Violence and chaos in the Middle East have left many around the world hopeless and feeling helpless. As followers of Jesus, we refuse to be sidetracked by the temptation to despair.
Prayers for Peace (P4P) provides a way for Christians of diverse political and theological backgrounds to stand up for peace and unite in supplication to God with a special focus on prayers for the Holy Land. Prayers for Peace provides Jesus’ followers with the common language of prayer around which to mobilize their energy and passion for the land that gave birth to our faith. To combat the prevailing images of discord, Prayers for Peace will highlightpeace-building organizations that we may pray for them as they live out the reconciliation offered in the Prophets and Jesus’ message of peace.
Prayers for Peace is thankful for the partnership of our board member organization Christians for Social Action in writing and sharing these prayers.
Hope and Deliverance in Jesus’ Triumphal Entry Rev. Dr. Mae Elise Cannon
As he was now drawing near, at the descent of the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”– Luke 19:37-38
Today the town of Bethany can be found on the eastern slopes of the Mount of Olives. The village, on the Palestinian side of the separation barrier, is known in Arabic as العيزرية or Al-ʿAyzariyyah – the place of Lazarus – for it is where Mary and Martha’s brother was raised from the dead by the person of Jesus. Today many aspects of the modern Palestinian village seem quite distant from the hope of resurrection. The streets are full of piles of refuse, burning garbage, and other signs of neglect because of a lack of services and infrastructure. Bethany is in Area C – a segment of the occupied Palestinian territories (oPt) under Israeli civil and security control. While Israel is responsible for civil services, few if any are provided.
Formerly a thriving East Jerusalem enclave, Bethany today is cut off economically, socially, and in many other ways from the hundreds of thousands of Palestinian residents of the city of Jerusalem. Once walkable, East Jerusalem schools and hospitals are now out of reach and unemployment has risen since the building of the wall in the early 2000s. Crime has also risen in the city because of a lack of government involvement and intervention. Bethany exists as a community increasingly desolate, suffering repercussions from the decades-long occupation of the Palestinian people.
What would the celebration of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem say to the residents of a community like Al-‘Ayzariyyah?
Jesus’ entry into the sacred city of Jerusalem on the back of a donkey did not represent the “triumphal entry” that many expected. Where was the strident warrior king who would lead the Jewish people to victory and deliverance? Rather this humble son of a carpenter chose the lowliest of animals upon which to make the declaration of his Messianic mission. Some studied witnesses of the event would have understood Jesus’ humble mode of transportation as a fulfillment of the prophecy of Zechariah: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! … Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey…” (9:9).
Jesus met people during his day in the midst of their circumstances. He responded to Mary and Martha when they let him know of Lazarus’ illness by saying, “This illness is not unto death; it is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by means of it” (John 11:4). Later Christ wept at the hearing of Lazarus’ death… only then to redefine reality and bring his friend back to life (John 11:35).
Similarly, the purpose of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem celebrated on Palm Sunday symbolizes the declaration of him as the Messiah. The triumphal entry marks the momentous occasion where Jesus was acknowledged as the “King” of the Jews who came “in the name of the Lord” (Luke 19:38). While the people continued to expect a military victory over their oppressors, instead Jesus’ entry marked the beginning of the Passion of Christ – his suffering, death, and resurrection – that is celebrated during Holy Week.
This year as we wave our olive branches in church and remember Jesus’ journey down the Mount of Olives – may we hold in our hearts the people who live in that community today – including the Palestinian residents of Bethany living under occupation. Hope in Jesus’ day did not come the way that people expected. Rather God’s goodness and mercy were revealed in the humblest of circumstances.
Through Jesus, hope and deliverance prevailed.
May this be our prayer as we together pursue peace and justice in the Middle East.
Humble, Lord Jesus. Peace in heaven and glory to the highest. You are worthy of all praise and honor. You are the God of empathy and love. You are the God of comfort and joy. You are the God of peace and justice. As we worship you on this commemoration of your triumphal entry, be with those who have yet to experience relief from their earthly suffering. Come alongside those who live in isolation and difficult circumstances. Bring your hope and deliverance to all people. In the name of Christ. Amen.
