David Landis, dplandis@franconiaconference.org

Many people come to the Holy Lands trying to change the world. They come with an agenda, either to speed up the end of the world or find personal spiritual epiphany. Sometimes they try to call down justice to give the land to the Jews or create a Palestinian state. In comparison, most of the people who were born here seem to just want to live their lives in peace. In a land that has been a crossroads of trade, culture and religion for millennia, they are used to visitors coming and going with crazy ideas and absurd goals.

My most meaningful experiences in the past four and a half months have not been with revolutionaries, peace activists or religious leaders. They come from the normal people who populate the towns and cities, spending time with their families, and going to work each day. These relationships are built within an atmosphere of hospitality sharing the normal parts of life—coffee, tea, falafel and shwarama. These people seem to have a greater ability to see their neighbors as human beings, not as others representing a specific religious or ethnic background.

I’ve spent a lot of time walking the routes that Jesus would have traveled regularly in the Galilee. Nazareth, Cana, and Capernaum, as well as most of the places mentioned in the Gospels, were almost inconsequential in relation to the broader ruling empire. The two largest cities of power and glory in the region—Tiberias and Sepphoris—were never mentioned in scripture. Jesus’ disciples were common peasants and laborers with mixed and ambiguous perspectives on the Roman Empire. Many of them would have spent most of their lives just trying to feed their families.

Last week my Israeli friend Maoz and I took a journalist and photographer from the Israeli Newspaper Ha’aretz on the Jesus Trail, a hiking route that we are developing to connect these places. It was a lot of fun to share some of the places of Jesus’ life with them, explaining why they were significant to his history and the Christian story. When we passed by an ancient synagogue at the ruins of Arbella, they shared pieces of their Jewish heritage with me.

Together we visited the Mount of Beatitudes, all remarking on the ugliness of the church’s interior and how much more beautiful the green paths of the countryside is in comparison. I think it all made us wonder about the difference between Jesus the Jewish peasant traveler and the Christianity that has developed since he walked these hills 2000 years ago.

I am currently taking a seminary course that explores the first century context of Jesus’ life. In my research, I am continually struck by his normalcy. Although history does indicate that his life brought revolution to western civilization, I often wonder if his intention was to be someone who would change the world. My suspicion is that he was just trying to live his life well and help a diversity of others to do the same, directing their journeys toward God.

There is a saying that if you spend a week in Israel you can write a book about your experience, and that if you stay for a month you can produce a really good article. The adage continues saying that if you stay here much more than this, you won’t even know what to say.

The longer I stay in Nazareth, the more I just want to live my life in the company of close friends, sharing the hospitable space that happens over a cup of coffee or dinner. This renews and sustains our relationships and brings us joy each day. And perhaps because they’re not trying to start a revolution, these interactions may change the world.

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David Landis
dplandis@franconiaconference.org

Shabbat, the Hebrew word for the Sabbath, begins at sundown on Friday. During this time many religious Jews in the Jerusalem area migrate to the Western Wall to offer prayers, commencing the holy day of rest and celebration.

In August I was walking through the Old City streets towards the wall among Orthodox Jews, as well as a group of young Mennonites from the United States. As we approached the Wall, we stepped back to gather our observations and hesitations. The mass of men and women clothed in black and white closer to the Wall were swirling, praying, praising and dancing in ways that looked foreign to us, yet beckoned as genuine and holy. Some wanted to approach but wondered, “What will they think of us if we go there to pray if we’re not Jewish?”

After some conversation, we imagined a young Jesus in our same situation, and it seemed obvious that he would have stepped forward. Tim and I decided to put on paper kippot and move closer. Soon we were swept up in a circle of young Jewish men, singing boisterously and dancing in a circle with arms around each others’ shoulders. There was a spiritual energy that I haven’t felt in a long time. Our hesitations were absorbed by the movement of the community.

As we walked back toward where the rest of our group had been curiously watching, an older Orthodox Jewish man approached us and said with a warm smile, “I just want you to know that you are welcome here and that God is not Jewish. And I know this because you are breathing; you are alive here with us.”

The words stuck with me. In Jewish tradition, breath is the spirit of God signified by the Hebrew word ruach, which also has linguistic connections to the wind, soul and spirit. Ancient Hebrew has no vowels, as these sounds represent the breath of God articulating language through the reader’s recitation. As a result, the communicated message is an inspired interaction with God, sculpting the meaning of scripture to speak to the context of the community.

The Holy Spirit invites us to see God moving through each other, whether expressed through our inspired words, the breath that sustains us, or the effects of the wind that fill our sails and drive us to new horizons. As Anglican Bishop John V. Taylor states, this is the “Go-Between God,” the invisible “current of communication” that streams between us when we truly recognize the presence of the other.

Over the past few years, I have felt the wind pulling me across the Atlantic and Mediterranean back to the Middle East, a place that has had significant spiritual influence on the whole of humanity as well as my personal journey. Returning has never been a matter of if, but a matter of when. And now the time has come to make the move.

Next week I will shift my location of residence to Israel to experiment with new models for how God communicates through all of us. This initiative of Franconia Conference, via Jerusalem, will seek to develop new ways to build a culture of engagement and connectivity through networking, communication and movement within the global Anabaptist community. I will be writing and adding photos regularly to http://via-global.org, so keep checking to interact as the initiative develops.

Let us all take a deep breath and invite the Spirit of God to inspire our lives with new understandings of each other whether on the way to Jerusalem or simply on the way.

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