Choices

Tuesday started with news at breakfast that our luggage had arrived. We all rushed back to our rooms to change. It seemed like such a good thing, after having put on the same clothing three days in a row. But when I returned that evening, I had a vaguely unsettled feedlng. I had my face creams, my outfits, my this and that. Yet I had had no trouble doing without. Did I really need to spend time worrying about what to wear? I was reminded of the book called "The Paradox of Choice." The book discusses the studies that show that excessive choice is stressful, because a person seeks to make the perfect choice, rather than just a good choice. And then we fret over our choices.

We ride our bus through neighborhoods where people likely have little choice in their lives. And whose few choices seem dismal to us. There is poverty everywhere. Are they less happy than we are with our stressful lives? We presume so, but yet we saw happy, playful children, people conversing everywhere. Perhaps we are the ones who seek to escape our lives through drugs and alcohol, not them.

We traveled to the Pyramids Tuesday, to view the way in which the pharoahs sought to escape this life and travel to the next one. Hard to describe the immensity, the scale, the concept. One could almost believe in aliens. We all went inside the Great pyramid of Cheops and had an indescribable experience. We were warned about the possible claustrophobia, and indeed it was hard to fight feeling paiched at times. You enter through a narrow passageway and are soon crouched over as the ceiling drops lower. The air gets warm and stale. A line of people are going in and a line coming out. At most points, you are squeezing by each other or taking turns, for the passage is narrow. you feel as if there is too little oxygen and you fight the urge to hyperventilate. The lighting is dim and you have no idea how long it will take to reach the burial chamber as you ascend up the steep ramp set with little wooden footholds. But then you are inside the granit chamber, a rectangle 8 meters high, 15 meters long, and 10 meters wide. you wonder about spending eternity in such a place. And then as the room fills, you realize it times to trek down. outside, you gasp for air, dizzy, but glad you made the journey inside the tomb, and back out among the living.

I will leave with a quote that frames this journey for me, from " Japanes Pilgramage" by Oliver Statler; To intellectuals, religion seems strange. But the point of a religious life is mental and spiritual training, and that cannot be achieved by oneself. We need help from some source.... The point of the pilgrimage is to improve onself by enduring and overcoming difficulties." I am sure that our difficulties are not monumental, but the challenge is still approach this adventure with an open heart.

-- Sharon Burnham

More of "Expecting the Unexpected"

Thank goodness Deborah prepared us by sending us that last reflection before we embarked on our pilgrimage, i.e., "Expecting the Unexpected". I guess I tend towards optimism, with a base in reality. I pretty much expect things to "go right" but also do not fall apart when they don't.

I set out on the pilgrimage with very few plans, other than following the itinerary, if it could be kept. I knew that there were many things that could happen. And guess what? They have!

It started out with our plane in Roanoke having a leak, needing a mechanic, taking off late and things haven't been on schedule very much since then. Because we were late leaving Roanoke, we had very little time at Dulles but that was a "hurry up and wait" experience too. Then we had a long layover in Frankfurt and most of us had slept very little on the plane from Dulles because it was so hot and noisy. We toughed out the layover, finding things to do and finally just staring into space a lot! But by the time we were to leave, there were high winds that kept our plane g rounded for quite a while. Little did we know that there were gale force winds in Europe and Frankfurt was on the edge of that storm. The pilot prepared us for having to remain in Frankfurt but finally got the clear to take off. Bad1 news: our luggage had to remain behind us and was to come on a later flight. UH-OH!

You guessed it, we have been in Egypt now for more than a day and we have no luggage, except for Eric Shelley who brought everything in carry on luggage. We just don't think his 6 pairs of underwear are going to be enough for all 15 of us!

This is tough and disappointing but still wasnt enough to dampen our spirits the first day in Egypt. We truly have had a full and glorious day, seeing the Egyptian Museum with its endless and magnificent antiquities. We also visited the ancient Ben Ezra Synagogue, Egypt's oldest synagogue; Church of St. Sergius, where the holy family stayed for safety while in Egypt to avoid Herods decree to kill all male babies; the Coptic Museum; and the Hanging Church, where our guide worships.

These destinations, except for the Hanging Church, were all on our itinerary. But the experiences today were at least unpredictable. They were even more meaningful to me as a follower of Christ than I could have guessed. I will let you know about one in particular, although I am sure that an of the pilgrims could tell you about several others.

At St. Sergius, I did not expect to see a beautiful icon of Mary and the Christ child draped in blinking "Christmas tree lights"! This sight in front of the worship space WAS UNEXPECTED. One might have found it silly or comical but somehow the unexpected in this case was touching. And when we viewed the entrance to the underground cave where the holy family took refuge, I found myself overcome with tears at the thought of this scene. The people who offered the holy family hospitality, Mary and Joseph who lived for 3.5 years trying to protect their baby, who therefore lived to become our Savior.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Our luggage??? More wonderful experiences in Egypt? The next blogger will have to let you know!

Posted by Melissa Hays-Smith

THE UNEXPECTED

We had a dose of this earlier in the week. The pilots at Lufthansa, our air carrier for most of the journey, went on strike 5 days before we were scheduled to leave. Fortunately, they were back at work within 24 hours and our departure from Dulles shouldn’t be affected.