Rev. Dr. Mae Elise Cannon is the executive director of Churches for Middle East Peace and an ordained pastor in the Evangelical Covenant Church (ECC). Cannon formerly served as the senior director of Advocacy and Outreach for World Vision U.S. on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC; as a consultant to the Middle East for child advocacy issues for Compassion International in Jerusalem; as the executive pastor of Hillside Covenant Church located in Walnut Creek, California; and as director of development and transformation for extension ministries at Willow Creek Community Church in Barrington, Illinois. Cannon holds an MDiv from North Park Theological Seminary, an MBA from North Park University’s School of Business and Nonprofit Management, and an MA in bioethics from Trinity International University. She received her first doctorate in American History with a minor in Middle Eastern studies at the University of California (Davis) focusing on the history of the American Protestant church in Israel and Palestine and her second doctorate in Ministry in Spiritual Formation from Northern Theological Seminary. She is the author of several books including the award-winning Social Justice Handbook: Small Steps for a Better World and editor of A Land Full of God: Christian Perspectives on the Holy Land. Her work has been highlighted in The New York Times, The Washington Post, CNN, Chicago Tribune, Christianity Today, Leadership Magazine, The Christian Post, Jerusalem Post, EU Parliament Magazine, Huffington Post, and other international media outlets.
“Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him, and he will bring justice to the nations. He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice; he will not falter or be discouraged till he establishes justice on earth. In his teaching, the islands will put their hope.” Isaiah 42:1-4
This is the first of four passages in Isaiah commonly understood as describing the “suffering servant.” Many Christians understand these prophecies to be fulfilled in Jesus’ ministry, and others consider the Biblical nation of Israel as a whole to be the suffering servant.
The passage strikes me for its repetition of justice. This servant will bring justice to not just one, but the nations. The servant will bring forth justice – as if it’s hiding somewhere waiting to be revealed. He will not falter or be discouraged until he establishes, or puts, justice on the earth.
If this passage does indeed refer to Jesus the Messiah, either justice has been established, the prophecy is false, or Jesus is still working on it. Though bewildering, the last seems most likely to me.
So how might Jesus be still bringing forth justice? Has he really not faltered or grown discouraged?
I sometimes wish Jesus was more vocal about the injustices of his day. He didn’t seem to shout or cry out or raise his voice in the streets. He raised his voice in the Temple, out of zeal for this Father’s house. Was he more passionate about teaching right worship, keeping the Temple from becoming a den of thieves, than about condemning the oppression surrounding him?
How will he bring justice to the nations? How will he bring forth justice in faithfulness? Has he still not faltered or grown discouraged? For surely justice is yet to be established on earth. Jesus’ Kingdom theology isn’t the intuitive kind of restorative justice most of us would reasonably hope for. Instead, he offered healing and prophetic words and invited others to do the same.
Yet his teaching is the hope of even the islands, the most marginal, those most distant from centers of power and influence. The next suffering servant passage also addresses the islands: “Listen to me, you islands; hear this, you distant nations” (Isaiah 49:1)– this hopeful teaching is for every nation everywhere. Yet even the suffering servant can come to doubt the purpose and value of his labor: “But I said, ‘I have labored to no purpose; I have spent my strength in vain, and for nothing. Yet what is due me is in the Lord’s hand, and my reward is with my God’” (Isaiah 49:4).
If both of these passages are true and both refer to the same suffering servant, it is possible to doubt the purpose of one’s labor even while one is not faltering or growing discouraged on the way to establishing justice on the earth.
May all of us working for justice take heart – our efforts are not for naught.
CMEP has the privilege of working alongside Jewish and Muslim, as well as secular, peacemakers. Perhaps many of us feel like bruised reeds or smoldering wicks, struggling to persevere. Despite theological differences, may we be unified by the fear of God which keeps us all seeking justice and hoping for redemption, especially for the most vulnerable among us.
May those of us who seek to follow Jesus’ teachings seek also to see his presence and work through our colleagues of different faiths. May all of us working for justice not falter as you put your hope in the coming of the Kingdom of God. The Kingdom is still near. Justice is coming.
Lord Jesus, draw our eyes to you, the author and perfecter of our faith. May we be inspired by your persistence. Give us eyes to see where you are continuing your work when it’s easy to only see war, destruction, and evil. We ask you to continue establishing justice around the world, particularly in Ukraine, Yemen, Syria, Israel, and Palestine. May your Kingdom come, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Amen.
Kevin Vollrath is CMEP’s Manager of Middle East Partnerships. Kevin is a Ph.D. candidate in Religion and Society at Princeton Theological Seminary, where he also earned an M.Div. His research focuses on the relationship between the Israeli occupation of Palestine and Palestinians with disabilities, and how the occupation produces disability. In joining CMEP, he is excited to complement his research with advocacy work.
Any views or opinions contained herein are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of Churches for Middle East Peace (CMEP).
Waiting in Patience: God is at Work Fayelle Ewuakye
“Patience is an extremely difficult discipline precisely because it counteracts our unreflective impulse to flee or to fight.” (Nouwen, McNeill, and Morrison, Compassion, 93)
Halfway through Lent… how do we feel? Are we weary and confused? Frustrated and impatient? I have long wrestled with patience. I want things right now. I want unpleasantness to pass right now. I want broken things fixed right now. I want conflicts solved right now. I want comfort and peace. And I want it right now.
