t know who Darkwing Duck is, find it and watch it.

nearly slipping

Truly God is good to Israel,
to those who are pure in heart.
But as for me, my feet had almost stumbled,
my steps had nearly slipped.
For I was envious of the arrogant
when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

For they have no pangs until death;
their bodies are fat and sleek.
They are not in trouble as others are;
they are not stricken like the rest of mankind.
Therefore pride is their necklace;
violence covers them as a garment.
Their eyes swell out through fatness;
their hearts overflow with follies.
They scoff and speak with malice;
loftily they threaten oppression.
They set their mouths against the heavens,
and their tongue struts through the earth.
Therefore his people turn back to them,
and find no fault in them.
And they say, "How can God know?
Is there knowledge in the Most High?"
Behold, these are the wicked;
always at ease, they increase in riches.
All in vain have I kept my heart clean
and washed my hands in innocence.
For all the day long I have been stricken
and rebuked every morning.
If I had said, "I will speak thus,"
I would have betrayed the generation of your children.

But when I thought how to understand this,
it seemed to me a wearisome task,
until I went into the sanctuary of God;
then I discerned their end.

Truly you set them in slippery places;
you make them fall to ruin.
How they are destroyed in a moment,
swept away utterly by terrors!
Like a dream when one awakes,
O Lord, when you rouse yourself, you despise them as phantoms.
When my soul was embittered,
when I was pricked in heart,
I was brutish and ignorant;
I was like a beast toward you.
Nevertheless, I am continually with you;
you hold my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward you will receive me to glory.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

For behold, those who are far from you shall perish;
you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you.
But for me it is good to be near God;
I have made the Lord GOD my refuge,
that I may tell of all your works.

I saw The Yacoubian Building tonight and sat through some of the hardest things I’ve ever seen. It’s an Egyptian movie about all kinds of corruption and injustice that is rampant here—towards women, in the government, towards the poor, everywhere…everywhere.

You know the one common theme that was screaming through all the sad stories? People were searching hard for something. They were empty and trying to fill it through anything that felt good. Sometimes it was drugs or money or prostitutes or revenge. This one girl desperately searched for love and was only cast around from one violation to the next. I wanted to hold her.

God, rescue us from this… Come, Lord Jesus.

tuesdays

I haven’t exactly figured out what to do about Darfur yet. For over a year now, I haven’t been able to keep it out of my head. And the sickening thing is that every time I happen to remember it as a problem, I remember that for about 2 million people, its life…and they don’t have to be reminded.

Being in Cairo throws in a whole new element though. I’m so much closer now… like, next door neighbors with Sudan. Egypt may have enough problems of its own, but is the primary destination for hundreds of thousands of Sudanese refugees that hope to somehow start their lives over again. The city provides a more secure environment, possible jobs, and distant hope to win big on a dream lottery—being selected to receive a visa to Europe or America. I have a friend that has a wife and new baby in Kansas. He’s been sitting around for over 6 months hoping for whatever people to eventually get to some paperwork so he can see his baby for the first time. I get asked if there are any strings I can pull because I’m an America. I really, really wish there were. And that’s all I can say to them while they look away and nod, all too familiar with that answer. I really do though.

Egypt is definitely well aware of the entire crisis, both as a bordering nation and part of the Arab Muslim world. I have been able to meet with several important officials during my time here and have brought it up each time, asking specifically what in the world they are doing (or more like the rest of the world, what they plan to do) about Sudan. The answers have been less than direct and sprinkled with politics and finger-pointing, which I’ve found to be nothing but rehearsed cop outs for ineffectiveness. In fact, international rhetoric is trying to wish the raping, killing, pillaging, and displacing away, while absolutely nobody can agree on what to do, revealing the paralysis of the UN and leaving any efforts of the AU hanging out to dry, and oh, let’s not forget about the very people suffering from unceasing violence.

I’m also confused about another aspect of the conflict. It is Muslims killing Muslims. What happened to the great umma of Allah that shoud trump any other loyalties? Why do nations of the Middle East come together in outspoken support for their fellow Muslims dying in Lebanon, but cannot find the time or resources for a war in which Muslims are dying on both sides?

ahhh… its so frustrating. I really feel like I hardly know much about it and can’t offer any solutions, so I’m doing the only thing that I know I can do. I’m trying my best to find some things to do here.

Tuesday’s are one of the highlights of my week because I teach Sudanese students at a special refugee school downtown. I show up around 9am, just in time for English class. I help out the teacher, Adam, a 25 year old guy that escaped from Darfur. He has one of the largest and most rambunctious classes in the school and definitely needs the most help. Sometimes that means just standing in the back and crowd controlling… sometimes that means coming up with something to teach for science or a game to play. Today we had some free time, so I tried to draw a world map on the marker board and teach the students some important places in the world. I got to point to where I live and where they used to live. During break time, I go out for a game of street football with them—which gets pretty intense…and the girls always kick the guys’ butts.

It’s hard sometimes…like when the kids are more focused on hitting the kid next to them than on what Adam or I may be saying. The education system here is in terrible shape, and I can’t help but feel like there students getting left behind in the lessons, so I try and spend extra time with them and then do some one-on-one tutoring after the classes. I try my best and keep in mind that these are just kids and they have been through a lot. I try to love them.

I’m not an elementary school teacher or a therapist…or an international decision maker for that matter. But I do speak English. I do know how to point out continents and point out parts of the body. I struggle with how to do something about the huge crisis in Sudan, but every Tuesday morning my world collides with it when I see faces of people that live in its brutalities. So, next week when I walk in and everyone turns around with a big smile, I’ll just smile back and give some high fives and try to teach some more English vocabulary. And I keep praying for them. Please, please pray for them.