The Unlikely Pilgrim: Day 2, “No longer strangers”

The Unlikely Pilgrim: Day 2, “No longer strangers” April 11, 2015
I was an intruder.  I didn’t  belong. Someone will surely figure it out.
What was I thinking? 
I walked up to the simple concrete building with the illuminated cross on the roof. As I looked out across the skyline, I spotted two other buildings, adorned with crescent moons on their ridges. I heard calls to prayers echoing across the city. Like a children’s book, it didn’t take long to see what wasn’t the same.
I walked into the Melkite Greek Catholic church in downtown Amman, Jordan, graciously invited by others. The St. Peter and Paul church was small, with probably 150 people already gathered. We were late. The service was led by Father Nabil Haddad, a gracious man who is working at bridging the gap in the Muslim, Jewish, and Christian world as the leader of the Jordanian Interfaith Coexistence Research Center.
Picture
I resisted the urge to find a way to make my way outside. I was so out of my element. This was a different culture, a different faith expression in a middle eastern tradition. And the service was in Arabic. To an outsider it was nonsense. Chants. Singing.  Repetition. Kneeling. There was no music except for the melodic, hypnotic voices of chants that seemed to bring in a mix of Gregorian, Semitic, and Arabic influence.  I irreverently imagined a Jew in a vestment singing from a minaret. It was disruptive and disquieting. But as the service continued, it was powerful.
Picture2

“Be Careful”

I’m not all that cross-cultural. I have a little bit of an attitude. And I can quickly wrap myself in plain coverings of a redneck. I’ve heard the warnings about the Middle East, and as a voracious reader of the news, understood the perception. I didn’t have to go. I heard from friends and family around the globe. They all told me to ‘be careful’ in the same way you tell a little boy who’s riding his bike to town and isn’t quite savvy enough to stay away from certain neighborhoods. I admit, I’m still that boy and it’s okay to give me warnings.

Yes, this is the Middle East. ISIS has brought the world to it’s knees, finding easy targets: embassy personnel,  US servicemen, contractors and — gulp — journalists. And if someone hates you, then you can probably expect them to find you at a place you love.  Christians go to church on Easter. The thought crossed my mind.

But let me tell you something. Jordan is amazingly different. even though the Christians number in the low single digits they enjoy a respect. Not because they downplay the religion;  not because they’ve given in to political correctness; not because they pretend to fit in. They are respected because they live out their faith and truth and honesty. they are given respect. I spoke to several people who commend King Abdullah, who goes out of his way to protect Christians both at home and abroad. It’s leadership.

Known for their love

In our country we are being told to shut up and sit down and that we don’t have a place the table. But across the MIddle East, the birthplace of Christianity, believers are becoming a smaller and smaller slice of the population, losing they baby war. And they are oppressed and tormented and killed in some places. Yet, they survive and even thrive because of their love for each other and for God.
So here I am, standing among Christians who have been in the area for more than a thousand years. I unworthy, ignorant, and just a little shocked. Who do I think I am? I have no idea what these people have to endure on a daily basis. and yet they embrace me and call me – brother.
As the service proceeded, I still felt a little silly with no clue or context. The liturgy, the songs, the tongue – what to make of it all?
Picture3
Then I looked at the cross on the stand, draped in a white ribbon. I saw an older woman, her head covered in a white lace, standing next to a pretty teenage girl. They were singing and then repeating the words from the Arabic book in front of them. I looked around. I was surrounded by men and women, young and old, and together, we had a bond of a common need and a Savior that met that need.
The salt I tasted trickled from my eyes.
We were one in the cross

Browse Our Archives

Follow Us!


TRENDING AT PATHEOS Evangelical
What Are Your Thoughts?leave a comment
  • Just a thought, David – that you were called to be a witness, not necessarily an actor, while you are there. Tell us of your journeys so that we, who live such painfully sheltered lives here, can grow deeper in our understanding of a God who speaks every tongue fluently and one who can rejoice with the smallest success in reaching the Westerners on Holy ground.

    God be with you, my friend. :-)

  • Bless you brother for giving us a peek into your heart as you travel, see, feel, hear new things. Your world view is growing bigger with each word. We Americans think we have such a grasp on spiritual issues and world issues but when among those who think different, worship different, look different, are still flesh and blood just as we are. God cares for all flesh and blood…we all started in one place, the garden, one language and pride move in quickly so God scattered the people, God did that, not man, God. And now my brother you are given the honor to walk among some of the scattered ones just as you are. Loving the update…

  • We were–are–one at the cross. I’m tasting a little of that salt now myself.

    Be careful.

  • “Then I looked at the cross” the great translator into the language of One. Greater love has has no man than this, than to lay down his life for his friends…what are you doing over there? Just. This. Imitating and translating this language of Love. They see and hear and embrace their brother. Thank you. ipray4u.

  • Tim

    like Sandra some salt in that shared recognition and bond – take care brother!

  • This is lovely, David. And you are serving as a witness – thank you for writing about it all.

  • Keep it coming, David. Good stuff.

  • Pingback: Calling Evil Out: One Man's Stand - Red Letter BelieversRed Letter Believers()