Risky Business

Risk. . . For some, a tactical yet oft tedious board game comes to mind.  For many, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity taken, or missed.  And for still others, whose attachment to "security" in its many forms keeps it at bay, the word represents an unknown world of potential mistakes not worth so much as a fleeting consideration.

While the first thought may seem laughable, the latter two represent ways of life, mindsets and worldviews which, in part, form the foundation of our approach to the fundamental conundrums of life.  Whether personal, social, political or religious, these questions are unavoidable realities of life, no matter how painful that acceptance may be.  To avoid a risk is as much a choice as to take one, and in my estimation, just as risky a decision.

With the new semester at Jerusalem University College comes a group of young, aspiring minds, many of which are still unscathed by the harsh realities of life in the Middle East.  Arriving with a passion for the Bible and a passing familiarity with the media storm surrounding this region, most are blissfully unaware of the challenges that await them.  What hopefully lies ahead is a semester of open questions, harsh jolts to reality and ultimately a sense of confusion about what the "facts" and "truths" of life really are, because this is what Jerusalem does best!

Life in America, as most of you will experientially understand, can be quite comfortable.  Not only do we live in crisp and clean houses - bleached not only to hide the stains of food but of familial frustration - but our ideologies are closely fenced in and off limits.  Individualism pervades every aspect of life.  Whether it means living next to strangers for nearly a decade or avoiding the uncomfortable questions in order to maintain an uneasy sociability, it is simply too easy to color inside the lines without ever considering who or what designated those lines in the first place.

Jerusalem, on the other hand, is wrought with contradictions, inadequacies and ideological argumentativeness of the best variety.  As I have often said, it is here that we discover the fault line of civilizations.  As a foreigner in this land, and this city in particular, there is no room for comfortably protecting one's mind, though many try unsuccessfully.  This is not simply the home of biblical narrative, but of nationalistic narcissism - everyone is willing to fight and defend publicly their right to tell you you're wrong.  So sit down, have a cup of tea or Turkish coffee and buckle up.  Though the backgammon board may play a role, the game of Risk here has more to do with arguments than armies.  These battles are fought in the mind, not on a board.

As for the students to whom I referred, I applaud them.  This is what taking risks is all about.  Stepping out of our comfort zones and willingly subjecting our ideas to the fires of controversy.  Nothing comes easily in the Middle East, and as far as I'm concerned, it shouldn't.  No more 9 to 5 desk job dreams.  No country clubs or cabarets.  No tee-off times, hip-hop rhymes or New York Times.  Not that these things can't all be found in the Land Between, because they surely can.  In Jerusalem, however, one must fight to believe - to believe in faith, love, hope and the existence of tomorrow.  Complacency is no more than a bird with clipped wings in the land of the Levant.  And though many an Israeli and Palestinian have lost their vision for the future, their hope of new beginnings and their faith in gods, surely we profess a higher calling!

Take a risk and unchain the gates of security which earnestly guard your mind, your dreams.  Dare to experience life, as dirty, frustrating and fearful as it can be.  The turrets of a Disney World fairytale are dim in this world, but the reality which comes to life - the images of real people and genuine interaction are a daily reality.  Risks are not without their rewards.  And to that, I say "L'chaim!"

Names and Baby Steps

It is possible to study the situation here for a lifetime and think you grasp it all.  One could read a hundred hard-bound books, take a dozen classes on contemporary or ancient history, learn a half dozen languages and live in the land for years.  But the truth here is, everyday, you still have to wake up to reality, to the daily lives of Israelis and Palestinians, Jews and Christians, Muslims and Druze.  There is always one more facet to learn, and the situation, as the phrase goes, is greater than the sum of its parts.

After recognizing this, it should have come as no surprise to me that I am but a Middle East baby, one who wakes up each day and resumes the business of learning how to crawl.  And one day, I just may shock you with that first word slipping through my lips.  I am swimming in a world of challenges, of surprises and adventures, of wisdom and folly.  There will always be an endless supply of new discoveries awaiting me in this land, and this week proved no different.  Except this time brought with it a true revelation, a baby who skips the awkward stumbles of first steps and heads straight for running marathons.

By nature, I am a political individual.  I have never bought the arguments that religion is apolitical, or vice-versa.  By extension, the realms of faith and politics are interconnected and, if the influence moves from the former to the latter, politics can be an appropriate forum for expression of one's religious commitment.  My time here in Israel, however, has tempered my hope about the highest of achievements which politics is capable of.  I have now come to see the political process, in general, in a light similar to Thomas Friedman's characterization of the Israeli-Palestinian crisis: that of "a bad play . . . [in which] all the parties are just acting out the same old scenes, with the same old tired clichés—and that no one believes any of it anymore."

My revelation, however, descended much deeper than that.  In truth, I have missed for so many years the point of peace altogether.  A reading of Ezekiel 36 spins the clarity dial bringing the picture back into focus.  Peace is not about us.  It is not about us living comfortably together, or strengthening our economies.  It is not about Nobel Peace Prize winners (or posers).  Nor is it about cease-fires or even justice, though all these things have their place.  It is about restoring God's name to its rightful, holy place in the world.

"This is what the Sovereign LORD says:  It is not for your sake, O house of Israel, that I am going to do these things [to raise you up], but for the sake of my holy name, which you have profaned among the nations where you have gone.  I will show the holiness of my great name, which has been profaned among the nations, the name you have profaned among them.  Then the nations will know that I am the LORD, declares the Sovereign LORD, when I show myself holy through you before their eyes." (Ezek. 36:22-23)

The Jewish people, as God's 'Segula,' or treasure box, must grapple with the meaning of their covenant with God in the midst of their current state of power; they must strive to keep his commands and to uplift the name of God through unrivaled justice and mercy.  Speaking to Israel, God says "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.  And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws." (Ezek. 36:26-27)

Peace, then, cannot come without a focus on God, whether explicit or implicit.  To do so would deprive his name of the glory it deserves.  Politics can continue to negotiate processes for peace in this land, some of which may even achieve minor gains.  But as long as those 'road-maps' circumvent the God to whom this Holy Land really belongs, I believe we are all hoping for that same 'bad play' we have seen before to end differently this time.  The public square has its place in the Christian heart, and political discourse its merit.  The conflict we face, however—the one that I wake up to every day and work at a few more baby steps—demands more of us than solid political arguments.  It demands that our eyes be pointed upward.  Romeo's famous Shakespearean question comes to mind.  "What's in a name?"  In fact, never has a name meant so much. . .