I first posted this lament on Facebook about 12 hours ago, Wednesday July 16, 2014.
Photo: Reuters, Gaza, July 16, 2014
Showing posts with label Middle East. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Middle East. Show all posts
Thursday, July 17, 2014
The children
Children,
children, children. Children running away from violence and poverty in
Central America, children sent back to violence and poverty in Central
America, children killed on a beach in Gaza, children hungry and unsafe
on the streets of these United States, children deathly ill with cholera
in South Sudan. Cry out, o stones.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Updating the book list, and a plug for Anita Diamant's new novel
I am digging out from under all manner of things. In the midst of this and the usual house-cleaning, literal and metaphorical, that accompanies the advent of Advent, I am updating this blog. I hadn't updated the reading list at the right in months. It isn't complete, but it gives you a snapshot of what I'm reading or re-reading these days.
The Aquino and Rosado-Nunes book is composed of the proceedings of the first Inter-American Symposium on Feminist Intercultural Theology. This was the first ever formal gathering of Latin American and U.S. Latina feminist theologians. Some social scientists also participated in the meeting. Why is this book significant? Because, one of its introductory essays notes, for the first time in the history of Christianity in the Americas, feminist theologians of the United States, Latin America, and the Caribbean were able to meet together to share our common concerns and visions about the present and the future of our theological work, on the basis of intercultural hermeneutical frameworks. ("Hermeneutical" in this case means "interpretive.")
The book by Renate Wind (which is way overdue at a certain library in California) is a biography, the first, I think, of the late Dorothee Sölle. {This next sentence added a day later after the original post:} Wind has previously written about Dietrich Bonhoeffer; it's not surprising she would be drawn to Sölle, who in so many ways was spiritual and theological heir to Bonhoeffer. The eco-books by McFague and Ruether (the Ruether one is an edited volume featuring writings from Asia, Africa, and Latin America) are triple-purpose books: they are part of my reading and referencing for the Big Tome; I have students reading a couple of them; and I am looking at them as I ponder my sermon for this coming Sunday, the first in Advent. I haven't preached since September. What does the environmental crisis have to do with Advent? You'll find out after I preach. Unless the Holy Spirit sends me in another direction.
I actually cheated by listing Anita Diamant's new book, Day after Night, because I read and finished it last weekend. Anita gave it to me last Friday when she came to my talk on prayer at Harvard (about which more later) and I started reading it that night and finished it on the first of my two plane flights the next day. It's both deep and a page-turner.
I am just starting Louise Erdrich's The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse, which a colleague lent me. "It's about a woman who dresses up as a man so she can work as a Catholic priest, so you can see why it made me think of you," he said. (!) The priest in the book is a member of the Ojibwe Nation, as is Erdrich.
You may or may not have noticed that these are the first fiction books I've listed in eons, or perhaps ever since I started blogging. I am starved for fiction and haven't let myself read any, except for the occasional mystery novel, in something like four years. Ridiculous. Just because I've been trying to finish a work of non-fiction doesn't mean I shouldn't be reading fiction. I find reading fiction life-giving. Do you?
The Aquino and Rosado-Nunes book is composed of the proceedings of the first Inter-American Symposium on Feminist Intercultural Theology. This was the first ever formal gathering of Latin American and U.S. Latina feminist theologians. Some social scientists also participated in the meeting. Why is this book significant? Because, one of its introductory essays notes, for the first time in the history of Christianity in the Americas, feminist theologians of the United States, Latin America, and the Caribbean were able to meet together to share our common concerns and visions about the present and the future of our theological work, on the basis of intercultural hermeneutical frameworks. ("Hermeneutical" in this case means "interpretive.")
The book by Renate Wind (which is way overdue at a certain library in California) is a biography, the first, I think, of the late Dorothee Sölle. {This next sentence added a day later after the original post:} Wind has previously written about Dietrich Bonhoeffer; it's not surprising she would be drawn to Sölle, who in so many ways was spiritual and theological heir to Bonhoeffer. The eco-books by McFague and Ruether (the Ruether one is an edited volume featuring writings from Asia, Africa, and Latin America) are triple-purpose books: they are part of my reading and referencing for the Big Tome; I have students reading a couple of them; and I am looking at them as I ponder my sermon for this coming Sunday, the first in Advent. I haven't preached since September. What does the environmental crisis have to do with Advent? You'll find out after I preach. Unless the Holy Spirit sends me in another direction.
I actually cheated by listing Anita Diamant's new book, Day after Night, because I read and finished it last weekend. Anita gave it to me last Friday when she came to my talk on prayer at Harvard (about which more later) and I started reading it that night and finished it on the first of my two plane flights the next day. It's both deep and a page-turner.
I am just starting Louise Erdrich's The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse, which a colleague lent me. "It's about a woman who dresses up as a man so she can work as a Catholic priest, so you can see why it made me think of you," he said. (!) The priest in the book is a member of the Ojibwe Nation, as is Erdrich.
You may or may not have noticed that these are the first fiction books I've listed in eons, or perhaps ever since I started blogging. I am starved for fiction and haven't let myself read any, except for the occasional mystery novel, in something like four years. Ridiculous. Just because I've been trying to finish a work of non-fiction doesn't mean I shouldn't be reading fiction. I find reading fiction life-giving. Do you?
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Live-tweeting the revolution
Thus reads a headline on Andrew Sullivan's blog, The Daily Dish. The new world of news. See that particular post here.
The Daily Dish homepage is here. Almost wall to wall Iran coverage since the election.
Meanwhile, U.S. television news (so I hear - I don't watch it) barely covered the Iranian elections aftermath on the weekend. I think they've caught up by now, but not in detail. I gather the reporting by the networks is even more shamefully awful than usual.
I've gotten most of my news so far --in snatches, in the car and the kitchen, because I am hoarding my writer's time-- from NPR. Haven't had, or taken, the time to supplement the bits of radio with reading, online or off.
I just took a five minute break from peaceful nighttime writing (yes, I had a late afternoon nap and an early evening walk) to check Andrew Sullivan's blog, which I don't usually read, but which has almost wall-to-wall Iran coverage including from Twitter. (I don't Tweet, either, but am struck by the use of Twitter in reporting from the grassroots.)
I wonder what Iranian women are doing and thinking. When the news talks about "Iranians in the streets" it means "Iranian men." The photos of street demonstrations show men. We do know that women voted in great numbers this time and are more than 50% of the voting population. Who is writing about the women?
The Daily Dish homepage is here. Almost wall to wall Iran coverage since the election.
Meanwhile, U.S. television news (so I hear - I don't watch it) barely covered the Iranian elections aftermath on the weekend. I think they've caught up by now, but not in detail. I gather the reporting by the networks is even more shamefully awful than usual.I've gotten most of my news so far --in snatches, in the car and the kitchen, because I am hoarding my writer's time-- from NPR. Haven't had, or taken, the time to supplement the bits of radio with reading, online or off.
I just took a five minute break from peaceful nighttime writing (yes, I had a late afternoon nap and an early evening walk) to check Andrew Sullivan's blog, which I don't usually read, but which has almost wall-to-wall Iran coverage including from Twitter. (I don't Tweet, either, but am struck by the use of Twitter in reporting from the grassroots.)
I wonder what Iranian women are doing and thinking. When the news talks about "Iranians in the streets" it means "Iranian men." The photos of street demonstrations show men. We do know that women voted in great numbers this time and are more than 50% of the voting population. Who is writing about the women?
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Roxana Saberi tried and jailed in Iran
This news is all the more shocking because I have heard Ms. Saberi on the radio many times.
As regular readers of Acts of Hope know, I am particularly moved by stories on the jailing of journalists because so many members of my immediate family are or have been journalists themselves.
Roxana Saberi, a U.S. citizen, is the daughter of an Iranian father and a Japanese mother. She has been reporting from Iran for several Western news organizations. The government of Iran has accused her of spying.
If one of the international human rights organizations starts a letter campaign, I will follow up here.
Photo: Agence France-Presse
As regular readers of Acts of Hope know, I am particularly moved by stories on the jailing of journalists because so many members of my immediate family are or have been journalists themselves.
Roxana Saberi, a U.S. citizen, is the daughter of an Iranian father and a Japanese mother. She has been reporting from Iran for several Western news organizations. The government of Iran has accused her of spying.If one of the international human rights organizations starts a letter campaign, I will follow up here.
Photo: Agence France-Presse
Thursday, March 19, 2009
On the anniversary of the Iraq war, two looks back in time
Last year's post on a small demonstration for peace. (Cross-posted a few minutes ago via a link on Facebook.)
Two years ago: post on the Feast of St. Joseph.
Oremus.
Two years ago: post on the Feast of St. Joseph.
Oremus.
Maronite icon of St. Joseph and the child Jesus.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Resistance to the war
A good set of pieces on resistance to the war is just up on the blog of Jewish Peace News (JPN).
Among the summaries:
Courage to Refuse statement
We will not take part in the campaign of destruction.
We, officers and soldiers of the IDF,
who hold dearly the security and the future of the State of Israel,
who understand that the attack in Gaza exarcerbates the conflict and will bring many more years of missiles on widening parts of the population, and has laid an unbearable catastrophe upon the people of Israel and the Palestinian people,
we understand that revenge is not security, and that the IDF's operation in Gaza perpetuates the conflict and does not contribute to solving it.
We declare that we will not take part in the campaign for destruction in Gaza.
