Graduation Congratulations

We wanted to send a Turkish congratulations to all of our friends at EMU who will be graduating this weekend. It's hard to believe that an entire year has passed since we were in that spot receiving our diplomas. We wish you all the best as you begin lives after college and start to explore all of the amazing posibilities waiting in the world.

Blessings

(A special shout-out to the boys of Oakwood 3rd - you know who you are)

Santa Claus was from Turkey

Acts 27:3...7

...We landed at Sidon (Lebanon); and Julius, in kindness to Paul, allowed him to go to his friends so they might provide for his needs. From there we put out to sea again and passed the lee of Cyprus (northern side) because the winds were against us. When we sailed across the open sea off the coast of Cilicia and Pamphylia (Turkey), we landed at Myra in Lycia (Southern Turkey). There the centurion found an Alexandian ship (from Egypt) sailing for Italy and put us on board. We made slow headway for many days and had difficulty arriving off Knidus (Turkey).

A Turkish Delight:

We sailed from Paphos, Cyprus to Finike, Turkey in a voyage that presented the roughest seas Sailing Acts had seen in the past two seasons. Upon a safe and anticipated arrival into a new country and culture, we were ready to get off and explore what was available to us. As with most Arab cultures, hospitality is the foundation of our interactions with the local people, offering a broad welcome to Turkey.

The Turkish coastline is rugged and majestic, with palm trees and warm temperatures at sea level and snow capped mountains rising up behind the towns. Finike's famous trademark is the orange, yet the alpine feel of the mountains behind us made us wonder what strange land we were in. Hearing the call to prayer had a familiar resonance with our experiences with Arab cultures in other regions of the Middle East, although the voice coming from those minarets does sound a bit different here...

The Real Santa Claus:

Even though the ancient town of Myra was visited by Paul enroute to Rome, it is best known as the residence of Saint Nicholas, bishop of the region and later known as Santa Claus to the western world. Myra, a short day trip from Finike, was an ancient coastal port on the Mediterranean. In nearby Demra, the Church of St. Nicholas stands in his memory with a statue of the red-robed, jolly and pudgy father Christmas in the town square surrounded by palm trees. Due to the warm year-round climate, it has never snowed in Myra.

St. Nicholas is the patron saint of Holy Russia (remember the Tsars' names?), sailors, and children. The evolution of his personality into an Artic dweller with reindeer came from Northern European countries adopting the charming father Christmas image into their traditions. Although it seems like a long journey from Myra to a global commerical Santa Claus, somehow the worlds' cultures made the association with the celebration of Christ's birth.

Although little is known about St. Nicholas' life, a few legends provide insights into his future role as Santa Claus. His affinity to children is told through two local stories. One occurs during a time when the region suffered from starvation: A butcher invited three young children into his home, killing them in their sleep and cutting their bodies into pieces to sell as meat. St. Nicholas caught wind of this tragedy and rushed to the butcher's house, bringing the children back to life. Merry Christmas.

The other and most well known story is about how St. Nicholas provided the dowry for a few young girls whose merchant father could not afford to marry them off. As legend says, during the night, St. Nic dropped the money down their chimneys, saving them from their other alternative, prostitution. The structure that most resembles a chimney in modern Islamic Turkey is the minaret, rising above each mosque and functioning as a broadcasting point for the call to prayer. It would be interesting to see what might happen if Santa Claus was to drop something down one of those towers today...

A Dinghy in the Wind:

We pulled into the harbor of Teimiussa (Ucagiz) near Simena (Kalekoy), successfully dropping anchor and hoping for a calm spot to rest for the night. Eric and I were the first into the dingy, our small, inflatable boat used to take us from Sailing Acts to shore. The goal was for the two of us to cross onto land, and then one of us would row back to the boat and ferry Linford to shore, who would then bring the dingy back to the anchored boat.

My seat was in the front and Eric was manning the oars as we took off for land. As we moved across the bay, Eric worked hard to keep us in line, battling the strengthening wind and current. Upon arriving at the dock, his arms were shot and needed a break. I decided that I would take the dinghy back across to pick up Linford.