Halfway through Lent… how are we waiting? Are we trusting God’s work?
What I’m trying to remember is how patience can be defined during this time: to voluntarily stay in and embrace the place of not knowing how or who or when or what or why. But instead, remembering who God is, reflecting on what He’s done in the past, and trusting that He is at work now. And when I can, being part of that work.
I’m thinking of the Israelites waiting for a conqueror, a king. God was at work.
I’m thinking of Moses and his people waiting for the Promised Land while wandering for 40 years. God was at work.
I’m thinking of the disciples waiting to learn their own fate after Jesus breathed His last on the Cross. God was at work.
I am waiting for governments to put the health and well-being of the people in their land before their own interests. God is at work.
I am waiting for holistic peace and thriving to exist for every person in Palestine and Israel. God is at work.
I am waiting for Easter when I can celebrate Jesus’ resurrection, and be reminded that He is that conqueror, that king, that loving Shepherd who cares for every soul. God is at work.
“In the waiting The same God who’s never late Is working all things out.” – Yes I Will by Vertical Worship
Jehovah Shammah, You are the Lord who is THERE. You are watching, You are in the details, You are working. Help us to remember You’re always right on time and yet keep us yearning for more of You as our hearts cry out with longing. Open our eyes to what we can do while we wait, how we can be part of Your work. Amen.
Fayelle Ewuakye is CMEP’s Communications Coordinator and earned her B.A. in Humanities at Jacksonville State University, in Jacksonville, Alabama with a concentration in Anthropology and Geography. She’s been the Social Media Curator for her local church in Northwest Georgia since 2018 and finds the gifts and benefits of social media to be great blessings toward any organization wishing to reach out to the masses. She wants to be a part of some meaningful work, both locally and globally, and believes peace and justice are two things the public at large needs to know more about.
Good Light Nicole Morgan, Executive Administrator at CMEP
My mother has a collection of potted plants inside her home and a garden full of flowers designed to attract butterflies and bees to her yard. She always has an aloe plant on hand for scrapes or burns. I didn’t know you could buy aloe gel in a plastic container until I was in college. My father grew up on a farm and can coax food out of the ground or mix fertilizer into the red Georgia earth to balance out the nutrients needed for whatever they desire to grow.
Me? I can’t keep kitchen herbs alive and once killed an aloe plant (in less than a week) that my mom had propagated for me. Recently I sat a vase of flowers in front of the window in my office, delighting at how the light shone on the small vase of delicate pink roses and small yellow wildflowers that looked like little puffballs. The next day I sat down at my desk and noticed that while the wildflowers were still strong and tall, the pale pink roses looked positively roasted – their petals wilted and withered. The light was good, or at least bearable, for one flower and absolutely crushing for another.
I often first think of light as universally good. And that its goodness exists on a scale of “the more light, the better.” So often when I think of plants and growth I think of the light it needs, not the need to protect it from the light.
But seeds start in darkness and some blooms are delicate.
The Psalmist exclaims: “O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” (Psalm 63:1) A bright light is most likely to be detrimental to one who is already parched, in a dry land. The Psalmist continues: “My soul is satisfied . . when I think of you on my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night; for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy.” They have found comfort in darkness and shade. It is this cool and quiet place where they are able to find rest and express joy and satisfaction.
The harshness of all the injustices in the world seems ever more scorching and destructive: the pandemic still kills thousands a day, racial injustice is rampant, the economy seems designed to reward only a few and destitute others, wars begin and stretch on, people live without basic human rights, and our political advocacy on behalf of justice and human rights in the Middle East and elsewhere can so often seem like we are throwing drops of water at a plant that is wilting in this blistering heat.
I’m asking myself what it means to “meditate in the watches of the night” and to “rest in the shadow.” What does it mean for me as an individual human to acknowledge that at times I and my communities are more delicate blooms than hardy wildflowers and we can’t be in the harsh light forever without some respite? How do I resist the myth of a resilient people especially qualified to suffer and demand that we find a way to offer relief from the searing heat of injustice? What does it mean for all these hopeful seeds of justice we seek to plant? Where do I need to rest in darkness until there is good light and what does it look like to think about our work for justice and peace with a knowledge that darkness and soft warm light is part of the process? How do we shade those seeds and soft blooms of hope?
Each plant is different. Mature wildflowers and cacti exist. We are in different phases of growth. We are different seeds and blooms. The light that is oppressive or endurable is different for all of us and our work for justice.