To sign this declaration, to help in organizing the rally, or to obtain assistance for those who are facing trials, call Noam Livne, David Zonesheine or Arik Diamant (phone numbers attached).
Rally opposite the Ministry of Defense, Thursday 1/7/09 at 6 PM.
A Palestinian man waits to receive food supplies at the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) headquarters in Gaza January 8, 2009. (Suhaib Salem/Reuters)
JPN also reminds readers:
Call the Obama transition office number and leave a message. It is easy to do, the number is: 1-202-540-3000; press 2 and you will get a staff member who will take a message from you.
Here are examples of things you can say:
a) Obama’s silence is being seen as condoning Israel's war on Gaza.
b) He should break his silence to call for an immediate ceasefire, even if it is not a "durable one". Scores of people are dying everyday and to not demand a ceasefire is to say that their deaths do not count. Also, ceasefires, even if imperfect, can work to drastically reduce death, injury, fear and trauma.
c) Gazans are in dire need of food and medical supplies. Even if Israel allows trucks in, without a ceasefire, distribution is almost impossible.
Read it all here.
A Palestinian girl, who fled her house with her family during Israel's offensive, looks out of a window at a U.N. school in Jabalya in the northern Gaza Strip January 7, 2009. (Mohammed Salem/Reuters)
Among the summaries:
Courage to Refuse statement
We will not take part in the campaign of destruction.
We, officers and soldiers of the IDF,
who hold dearly the security and the future of the State of Israel,
who understand that the attack in Gaza exarcerbates the conflict and will bring many more years of missiles on widening parts of the population, and has laid an unbearable catastrophe upon the people of Israel and the Palestinian people,
we understand that revenge is not security, and that the IDF's operation in Gaza perpetuates the conflict and does not contribute to solving it.
We declare that we will not take part in the campaign for destruction in Gaza.
To sign this declaration, to help in organizing the rally, or to obtain assistance for those who are facing trials, call Noam Livne, David Zonesheine or Arik Diamant (phone numbers attached).
Rally opposite the Ministry of Defense, Thursday 1/7/09 at 6 PM.
A Palestinian man waits to receive food supplies at the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) headquarters in Gaza January 8, 2009. (Suhaib Salem/Reuters)JPN also reminds readers:
Call the Obama transition office number and leave a message. It is easy to do, the number is: 1-202-540-3000; press 2 and you will get a staff member who will take a message from you.
Here are examples of things you can say:
a) Obama’s silence is being seen as condoning Israel's war on Gaza.
b) He should break his silence to call for an immediate ceasefire, even if it is not a "durable one". Scores of people are dying everyday and to not demand a ceasefire is to say that their deaths do not count. Also, ceasefires, even if imperfect, can work to drastically reduce death, injury, fear and trauma.
c) Gazans are in dire need of food and medical supplies. Even if Israel allows trucks in, without a ceasefire, distribution is almost impossible.
Read it all here.
A Palestinian girl, who fled her house with her family during Israel's offensive, looks out of a window at a U.N. school in Jabalya in the northern Gaza Strip January 7, 2009. (Mohammed Salem/Reuters)
A Jew's prayer for the children of Gaza
Emily, a dear friend of mine from San Francisco, a Jewish feminist, sent this today and asked that I post it. I do so gladly and with tears, which she is also weeping in her heart.
It is from the blog of Bradley Burston, the English language editor of the Israeli newspaper Haaretz.
Lord who is the creator of all children, hear our prayer this accursed day. God whom we call Blessed, turn your face to these, the children of Gaza, that they may know your blessings, and your shelter, that they may know light and warmth, where there is now only blackness and smoke, and a cold which cuts and clenches the skin.
Almighty who makes exceptions, which we call miracles, make an exception of the children of Gaza. Shield them from us and from their own. Spare them. Heal them. Let them stand in safety. Deliver them from hunger and horror and fury and grief. Deliver them from us, and from their own.
Restore to them their stolen childhoods, their birthright, which is a taste of heaven.
Remind us, O Lord, of the child Ishmael, who is the father of all the children of Gaza. How the child Ishmael was without water and left for dead in the wilderness of Beer-Sheba, so robbed of all hope, that his own mother could not bear to watch his life drain away.
Be that Lord, the God of our kinsman Ishmael, who heard his cry and sent His angel to comfort his mother Hagar.
Be that Lord, who was with Ishmael that day, and all the days after. Be that God, the All-Merciful, who opened Hagar's eyes that day, and showed her the well of water, that she could give the boy Ishmael to drink, and save his life.
Allah, whose name we call Elohim, who gives life, who knows the value and the fragility of every life, send these children your angels. Save them, the children of this place, Gaza the most beautiful, and Gaza the damned.
In this day, when the trepidation and rage and mourning that is called war, seizes our hearts and patches them in scars, we call to you, the Lord whose name is Peace:
Bless these children, and keep them from harm.
Turn Your face toward them, O Lord. Show them, as if for the first time, light and kindness, and overwhelming graciousness.
Look up at them, O Lord. Let them see your face.
And, as if for the first time, grant them peace.
With thanks to Rabbi Levi Weiman-Kelman of Kol HaNeshama, Jerusalem.
* * * * * * * *
Another recent piece of Burston's is here. (It is called "Gaza War Diary III: If Mexico shelled Texas, like Hamas shells Israel .")
It is from the blog of Bradley Burston, the English language editor of the Israeli newspaper Haaretz.
Lord who is the creator of all children, hear our prayer this accursed day. God whom we call Blessed, turn your face to these, the children of Gaza, that they may know your blessings, and your shelter, that they may know light and warmth, where there is now only blackness and smoke, and a cold which cuts and clenches the skin.
Almighty who makes exceptions, which we call miracles, make an exception of the children of Gaza. Shield them from us and from their own. Spare them. Heal them. Let them stand in safety. Deliver them from hunger and horror and fury and grief. Deliver them from us, and from their own.
Restore to them their stolen childhoods, their birthright, which is a taste of heaven.
Remind us, O Lord, of the child Ishmael, who is the father of all the children of Gaza. How the child Ishmael was without water and left for dead in the wilderness of Beer-Sheba, so robbed of all hope, that his own mother could not bear to watch his life drain away.
Be that Lord, the God of our kinsman Ishmael, who heard his cry and sent His angel to comfort his mother Hagar.
Be that Lord, who was with Ishmael that day, and all the days after. Be that God, the All-Merciful, who opened Hagar's eyes that day, and showed her the well of water, that she could give the boy Ishmael to drink, and save his life.
Allah, whose name we call Elohim, who gives life, who knows the value and the fragility of every life, send these children your angels. Save them, the children of this place, Gaza the most beautiful, and Gaza the damned.
In this day, when the trepidation and rage and mourning that is called war, seizes our hearts and patches them in scars, we call to you, the Lord whose name is Peace:
Bless these children, and keep them from harm.
Turn Your face toward them, O Lord. Show them, as if for the first time, light and kindness, and overwhelming graciousness.
Look up at them, O Lord. Let them see your face.
And, as if for the first time, grant them peace.
With thanks to Rabbi Levi Weiman-Kelman of Kol HaNeshama, Jerusalem.
* * * * * * * *
Another recent piece of Burston's is here. (It is called "Gaza War Diary III: If Mexico shelled Texas, like Hamas shells Israel .")
Monday, January 5, 2009
Gaza
(First two paragraphs slightly edited from a comment over at PJ's.)
Yesterday at my "other church" (the one where I am three Sundays a month till May-ish) the rector (always a fine preacher) preached about Gaza and the refugee baby Jesus and the love of all humankind. That wasn't when I cried; I was actually distracted half the time. At the Prayers of the People we prayed for everybody on the planet including people serving in the armed forces, and in this congregation they name about four or five people specifically after the general prayer so people must have relatives on active duty.
And then we did what we do every single Sunday after communion and have been doing since the latest wars began (wars in the plural, yes): we kneel and sing "Dona Nobis Pacem" (the full round, several times) as a prayer for peace. I wept and wept while singing. Big fat tears rolling down my face into my mouth, singing for peace. All of us kneeling.
Yesterday at my "other church" (the one where I am three Sundays a month till May-ish) the rector (always a fine preacher) preached about Gaza and the refugee baby Jesus and the love of all humankind. That wasn't when I cried; I was actually distracted half the time. At the Prayers of the People we prayed for everybody on the planet including people serving in the armed forces, and in this congregation they name about four or five people specifically after the general prayer so people must have relatives on active duty.
And then we did what we do every single Sunday after communion and have been doing since the latest wars began (wars in the plural, yes): we kneel and sing "Dona Nobis Pacem" (the full round, several times) as a prayer for peace. I wept and wept while singing. Big fat tears rolling down my face into my mouth, singing for peace. All of us kneeling.
* * * * * * *
I want to remind people that there is a diversity of views within Israel and that there are active dissenters there. There is also diversity in the U.S. Jewish community. Let me draw your attention to two organizations that used to be one but are now separate and both serve important purposes.
Jewish Peace News (JPN) offers an excellent news roundup to which you can subscribe on e-mail (free) by first going to JPN's blog here. Their sources are diverse. The mainstream media, whatever that is these days, does not expose us to this news. Neither, much of the time, does the alternative media, whatever that means. We do hear about the suffering of many --and there are so many more whose tears and deaths and fears we will never see or hear-- but we don't hear much about work for peace and voices of protest. Do have a look at their blog, where you can find subscription info and samples of the news they send out.