A local teenager foresaw the predicament and offered to take me across in his motorboat, but we declined, knowing that we would be expected to eat at his family's restaurant that evening. Once he saw me depart for Sailing Acts, he quickly said to Eric, "I'll go get the boat," and took off running down the dock.

The mistake was to not realize the force of the wind blowing against the direction of travel. As soon as I left the dock, I could feel myself being pulled by the wind and waves towards the far side of the bay, back and away from the diminshing sight of our boat. As I struggled to row, almost flipping the boat on various occasions, I saw Linford preparing a throwing rope to pull me in. But Linford and the rope kept drifting farther and farther away... All of I sudden I heard Linford yell, saw an anchor chain of another boat behind me and grabbed on just as our friend in the motorboat came to my rescue. We decided to eat in their restaurant that night.

Climbing the Castles:

Turkey is littered with ancient ruins, basically untouched and open for exploration. Each day after we settle into an anchorage, our first activity is to hike out to the castles, sarcofagi, or old city walls and attempt to imagine life has it had been years ago.

After surviving the dinghy incident, we set out on foot towards the castle towering above the deep blue Mediterannean. We successfully thwarted a local man attempting to sell us fake tickets and climbed up over the walls, higher towards the utmost lookout to take in the vista. It becomes easier to understand the concept of the "higher ground" when you are there. It is the perfect defence, bringing to life battles with maritime invadors and the contrasting beauty during times of peace.

A refreshing mid-day stop at the ruins of Knidus was the idealistic Sailing Acts experience. Blue sky, bluer water, dramatic landscapes, and fields of ruins with nothing more than little signs directing towards a vague this or that. Unfortunately we only had an hour to explore a site that could have occupied many more, but it was well worth our time. The ancient city was founded in order to take advantage of stranded ships caught in the changing winds off of the rocky cape, which could have been the reason for Paul's difficulties.

Sailors' Stories:

We have met various sailors over the past few weeks, each with a story to tell. While in Finike, Turkey, we listened to the tales of two couples that left impressionable experiences in my mind.

A Dutch couple described sailing in the Western Mediterranean Sea when they encountered a monster of a storm producing 20 meter waves, higher than their mast. The man described in detail how their boat rose and fell as if on a rollercoaster, experiencing four knockdowns in the same day. (A knockdown is when your boat tips to the point where your mast tilts sideways 90 degrees and smacks the water, and afterwards the boat rights itself instead of rolling upside down).

A Scottish couple had been anchored on the coast of Thailand when the tsunami struck. Before the disaster, the husband took the small boat to land to run a couple of errands, went of a swim, and headed back for the yacht. Immediately his boat was sucked out past the yacht in an extremely strong current, right past the stares of his confused and astonished wife. She started the engine, headed out to sea after him, and watched the current shift directions and pull her husband's small boat back to her. Somehow he managed to get aboard the yacht and they watched the ocean depth decrease from 15m to 5m, exposing the underlying coral as the huge wave passed their boat and headed to shore, crashing on hotels and homes. They didn't comment much on what they saw afterwards. Their story was published in the March issue of Yachting World magazine.

Recommended Reading:

Having a generous amount of time available to us while sailing, we have been reading a few books. We would recommend the book by Carlo Carretto entitled, "Letters from the Desert." (ISBN: 1-57075-431-4) At the age of 44, after a prominent career as a Catholic activist, Carlo Caretto was summoned by a voice that said: "Leave everything, come with me into the desert. I don't want your action any longer, I want your prayer, your love." Carlo responded by leaving for North Africa, where he joined the Little Brothers of Jesus and embraced the example of Charles de Foucauld. We both identified with the vision of this book, and feel that it provides a life-giving message that profoundly discusses how the center of our motivations should be humility and love. Check it out....

Onwards...!

We will continue sailing up the Turkish coast to Kusadasi (Ephesus) and begin our cycling trip mid-May riding north through Eastern Europe.

Random Research Stat of the Day...