Those are a lot of questions without any answers. But the questions keep me motivated in my work as they remind me of the possibility that darkness is good in the growing process. I was recently asked how we approach burn-out and despair in our work at Churches for Middle East Peace. My answer is that we celebrate small progress and we acknowledge that it won’t be bright and sunny and victorious looking often. This acknowledgment of small things is not a consolation prize. It is a vital way that plants grow and thrive. It is part of the process. We are planting seeds and they are resting in the cool darkness. They will find the light when it is a good light.
I’m giving my office window and its bright, harsh light another chance. I bought an aloe growing kit and dutifully filled the bottom of the container with small stones, topped with wet soil, and finally carefully buried a few tiny seeds just under the surface. The kit calls for the whole thing to be covered in plastic and sat in a warm place for a couple of weeks until it starts germinating. I sent pictures of my set-up to my mother, asking her about what would be a good light for this plant. She advised me on moving the table back from the window a bit, closing the white curtains to diffuse the light, and paying attention to which hours of the day the curtains are open or closed. Even this desert-dwelling aloe plant can be sensitive to the bright light and harsh heat of the direct sun, she said. If I want this plant to root and sprout, to grow and flourish – I’m going to have to be mindful of a good light versus any light. The seeds are covered for now under the dark soil. I’m going to try my best to ration out the sun and the shadow and learn what amount of each will help this plant to thrive.
Creator God, We thank you for light and we thank you for shadow. We pray that we will find respite in shadows and darkness. That we will not yearn to be in a light that will ultimately whither the fruit of our work, but that we will know what light is good for the work you have created in and for us.
J. Nicole Morgan is CMEP’s Executive Administrator. She endures the bright summer sun near her home in Atlanta, GA but much prefers the shade. Her writing has been published in Christianity Today, Religion News Service, The Christian Century, Sojourners, and others. She is the author of Fat and Faithful: Learning to Love Our Bodies, Our Neighbors, and Ourselves (Fortress Press). Nicole earned her Masters in Theological Studies from Palmer Seminary at Eastern University.
Seeds Planted on Fertile Soil By Rev. Dr. Mae Elise Cannon, Executive Director at CMEP
“But the seed falling on good soil refers to someone who hears the word and understands it. This is the one who produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty, or thirty times what was sown.” (Matthew 13:23)
Many years ago, when I lived in Jerusalem, I was shocked that the Jericho Road into the “wilderness” was a desert full of rocky soil. I grew up on the east coast of the United States and our wilderness was wooded terrain with lots of trees and hidden beasts like black bears and wolves. Or at least that’s what I feared when I was a child! The soil of the Middle East shocked me. The rolling hills of the Judean wilderness do not have fertile soil, but rather rocky sandy terrain where it is difficult for anything to grow.
Some of you may be horticulturists who will challenge my assertion about plants not growing in the desert as there are some incredible desert flowers that defy the harsh conditions and bloom into beautiful colors and specimens – such as the crown anemone (most likely the lily of the field mentioned by Jesus in Matthew 6:28), the tumbleweed gundelia, or the toxic Golden henbane. Despite these exceptions, Jesus was clear in his parable of the good sower that seeds planted in good soil will “bear fruit and yield plenty.”
Clearly, in the Scripture, the parable of the good sower provides a metaphor for someone who “hears the word and understands it,” but what does this story teach us about our work for peace and justice in the Middle East?
I believe this parable is about what it means for us to be “good soil” – ready and prepared, in a posture of willingness to embrace God’s good news for all people – a message of love, acceptance, justice, and reconciliation. There are times in my life I can look back on and acknowledge that the soil of my heart was hard and rocky, unreceptive and not loving towards those who hold opposing views. What does it mean for someone to be loving while not compromising on holding fast to core values and practices of human rights and justice?
This question became very profound for me several years ago. I was working for an international development organization and often led multi-narrative experiences in Israel and the occupied Palestinian territories for conservative Christians from the United States. We sought to have speakers and guests from across the spectrum related to Israeli politics and Palestinian perspectives. No one voice, thought, or idea is monolithic within either society. Our goal was to honor every person’s individual experience and narrative while still addressing the devastating effects of the occupation, the repercussions of settlement expansion, limits to mobility for Palestinians living in Jerusalem, the West Bank, and Gaza, and other such realities.
One speaker’s views and perspectives were antithetical to my own. I abhorred his politics and views toward the Palestinian people. At the end of his presentation, I couldn’t even shake his hand. My heart was hard, I was filled with rage and grief that Palestinians in the audience had been asked to listen to his racist stories and perspective. After the meeting, I was overwhelmed. First, I asked forgiveness from the Palestinians in the room. How could I have welcomed a speaker who reinforced so many false narratives about them and their people? My second thought was an overwhelming conviction that I was not living out one of the core teachings of Jesus. Love your enemy.
