Thoughts on my Vanity

      Travel component is underway.  The group has been exposed to many peoples and places, having visited both Morocco and Turkey, the latter is where I am currently located.

      Recently, I have been thinking about vanity.  Last time I flew, I remember checking myself out while the flight was boarding, making sure my hair was properly parted.  Suddenly, a line from a Gwendolyn Brooks poem popped into my head: "We real cool."  I slicked my hair to the side and thought, "I'm real cool," and the muse struck...

       To understand  my poem, you should first read Brook's poem, "We real cool."  The poem is a sarcastic take on the thought process behind youngsters who choose to drop out of school and pursue a life of rebellion.  The poem's starting air is confident but its end sobering, recognizing that the youngsters will likely, "die soon."  When reading the poem, I like to think of an old black woman reading it to me in a thick African American Vernacular accent; it gives is a jazzy feel.



We Real Cool

       The Pool Players.
       Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

       My poem is a sarcastic take on my own vanity.  Like Brooks' poem, my poem starts out in an almost confident air but ends with the sobering truth of my near graduation, through which I will enter into a much different phase of life than the one I am currently in: I am a cool young college student now, but in a year I will be faced with bills and other responsibilities that the college student is temporarily removed from.  For this poem, imagine myself reading it to you, maybe even with a wanna-be Ebonics accent (perhaps this adds to the sarcastic vanity behind it all).  Enjoy.

I’m Real Cool 

         For Gwendolyn Brooks 

       Sitting on an Airplane,
       Checking Myself Out.

I’m real cool. I’m
Still’n school. I

Work late. I
Write pāps. I

Sing hymns. I
Think big. I

Climb dunes. I
Grad. Soon.



      Tomorrow we fly from Istanbul to Jordan, continuing our Middle Eastern excursion with some awesome outdoor adventures: visiting Petra, riding camels, walking through the dessert, hiking mountains, swimming in the sea, and maybe even snorkeling.  I'm stoked.

Peace,
Elliot 

Touring and a Poem

New Poem:

Plastic Bag in a Tree

Plastic bag in a tree,

Where did you come from?

There is nothing around you

But rocks, dirt, and a salty sea.

And yet you have climbed

To the highest branches.

How low we must be,

To leave our mark on all we see.

      I wrote this on the way to the Dead Sea this past week, where our group enjoyed unwinding in the desert weather and swimming in the unsinkable sea.  In addition, we traveled to the historic ruins of Masada and the ancient coastal city of Cesseria.  It has been cool doing some site seeing, and ten days from now this will only increase as we begin our program's travel component in which we will be touring around Morocco, Turkey, and Jordan for three weeks.  Another update: I have been working on getting my visa for India where I hope to be traveling after the semester is over; praying that everything in this process will go smoothly.

Peace,

Elliot 

Remembering Why I am a Christian: Lessons from a Jewish Jesuit Catholic Priest

“What are you thinking about?” My roommate, Paul, asked me as I lied in bed and blankly starred up at the ceiling.

                His question pulled me out of my thoughts and back into the bedroom.  I paused to gather myself, then paused for another measure to think through how to articulate what I was processing in my mind.  I turned my head so my eyes could connect with my friend’s, then turned back to the ceiling, “Paul, why are you a Christian?”

                It is an honest question and its subject is so entrenched into who one is that it can be surprisingly difficult to answer.  It is a question that is important to ask, to ask yourself, to remember why you believe what you believe.  Living in Israel, this place where Christianity, Judaism, and Islam all intimately meet, I have been forced to ask and ponder this question often. 

                An answer to this question came in class this past week.  Dr. Doug, my program’s director, pointed out that there was something about Jesus, something he had, something about himself, that compelled people to follow him, and when they did, they were changed.  Encountering Jesus changes people, and I think this still happens, and I think this is why people are Christians today.   

                A beautiful story about someone meeting Jesus and being changed was told to our class this past week by a Jewish (ethnically) Jesuit Catholic Priest, Father Newhouse.  He told us that, when he was fifteen, he was living in Jerusalem, attending a religious school but was contently nonreligious himself.  He said religion didn't interest him, but, for some reason, he was particularly interested in Russian history, namely with the Romanov family.  While living in Jerusalem, he had heard that a princess from the royal family was living in the area, on the Mount of Olives.  One day, he decided to go visit. 

The princess had become a nun and was on her death bed.  When he arrived to her house, the nun who was taking care of the princess allowed him inside to visit, but, to his dismay, was unable to communicate much with her because of her condition.  The assisting nun noticed his disappointment and informed him that there was a friend of the princess, another lady from the former Russian aristocracy, who was also a nun, who was bright and social, and who was living close by.  Father Newhouse told the nun that he very much wanted to see this woman and so he was directed to her house.  He found the woman, Sister Barbara, and said that she changed his life.