According to a recent article we found in the International Herald Tribune, over half of Australians believe that U.S. foreign policy poses as big a threat to world peace as Islamic fundamentalism. Comments welcome.

http://www.iht.com/articles/2005/03/28/news/australia.html

Learning from the Sea

The plan: Leave Israel early Sunday morning. Arrive in Cyprus 40 hours later. Spend the night at the marina in Larnaca. Set out the following day for the 32 hour voyage to Beirut, Lebanon. Spend several days visiting the ancient Mediterranean ports of Tyre and Sidon. Return to Cyprus, take a few days to catch our breath, then continue north across the sea to the Turkish coast. Arrive in Turkey by mid-April. Use the remaining two weeks to poke along the coastline towards Greece. Arrive in Athens by early May.

The week prior to our scheduled departure was a busy one at Ashkelon marina. On Wednesday evening, we bid farewell to Laura and Alethia, wrapping up an enjoyable three weeks of touring the land of Israel together. Our focus was now directed towards the sea, and helping Linford and Janet prepare Sailing Acts for another season on the Mediterranean. The long winter in harbor had coated the underside of our new home with a coating of stubborn green slime, which Dave and I willingly spent a warm afternoon splashing around in an inflatable dingy attempting to remove. There were also lights on board to replace, a kitchen sink to caulk, fuel and water tanks to fill, and lifelines to secure around the boat. By Saturday afternoon, as the freshly scrubbed deck glistened in the sunlight, it appeared all was in place and everything ready for us to leave the following morning.

As a result of relying for several months on the transportation system in Latin America, I thought we had learned this flexibility thing fairly well. Sailing, I discovered, takes that lesson to another extreme. No matter what your plans may be for the coming day, the sea always has the final word. And the word that night was not what we might have hoped for. As evening approached, the winds began to escalate and the waves followed suit. By morning, it was apparent that we would not be leaving that day. And after checking the weather maps and consulting with our friends at the marina, it appeared as though the next day wouldn't be any better. We were at the complete mercy of the weather, and all we could do was wait. So that's what we did.

By Monday evening, conditions had improved dramatically. The report for Tuesday looked promising, and everyone at the marina agreed that tomorrow would be the day. In celebration of our improving circumstances, the four of us spent our final evening in Israel at a tasty shwarma restaurant across town. Returning to the boat, it was an early bedtime for us all. With 40 hours of sailing between Ashkelon and Cyprus, getting sufficient sleep the night before was something that none of us wanted to compromise on.

Rising with the sun, we enjoyed a hearty breakfast and shared in the excitement of what the new day would bring. For Dave and I, it was our first real opportunity in sailing. We were excited to learn the ropes and experience yet another means of getting from one place to another. In a world that is predominately covered in water, it seems only appropriate that a portion of our travels should be done while floating across this vast frontier. For Lin and Janet, this was the continuation of a journey that began last year at this time. Charting the routes of the Apostle Paul centuries ago, they will again follow his path across the Mediterranean, this time all the way to Rome.

Later in the morning, we checked out of customs with no problems, and within an hour Lin was carefully navigating his way through the narrow marina entrance. Pushing through the choppy surf beyond the breakwater, we hoisted sails and quickly picked up speed. By design, Sailing Acts is a 33ft Westerly, a proven configuration that isn't lightening fast, but handles extremely well even in the roughest of seas. With the storm behind us and a favorable forecast all the way to Cyprus, we adjusted the sails to a comfortable reach, turned on the autohelm, and watched the shoreline slowly fade away. The idea of sailing for an entire month was growing on me really fast.

So we sat in the cockpit talking, reflecting among other things on our many positive memories from Israel. We all knew that we would be back, some of us just didn't know when. As snacks were brought out, and the afternoon continued to pass by, we began to notice a gradual rise in the wind and waves the further we traveled from shore. Expecting a certain degree of variation throughout the day, we thought little of it and continued to push on. With the passing of another hour, the increased wind eventually made it necessary to reef the headsail and continue under motor power. Having lost the stability provided by the sails, our boat heaved and churned over the growing waves.

That's when I lost it. Reaching for the rails, I swiftly added what was left of my lunch to the swirling foam that trailed our struggling vessel. With the spray of the waves now pelting regularly across the cockpit, I made my way to the shelter of the sprayhood. Linford, also seasick (one of the few times in his life!), was on deck, wrestling against the wind to reef the mainsail. Janet was down below, working quickly to mop up the newly discovered water that had managed to trickle through the portholes in the galley. And Dave, who along with Janet remained free of sickness, put on his Gore-Tex jacket and took over the wheel. We slowly inched along, being recklessly thrown by the wind and waves. With my head buried in my arms to prevent another bout of sickness, the idea of sailing for an entire day, let alone month, seemed more than I could handle.