Which leads me to the second organization (which as I recall gave birth to the first, and, to no one's surprise, they are based in the San Francisco Bay Area, which is where I first heard of them), Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP). They send out e-mails too, but they also have a website which I urge you to visit.
On the JPN website, in addition to news from Gaza, you will find information about the recent campaign in solidarity for the Shministim, who are the young conscientious objectors in Israel. They are very young (high school seniors) and look as if they could be your children or mine and they have gone to prison for refusing to participate in unjust military actions.
There's also a helfpul "New to the issue? Start here." link. It leads to a FAQ on "Israeli Palestinian Conflict 101." You will see it is primarily aimed at the Jewish community since this is a Jewish organization, but it's worth reading if you are a Gentile, too.
There are also media campaigns (there was and is one about the news blackout on Gaza, which long predated the current military action; things have been very bad in Gaza for a long time and we haven't been hearing enough about it) and statements condemning anti-Muslim and anti-Arab bigotry. JVP also has a news blog called MuzzleWatch: Tracking efforts to stifle open debate about US-Israeli foreign policy.
If you are press, or even if you are not, there are fact sheets here about JVP and its mission.
So remember these names: Jewish Peace News and Jewish Voice for Peace, and stay informed.
Jewish Peace News (JPN) offers an excellent news roundup to which you can subscribe on e-mail (free) by first going to JPN's blog here. Their sources are diverse. The mainstream media, whatever that is these days, does not expose us to this news. Neither, much of the time, does the alternative media, whatever that means. We do hear about the suffering of many --and there are so many more whose tears and deaths and fears we will never see or hear-- but we don't hear much about work for peace and voices of protest. Do have a look at their blog, where you can find subscription info and samples of the news they send out.
Which leads me to the second organization (which as I recall gave birth to the first, and, to no one's surprise, they are based in the San Francisco Bay Area, which is where I first heard of them), Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP). They send out e-mails too, but they also have a website which I urge you to visit.
On the JPN website, in addition to news from Gaza, you will find information about the recent campaign in solidarity for the Shministim, who are the young conscientious objectors in Israel. They are very young (high school seniors) and look as if they could be your children or mine and they have gone to prison for refusing to participate in unjust military actions.There's also a helfpul "New to the issue? Start here." link. It leads to a FAQ on "Israeli Palestinian Conflict 101." You will see it is primarily aimed at the Jewish community since this is a Jewish organization, but it's worth reading if you are a Gentile, too.
There are also media campaigns (there was and is one about the news blackout on Gaza, which long predated the current military action; things have been very bad in Gaza for a long time and we haven't been hearing enough about it) and statements condemning anti-Muslim and anti-Arab bigotry. JVP also has a news blog called MuzzleWatch: Tracking efforts to stifle open debate about US-Israeli foreign policy.
If you are press, or even if you are not, there are fact sheets here about JVP and its mission.
So remember these names: Jewish Peace News and Jewish Voice for Peace, and stay informed.
* * * * * * *
So much for blog break. I am still in hiding working on writing projects till mid-month and not really posting in a fully attentive way. The cat is doing better at it than I, and she has an Epiphany sermon for you. Also, I will post in a couple of days a link to my new essay at the Episcopal Café. I'm really still on break and not all there. But I cannot stay silent about Gaza.
Godde help us all.
Godde help us all.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
From last year: an old Epiphany sermon
While the Canon to the Extraordinary is on blog break, I, Maya Pavlova, Feline Bishop Extraordinaire, bring you some bloggy flashbacks. This one is from last year at Epiphany. It is an old sermon, but not too old. Have a look.
Or have a nap.
Or have a nap.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
A sermon for the 4th Sunday of Advent
On blog break, but as promised, I am posting today's sermon.
I am sojourning at All Saints three Sundays a month till May or June -- back at St. Mary's next Sunday for my one Sunday a month there. All Saints is a wonderful worshipping community with a lot of kind, hospitable people. A special joy was giving communion to the children there. St. Mary's House doesn't have children these days (we are a combination "regular" congregation and university chaplaincy and the few families with children we had have moved on, especially as we have recommitted to our chaplaincy mission) and it's nice serving the young 'uns for a change. There are also quite a few elders at All Saints, though. I was at both liturgies, 8 a.m. and 10:30 a.m., and as is often the case, the early liturgy draws a lot of elders. And a zippy lot of elders they are! I'll be spending Christmas Eve at All Saints' as well. Then back home to St. Mary's House for the Sunday after Christmas.
I don't usually footnote my sermons, but this one was based on another I wrote three years ago and for which I did a lot of reading, so for the sake of honesty and interesting references, I've left the major notes in, the ones that have interesting references. Obviously they were not there in the oral delivery!! I love Beth Johnson's book on Mary, by the way, and recommend it highly.
4th Sunday of Advent (Year B, RCL)
December 21, 2008
All Saints Episcopal Church
Greensboro, North Carolina
Samuel 7:1-11, 16
Romans 16:25-27
Luke 1:26-38
In the name of the God
Who was
Who is,
and Who is to come,
Amen.
Have you noticed the people of Advent?It’s hard not to notice John the Baptizer,
that strange character with the raggedy clothes and
the strange eating habits, crying on the edge of the wilderness,
haranguing his contemporaries
and us.
He is squarely in the tradition of the prophets of Israel,
reminding people in a loud voice
of a God who calls them
and their institutions
to righteous living.
Samuel 7:1-11, 16
Romans 16:25-27
Luke 1:26-38
In the name of the God
Who was
Who is,
and Who is to come,
Amen.
Have you noticed the people of Advent?It’s hard not to notice John the Baptizer,
that strange character with the raggedy clothes and
the strange eating habits, crying on the edge of the wilderness,
haranguing his contemporaries
and us.
He is squarely in the tradition of the prophets of Israel,
reminding people in a loud voice
of a God who calls them
and their institutions
to righteous living.
Prophets are not usually persons you’d want to have over for tea.
They are the not so gentle companions of Advent.
Mary
doesn’t harangue us.
We are observers from the outside,
hearing the story of the first appearance of Mary in Scripture,
perhaps envisioning already in our minds
our favorite Renaissance paintings of the Annunciation.
But Mary too is a prophet.
Do not assume she is only a soothing and innocent presence
on the way to the Christmas pageant.
I am always struck
by the way in which the conversation
between the angel Gabriel and Mary
parallels the conversation
between of God and the prophets of the Hebrew Bible.
You may remember the general pattern:
God calls the prophet. Usually by name.
The prophet says, “Here I am, Lord.”
Then God says, “Listen, here’s what I want.”
And in every case, this “here’s what I want,”
God’s will for the prophet,
involves a particular role within the community of believers
and some kind of proclamation of who God is for this community.
And then the prophet puts up a fight.
Jeremiah says he’s too young.
Moses protests that he is slow of speech.
Amos argues that he is only a herdsman
and a dresser of sycamore trees.[1]
Jonah doesn’t say anything; he just runs away.
Now Mary – Mary has basically the same thing happen to her,
and she does ask a minor question about how this sign from God,
this birth, can happen when she has no husband. A logical question!
But she doesn’t run off or avoid the call;
in fact, in the scene following the one we just heard,
the second act of the story of Mary,
she run toward someone
to begin proclaiming what she knows to be true.
And that someone is Elizabeth, an older woman filled with new life and new hope,
They are the not so gentle companions of Advent.
Mary
doesn’t harangue us.
We are observers from the outside,
hearing the story of the first appearance of Mary in Scripture,
perhaps envisioning already in our minds
our favorite Renaissance paintings of the Annunciation.
But Mary too is a prophet.
Do not assume she is only a soothing and innocent presence
on the way to the Christmas pageant.
I am always struck
by the way in which the conversation
between the angel Gabriel and Mary
parallels the conversation
between of God and the prophets of the Hebrew Bible.
You may remember the general pattern:
God calls the prophet. Usually by name.
The prophet says, “Here I am, Lord.”
Then God says, “Listen, here’s what I want.”
And in every case, this “here’s what I want,”
God’s will for the prophet,
involves a particular role within the community of believers
and some kind of proclamation of who God is for this community.
And then the prophet puts up a fight.
Jeremiah says he’s too young.
Moses protests that he is slow of speech.
Amos argues that he is only a herdsman
and a dresser of sycamore trees.[1]
Jonah doesn’t say anything; he just runs away.
Now Mary – Mary has basically the same thing happen to her,
and she does ask a minor question about how this sign from God,
this birth, can happen when she has no husband. A logical question!
But she doesn’t run off or avoid the call;
in fact, in the scene following the one we just heard,
the second act of the story of Mary,
she run toward someone
to begin proclaiming what she knows to be true.
And that someone is Elizabeth, an older woman filled with new life and new hope,
who is also a proclaimer of good news, a bearer of revelation.
But I am getting ahead of myself. Let’s get back to Nazareth.
The Mary we meet here is not Mary the mother,
as we will encounter her in just four days, in Bethlehem,
down South,
but Mary the young Galilean woman --
still in her northern hometown of Nazareth.
We don’t know much about Mary.
We don’t have facts and details about her early life,
or even about her life at the time we meet her
in today’s Gospel story.
In this she has much more in common
with the unknown people
of the first and the twenty-first centuries
than with those whose dwellings or divorces show up
in People magazine
or whose statements about war or money
make the front page of the newspaper
or prime time television news.