“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:43-45)
This Lent as we reflect upon what it means for us to be fertile soil upon which seeds can be planted, and grow, and prosper – what does it mean for us to hear and do the word of God that calls us to “love our enemies?” What does it mean for us to love all people – even those with whom we completely disagree? I believe the transforming power of God allows us to transcend human limitations – so that we can become people who love boldly, while not compromising on pursuing truth, goodness, reconciliation, and justice.
I believe a part of the answer to what it means to love our enemies is to enter into the paradox of both loving people with whom we disagree while working to respond to injustices they may perpetuate. This can look like sitting across a table from someone who holds positions different than your own. This might mean acknowledging and seeking to learn from disparate narratives, while still advocating and working for policy changes that promote human rights. Loving your enemy might not have a visible manifestation, but could mean looking at them with compassion and not harboring hatred in your heart.
I have many friends who are Israeli and who are committed to spending their lives and resources to bring an end to the occupation of the Palestinian people. And I also know many Israelis who hold similar views to the man in my story. How do I respond to them? What does it mean, as Jesus calls us, to love them? I hope and pray over the past several years my heart has softened while at the same time, my commitment to justice and human rights has never wavered. I do not believe the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a zero-sum game. But rather any solution to the injustices of the occupation will also be a solution that is in the best interest of Jewish Israelis as well.
This Lent, my prayer is that we at Churches for Middle East Peace (CMEP) might be a place of fertile soil – where love for all people is held as a core value as we seek to live out God’s love and justice in the Middle East and the world.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.
God, make us good and fertile soil. Soften our hearts and root out any hatred within us. Give us perspectives of love toward all people. Help us to hear your word and to understand it.
Help us to understand and pursue both your love and justice, To not be afraid, but courageous in our efforts toward peace.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Amen.
Rev. Dr. Mae Elise Cannon is the executive director of Churches for Middle East Peace and an ordained pastor in the Evangelical Covenant Church (ECC). Cannon formerly served as the senior director of Advocacy and Outreach for World Vision U.S. on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC; as a consultant to the Middle East for child advocacy issues for Compassion International in Jerusalem; as the executive pastor of Hillside Covenant Church located in Walnut Creek, California; and as director of development and transformation for extension ministries at Willow Creek Community Church in Barrington, Illinois.
By Kyle Cristofalo, Senior Director of Advocacy and Government Relations at CMEP
“For we are co-workers in God’s service; you are God’s field, God’s building. By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as a wise builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one should build with care.” 1 Corinthians 3. 9-10
I do not have a particularly green thumb. One time when I was in Seminary, I accepted a plant-sitting job. The family had stopped their mail and brought their pet with them on vacation. The only task I had was to water their plants. If it rained enough (which it did), I only had to water the inside plants. One simple task. No problem, right? Well, the plants survived, but by the time I left, they were not looking particularly healthy. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I did not receive any future plant-sitting requests.
What does gardening have to do with Lent? What does it have to do with my work at Churches for Middle East Peace? During this season, I have been reflecting on a prayer written in honor of Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador, assassinated due to his criticism of a corrupt government that overlooked the needs of the people. One section, in particular, stands out:
“This is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities. We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.”
In Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, he reminds the leaders of the community that while they play an important role as “co-workers in God’s service,” ultimately, God brings the results to fruition. In other words, “We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.” This does not give us an excuse to sit back and wait–indeed the work of being God’s field and building comes with great responsibility. Whether we are master gardeners or struggle to keep plants alive, is irrelevant. The seed is not good because we plant it. We can plant the perfect garden only to have our hard work undone by an animal or a particularly bad storm. It is good because it is part of God’s redemptive work for this world. Our role is not to do everything, but to be faithful to our call to help bring about God’s justice in a world that so desperately needs it.
“We plant the seeds that one day will grow….”
Every day we hear more news of death and destruction throughout the Middle East. In Yemen, 16 million people live on the brink of starvation as the Saudi-led civil war enters its seventh year. In just over the year since President Biden began his term in office, Israel has demolished more than 1,000 Palestinian properties resulting in the displacement of over 1,300 Palestinians. The economic crisis in Lebanon continues without indication it will let up anytime soon. We might be tempted to ask whether it is worth continuing to advocate if the facts on the ground continue to deteriorate by the day. Does our voice really matter? On days when I feel particularly helpless, I remind myself that I am a worker, not a master builder; a minister, and not a messiah. I am not responsible for “solving” all of the challenges faced in the Middle East. Yet, I am not absolved from doing my part, either. The results might seem small, but they are a step along the way, an opportunity for the good seeds planted to blossom into a future in which all of God’s people are finally free.