The wind and waves showed little sign of diminishing, and the consensus was soon reached that this was no way to begin a journey across the Med. We consulted our pilot books and determined that our closest option for landfall was either Tel-Aviv or Herzliya, a few miles further up the coast. Since Tel-Aviv's marina is a tricky one to maneuver at night, we decided to go the extra few miles to Herzliya, with the added benefit of having some of Lin and Janet's sailing friends there to greet us. Pointing our GPS to the correct bearing, we made our way towards the flickering lights in the distance. Only six hours from when we left, we were already returning to Israel, our home away from home. And by this point the safety of the marina was more than worth the hassles of going through customs and immigration all over again.

Within two hours, the crashing waves and gusts of wind that we experienced out on the sea were almost forgotten. Once the boat was securely tied and everything put in its place, we enjoyed some hot soup that Lin and Janet's friends brought over to share with us. Despite still feeling a bit green, I would venture that it was the best soup I have ever tasted. Afterwards we showered, put on warm, dry clothes, and collapsed onto our beds exhausted. In the brief moments before falling asleep, I reflected on the way our carefully constructed schedule had changed so drastically in the past days. And surprisingly, in the midst of seeing our plans turned upside down, I found myself feeling more alive and enthusiastic about travel than I have in a long time.

The following day was spent drying out the boat, fixing the seals on the portholes, and preparing for our second attempt at Cyprus. As if we hadn't already waited long enough, the weather again took a turn for the worse. So we spent another two days in Herzliya, waiting as patiently as we could for our next window of opportunity. That window finally arrived on Friday via a gentle breeze from the east, settling the seas and giving us the ideal conditions we were hoping for. Since Herzliya is only 20 miles south of Ceasarea, we decided to sail along the coast to the well-preserved old harbor where Paul would have also begun his journey across the sea. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon, the water was smooth, and the air was quiet and peaceful. We all agreed that these were far better circumstances with which to begin our voyage.

Once the customary photos had been taken, we again said goodbye to the coastline of Israel, and pointed our bow northwest towards the island of Cyprus. We motored throughout the night, taking three hour shifts being on watch. The morning greeted us with hazy sunshine and long, lazy swells. It was the tranquil ambiance that one can only experience out in the open sea. Between naps, snacks, and talking, the day actually passed rather quickly. Towards nightfall, we put down our sails and Janet cooked up a dinner of rice and tuna. It had been nearly 24 hours since we last saw another boat.

Around 4am the following morning, as Lin was preparing to relieve my watch for the night, we saw the lights of Larnaca beginning to appear as a faint glow on the horizon. Within a few hours, we found the entrance to the marina and sucessfully located a cozy berth on the outermost pier. Once the customs formalities were taken care of, the four of us sat down and enjoyed a breakfast of eggs, potatoes, and of course fresh brewed coffee. It was good to be back on land again.

The past two days here in Larnaca have provided plenty of opportunity for exploration. Although there is no record of Paul ever coming to this town, Jesus' good friend Lazarus apparently did. In the center of town there is a church honoring this familiar New Testament figure, as well as a crypt under the alter that reportedly was the site of his second (and final!) resting place. There is also a large salt lake, several nice parks, and the Hala Sultan Tekke Mosque, revered by some as the fourth (or third, depending on the source) holiest site in Islam. By far the most popular site in town, however, is the beachfront promenade. We have spent several evenings strolling the concrete walkway, mingling with fellow travelers and Cypriots alike.

As a result of our delays of the past week, our upcoming plans have needed some modification. We will no longer sail to Lebanon, but instead continue west around Cyprus to the port of Paphos. From there, we will make the long overnight sail across the northern Mediterranean to Finike, Turkey and continue along the coast. But of course, these are all subject to change... and part of me hopes they do.

Journal Reflections...

The following are excerpts from Laura Helmuth's journal. They reflect her personal thoughts and feelings from the three weeks that we traveled together throughout Israel and Palestine.