Mary has more in common
with the millions of people,
especially poor women,[2]
whose names we do not know
and whose lives
whose daily courage,
whose memories,
whose yearnings
we tend to overlook,
even though
they form the major portion
of our human family.
We do know that Mary came from Galilee.
Galilee was a backwater.
It was that place up north –
a good four days’ walk from Jerusalem
a little less if you had a donkey.[3]
We now know thanks to the work of archaeologists
that in Galilee there were several hundred villages,
and that Nazareth was a small village of maybe 300, 400 people.
It was off the main road, a place of no special importance.[4]
The economy in Galilee was heavily agricultural.
Joseph, to whom Mary was betrothed, was an artisan.
But he and his family would have also had a small plot of land
on which they grew some food – barley and wheat, grapes, olives.
Almost everyone did.
Galilee, even in the villages, was a crossroads of cultures.
In Mary’s daily life, the spoken language
was Aramaic, a close relative of Hebrew.
Educated and business people spoke Greek.
The Romans, who had conquered the land
and still occupied it,
spoke Latin.
And in the synagogue,
the congregation to which Mary and Joseph belonged,
the language of scripture and prayer was Hebrew.
Still, Galilee in Mary’s day
was far from the circles of power,
though the power of the Roman empire did reach there,
in the form of a triple tax.
There was no middle class. Most of the people were poor,
living at what we would call subsistence level.
The rich and powerful
were a very small percentage of the population.
The story in the Gospel of Luke
is not about them. Not yet.
The second Book of Samuel,
from which we also heard this morning,
is about the powerful –and the famous.
Both books of Samuel are organized around the careers of Samuel, Saul, and David.[5]
An official prophet –a professional—and two kings.
They are stories of the people of Israel
But they are also very much the story of God.
Woven throughout the many tales and adventures of the prophet and the two kings
are God’s attempts “to maintain or [to] recreate a relationship of loyalty
between God and [God’s] people.”[6]
The second book of Samuel is very concerned about institutions.
By the time we get to today’s story,
David has ascended to the thrones of both Judah, the little country in the South,
and Israel, the little country in the North.
He settles in Jerusalem, which is now the capital of the newly united kingdom.
And into the story comes
Nathan the prophet, who gets a little visit from the Lord at night.
Nathan hears from God
for David
a promise that appears to be unconditional:
Your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me;
your throne shall be established forever.[7]
But it’s a little deceptive.
As is often the case today,
you need to read around and underneath the sound bites and the official statements
to get the bigger story.
If you read on in the Second Book of Samuel
you’ll see that humans keep behaving
like humans.
King David, the great king,
gets involved in a good dose of treachery, adultery, plots of murder,
and a few other things that make us love him and hate him
for his larger than life humanity
and also make us wonder
why he gets touted as Joseph’s ancestor.
Certainly not because he is a model of virtue!
Read on in the Second Book of Samuel, and beyond,
and you’ll see that the house of David
isn’t exactly what we would call secure.
A generation or two after today’s story, things start falling apart.
Now, kingship arose at least in part out of people’s need for security;
And humans
–all of us, from Galilee to Greensboro—
crave security.
Give me an answer! Give me a formula!
Give me a strong leader!
Give me an economic miracle!Give me a new technological toy!
Give us a nice clean war!
Give us well defined gender roles!
Give me a quick fix!
Give us ten steps to prosperity or
peace of mind or
firm abdominal muscles!
The major message in the second book of Samuel
is not that the king is the source of the people’s security.
It is that God alone is sovereign.
God alone offers security.
All institutions are relative.
Generations later, the story in the Gospel of Luke tells us,
After destruction, exile, and many other empires,
in the days of the Roman Empire,
a descendant of David now living in this backwater of Galilee,
a descendant named Joseph
is betrothed to a young woman named Mary.
Mary and Joseph were betrothed.
That’s not like being engaged in the contemporary sense.
It had what we would call legal status.
It really was the first of two stages of marriage.
So we know that Mary was from Galilee
in the days when Rome reigned.
We know that she was betrothed to Joseph.
We also know that Mary was Jewish.
As was Joseph. As was Jesus.
They were observant Jews,
living their faith within the rhythms of ordinary life,
daily and weekly,
faith in the one sovereign God.[9]
And this faith,
“belief in one God
whom no graven images could capture
clashed” with the new god who was about in the land:
Caesar, the emperor,
“full of power [and] glory.”[10]
Roman religious belief
was inseparable from Roman politics.
The Lordship of Caesar
was on a collision course
with the religion of Judaism.
Another few things of which we can be fairly certain:
there is a good chance
that Mary was very young.
Girls were betrothed around the age of twelve,
maybe thirteen, fourteen. Probably not much later.
And Mary was likely brown-skinned,
like most people in the region,
and muscular
from the labor she performed
outdoors and indoors
and which was a lot more strenuous
than pushing a vacuum cleaner.
So Mary, a brown-skinned, muscular,
working-class Jewish girl from Galilee
is sitting around one day
minding her own business (or maybe not)
when,
as happens in biblical stories,
and sometimes in other places too,
an angel shows up.
Shalom! Says the angel. Greetings!
Angels don’t have a translation problem, have you noticed?
They are messengers from God
who speak in the language of the person they happen to be visiting.
We can assume they are a multilingual lot.
Shalom, says the angel.
YOU are special to God,
and God is with you.
“Huh?” thinks Mary.
Or as the text says in our contemporary translation
...she was much perplexed by [the angel’s] words
and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.[11]
In other words,
“Huh?”
Mary was not someone likely to be singled out.
She was not one of the truly destitute or the most marginal:
she was betrothed to an artisan; she had a place to live;
but she was an ordinary girl in an ordinary village.
“Hello, Mary! I’m here for you!
I’ve got a word from God!”
Mary is still digesting this one,
and then comes the big news.
“You’re going to have a baby, Mary.”
And it’s not Joseph’s baby.
This child announced by the angel
is not what we would call legitimate.
Anticipating Mary’s reaction,
the angel reassures her,
invoking her people’s history,
talking of thrones, of David the royal ancestor,
of a kingdom that will have no end.
Being a smart Jewish girl,
though probably illiterate,
Mary says
How can this be, since I am a virgin?[12]
Or as the original text says much more eloquently,
How can this be, since I do not know a man?[13]
And somehow satisfied with the angel’s answer,
willing, somehow, to say,
“All right, God, I’ll do it,”
Mary the prophet goes forward.
Now,
hold together
the angel
and the village,
the message from God
and one particular, ordinary, daily life,
history writ large
and history writ small.
Here in Greensboro,
it’s four days before Christmas in another kind of empire.
One in which
we, like Mary, are not living in the centers of power,
but where the centers of power reach us.
In this empire as in the earlier ones
institutions and their leaders fail us:
corporations, investment banks, government,
the military, schools, even churches.
We in this American empire
are about to celebrate the birth of Jesus
and we look also in this season of Advent
to Jesus’ coming again
at the end of time.
And what do we do,
as we prepare for this?
We contemplate Mary.
We remember her as the human being she was,
in the little we know of her and her surroundings.
This is a much deeper and more challenging mystery
than if Mary were either the ideal woman
or the feminine face of God
or an archetype or a model
or even the ideal disciple.
“As with every human being, as with every woman,”
[as with every girl, every boy, every man,]
“[Mary] is first and foremost herself.”[14]
I am not saying that we can’t also appreciate Mary as a symbol.
But Mary is and remains
“truly our sister,”[15]
“a concrete human being”[16]
“....who acted according to the call of the Spirit
in the particular circumstances of her own history.”[17]
This is no reason for us to toss our Fra Angelico reproductions in the trash bin
Or to take the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe down from the wall.
On the contrary, perhaps they, along with other images,
can help us to remember that Jesus,
true God among us
and truly human,
was the son
of a truly human mother,
a particular mother
in a particular place.
For some reason
God loves history.
God loves our history.
God lives in our history
through us,
with us.
It is in that history that Mary will go off to visit Elizabeth,
And that she will cry out in song
That the God of promise will turn the world upside down,
That the hungry will eat,
That the powerless will be filled with new strength,
That the mighty will tumble from their proud thrones,
A message worthy of the prophets
Of Mary’s people Israel.
My friend Gene Rogers,
Who teaches at UNCG, has written a book in which
he comments on an ancient hymn about Mary
from the Christian East
And here’s what he says of her:
As a woman of low estate, she opens up a time for justice;
as a willing recipient of the Spirit, she opens up a site of joy.
In preparing the justice of God’s realm, she plays the role of the prophet.[18]
The Gospel on this fourth Sunday of Advent asks us:
Are we ready
with Mary our sister
to open up a time for justice?
Are we
willing recipients of the Spirit?
The Spirit!
Not the shortcut solution.
Not the security for which we hunger.
Not the ordinary exercise of power.
The power of the Spirit -
the Spirit of God
the one with the messages in the middle of the night
the one with surprise visits in broad daylight
the one who visits the backwaters of conquered lands.
Are we ready
to open up a site of joy?
Are we willing
as Mary was willing
to be that place
where God lives
and where, make no mistake,
neither Mary nor we
will serve as passive incubator
for a pop-up Jesus?
Will we be
a living, breathing, choice-making site of joy,
a real being who makes room for the action of the Holy Spirit
whatever it is?
At a really inconvenient time?
