With Open Doors

At the “gate” in the Israeli- built wall that separates Bethlehem and Beit Jala from Jerusalem, there are 71 vertical sections of concrete, I counted them, between the opening in the wall and the Monastery of Emmanuel over the rise in the hill, where there is an icon of the Blessed Virgin Mary on the corner of the wall where it meets the entrance to the monastery. On the 35-minute walk from Manger Square in Bethlehem to the icon, I prayed the rosary, using the “Mysteries of Deliverance” that I made up along the way: the Flight into Egypt, the Cure of the Gerasene Demoniac, the Healing of the Man with the Withered Hand in Capernaeum, the Raising and Calling Forth and Untying of Lazarus in Bethany, and the Plea of the Good Thief and the Promise of His Savior on the Cross. At the icon, I sang the Sàlve Regina and prayed the Hail Holy Queen. “In hac lacrimarum valle … in this vale of tears … after this, our exile, show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus.” I wrote my name on wall at the icon, “Abuna Rob,” and tapped each of the 71 sections of the wall, as I counted them and hoped that they would eventually be torn down.

Waseim’s father and mother gladly agreed to a request of mine for a photo of them and their grandchildren that were at lunch. I look forward someday to being a “grand”father in a parish.

Tembola is the Palestinian version of Bingo. For them March 12 is Old Age Day or the feast Feast of Old People. Of course, that is one of the days that the tembola cards come out. When they “bingo,” they yell, “Hallas (Stop/Enough)!” Lunch at Waseim’s house after Mass was huge, both in quantity of food and people. The lamb neck was so tasty. I had to keep saying, “Hallas,” as they kept wanting me to eat more.The Arak after-dinner drink went right to the head. Another, “Hallas.” Father Ibrahim was at lunch. He asked me to come to meet his family and eat with them, too. There is many family in town. His nephew will be ordained a priest this week. His uncle is the auxiliary bishop of Jerusalem. I told him that I was getting tired and that my stomach could not possibly eat any more. He was very understanding, when I thought I needed to say, “Hallas,” at least for now.

Waseim’s nephew, Andrew, was proud that he had the same name as my parish. He would not let his cousins forget it. Here he sits with his grandfather, boasting about his name. Unfortunately for Waseim the kids really liked the photos that I could take with my iPad. Now they want one.

Yara, Issa’s sister, has grown since the last time I saw her. That is an old person thing to say, isn’t it? We had laughed so hard together on Friday evening, as I was hanging out with her and her mom in the kitchen, as they prepared dinner. She laughed at me – with me – as she corrected the pronunciation of almost every word in Arabic I tried to speak. And I will take home with me the memory of her face as it lit up and that great big smile broke out all over her face, as we laughed about “aiwa, yes, huh and what.” She is the best. After Mass on Sunday she came with those eyes, asking me to attend a family baptism that evening. The family knew which one to send to me as their delegate to ask the question. Did I mention her eyes and smile? This fifteen year old paints a lovely portrait of the young virgin, Mary of Nazareth and Bethlehem. In this photo I stand with two beautiful women of Bethlehem.

Before Sunday Mass at Annunciation Church in Beit Jala, I met the new mayor of Beit Jala, who is also the President of the parish’s St. Vincent de Paul Society. Four French priests and their pilgrims were at Mass with us, too. Twice Father Ibrahim acknowledged my presence and thanked St. Andrew parish for the help and hope that we give to his parish and school. Not understanding a word of the homily, I spent the time winking and smiling at the seven servers, two of whom were so young and small that they could not even get their feet to reach the floor as they sat in their chair. One of the servers with the cutest smile and hair band could not get her cincture, the robe around the waist of the server!s alb, to stay tied. I motioned to her to come to me. I tied the cord. She went back. It came loose again. I motioned her back. I tied it again. I wished Deacon Tim had been there. Our servers claim he has a magic knot! The part of the Eucharistic Prayer that Father Ibrahim motioned for me to pray was for the Pope and the bishop. After I prayed for “Francis and Fouad” I prayed for “Dennis” too. In the photo with me is Waseim’s son, Suhail, and the girl with the smile and headpiece.

At the school in Nablus it was the last day. Parents were coming to school to meet with Principal Abeer to get their “certificates,” final report cards, as we would say. It was also the opening of the religious fair that the Christian children and teachers had put together. Thirty minutes late, Father Johnny and I left the principal’s office for the grand opening of the fair. At the entrance to the hall, a young girl stood waiting, for more than a half hour, for us to arrive. She was holding a tray covered with a red cloth, on which was a pair of scissors. I had the honor of cutting the ribbon, with photos and applause. Father Johnny and I ceremoniously went to each grade level table, at which a student explained to us the year’s religion class topic and project. In this Catholic school in Nablus there are, if I remember the numbers somewhat correctly, 60 Christian students among the 700 students. This religious fair was not only an opportunity for them to showcase what they had studied this year, but also a splendid opportunity for sharing the Christian Catholic faith.

In planning the trip to Nablus, I made sure that Waseim understood clearly that we needed to leave Nablus in time for me to get back, showered and dressed for Nasri’s engagement party. Nasri is Ranim’s brother, to be engaged to his fiancé Rula. Engagement among the Palestinians is real big. It is all very formal and very public. The engagement party is the responsibility of the boy’s parents. The local priest comes and does a ceremony. There is a blessing and exchange of rings, to be worn on the right hand until the wedding. A couple hundred people come to the rented hall, with just a three days notice, all dressed in their best. All are to be present and seated before the boy comes in with the girl, in a very formal entrance. There is music and a little dancing, a bit of champaign, a piece or two of candy, a piece of cake, and everyone goes home. All is over in a couple hours. The boy goes home to his parent’s house; the girl goes home with her parents, which is where they stay until the wedding, however long that might be. Being engaged, they are now permitted to date and be seen alone in public. “We don’t do things the way they are done in America,” I have been told frequently. During the party Ranim was constantly watching hand checking in on me. I sat with her soon-to-be fiancé, Amir, and his parents Kane brother. He and they were welcoming and kind. You may have read in a previous post that I told Ranim that I hated him even before I met him. I told Ranim after the party that I am worried, because I am beginning to like Amir. She smiled, and said she hoped that one day I will love him. Obviously, she does.

Don’t ever tell anyone from Nablus that you think Ramallah is bigger than Nablus. In population, Nablus is second to Hebron. In area, Nablus is bigger than Hebron. Ramallah is third in both categories. Now you know.