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Wednesday March 9, 2004
?Why is this trip so important to me? What am I going to see, touch, hear, and smell? What is going to touch me so intensely that I will be forever changed by what I have experienced? Where will God?s gentle presence be in the midst of it all?...

Thursday March 10, 2004
?I am looking out the window of the plane, witnessing one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen - the Alps, while simultaneously feeling pain from some of the ugliest parts of life - anger and fear. As we tried to board the plane today, we were informed that we were not allowed to board because we did not go through the proper security check when we landed in Switzerland. They told us that they would try to get us through security before the plane left, but there was no guarantee. While Alethia had experienced security like this before, I was not prepared for the interrogation that they would put us through. They separated us from each other and asked us a list of questions in regards to our trip, luggage, careers, people we knew in Israel, where we would be going while we were there, our relationship to one another, and so on. They asked the questions several different ways in order to see if we were not giving them correct information and tell them something different. They then rushed us downstairs to have all our carry-on luggage, as well as us personally, checked for anything that could be used as a weapon or bomb. When we arrived downstairs, our checked luggage was being searched as well. After sifting through all our belongings, and searching us as well, they rushed us upstairs just in time to catch our flight. We had held up the plane 20 minutes and they were ready to go as soon as we sat down.

I believe what strikes me most about what just happened, is the reason for why it happened. These people live in fear all of the time. They feel as though they have to protect themselves. They put up a wall in order to keep themselves from being vulnerable to anyone. This allows me to recognize the human aspect of life - the utter fear that engulfs us and causes us to retaliate in anger. I am saddened to live in a world where we feel as though we have to put up these walls, instead of desiring others to enter in, and engage in our world for a while?

?I was struck by all the walls as we walked through the Old City in Jerusalem tonight. Walls to keep people out, walls to keep people in, walls to protect, walls to represent what is important?When I look at the walls, I can?t help but think that walls are there because of fear. We build up walls in our lives to protect ourselves from being vulnerable before other people. In doing this we not only alienate ourselves from others, but we build up unnecessary defenses that make others feel as though they are the enemy. This puts others on the defensive giving them undue reason to feel they need to protect themselves. I can clearly see the walls in my own life as I stand here. It breaks my heart to see the hostility that develops from the walls I have built up in my own life, and see them play out right here before my eyes on a much larger scale. If only we could find it within ourselves to begin to remove the stones that create our walls, and allow ourselves to be vulnerable before each other again?

Friday March 11, 2005
? This evening we made our way to the Western Wall, to witness the beginning of Shabbat, as those of Jewish faith gathered to perform their prayers at the wall. I was amazed to see how important their Sabbath day is to them. Literally everything shuts down for Shabbat and they spend their time with family, celebrating. Perhaps those of us here in the U.S. could take a good look at what we find to be most important in our lives. We have let go of Sabbath rituals and have placed more importance on work than family.

As we left the Western Wall and made our way through the streets back to Ecce Homo (our home while in Jerusalem), we heard singing on a side street that lead to the Dome of the Rock. We decided to go see what the singing was all about. What we found was a disturbing yet insightful scene. All of the tension, religious and otherwise, was playing out right before us. Part of the way up the road we found Jewish women gathered in worship. They lifted their voices up to the Temple Mount in worship to God. This alone could have been a beautiful sight. However, up ahead, we saw at the door that enters into the Dome of the Rock, soldiers standing on guard with their guns glistening in the moonlight. One wrong move from either party, and this could have become a very hostile scene. I imagine that this situation is very painful for both parties. These women, desperately longing to be at that place of intimacy with God on the Temple Mount, and those of Islamic faith, fearing the loss of intimacy that this piece of land holds for them. I was reminded again how we all have within us this need to be intimate with God and we are constantly on a search for how to get to that place of intimacy?