Then it turned out that the Egyptian government has changed the practice of issuing visas to groups entering the country and we will have to prepare for the new routine, with each of us going through the line individually, paying for our own visa stamps, and reassembling on the other side, rather than having our guide take care of the transaction.

In the great scheme of things, these are very small events, hardly worth mentioning. But they raise the specter of the unexpected, which is so much a part of pilgrimage. If we wanted to have orderly, predictable, calm lives, we wouldn’t travel. We go on pilgrimage—at least in part—because we are seeking the unexpected, hoping for something we cannot yet name, open to the changes and chances of new places, people, and experiences.

For the same reason, it’s important to travel light. We can make ourselves crazy trying to prepare for any eventuality—bringing all the right clothes, packing everything we think we might need, reading everything written about the places we’ll visit before we get there. Preparation is good, but being too prepared can make the journey so predictable that we might as well watch a National Geographic DVD.

A better approach? Make modest preparations. Tend to your spirit. Remember that we are traveling in community, that we will watch over and care for each other on the journey, that there are people waiting for us in Egypt—and readily accessible back home—who will also watch over and care for us, and many more who will gladly share their knowledge and support.

And then expect the unexpected, and be grateful for the adventures ahead.

BEING THE STRANGER

For Western Christians traveling in the Middle East, the experience of being in a religious minority group can be disorienting. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, and it begins as soon as you arrive, exhausted and jetlagged. There are mosques instead of churches, minarets instead of steeples. The sound of the muezzin intoning the call to prayer wakens you early each morning. You may see observant Muslims pausing to pray during the day wherever they happen to be. You will not see Christians doing the same.

As pilgrims in Egypt, we will be guests in a Muslim country. Good guests naturally wish to honor their hosts and respect their hospitality. We do so by learning about and appreciating the uniqueness of their land, people, and culture, by receiving gestures of kindness with grace, and above all, by giving them the benefit of the doubt. We are people of good will. We trust that they, too, are people of good will. We have every hope that there will be some benefit to our encounter with each other. Otherwise, why travel?

But we are pilgrims, after all, and Christian ones at that. We will not have the same freedom to express our faith publicly that we would in, say, Ireland. We must think carefully about how we can practice pilgrimage without calling undue attention to ourselves and possibly offending others. We must learn to carry our faith in our hearts—deep and strong—without the external supports we are so used to. And we must be glad and grateful when the rare opportunity to meet other Christians is offered to us.

There will be similarities as well as differences. We will find that in some ways, we are not so different from our Muslim hosts. with them, we can readily affirm that God is great, that there is no other god than God. Like them, we also seek to submit our wills to God's will. Perhaps we can even find in each other the welcome companionship of those who are seeking to live lives of faith in a world that is increasingly devoid of it.

Posted by Deborah Hunley

THE NILE

This satellite image of the Nile River shows how stark the contrast really is between water and no-water, fertility and barrenness, farmland and desert, life and death. Egypt is a large country, but most of its territory does not have enough water to sustain life, so almost all of the population is clustered around the river and the rich delta that forms where the Nile empties into the Mediterranean Sea.

Imagine what it would be like to call this place “home.” If you lived along that long green ribbon, what would it mean to you that the desert is so vast and the river is so narrow? Can you trust that the annual inundation* will come this year, as it has in the past? How vulnerable are you? Will there be enough to go around? How might your experience be different from delta-dwellers, who are surrounded by vast miles of fertile soil with no desert in sight?

The River helped make Egypt a rich and powerful empire. But here's the other thing--the water is not "Egyptian" water. It comes from other places, other peoples. Heavy rains in Ethiopia fill the Blue Nile and send the flood waters rushing downstream. The White Nile flows out of central Africa before joining her sister near Khartoum. And so, while Egypt flourished in ancient times through the extraordinary fertility of the Nile, that gift came from far beyond her borders.

That's a reality worth pondering. So much of what we are, what we have, what we hope for, comes from a source upriver. Isn't that as true for us as it was for the ancient Egyptians? What what is our response to such grace and generosity?

* that is, before the construction of the Aswan High Dam...

Posted by Deborah Hunley

PREPARATIONS

As we prepare for our journey to Egypt, friends and family are asking for ways to stay in touch while we're away. In particular, they'd like to know where we'll be each day, what we're seeing, and any impressions we'd like to share.

Here's the thing: there's a fine balance between letting people who care about you know you're OK -- you and your luggage arrived safely, your digestive system is working properly, and so on -- and spending so much time recording your thoughts and experiences that you don't have time to be a pilgrim -- which is, after all, the point.

So here's what I propose: I'll put the word out that this blog is up and running, post the itinerary and weekly reflections I've been sending to the group so others can view them, and let pilgrims and others comment if they like.

Then...when we begin our travels, I'll hope to snag a pilgrim volunteer every day or so to post on the blog -- that way the folks back home can see what we're up to without too much disruption for any one person. Sound fair?

Posted by Deborah Hunley