Creator God, on the days when we feel our work is for nothing, remind us that you have called us to be co-workers in the service of peace and justice for your creation. May we trust that the seeds planted today will one day blossom so that justice will prevail in the Middle East and throughout the world.
Kyle Cristofalo, Senior Director of Advocacy and Government Relations/Special Advisor to the Executive Director. Kyle holds a BA in Peace and Conflict Studies from Messiah College and a Master of Divinity Degree from Emory University’s Candler School of Theology. Kyle was first introduced to Middle East advocacy work during a semester abroad in Cairo, Egypt. After graduating from college, Kyle spent 10 months serving with the Mennonite Central Committee in Bethlehem, Palestine, where he was seconded to work with Bethlehem Bible College.
Jeremiah 58:11 The LORD will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail.
There is something very human about having ash smeared upon one’s skin. The charred remnants of a once green, living thing—when it comes into contact with our flesh—are intended to encourage us to inhabit a posture of repentance and remind us of the fragility of our short existence on this earth.
earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
And yet, this brush with death and decay ought also to remind us of life and its persistence. Though ash is a product of fire, which has the potential to cause immense destruction, it contains some of the most vital nutrients for soil—calcium, magnesium, potassium. Ash is akin to compost in that way—both are composed of the decay of living things, which in turn, fosters fertile conditions for new life to spring forth.
Death, agriculturally speaking, is certainly a necessary precursor for new growth. Yet we must be careful in our desire to draw parallels and find hope amid desperation, not to erase the grave reality facing our siblings in the Middle East, whose freedom and right to life are under constant threat today. In the wake of an ongoing global pandemic that disproportionately affected those in the Middle East, the presence of death is all too familiar for those in the region. Amid the pandemic, an economic crisis rages in Lebanon, making everyday needs inaccessible to a majority of the population. In Jerusalem, dozens of families continue to face the threat of home demolitions and displacement at the hands of the city municipality and military. And the people of Gaza continue to face airstrikes and other attacks on the heels of one of the most brutal years of Israeli military attacks on Gaza in recent history.
So many lives have been lost, and so many more have been maimed, imprisoned, and deteriorated. For these injustices and so many more, we cry out to the God whose waters never fail.
And yet, in a season where we might be easily discouraged when it comes to the ongoing cultivation of peace and justice in the Middle East, might we instead learn about hope from ash and soil? In times full of mourning, though a faithful and healthy practice, might we find comfort in the mystery of the earth that brings forth life from death? And in seasons of loss and lament, might we draw hope from a God who tends to creation like a garden, seeking to water us well?
While mourning the immense loss of life and opportunities for peace, Churches for Middle East Peace (CMEP) is also celebrating the small victories and glimmers of hope that sprout up simultaneously. We celebrate alongside our dear friends and allies who are laboring for peace and justice in the Middle East, and we join in the work of hope together. Hope, not an empty platitude, but the work of cultivation itself. The Rev. Dr. Mitri Raheb offers that hope is envisioning a future beyond destruction, as the prophet Jeremiah did. He suggests that “hope is faith in action in the face of the empire. Hope is what we do today.” (Raheb 2014, 130).
Let us find encouragement in the God of Life, who tends to seeds planted, even in the midst of winter, even during the darkest of days. And let us be emboldened by our siblings in the Middle East, who have never given up hope, and join them in sowing faithful seeds. May we live into the tension between death and life, and nurture the conditions upon which hope can grow.
Living God, remind us, in this season, of the viability of prayerful tending to the seeds of peace and justice. As we contemplate the fragility of life and its interconnectedness with death and decay, let us be invigorated to tend to life amid the ashes. Oh God of soil and seed and compost, strengthen us to continue laboring for the life and flourishing of all our brothers and sisters in the Middle East, and for our collective liberation.
Jennifer Maidrand is the Outreach Manager for CMEP. She is a Ph.D. candidate in Bible and Cultures at Drew University, where she also earned her M.A. Her research focuses on how biblical interpretation and archeology have shaped the contemporary land of Palestine-Israel and its geo-politics. She is a member of the UCC Church and is committed to fostering interfaith and intercultural community education and dialogue around sacred texts, the earth, and politics. Jennifer is grateful to have the opportunity to utilize and grow these passions, previously as a fellow and now as a staff member with CMEP. When she isn’t working, you can find Jennifer trail running, rock climbing, gardening, or playing with her cats, Peanut and Fig.