Sunday March 13, 2005
?We just left Jerusalem today and have arrived in the Palestinian village of Bethlehem. The town of Bethlehem is one that I generally associate with feelings of warmth, happiness, and joy. The only Bethlehem that I have ever encountered is the Bethlehem that I meet every Christmas day where Jesus was born to bring peace to the world. However, the feeling I have held since we arrived is a feeling of heaviness. My spirit feels the heaviest that it has felt since we arrived in Israel, and I can?t even explain this feeling yet. I know very little of the tragedies that have taken place here, but I know that it seeps into every aspect of the lives of the people that live here everyday. The family we are staying with asked us within the first 15 min of meeting them what we thought of what is happening here. I can see that what happens here ways heavy on their hearts and minds. I found the perspectives of the Father and the son to be most interesting. The father, who has lived this experience for much longer than the son, seems to have hope for the future. This comes through in his desire for them to learn Hebrew because ?It will not always be this way.? However, the son expressed his lack of hope for change in his questioning of the father about when change will come. ?It?s been this way for how long, Dad? We haven?t seen change yet.? This lack of hope in someone about my age made me cringe. I can?t even imagine living in circumstances that take away every bit of hope I have for the future?

Tuesday March 15, 2005
?I am finding it difficult to put into words what I am experiencing here in Bethlehem. I am sickened by the sights and stories that I am hearing. I feel as though a sharp knife keeps cutting deeper and deeper, and finds a new area of my soul to slice through with each story I hear, and sight we visit. As I looked at the settlements today and saw the hurt this caused Samer (a friend who showed us around Palestine), I couldn?t help but recognize that I also have the capacity of behaving as the settlers do. They come in, take land that is not theirs and claim it as their own. They force people off their land and divide families from each other, and then they build their little towns on hills that sit like fortresses, mocking those who sit below. I am sickened at the Wall, sickened at the heinous acts that we as humans have the capability of performing. Yet, while this sickens me, I see this within myself - feeling the need to overpower those I feel threatened by, putting up unnecessary defenses and making others feel like enemies, when really they could be a good friend. I find myself surprised at the way we treat people when they are not even that much different from ourselves?

Wednesday March 16, 2005
?My heart feels heavy? heavy from what I see here, and heavy from my inner struggles. I detest what I see here. The injustice that is happening to the Palestinian people, making them feel like animals trapped in their own land. As I see the struggle that is happening here, I can see this physical tension parallel to the emotional tension that I feel inside. Now that I have seen with my own eyes what is going on here, I feel this need to take some sort of action. However, I am not sure what to do, or if I even have the compassion within myself to be changed by this experience and carry this home with me?

Friday March 25, 2005
?I am sitting on a hill overlooking the Sea of Galilee. The water is a deep blue and the calm of the water soothes my soul. The wind gently moves around me and the singing of the birds in the air brings a bit of joy. This scene, along with the sun, warms my spirit and brings a bit of peace that I have not yet felt since being here. I arrived in the ?Holy Lands? 15 days ago and until now I had not felt the ?holiness? that the Prince of Peace brought to this land. No where had I seen a trace of the presence of God, only the hate and malice that comes from this world. How ugly are the sins of pride, greed, anger, fear, hate and injustice. But sitting here on this hill top, the air is thick with the presence of God. I can imagine Jesus standing on one of the hills preaching to the multitudes, going under a shade tree to be alone with is father, or calming the waters of the Sea of Galilee as he and his disciples rowed from one shore to the next.

Right now I wish that I could sit face to face with Jesus and ask him about the world. Why would our God fill, or allow our hearts to be filled with such evil that we can?t even love the human race. Why does life have to be filled with such suffering, and when will we ever learn to love as he loved? I am tired of all the pain and suffering. I have seen more pain, injustice, deceit, greed, etc? than any person cares to see in a life time; yet the hardest part is, there are those who live this life everyday?

Thursday April 1, 2005
I feel broken, shattered to pieces, and left with an emptiness that leaves me feeling for the first time that the only place I really have to turn is God. After watching the lives of those in Israel and Palestine play out before me, and struggling with feelings of jealousy, hurt, and fear in my own life, I feel as though my world has been shattered, shaken, and left to be pieced back together by the only One who can.

This is my prayer taken from Henri J. M. Nouwen?s book, A Cry for Mercy:

?I need your loving grace to travel on this hard road that leads to the death of my old self and to a new life in and for you. I know and trust that this is a road to freedom. Lord, dispel my mistrust and help me become a trusting friend. Amen.?