Sister Barbara, although bright and social, was paralysed and bedridden.  She had been immobile for the past twenty years of her life.  Father Newhouse said that, despite her physical condition and a life history that was overwhelmingly tragic, Sister Barbara shined.  After hours of talking to the nun, fifteen year old Father Newhouse concluded that Sister Barbara was the happiest person he had ever encountered, and this confused him greatly. His conclusion burned inside him and he had to ask, “Why are you so happy?” At first, Sister Barbara was reluctant to respond with the whole truth.  She knew he was a Jew and that religion could be quite a divisive topic, but after he pressured her more, she finally told him, “It is because I am in love…”

Sister Barbara was in love with Jesus.  She had an active, living relationship with him, and it changed her, it made her shine.  Young Father Newhouse soon came to also fall in love with Jesus, and as I listened to him share his story, I could see that he also shined.  There is something infinitely compelling about Jesus, and so we must follow. 

Beauty, Peace, and Prayer

"Why is 2 + 3 always equal to 5?
Where do people go to when they die?
What made the beauty of the moon?
And the beauty of the sea?
Did that beauty make you?
Did that beauty make me?
Will that make me something?
Will I be something?
Am I something?

And the answer comes: You already are, You always were, and You still have time to be."

                                                                                       

                                                                                               -- Anis Mojgani

      Beauty will save the world, and beauty will save the Holy Land.  There is so much beauty in this place, from the olive trees, spread across ancient terraces which line the sides of the rocky hills, holding together for hundreds of years the earth in which they are placed, to the diversity of peoples, religions, and cultures which somehow all meet in this place.  My friend here, Jess, tells me over bitterly dark Arabic coffee while we sit in a hidden hipster coffee shop in the ancient sprawls of Bethlehem that diversity is what makes the world beautiful, and I stare at Jerusalem as the sun sets, as the Muslims begin their call to prayer, and I have to agree.    

       As often as I can, I have tried to practice a liturgy in this moment where the sun is setting and the Muslims begin their call to prayer.  I face Jerusalem, like all Muslims do as they pray, and begin a prayer titled, "Ignatian Litany of the Names of Jesus."  I begin reading aloud: "Jesus, Son of the Virgin... Have mercy on us.  Jesus, our Creator and Lord... Have mercy on us.  Jesus, eternal Lord of all things... Have mercy on us."  And on and on I continue, reading a list of about thirty names which characterize Jesus, and repetitiously praying, "...Have mercy on us."  I find this liturgy meaningful because it allows me to pray to the one God as I believe and understand him to be, but it also allows me to be in a kind of solidarity with my brothers and sisters who are Muslim and who are simultaneously praying to the one God as they understand him to be. In addition, from my understanding and impression of the faith thus far, Muslims place a big emphasis on God's mercy and compassion.  So, as I pray this prayer, I pray that Jesus will have mercy and compassion on us all: Christians, Muslims, Jews; everybody!  May we know God, know Truth, and worship Him.  

God is good.

Peace, Shalom, Salaam,

Love,

Elliot 

Safe in Israel

         I have been reading Peter Maurin, co-founder of the Catholic Worker Movement.  He wrote most of his work in poems which have become known as his, "Easy Essays."  They are basically small essays written as poems.  They have been resonating with me.  Here is a favorite:

Specialization

A few years ago,

I asked a college professor

to give me

the formulation

of those universal concepts

embodied

in the universal message

of universal universities

that will enable

the common man

to create

a universal economy.

And I was told

by the college professor:

"That is not my subject."

Colleges and universities 

give to the students

plenty of facts

but very little understanding.

They turn out specialists

knowing more and more

about less and less.

   I'm hoping to receive many facts this semester, but also much understanding.  

   I wrote an easy essay about my first visit to the Western (or wailing) Wall, a holy site for Jews and others. Our group has toured the old city of Jerusalem a few times since being here and the poem embodies some of my thought processing:

A Westerner at the Western Wall 

“Then my soul shall rejoice in the Lord,

exulting in his deliverance. All my bones shall say,

‘O Lord, who is like you?’”  Psalms 35:9-10

A Jewish man prays 

with all his bones.

He swings 

back 

and forth,

at the hips,

back 

and forth,

while reading 

very loudly

from a book,

uttering something 

unintelligible. 

A charismatic Christian worships 

with all his bones.

He swings 

back 

and forth,

at the hips,

back 

and forth.

He reads

from a book,

sings

very loudly,

and utters something

unintelligible.

Does God hear

them both?

Here is a video of Jews praying at the Western Wall: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IsX5t_wYoYM

      My time in Israel has been great so far.  Everyone in my group is interesting and I'm sure there is much in store for us all in the months ahead.  Keeps us in your prayers.