Raheb, Mitri. Faith in the Face of Empire: The Bible Through Palestinian Eyes. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2014.
The pre-Lenten season of Shrovetide begins 49 days before Easter and culminates on Shrove Tuesday. For many churches, the tradition is for the palm branches used in the service the previous Palm Sunday to be burned in preparation for the next day, Ash Wednesday. Other traditions celebrate Fat Tuesday and mark the day with pancake breakfasts, or other sweets, such as Pączki (fried dough). These traditions embody the tension between death (ash) and sweetness in life (cakes).
As Christians around the world, including in the Middle East, prepare for Lent, all experience a sharp reminder of humanity’s mortality, finiteness, fragility, and our need for God. God who is love, life, infinite, and abundant. It also takes place at the time of year when those of us in the Northern Hemisphere experience the lengthening of days in the move from winter to spring. As you join CMEP and our brothers and sisters in Christ in the Middle East this Lenten season, I pray that you would not find yourself mired in despair for your humanity, but that the awareness of your need for God’s goodness, grace, and forgiveness would increase. We especially keep this truth in mind as we grieve so many realities affecting people in the Middle East such as the ongoing war in Yemen, the devastating economic crisis in Lebanon, and the humanitarian and human rights concerns in the occupied Palestinian territories.
Then I turned to the Lord God, to seek an answer by prayer and supplication with fasting and sackcloth and ashes. Daniel 9:3
From death, dirt, and ash comes growth, fruit, abundance, and life. May the light of God meet us in these dark days, watering our parched spirits, cultivating our souls, laid bare, with the seeds of awareness and future promise sown so that God may begin a new thing in our life.
God, I pray that you would meet each of us in our dark night of the soul to warm the coldness of our hearts and that while we reflect, examine, confess and repent we would be prepared for the new season you invite us to. Spirit, prick our hearts and guide each of us to a fuller, deeper, richer knowledge of your love, life, and the ultimate sacrifice of Christ Jesus, our Lord.
Written by Rev. Aune M. Carlson, Director of Operations for CMEP. Aune earned her Masters of Divinity and Masters of Nonprofit Administration and graduate certificates from North Park Theological Seminary and School of Business and Nonprofit Administration. Ordained by The Evangelical Covenant Church (ECC). She is passionate about creating, defining, and refining structures to operate effectively and efficiently. A collaborative team leader, building a strong team atmosphere where tasks are met with close attention to detail and creativity.
***** Any views or opinions contained herein are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of Churches for Middle East Peace (CMEP).
This devotion, written by CMEP’s Manager of Middle East Partnerships, Kevin Vollrath, is in preparation for our upcoming Lent Devotional series. The first Lent Devotional will be available on March 1, 2022, and our theme for Lent is “Hope Grows: Seeds planted, future promise”. You can find our Lent Devotional series here.
LEARNING ABOUT ANCIENT CHRISTIAN COMMUNITIES
‘Why are we ‘celebrating’ the fast of Great Lent this month?’
EDITOR’S NOTE: Right now in America, there’s not a hotter question than: What does it mean to be “Christian”? Of course, that question is freighted with our own “local” political meaning in the United States today. Here at ReadTheSpirit magazine, our goal week after week is to cover global religious and cultural diversity—because we believe that learning about diversity leads to healthier communities.
Around the world, Christians make up nearly a third of our population, according to Pew Research. However, North America is home to only about 12 percent of the world’s 2.2 billion Christians. That means our American battles over who can be called a “Christian” can sound like a local family feud among the nearly 2 billion Christians who live in South America, Africa, Europe and Asia.
This week’s cover story reminds us, as Americans, about another vast swath of Christianity—nearly 300 million Christians who most Americans tend to forget: the Orthodox. Thanks to researcher Kevin Vollrath and our long-time friend Mae Cannon, ReadTheSpirit plans to bring readers a monthly series of stories from this ancient Eastern branch of Christianity. You can read our latest Cover Story on Mae Cannon’s work from 2020, headlined: As millions of Christians move toward activism, you should meet Mae Elise Cannon, an ethical organizer. Among her many commitments, Mae is executive director of Churches for Middle East Peace, which made this new monthly series possible. You can learn more about Kevin at the end of this column.
We start this week with a story about Father Elias Khoury, a Greek Orthodox priest in Jadeidi, Israel, who is preparing for Great Lent to begin on March 15. That may surprise many of our readers, because we reported on the start of Lent for Western Christians last month! In fact, this year, the Western and Orthodox calendars vary by almost an entire month.
Father Elias: ‘As Christians, our life is a fasting period.’