Think about it:
This woman –we would call her a girl– is virtually married.
And in what form does the Spirit show up?
A baby who’s not her husband’s.
Let’s see. In her historical context
she could lose
her husband,
her economic support,
her reputation,
even her life.
Never mind the how the pregnancy happened
Look at what the fact of Mary’s pregnancy says:
God is really really inconvenient.
And really risky.
And really close
to us.
Jesus
flesh of Mary’s flesh
flesh of our flesh
is coming soon.
And the angel
in some form, in some voice, in some manner,
will come to us
as the angel came to Mary
and ask
the Advent question of God:
Will you bear my word to the world?
This world?
Will you hold my word in your heart?
This heart, your heart, in this time in history, in this place,
in your skin, in your faith, in your life?
Will you share my word with the world ?
Will you
open up a time for justice
in this place, in this empire?
Will you
be a willing recipient of the Spirit?
Will you open up a site of joy?
Will you, with the help of the Spirit
risk being a prophet?
Saints,
Says the angel with the Advent question of God,
Will you
bear my word to the world?
Amen.
But I am getting ahead of myself. Let’s get back to Nazareth.
The Mary we meet here is not Mary the mother,
as we will encounter her in just four days, in Bethlehem,
down South,
but Mary the young Galilean woman --
still in her northern hometown of Nazareth.
We don’t know much about Mary.
We don’t have facts and details about her early life,
or even about her life at the time we meet her
in today’s Gospel story.
In this she has much more in common
with the unknown people
of the first and the twenty-first centuries
than with those whose dwellings or divorces show up
in People magazine
or whose statements about war or money
make the front page of the newspaper
or prime time television news.
Mary has more in common
with the millions of people,
especially poor women,[2]
whose names we do not know
and whose lives
whose daily courage,
whose memories,
whose yearnings
we tend to overlook,
even though
they form the major portion
of our human family.
We do know that Mary came from Galilee.
Galilee was a backwater.
It was that place up north –
a good four days’ walk from Jerusalem
a little less if you had a donkey.[3]
We now know thanks to the work of archaeologists
that in Galilee there were several hundred villages,
and that Nazareth was a small village of maybe 300, 400 people.
It was off the main road, a place of no special importance.[4]
The economy in Galilee was heavily agricultural.
Joseph, to whom Mary was betrothed, was an artisan.
But he and his family would have also had a small plot of land
on which they grew some food – barley and wheat, grapes, olives.
Almost everyone did.
Galilee, even in the villages, was a crossroads of cultures.
In Mary’s daily life, the spoken language
was Aramaic, a close relative of Hebrew.
Educated and business people spoke Greek.
The Romans, who had conquered the land
and still occupied it,
spoke Latin.
And in the synagogue,
the congregation to which Mary and Joseph belonged,
the language of scripture and prayer was Hebrew.
Still, Galilee in Mary’s day
was far from the circles of power,
though the power of the Roman empire did reach there,
in the form of a triple tax.
There was no middle class. Most of the people were poor,
living at what we would call subsistence level.
The rich and powerful
were a very small percentage of the population.
The story in the Gospel of Luke
is not about them. Not yet.
The second Book of Samuel,
from which we also heard this morning,
is about the powerful –and the famous.
Both books of Samuel are organized around the careers of Samuel, Saul, and David.[5]
An official prophet –a professional—and two kings.
They are stories of the people of Israel
But they are also very much the story of God.
Woven throughout the many tales and adventures of the prophet and the two kings
are God’s attempts “to maintain or [to] recreate a relationship of loyalty
between God and [God’s] people.”[6]
The second book of Samuel is very concerned about institutions.
By the time we get to today’s story,
David has ascended to the thrones of both Judah, the little country in the South,
and Israel, the little country in the North.
He settles in Jerusalem, which is now the capital of the newly united kingdom.
And into the story comes
Nathan the prophet, who gets a little visit from the Lord at night.
Nathan hears from God
for David
a promise that appears to be unconditional:
Your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me;
your throne shall be established forever.[7]
But it’s a little deceptive.
As is often the case today,
you need to read around and underneath the sound bites and the official statements
to get the bigger story.
If you read on in the Second Book of Samuel
you’ll see that humans keep behaving
like humans.
King David, the great king,
gets involved in a good dose of treachery, adultery, plots of murder,
and a few other things that make us love him and hate him
for his larger than life humanity
and also make us wonder
why he gets touted as Joseph’s ancestor.
Certainly not because he is a model of virtue!
Read on in the Second Book of Samuel, and beyond,
and you’ll see that the house of David
isn’t exactly what we would call secure.
A generation or two after today’s story, things start falling apart.
Now, kingship arose at least in part out of people’s need for security;
And humans
–all of us, from Galilee to Greensboro—
crave security.
Give me an answer! Give me a formula!
Give me a strong leader!
Give me an economic miracle!Give me a new technological toy!
Give us a nice clean war!
Give us well defined gender roles!
Give me a quick fix!
Give us ten steps to prosperity or
peace of mind or
firm abdominal muscles!
The major message in the second book of Samuel
is not that the king is the source of the people’s security.
It is that God alone is sovereign.
God alone offers security.
All institutions are relative.
Generations later, the story in the Gospel of Luke tells us,
After destruction, exile, and many other empires,
in the days of the Roman Empire,
a descendant of David now living in this backwater of Galilee,
a descendant named Joseph
is betrothed to a young woman named Mary.
Mary and Joseph were betrothed.
That’s not like being engaged in the contemporary sense.
It had what we would call legal status.
It really was the first of two stages of marriage.
So we know that Mary was from Galilee
in the days when Rome reigned.
We know that she was betrothed to Joseph.
We also know that Mary was Jewish.
As was Joseph. As was Jesus.
They were observant Jews,
living their faith within the rhythms of ordinary life,
daily and weekly,
faith in the one sovereign God.[9]
And this faith,
“belief in one God
whom no graven images could capture
clashed” with the new god who was about in the land:
Caesar, the emperor,
“full of power [and] glory.”[10]
Roman religious belief
was inseparable from Roman politics.
The Lordship of Caesar
was on a collision course
with the religion of Judaism.
Another few things of which we can be fairly certain:
there is a good chance
that Mary was very young.
Girls were betrothed around the age of twelve,
maybe thirteen, fourteen. Probably not much later.
And Mary was likely brown-skinned,
like most people in the region,
and muscular
from the labor she performed
outdoors and indoors
and which was a lot more strenuous
than pushing a vacuum cleaner.
So Mary, a brown-skinned, muscular,
working-class Jewish girl from Galilee
is sitting around one day
minding her own business (or maybe not)
when,
as happens in biblical stories,
and sometimes in other places too,
an angel shows up.
Shalom! Says the angel. Greetings!
Angels don’t have a translation problem, have you noticed?
They are messengers from God
who speak in the language of the person they happen to be visiting.
We can assume they are a multilingual lot.
Shalom, says the angel.
YOU are special to God,
and God is with you.
“Huh?” thinks Mary.
Or as the text says in our contemporary translation
...she was much perplexed by [the angel’s] words
and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.[11]
In other words,
“Huh?”
Mary was not someone likely to be singled out.
She was not one of the truly destitute or the most marginal:
she was betrothed to an artisan; she had a place to live;
but she was an ordinary girl in an ordinary village.
“Hello, Mary! I’m here for you!
I’ve got a word from God!”
Mary is still digesting this one,
and then comes the big news.
“You’re going to have a baby, Mary.”
And it’s not Joseph’s baby.
This child announced by the angel
is not what we would call legitimate.
Anticipating Mary’s reaction,
the angel reassures her,
invoking her people’s history,
talking of thrones, of David the royal ancestor,
of a kingdom that will have no end.
Being a smart Jewish girl,
though probably illiterate,
Mary says
How can this be, since I am a virgin?[12]
Or as the original text says much more eloquently,
How can this be, since I do not know a man?[13]
And somehow satisfied with the angel’s answer,
willing, somehow, to say,
“All right, God, I’ll do it,”
Mary the prophet goes forward.
Now,
hold together
the angel
and the village,
the message from God
and one particular, ordinary, daily life,
history writ large
and history writ small.
Here in Greensboro,
it’s four days before Christmas in another kind of empire.
One in which
we, like Mary, are not living in the centers of power,
but where the centers of power reach us.
In this empire as in the earlier ones
institutions and their leaders fail us:
corporations, investment banks, government,
the military, schools, even churches.
We in this American empire
are about to celebrate the birth of Jesus
and we look also in this season of Advent
to Jesus’ coming again
at the end of time.
And what do we do,
as we prepare for this?
We contemplate Mary.
We remember her as the human being she was,
in the little we know of her and her surroundings.
This is a much deeper and more challenging mystery
than if Mary were either the ideal woman
or the feminine face of God
or an archetype or a model
or even the ideal disciple.
“As with every human being, as with every woman,”
[as with every girl, every boy, every man,]
“[Mary] is first and foremost herself.”[14]
I am not saying that we can’t also appreciate Mary as a symbol.
But Mary is and remains
“truly our sister,”[15]
“a concrete human being”[16]
“....who acted according to the call of the Spirit
in the particular circumstances of her own history.”[17]
This is no reason for us to toss our Fra Angelico reproductions in the trash bin
Or to take the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe down from the wall.
On the contrary, perhaps they, along with other images,
can help us to remember that Jesus,
true God among us
and truly human,
was the son
of a truly human mother,
a particular mother
in a particular place.