Daily Details

Each day we keep track of details such as where we go, who we meet, what we do, etc, and periodically publish them to the website. This adds a lot of content to the site and helps people to connect to us through search engines. And it's also a way for us just to remember what happened.

Daily Itineraries are posted through today, with new content for the following countries:

Bolivia

Argentina

Chile

Uruguay

Jordan

Israel

Palestine

Posted by Dave at 07:48 AM | Comments (3)

Bridging Boundaries

Stepping into another world can be done as easily as changing your clothes, walking through a door, and letting yourself become absorbed into your surroundings. Your mind passively begins to relax into a new attitude, and your focus shifts to the simple and important realities of life. When you enter the ?land,? you take on another perspective, one of a simple, humble village dweller, spending each day in the sun working to support and sustain yourself, finding meaning and contentment by creating life-giving interactions. By allowing the everyday realities of the past to seep into your experience, history becomes holistic as it connects to your developing perspective of the present.

We spent most of our week volunteering at the Nazareth Village, a microcosm located within the larger, modern Arab city of Nazareth, a place that takes you back, right to the time when the city?s most famous citizen walked the same streets, reshaping all subsequent history. The village is a functioning recreation of the setting of Jesus? youth, authentically depicting the true context of first century Jewish life. The goal of Nazareth Village is to accurately show the life of Jesus to the world by creatively reaching out across geographical, cultural, and religious definitions and showing the powerful story of a humble man that can speak to us all.

When we were in Nazareth in 2002, we spent a week volunteering at the village, working with the staff to serve in various roles, constructing footpaths and building the foundations of a first century house. This visit left a lasting impression on me?not necessarily only because of its novelty, but because it radically took my understanding of Jesus back to the roots, reshaping the way that I understood certain parts of his example in a fresh and invigorating light. Seeing the ways that Jesus lived in Nazareth provoked questions within me, asking why this example seems to stand in such direct contrast to many institutionalized forms of Christianity that have settled comfortably throughout the world ever since. Experiencing Jesus where it all began taught me the humility, the power, and the reality of a message that incited hope in the midst of a region of the world that is in constant conflict, dividing people with violence and hatred.

The realities of the conflict(s) in the Middle East are something that it is impossible to completely understand without being here and living amidst the people. It seems that many sojourners who absorb part of the pain and desperation that people endure here find it difficult to regain hope in the midst of such debilitating horror and intentional destruction. But yet, most of us need to find a way to make sense of all of this, or at least need to find a direction to walk that will show both the oppressed and the oppressors of the world that there is hope in discovering a path out of the cyclic death of violence and prejudice. For me, it was only the example of Jesus breaking down walls that divided people, by showing an unwavering invitation of peace, and personifying hope by becoming our resurrection.

Many of our days working in the village consisted of pulling weeds out of stone terraces as tourist groups would pass by, listening to the various parables the guides would teach using the land and taking photos of us, legitimate first century fill-ins fully decked out in clothing that made us blend right into the flocks of sheep and green hillsides. Throughout this time we were able to know the staff and interact with them through their various roles, both inside and outside of the village, leaving lasting impacts on our lives.

Abu Saeed, the kind-spirited Muslim man who runs the donkey plow on the lower field, day after day. Evone, who calls herself the mother of us all and welcomed us into her home and showed us the 50 sets of cutlery for all of the guests she loves to feed. Abu Tofiq, the carpenter who was always cracking jokes in one of his seven languages he had learned by traveling and living ?with the people.? Mira, the young woman who taught us who to make crowns of wildflowers to put around our heads and invited us into her home for a delicious Arabic dinner and a showing of her sister?s wedding video. Sameer, the fatherly man who waited on our arrival and went out of his way to build us a shower while we camped out on the village land. Michael, who continues to pursue this dream fully and creatively, driven to extend the example of Jesus to the ends of the earth. Each person at the village comes together in extending their service to the village, to Jesus, and to the world. Their unity and hospitality could speak their purpose alone.

Our Israeli friend Maoz has been a continual thread of blessing throughout our time in the Middle East. Our relationship began last fall when I emailed him to ask about information on backpacking the Israel National Trail. His eagerness to help us with the trail led us into many more interactions, spending a weekend together at his place in Tel Aviv, hanging out at his brother?s birthday party on the family moshav, and reminiscing about our past travels in South America. As we got to know each other and learn from each other, our paths continued to cross in many more ways.

