Shalom . . . sort of.
I began to write this seventh Sidebars column in Petra, Jordan, a remarkably beautiful city nestled beneath rose-coloured mountains. This sojourn comes near the end of two weeks touring the Holy Land and a return flight home from Tel Aviv in a few days.
Petra allows for a moment to ponder and reflect on the last 10 days in the Middle East and an unsettled perspective on peace.
Israel is a land of contradictions. It is stunningly impressive to end a tour in Israel and marvel at what has been accomplished in this land in much less than a century.
Lush valleys created from lands of rock, towering skyscrapers, fascinating museums, fine restaurants, and state of the art infrastructure are remarkable when coupled with overflowing street markets. And yet, just outside the cities camels are patiently parked at roadsides awaiting their riders and garbage lines the sides of too many roads and back streets.
The multitude of co-existing religions that inhabit Jerusalem is perhaps impossible to comprehend, but there is also something unsettling in the air. It seems at all times that a shroud of violence is just around the corner.
We have travelled to visit holy places, yet are reminded constantly to be vigilant as safety may be tenuous despite the ever-present military.
The Christian holy places can be spiritually uplifting, but you are immediately reminded that although God may be great, shopping is all powerful.
The Via Dolorosa, where Jesus purportedly languished while carrying his cross up to his crucifixion, is lined with barking merchants in unending stalls. I must admit that I could not resist stepping out of my spiritual journey to purchase a Toronto Blue Jays shirt with Hebrew script. (Surely, with this divine connection, the World Series will soon be ours).
Buses of pilgrims that leave religious sites seem, as if by God’s will, to stop at gaudy shopping locations that offer extravagant, perhaps spiritual, reductions in price . . . just for you.
It seemed difficult to experience quiet or peacefulness in Jerusalem despite how integral religion is to this land. Therein may lie a problem. Spirituality seems programmed, survival on an edge. And yet the memories, some very powerful and complex, will stay with me.
At almost 5 p.m., the beginning of the Jewish Sabbath, I was privileged to find myself at the Western Wall in the Old City. I watched in awe as an unceasing wave of fervent worshippers stood in silence or chanted in prayer before the wall. The experience was incredibly moving. Many slipped paper prayers, I suspect often for peace especially in the wake of Paris, into the welcoming crevices.
As I was about to leave, about 75 young Israeli soldiers who appeared no more than 19 years old, Uzis strapped to their sides, formed a circle, embraced, joyously sang, danced, and touched the earth in united choreography. Their exuberance was infectious. For a moment, I forgot that this event itself was within the walls of a guarded city, only accessible after security clearance.
To visit Bethlehem, the reported birthplace of Christ, you must pass the ominous wall into a Palestine of fear and restrictions. Even the beauty and tranquility of the Jordan valley has a reminder of fragility as you witness the Golan Heights in the distance.
As I tour this remarkable part of our world and cherish the opportunity to visit historic sites, some thousands of years old, I am overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude that I live in Canada.
When I departed two weeks ago, just after the election, there was a new energy and hope, indeed even peace in so many ways. I am reminded we can worship or chose not to. We tolerate religious and cultural differences and we do not live in fear.
In the Holy Land, I had a sense that life was temporary and peace was very fragile.
I think we take our freedom and security for granted in Canada. To witness crowds of worshippers at holy sites surrounded by armed guards and to see neighbouring countries separated by layers of vigorous checkpoints is a reminder of how lucky we are.
Canada is not immune from the terrorist threats that randomly shake our universe, but as I head home I am proud that there really is no asterisk attached to the word shalom for us.
I began to write this seventh Sidebars column in Petra, Jordan, a remarkably beautiful city nestled beneath rose-coloured mountains. This sojourn comes near the end of two weeks touring the Holy Land and a return flight home from Tel Aviv in a few days.
Petra allows for a moment to ponder and reflect on the last 10 days in the Middle East and an unsettled perspective on peace.
Israel is a land of contradictions. It is stunningly impressive to end a tour in Israel and marvel at what has been accomplished in this land in much less than a century.
Lush valleys created from lands of rock, towering skyscrapers, fascinating museums, fine restaurants, and state of the art infrastructure are remarkable when coupled with overflowing street markets. And yet, just outside the cities camels are patiently parked at roadsides awaiting their riders and garbage lines the sides of too many roads and back streets.
The multitude of co-existing religions that inhabit Jerusalem is perhaps impossible to comprehend, but there is also something unsettling in the air. It seems at all times that a shroud of violence is just around the corner.
We have travelled to visit holy places, yet are reminded constantly to be vigilant as safety may be tenuous despite the ever-present military.
The Christian holy places can be spiritually uplifting, but you are immediately reminded that although God may be great, shopping is all powerful.
The Via Dolorosa, where Jesus purportedly languished while carrying his cross up to his crucifixion, is lined with barking merchants in unending stalls. I must admit that I could not resist stepping out of my spiritual journey to purchase a Toronto Blue Jays shirt with Hebrew script. (Surely, with this divine connection, the World Series will soon be ours).
Buses of pilgrims that leave religious sites seem, as if by God’s will, to stop at gaudy shopping locations that offer extravagant, perhaps spiritual, reductions in price . . . just for you.
It seemed difficult to experience quiet or peacefulness in Jerusalem despite how integral religion is to this land. Therein may lie a problem. Spirituality seems programmed, survival on an edge. And yet the memories, some very powerful and complex, will stay with me.
At almost 5 p.m., the beginning of the Jewish Sabbath, I was privileged to find myself at the Western Wall in the Old City. I watched in awe as an unceasing wave of fervent worshippers stood in silence or chanted in prayer before the wall. The experience was incredibly moving. Many slipped paper prayers, I suspect often for peace especially in the wake of Paris, into the welcoming crevices.
As I was about to leave, about 75 young Israeli soldiers who appeared no more than 19 years old, Uzis strapped to their sides, formed a circle, embraced, joyously sang, danced, and touched the earth in united choreography. Their exuberance was infectious. For a moment, I forgot that this event itself was within the walls of a guarded city, only accessible after security clearance.
To visit Bethlehem, the reported birthplace of Christ, you must pass the ominous wall into a Palestine of fear and restrictions. Even the beauty and tranquility of the Jordan valley has a reminder of fragility as you witness the Golan Heights in the distance.
As I tour this remarkable part of our world and cherish the opportunity to visit historic sites, some thousands of years old, I am overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude that I live in Canada.
When I departed two weeks ago, just after the election, there was a new energy and hope, indeed even peace in so many ways. I am reminded we can worship or chose not to. We tolerate religious and cultural differences and we do not live in fear.
In the Holy Land, I had a sense that life was temporary and peace was very fragile.
I think we take our freedom and security for granted in Canada. To witness crowds of worshippers at holy sites surrounded by armed guards and to see neighbouring countries separated by layers of vigorous checkpoints is a reminder of how lucky we are.
Canada is not immune from the terrorist threats that randomly shake our universe, but as I head home I am proud that there really is no asterisk attached to the word shalom for us.