For some reason
God loves history.
God loves our history.
God lives in our history
through us,
with us.
It is in that history that Mary will go off to visit Elizabeth,
And that she will cry out in song
That the God of promise will turn the world upside down,
That the hungry will eat,
That the powerless will be filled with new strength,
That the mighty will tumble from their proud thrones,
A message worthy of the prophets
Of Mary’s people Israel.
My friend Gene Rogers,
Who teaches at UNCG, has written a book in which
he comments on an ancient hymn about Mary
from the Christian East
And here’s what he says of her:
As a woman of low estate, she opens up a time for justice;
as a willing recipient of the Spirit, she opens up a site of joy.
In preparing the justice of God’s realm, she plays the role of the prophet.[18]
The Gospel on this fourth Sunday of Advent asks us:
Are we ready
with Mary our sister
to open up a time for justice?
Are we
willing recipients of the Spirit?
The Spirit!
Not the shortcut solution.
Not the security for which we hunger.
Not the ordinary exercise of power.
The power of the Spirit -
the Spirit of God
the one with the messages in the middle of the night
the one with surprise visits in broad daylight
the one who visits the backwaters of conquered lands.
Are we ready
to open up a site of joy?
Are we willing
as Mary was willing
to be that place
where God lives
and where, make no mistake,
neither Mary nor we
will serve as passive incubator
for a pop-up Jesus?
Will we be
a living, breathing, choice-making site of joy,
a real being who makes room for the action of the Holy Spirit
whatever it is?
At a really inconvenient time?
Think about it:
This woman –we would call her a girl– is virtually married.
And in what form does the Spirit show up?
A baby who’s not her husband’s.
Let’s see. In her historical context
she could lose
her husband,
her economic support,
her reputation,
even her life.
Never mind the how the pregnancy happened
Look at what the fact of Mary’s pregnancy says:
God is really really inconvenient.
And really risky.
And really close
to us.
Jesus
flesh of Mary’s flesh
flesh of our flesh
is coming soon.
And the angel
in some form, in some voice, in some manner,
will come to us
as the angel came to Mary
and ask
the Advent question of God:
Will you bear my word to the world?
This world?
Will you hold my word in your heart?
This heart, your heart, in this time in history, in this place,
in your skin, in your faith, in your life?
Will you share my word with the world ?
Will you
open up a time for justice
in this place, in this empire?
Will you
be a willing recipient of the Spirit?
Will you open up a site of joy?
Will you, with the help of the Spirit
risk being a prophet?
Saints,
Says the angel with the Advent question of God,
Will you
bear my word to the world?
Amen.
********************************************
[1] A dresser of sycamore trees is someone who makes little cuts in the sycamore fruit so that they can grow to be edible. It was a lower-class job in the low-class food business; sycamore fruit was for people too poor to afford dates.
[2] Elizabeth Johnson makes note of this when introducing Mary’s Galilean context. Elizabeth A. Johnson, Truly Our Sister: A Theology of Mary in the Communion of Saints (New York: Continuum, 2003),137.
[3] Johnson, Truly Our Sister, 172.
[4] Ibid.,141.
[5] Jo Ann Hackett, “1 and 2 Samuel,” Women’s Bible Commentary, expanded edition, ed. Carol A Newsom and Sharon H. Ringe (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1998), 91.
[6] David Gunn, “2 Samuel,” Harper’s Bible Commentary (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1988), 287.
[7] 2 Sam 7:16.
[9] See Johnson, Truly Our Sister, 165.
[10] Ibid.
[11] Luke 1:29
[12] Luke 1:34, New Revised Standard Version.
[13] Luke 1:34, literal translation from the original Greek. This also happens to be the King James Version’s translation, which is not always the most accurate, but which in this case is closer to the text.
[14] Johnson, Truly Our Sister,101.
[15] While the phrase “truly our sister” comes from Pope Paul VI, Johnson also notes in the frontispiece of her book that several women theologians, whose writings evoke the words and beliefs of grassroots women in Mexico, Korea, Brazil, and the United States, refer to Mary as a sister.
[16] “[T]he proposal to interpret Mary within the company of the saints entails this corollary: First and foremost Mary is not a model, a type, an archetype, a prototype, an icon, a representative figure, a theological idea, an ideological cipher, a metaphor, a utopian principle, a feminine principle, a feminine essence, the image of the eternal feminine, an ideal disciple, ideal woman, ideal mother, a myth, a persona, a corporate personality, an everywoman, a cultural artifact, a literary device, a motif, an exemplar, a paradigm, a sign, or in any other way a religious symbol. All of these terms are drawn from contemporary religious writing. To the contrary, as with any human being, as with every woman, she is first and foremost herself. I am not saying that the contemporary human imagination cannot make use of her in a symbolic way. But it is the luminous density of her existence as a graced human being that attracts my attention. As Rahner argues, ‘We, however supremely elevated our spiritual nature may be, still remain concrete historical beings, and for this reason we cannot consider this history as something unimportant for the highest activity of our spirit, the search for God.’” Johnson, Truly Our Sister,101.
[17] Johnson, Truly Our Sister, 42-43.
[18] Eugene F. Rogers, Jr., After the Spirit: A Constructive Pneumatology from Resources Outside the Modern West (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 2005), 104. For my own rhetorical purposes, I have left out of this quote from Rogers’ elaboration on Hymn XI of Romanos the Melodist a fourth point, which immediately follows the three I quote: “In preparing the joy of God’s realm, she plays the role of patriarch.”
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Mahmoud Darwish, R.I.P
A humane and heartstrong poet has died, of consequences of heart surgery. His physical heart had been ill for some years. Mahmoud Darwish was the leading Palestinian poet.
The BCC story is here from the Agence France-Presse (AFP). One learns more about Darwish there.
I'll try to find a poem later and post it.
Photo: AFP, 2005.
Later:
"I Come From There and Remember"
*****by Mahmoud Darwish
I am from There:
I come from there and remember,
I was born like everyone is born, I have a mother
and a house with many windows,
I have brothers, friends and a prison.
I have a wave that sea-gulls snatched away.
I have a view of my own and an extra blade of grass.
I have a moon past the peak of words.
I have the godsent food of birds and an olive tree beyond the ken of time.
I have traversed the land before swords turned bodies into banquets.
I come from there. I return the sky to its mother when for its mother the
sky cries, and I weep for a returning cloud to know me.
I have learned the words of blood-stained courts
in order to break the rules.
I have learned and dismantled all the words to construct a single one:
Home
(Translated by Tania Nasir for publication in Marwan’s 1998 exhibit catalogue: “An Die Kinder Palästinas”, published in Berlin by the Goethe Institut.) H/T: Annie's Letters
A video of a song by Marcel Khalife, "Ummi" ("My Mother" in Arabic) whose words are a poem by Darwish. H/T: Annie's Letters
Here's the info about a book of selected poems by Darwish published by the University of California Press, Unfortunately, It Was Paradise.
And here is a review of a Hebrew edition of a book of poems (Mural in English) by Darwish in the Israeli newspaper Ha'aretz. The review is titled "Palestine as Poetry." Its author is Sami Shalom Chetrit, who teaches literature and politics in the film department at Sapir College in the Negev (Israel) and at UCLA.
I am from There:
I come from there and remember,
I was born like everyone is born, I have a mother
and a house with many windows,
I have brothers, friends and a prison.
I have a wave that sea-gulls snatched away.
I have a view of my own and an extra blade of grass.
I have a moon past the peak of words.
I have the godsent food of birds and an olive tree beyond the ken of time.
I have traversed the land before swords turned bodies into banquets.
I come from there. I return the sky to its mother when for its mother the
sky cries, and I weep for a returning cloud to know me.
I have learned the words of blood-stained courts
in order to break the rules.
I have learned and dismantled all the words to construct a single one:
Home
(Translated by Tania Nasir for publication in Marwan’s 1998 exhibit catalogue: “An Die Kinder Palästinas”, published in Berlin by the Goethe Institut.) H/T: Annie's Letters
A video of a song by Marcel Khalife, "Ummi" ("My Mother" in Arabic) whose words are a poem by Darwish. H/T: Annie's Letters
Here's the info about a book of selected poems by Darwish published by the University of California Press, Unfortunately, It Was Paradise.
And here is a review of a Hebrew edition of a book of poems (Mural in English) by Darwish in the Israeli newspaper Ha'aretz. The review is titled "Palestine as Poetry." Its author is Sami Shalom Chetrit, who teaches literature and politics in the film department at Sapir College in the Negev (Israel) and at UCLA.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Lord, have mercy - Israeli border policeman kills self at Sarkozy farewell
In this morning's top stories from the AP:
JERUSALEM - Israeli security guards have whisked French President Nicholas Sarkozy and Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert away during an airport departure ceremony. An Israeli police spokesman says a border policeman committed suicide at the Sarkozy farewell ceremony.
The emphasis is mine. The story continues to give news of the rest of the situation in Israel and the Palestinian Territories. The headline was "Guards whisk away Israeli, French leaders."
So an Israeli soldier --specifically a policeman who works at the border, perhaps at one of the many checkpoints that disrupt the daily lives of Palestinians-- was so upset, so desperate, so conscience-ridden perhaps, that he killed himself in public in front of a head of state, and there is nothing about him in the headline?