Maoz has an interest in Nazareth, specifically in starting a backpacker hostel, a place of low budget accommodation for international travelers to come together and get connected into the local culture. I have been impressed by Maoz from the beginning, but this vision brought that appreciation to an even newer level. For an Israeli to step out and do something like this in an Arab town is not something that happens every day. When Maoz shared this idea with us, we told him that we would be volunteering at the village for a little while and invited him to stop by and check it out, possibly to begin developing a relationship that could be mutually beneficial and could continue to bring different types of people together. It was our hope to be the bridge that could begin to span some of the divides that often seem to tear this region apart?

Maoz came to visit late one afternoon as the staff was preparing an evening dinner under the Bedouin tent. The purpose of the occasion was an appreciation for some past volunteers, and the air was cheerful and full of celebration. Past experiences of prejudice made me wonder how an Israeli would be invited and received by a mostly Arab staff, especially one with an unknown identity and purpose. But as the evening progressed, I just sat back and watched the interactions take place, and all of my fears were steadily replaced by a form of deeply accelerating hope for the future of this region. As Maoz and the village staff conversed as friends, almost as family, I again caught a glimpse of the type of relationships that are required to work towards true shalom. If only we all could be this willing, this risky, and this visionary to reach out in love?what could the world be?

Since my last visit to the Middle East, I have continued to be drawn here. There is something about this place that I have not been able to get out of my consciousness, and upon leaving in 2002, I knew that I would return, unsure only of the circumstances. The contrasts here are so profoundly vivid and personal: life and death, doubt and faith, despair and hope. Empathizing and embodying these dichotomies pull us apart to the point where we spill out and need to come back together somehow; we need to find hope and move on down the road. I have never experienced despair anywhere as I have in the Middle East, and because of that, I have also never been able to match the exhilaration of watching people find hope here. And I have realized that this drives me incredibly.

A large part of this year-long journey is to seek my personal calling for the rest of my life, and with my interest in this part of the world, I was eager to see how I might feel after returning. As we prepare to leave at the end of this week, the feelings are still here; this place is alive through its struggle, and consequently, I am also alive. The essence of conflict remains the same, and hope through Christ always seems to work through it. I have often wondered what it would feel like to leave the same land for the second time, and I am now waiting for this time, right in the middle of a transition. I have learned that leaving the future open to God?s will is one of the secrets of life, and I don?t want to make even any subconscious commitments to my future as there is still a lot to experience this year, but I do know that if I come here again, it will not be for a visit. I would intend to come and stay for a while.

Each day here, people feel the effects of violence and hatred. Walls are being built, a race of people is being dehumanized, and an attitude of fear can be felt in the air. Often it?s about all you can do to keep from giving up. But when I look back on my experiences throughout this land, I remember that my Israeli friend Maoz is working this week to build Arab relationships for his vision, the staff of Nazareth village is determined to creatively show the true example of Jesus to a diverse world, and that we celebrated the death and resurrection of Christ nearly 2000 years ago in Jerusalem on Sunday morning. I feel and know that there is hope. And if our presence here and now has been a bridge towards life, this entire trip has been worth its effort.

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Email Update from Maoz (May 4, 2005):

Hi there!
I'll do it short.
We are going to open an Inn (New Zealand stile backpacker) in...Nazareth.
The largest Arab city in Israel!!!

You can see pictures here:
http://www.photo-print.co.il/photoAlbum/albumAllPic.aspx?sid=104&albumID=2746
I wrote a blog and till we open our own web site you can see it on our trail journal:
http://www.trailjournals.com/entry.cfm?id=96181. It will be updated tomorrow.

You are all invited to come and have a look (It's less then hour and a half from Tel Aviv. North...). I'll be there everyday starting next week. Give me a call to make sure I'm there. There is a map attached.

There is a lot of cleaning and painting to be done. So, is you want to come and give us a hand plus be among our first guests (We are going to open 3 rooms as soon as possible) you are more then welcome.

See you
Love & Peace in The Middle East
Maoz