Father Elias Khoury
By KEVIN VOLLRATH Contributing Columnist
When Father Elias Khoury, a Greek Orthodox priest in Jadeidi, Israel, talks with his community about the Fast of Great Lent, he uses words like “celebrate” and “joyful” that may sound surprising to Christians living in the United States. Millions of American Christians—Catholics and Protestants—began Lent on February 17 with Ash Wednesday. Because church calendars vary between Western and the ancient Eastern churches, Orthodox churches will begin the period of reflection that leads to Easter with Clean Monday on March 15. And very much like Father Elias’s sermons in the Middle East, Orthodox clergy emphasize the great joy families should feel while giving up a whole host of favorite foods.
For Americans, giving up chocolate during Lent seems like a major sacrifice. In the Orthodox world, observant families abstain from meat, fish, eggs and dairy products, wine and oil.
What’s joyful about that?
This kind of fasting is a reminder of the watchfulness and humble self-denial with which Christians should live their lives, Father Elias says. “As Christians, our life is a fasting period. We’re not just doing it one day or one week. It’s not just a celebration of a memorial day. It’s something that we live, not just during times like the Fast of Great Lent, but all of our life. It involves much more than what we are eating and drinking. We must learn to become watchful and fasting is living in that awareness, when you watch yourself always. It’s a daily process and our job as Christians.”
That is also why Great Lent is part of a much longer process that actually began weeks ago for Orthodox communities—preparing week by week with scripture readings, prayers and a gradual paring away of foods to be ready when Great Lent begins.
The seven weeks of Great Lent are preceded by four weeks of preparation in which the faithful give up whole sections of their normal diet until a family’s dinner table is, for the duration of Lent, stripped of animal products, wine and oil. Far from arduous, it is a joyful time of drawing near to each other and God, with daily prayers and inspiring Bible readings. Lent is a celebration because it gives us the opportunity “to live the biblical story” liturgically, from creation in Genesis to redemption in Revelation, as Father Elias puts it.
“Our readings during this time are joyful and not sad,” Father Elias says. “We’re celebrating the Kingdom of God on Earth! It’s part repentance, and part happiness that God gave us salvation”
Before becoming a Greek Orthodox priest, Father Elias worked as an engineer. He has been married for over 20 years and has two kids. He also enjoys teaching in a local middle school.
Christian Palestinians speak in this amazing resource responding to the question “Is Peace Possible?”
The new book “Is Peace Possible in the Holy Land?” reveals Holy Land Christians’ struggle for survival amid the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
Written by the Assembly of Catholic Ordinaries of the Holy Land’s Justice and Peace Commission, this book contains a compelling collection of articles and declarations from the Catholic Church in Jerusalem.
Including a pastoral letter from the former Latin Patriarch Michel Sabbah, chapters provide an in-depth, first-hand, authoritative understanding of the identity of Holy Land Christians. In addition, Is Peace Possible? includes numerous perspectives on the Israel/Palestine conflict emerging from the Christian community. The book serves as an excellent resource for background information for those making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.
For example, Christians in the region, are called the “living stones” of the Holy Land as their communities date back to the time of Christ. Historically, Christians – predominately Arab Palestinians – made up 18-percent of the overall population. Today, they constitute less than two percent.
The first chapters serve as a backdrop to position papers, formulated by the Commission, that deal with various aspects of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. These position papers were written to help the Church promote justice and peace in the region as an integral part of her mission.
Palestinian Christians confront difficult political situations on a daily basis. At the same time, they strive to promote dialogue and reconciliation and nourish the faith, that peace might blossom for generations of future Christians, Jews, and Muslims, Israelis, and Palestinians.
This book is not for the faint-hearted. It paints an unsettling and frequently disturbing portrait of the life, trials, and systematic persecutions of the Christian Palestinians in the Holy Land. “Finally,” wrote one reviewer, “authoritative answers for those who have wondered where the Church stands on the situation in the Holy Land and its’ Christians!”
To read this powerful resource online, visit CMEP’s website here. The physical book is available at Amazon.com or at your local retailer. The U.S. editor and CMEP Catholic Advisory Council chair, Sir Jeffery Abood, can be reached at email@example.com.
A Franciscan Blessing
May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships so that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.
May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger, and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain to joy.
And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in the world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done, to bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor. Amen.
We hope you will join us for a webinar about this important resource on Thursday, March 3, 2022, at 11:00 am EST. Facilitated by Julie Schumacher Cohen, former Deputy Director of Churches for Middle East Peace and member of the CMEP Catholic Advisory Council, and including representatives from The Assembly of the Catholic Ordinaries of the Holy Land and Palestinian Christians. Find out more and register here.