I'm glad President Sarkozy is safe, really I am, but this soldier's life is not one to ignore, nor is his gesture, which reminds me of other public suicides (note: this was not a suicide bomb) in the Vietnam and other eras.
We'll have to go to the Israeli newspapers for detail. (Note: there is plenty of diversity of opinion in the Israeli press. You'd never know this from what we hear in these parts.) Just a short report from Ha'aretz so far. The headline was "Border policeman dies from self-inflicted shot at Sarkozy farewell."
I hope someone from the media investigates the story behind the gesture.
And I grieve for the border policeman's family and loved ones, and pray for those who cross and guard borders daily.
Every day I think I won't blog and then something like this happens.
Updates later in the day:
-An anonymous poster raises questions about my speculations; fair enough. I still hope for the story behind the story, and the life behind the headline, and I still say "Lord, have mercy." But posting in haste is not a good idea, and I ought to know better. Anonymous, however, might do us the courtesy of identifying himself or herself.
-Padre (and proud abuelito) Mickey, also in the comments, says the latest is that the weapon firing may have been an accident.
-A bit later, The Guardian says an investigation is afoot to find out whether we are dealing with suicide or accidental firing. Either way, a tragedy in a torn land, and a dead man, one more, among the many.
JERUSALEM - Israeli security guards have whisked French President Nicholas Sarkozy and Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert away during an airport departure ceremony. An Israeli police spokesman says a border policeman committed suicide at the Sarkozy farewell ceremony.
The emphasis is mine. The story continues to give news of the rest of the situation in Israel and the Palestinian Territories. The headline was "Guards whisk away Israeli, French leaders."
So an Israeli soldier --specifically a policeman who works at the border, perhaps at one of the many checkpoints that disrupt the daily lives of Palestinians-- was so upset, so desperate, so conscience-ridden perhaps, that he killed himself in public in front of a head of state, and there is nothing about him in the headline?
I'm glad President Sarkozy is safe, really I am, but this soldier's life is not one to ignore, nor is his gesture, which reminds me of other public suicides (note: this was not a suicide bomb) in the Vietnam and other eras.
We'll have to go to the Israeli newspapers for detail. (Note: there is plenty of diversity of opinion in the Israeli press. You'd never know this from what we hear in these parts.) Just a short report from Ha'aretz so far. The headline was "Border policeman dies from self-inflicted shot at Sarkozy farewell."
I hope someone from the media investigates the story behind the gesture.
And I grieve for the border policeman's family and loved ones, and pray for those who cross and guard borders daily.
Every day I think I won't blog and then something like this happens.
Updates later in the day:
-An anonymous poster raises questions about my speculations; fair enough. I still hope for the story behind the story, and the life behind the headline, and I still say "Lord, have mercy." But posting in haste is not a good idea, and I ought to know better. Anonymous, however, might do us the courtesy of identifying himself or herself.
-Padre (and proud abuelito) Mickey, also in the comments, says the latest is that the weapon firing may have been an accident.
-A bit later, The Guardian says an investigation is afoot to find out whether we are dealing with suicide or accidental firing. Either way, a tragedy in a torn land, and a dead man, one more, among the many.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Interfaith peace delegation to Iran - and a woman rabbi speaks in Tehran
My friend Ethan Vesely-Flad, who works for the Fellowship of Reconciliation and with whom I helped start the East Bay chapter of the Episcopal Peace Fellowship some years ago when we were both living in the San Francisco Bay Area (East Bay means Berkeley, Oakland, and environs), is in Iran with an interfaith peace delegation.
You read that right, Iran. One of the members of the delegation is Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb and she recently stood before an Orthodox Jewish congregation in Tehran, a historical first.
Ethan, who edits FOR's magazine, Fellowship, is reporting on the trip. You can read about it on the FOR blog here.
Make sure you click the "read more" words so you can read the full stories. The home page of the blog just shows the first paragraph of each blog entry. Read the one about Lynn under "Climbing mountains, making history." (Direct link to the story here.)
Blogging will be scarce in this space for a few days again while I take some more writing time to work on a Big Theological Tome (and also on the required year-end reports - more of the romantic life of academe), but Ethan's writing is much more worthy of your attention right now than my writing, so enjoy and ponder.
It's worth exploring the whole FOR homepage and links too. Scroll all the way down on that page, there is a wealth of information.
A few prayers for the interfaith delegation wouldn't hurt, either.
You read that right, Iran. One of the members of the delegation is Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb and she recently stood before an Orthodox Jewish congregation in Tehran, a historical first.
Ethan, who edits FOR's magazine, Fellowship, is reporting on the trip. You can read about it on the FOR blog here.
Make sure you click the "read more" words so you can read the full stories. The home page of the blog just shows the first paragraph of each blog entry. Read the one about Lynn under "Climbing mountains, making history." (Direct link to the story here.)
Blogging will be scarce in this space for a few days again while I take some more writing time to work on a Big Theological Tome (and also on the required year-end reports - more of the romantic life of academe), but Ethan's writing is much more worthy of your attention right now than my writing, so enjoy and ponder.
It's worth exploring the whole FOR homepage and links too. Scroll all the way down on that page, there is a wealth of information.
A few prayers for the interfaith delegation wouldn't hurt, either.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Memorial service for Krister Stendahl (1921-2008) and some obituaries and tributes -- and recent words by Bishop Stendahl
A celebration of Krister Stendahl's life and legacy will take place Friday, May 16, 3:00 p.m. (note time change from original listing) in Memorial Church, Harvard Yard.David Hartman writes, toward the end of his tribute (link below): We live now in a profound void. My prayer is that Krister's memory and life's work should serve as an inspiration for new Krister Stendahls to emerge in the modern world.
The New York Times obituary (4/16/08) is here.
A tribute from the Shalom Hartman Institute, written by Alan Abbey with a moving tribute by Institute co-director David Hartman, is here.
The fine, detailed obituary from Harvard Divinity School (HDS) is here. A short message from the current HDS dean William Graham is here.
Short 2007 interview with KS on the topic of leadership. Read it if you are interested in any of the following: church, power, Jesus, lgbt issues, humility, discernment, pastoring, priesthood, intellectual life, accountability.
Krister Stendahl's delicious 2007 essay "Why I Love the Bible."
Nice obit with many quotes from colleagues in the 4/17/08 Boston Globe.
Video: Krister Stendahl and Tikva Frymer-Kensky at the National Catholic speaking on Jewish-Christian relations, 2002. (Thanks to Deirdre Good for the referral to the link.)
Short tribute by a blogging member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (a.k.a. Mormons).
World Council of Churches obituary and tribute.
From the Extraordinary Lutheran Ministries.
I will keep updating with links to obituaries and tributes in this space.
Memorial gifts:
Bishop Stendahl's family and church have suggested that those who wish to make a memorial gift do so to one of the following two organizations:
The Harvard Square Homeless Shelter
The International Rescue Committee
Ten Commandments about Iraq
I hate to displace the little ducks at the head of the day, so I will keep this short.
From Salon.com: Iraq: The ten commandments. In honor of Charlton Heston, here are 10 lessons we should engrave on our foreign policy tablets as we prepare to leave Iraq. By Gary Kamiya. Read it here. At least someone is talking common sense.
From Salon.com: Iraq: The ten commandments. In honor of Charlton Heston, here are 10 lessons we should engrave on our foreign policy tablets as we prepare to leave Iraq. By Gary Kamiya. Read it here. At least someone is talking common sense.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Blogswarm against the war: hope in the rain
There were perhaps thirty of us, in the rain and wind, standing at a corner. Some held signs, others made peace signs with their fingers, others simply stood.
Several were from my congregation; its oldest members, in fact. A few were students. One was a little girl in a pink slicker, standing under the protective arm of her mother. She was the only child out on this night. Two photographers snapped pictures. At least four, maybe five of those in attendance were clergy; not young ones, but the young ones were tending to Holy Week duties and perhaps families; the retired ones were there in the rain, in clerical collars and raincoats and wrinkles.
After one of the MoveOn local coordinators spoke (one coordinator is a retired clergy friend, another his spouse), we cheered for the families of veterans in attendance. A mother spoke. She wore a clear plastic bag as a poncho and had a warm round face and curly hair. Her son, she said, had joined the Reserves against her warning. It was at least two years before 9/11, she remembered. Don't do it, she said to him. There's going to be a war. And it will be in the Middle East. "I just had a feeling," she said, "and I was paying attention." She read, she listened. She knew. Her son dismissed her prediction. A medical doctor, he shipped off the day the war began. She said goodbye to him at the airport, and four hours later she watched bombs begin to fall on Baghdad on the television. She was one of the fortunate ones, she said. Her son came back, six months later. But the war changed him, even though he was not in combat. Bullets whizzed by his head. He saw things, she said, that none of us should see. He is still in the Reserves. Thank you, she said, thank you for coming, in this rain, which is nothing next to what the soldiers endure, and which we endured tonight because we simply could not stay home.
We were a tiny group. Did we do any good? Did we make a difference?
Dorothee Soelle (1929-2003), one of my favorite theologians, writes in Against the Wind: Memoir of a Radical Christian:
.... for the first time I found myself attracted by a tiny group of people who were taking to the streets. I had a long conversation with my mother about the older peace movement. She was passionately opposed to war, and I have rarely seen her cry so terribly as in the summer of 1938 during the Czech crisis. .... Our conversation now in the fifties focused on re-armament [in Germany] and what could be done to stop it. I said, "I'm going down to have a look at those people," to which my mother replied, "Go ahead, but you must know that it won't achieve one little bit." In light of two different considerations, I thought long and hard about that remark --especially later, when we blockaded the nuclear rocket sites at Mutlangen and elsewhere. I had no doubt that Mother was right. At the same time, I knew that I belonged "there," and belonged with those "crazies." I sensed even then that the label "success" is not one of ultimate value, that as Martin Buber said, "Success is not one of God's names."
