Israel-Palestine

Personal security

International travel is riskier than sitting in your pajamas in the living room with the curtains closed. Of course, if you are eating an entire bowl of cheese dip with a spoon while watching Netflix . . . well, never mind. Deep down, you want to go outside and play. Maybe even visit the lands of the Bible. But you are afraid. So let me help. Wipe the dip from your chin and read on.

Christmastide pilgrims

It may seem odd to be thinking about pilgrims at Christmastide. But it is fitting. Pilgrimage is for every season. There is never a wrong time to undertake a journey for the purpose of encountering God. Most pilgrimages are unexpected and topsy-turvy experiences. Sometimes they get messy. Ask Paul the Apostle. Whom did he expect to meet on the road to Damascus? Or ask the Christmas shepherds. After they heard the angelic announcement, they said:

"Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened" (Luke 2:15).

Jesus Trail, Jan 3-10, 2017

Thousands of sightseers view the land of the bible through the window of a tour bus. A few seek a deeper experience. If you are among the latter group (or know someone who is), I invite you to try Galilee on foot. There is no better way to slow down and appreciate the natural beauty of the Heartland. For those who are veterans of a standard study- or pilgrimage-tour, this may be the perfect way to build upon that previous experience.

Sodom apples

Sodom apples

With Sodom burning up my newsfeed right now, I can’t think of a better time to think botanical thoughts.

On Mermaids and Diodorus and Coffee

On Mermaids and Diodorus and Coffee

Once upon a time, a beautiful woman fell in love with a young man. However, this passionate exchange was not the result of natural causes as one might expect, but was the bitter inspiration of Aphrodite, a vain and often vindictive goddess of love. 

Imagining Ecce Homo

In the coming days, many of us will construct an image of Jesus standing before “the Powers.” Such constructions freight the weight of biblical passages like Isaiah 53:7, Philippians 2:6-8, or John 19:5 and are grist for personal reflection in the Easter season.

The Barracks

I enter the barracks. The smell of raw earth makes a first impression. My eyes take a moment longer to dial down from bright sun to deep shadow. A long hall of concrete, steel, stone, and dirt emerges. Excavations beneath the barracks have been conducted over the course of the last decade, but only in the last five months has this archaeological site been open to the public. It is my first visit to Jerusalem’s Kishle and I am excited.

Lost in l'espace

When the baggage carousel stopped, I thought: Welcome back to “Exploring Bible Lands.”

The reason the carousel had stopped, of course, is because there were no more bags to spit out. All the bleary-eyed travelers had yanked and been yanked by that cruel machine empowered to deliver the final punctuation to the experience of air travel. One middle-aged woman (with a bag twice her size) was determined to pound her experience into an exclamation point. She was dragged no less than three times around the loop before she finally arrested the oversized beast. The crowd went from a collective gasp to a cheer as she rose unsteadily to her feet, one fist on the handle, the other, in the sky. She was the unseated rodeo rider who survived a runaway.

Flock Fort 1

One cannot walk through the Palestinian village of Bayt Sahour without contemplating the phrase Migdal ‘Eder. The words themselves are simple enough to translate; pulling them down to earth and hoisting them back into the air, however, is another matter.

The Ruins of the Sheepfold

East of Bethlehem lies an enclosed area known as Khirbet Syar el-Ghanam, “The ruins of the sheepfold.” It is one of three locales in the Arab village of Bayt Sahour linked to the memory of the Christmas shepherds. Issa and I step past its gate in pursuit of deeper desert. Fortunately for us, the gauntlet of trinketmen armed with postcards, stitched bags, keffiyehs, and flutes have yet to assemble. It is still early in the day for tourists, but not for the summer sun. Sweat stripes bleed through my shirt, outlining my packstraps. We thump by, mindful of the hour.

Watermelon Walls

This story begins 18 years ago on the road between Ramallah and Jerusalem.

I was driving a vintage Fiat 127 in heavy traffic when the truck in front of me suddenly slammed on his brakes. Despite my cat-like reflexes and the best of Italian engineering, I slammed into the truck. His bumper was bent. My Fiat was less robust. Some aluminum got crumpled. Again.