In her book of poems Revolutionary Patience, published in the U.S. in 1977 (the poems were first published in German in the late 1960s and early 1970s), Soelle writes:
*****He gave answers to questions they didn't ask
*****He gave answers to questions they didn't ask
*****sometimes they didn't dare
*****open their mouths anymore
*****not because they hadn't understood
*****he was taking from them
*****everything sacred and safe
*****he offered no guarantees
*****Fire was not sacred to him or neon
*****not singing or silence
*****not fornication or chastity
*****in his speech foxes breaddough
*****and much mended nets became sacred
*****the down and out were his proof
*****and actually he has as much assurance
*****of victory as we in these parts do
*****
*****None.
*****None.
CHRIST HAS DIED.
CHRIST IS RISEN.
CHRIST WILL COME AGAIN.
END THE WAR. END THE WAR. END THE WAR.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Death comes for the Archbishop: the forgotten Chaldeans of Iraq
These are parishioners of St Elya Chaldean Church in Baghdad, one of about 52 local emergency shelters established by the Middle East Council of Churches (MECC)-ACT(Action by Churches Together).
Several acquaintances and friends have been keeping the Chaldean Catholics of Iraq in public view -- including Grandmère Mimi and Young Fogey in the blogosphere and Roberta Popara, O.P. on the Sister-L listserve -- but most of the public does not know this religious minority exists. (There were also Jews in Iraq, once an important group and now a handful. More on them in another post.)
Today Archbishop Paulos Faraj Rahho was found dead (yes, passive voice, we don't know who found him) near the city of Mosul. More from the BBC here and English-language Al Jazeera here. He had been the victim of kidnapping two weeks ago. He was 65 years old and in poor health. He was Archbishop of Mosul.
This is Theresa, one of approximately one million Christians in Baghdad (yes, one million -- at the time the photo was taken, 2003).Except for the photo of the Archbishop, the photographs on this page are from the World Council of Churches. They are from a 2003 collection. We do not know whether the people in these photos are still alive.
This picture is from before the war. The children are from a kindergarten class run by the Chaldean Catholic Church in Basra.
And here's a map of Iraq to refresh your memory (and mine) on the location of the cities.
************************* *Kyrie Eleison
************************* *Christe Eleison
************************* *Kyrie Eleison
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Sunday afternoon: sermon, art, family, loss, nap; John O., RIP, part I
I preached a funny/serious sermon. Will post later today once I have cleaned it up a bit.
Took time to attend an exhibit opening downtown after church, a painter-engraver colleague of mine and a potter friend of his. Lovely. We really do need beauty almost as much as water.
Came home to news that one of my parents' closest friends, a sort of uncle of mine really though not a blood relative, died suddenly last night. His wife hasn't been well and just celebrated her 90th birthday and we all expected she would go first. He went very fast -- not sure what the cause was, but it doesn't matter.
It's too early for the newspaper obituaries but I found a professional bio online. What it doesn't show of course is the tall, stately man with the wide smile and deep sense of irony and humor who adored his grandchildren and who was one of the great diplomats of his generation. A diplomat on the development side -- as in, helping bring water to Gaza. Gaza which is in hell right now.
Oremus. And rest in peace, John. A life well lived.
I am going to try for a nap. Never enough sleep on Saturday nights, especially before a preaching Sunday. I am sad for my parents especially. They have been friends with this couple since before the war (World War II, that is) and John is the first of the four to die.
Took time to attend an exhibit opening downtown after church, a painter-engraver colleague of mine and a potter friend of his. Lovely. We really do need beauty almost as much as water.
Came home to news that one of my parents' closest friends, a sort of uncle of mine really though not a blood relative, died suddenly last night. His wife hasn't been well and just celebrated her 90th birthday and we all expected she would go first. He went very fast -- not sure what the cause was, but it doesn't matter.
It's too early for the newspaper obituaries but I found a professional bio online. What it doesn't show of course is the tall, stately man with the wide smile and deep sense of irony and humor who adored his grandchildren and who was one of the great diplomats of his generation. A diplomat on the development side -- as in, helping bring water to Gaza. Gaza which is in hell right now.
Oremus. And rest in peace, John. A life well lived.
I am going to try for a nap. Never enough sleep on Saturday nights, especially before a preaching Sunday. I am sad for my parents especially. They have been friends with this couple since before the war (World War II, that is) and John is the first of the four to die.
Friday, February 22, 2008
And for Paul, a little drama
I know, Paul darling, you are Swedish and not Norwegian, but a Norwegian composer played in Jerusalem is kind of fun, and you are the flag collector and international observer and welcomer. Enjoy.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Friday cat blogging and Haghia Sophia
So, I walked into Haghia Sophia (an earlier post tells me it was on December 13) and there, in the penumbra, was a cat. Right there in the church-turned-mosque-turned-museum, HUGE (the building, not the cat), dark and cavernous and ill-lit in the entrance, then glorious with its high, high vaults and windows and walls of marble and Byzantine icons and Arabic inscriptions. The two cat photos are lousy, but just so you know there really is at least one cat in Haghia Sophia, here they are.
Below them, though, are photos of some of the other sights. Mostly I didn't take pictures. I figured there were better photographs in books and online, and for the most part the things I wanted to photograph were too high or too far away or not really accessible or too large for the lens I had. Also, I spent the first hour or so looking up with my mouth hanging open because the place was so amazing, so I doubt I'd have been capable of taking photos. My second hour there, or some part of a second hour, I recovered a bit and took these few pictures. Some are, as you will see below, photos of photos.
There is scaffolding in Haghia Sophia. There is almost always scaffolding there. It's an old building and an architectural miracle, so something always needs repair or threatens to collapse unless it's held up by something.
By clicking the links above, you will see photos that give you a little sense of the vast space. With my camera, I only took close-ups. Haghia Sophia is even bigger than you can imagine. The Byzantines never built anything close to that size again.
Below them, though, are photos of some of the other sights. Mostly I didn't take pictures. I figured there were better photographs in books and online, and for the most part the things I wanted to photograph were too high or too far away or not really accessible or too large for the lens I had. Also, I spent the first hour or so looking up with my mouth hanging open because the place was so amazing, so I doubt I'd have been capable of taking photos. My second hour there, or some part of a second hour, I recovered a bit and took these few pictures. Some are, as you will see below, photos of photos.
There is scaffolding in Haghia Sophia. There is almost always scaffolding there. It's an old building and an architectural miracle, so something always needs repair or threatens to collapse unless it's held up by something.
By clicking the links above, you will see photos that give you a little sense of the vast space. With my camera, I only took close-ups. Haghia Sophia is even bigger than you can imagine. The Byzantines never built anything close to that size again.
I've already posted a photo of the tile below, but I want you to get a sense of sequence in which I saw and photographed.
Many kinds of marble were shipped here to make the walls. (Remember, this is back in the 6th century, so we're not talking freight trains.) This was just one among many of the marble slabs, though one of the most beautiful.
I went upstairs after this. To get to the second floor, you walk up a corridor that winds around and still has what looks like the original pavement and walls.
I kept imagining, both on the bottom floor and as I walked up this corridor, what liturgy must have been like here. The robes, the incense, the processions.
All men, of course.
The Empress and her ladies sat upstairs, in a special gallery with a balcony.
I imagined what it might have been like to walk to the upper floor in this very corridor, on these very stones.
That's not a dead end. The corridor turns left when you get to that wall in front of you.
In one of the upper galeries was a photo exhibit. This isn't as ridiculous as it sounds. The upper walls of Haghia Sophia have magnificent mosaics (icons made of mosaic really), but you can't see them up close. With the help of some sort of fabulous photographic technology and maybe some scaffolding, a photographer whose name I don't have handy made this set of pictures of the mosaics. The curators then put them up in light glass or plexiglas frames so that they would have the real thing just behind them and you could thus get the best possible perspective on the mosaics. So I took photos of the photos.
This here is the Theotokos with Emperor John II Comnenus and Empress Irene, his wife. (There was more than one royal Irene in Byzantium. This is not Irene the Icon Queen --not her real title-- who lived many centuries before.) The mosaic dates from the early 12th century.
Then we've got someone who looks like John the Baptizer, but I must check. Sorry for the flash, but it was dark dark dark in there.
And here again is Herself.
After the fall of Byzantium in 1453, Haghia Sofia became a mosque, so it has minarets, and this is a view of one of them from the outside yard.
An ablution fountain, which I have mentioned before, is outdoors. It is not used since this place is now a museum, but it was for the use of the worshippers at the mosque, and there are many like it, though much less ornate, around town in other mosque courtyards.
And then there was a not too happy looking cat in a corner, outside either Haghia Sophia or the Blue Mosque. It looks cold to me. It was a grey rainy day. The cat inside Haghia Sophia was happier, sheltered under the great vaults and clearly at home in the building. I don't know what this business is in Orham Pamuk's memoir about packs of dogs roaming around Istanbul. I saw cats, cats, and more cats.
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