The metallic whir of a dusty stand fan creates a whoosh of breezes, mitigating the Jerusalem heat under my canopied pergola. Stately royal lavender and a pink explosion of geraniums live side-by-side with mint, rosemary, and basil on my Via Dolorosa apartment terrace—an oasis. Sitting in the crosshairs of the fan, my hair dances like the lemongrass leaves which await their destiny to mingle and steep with mint in a relaxing and restorative cup of the favorite Israeli tea.

That cup will have to wait until evening when cooling moisture from the Mediterranean tiptoes in through my open windows and westward-facing balcony door. Tonight, humming a monotone lullaby, that stand fan will also muzzle minarets, roosters, cat fights. Where is our “sound machine” to muzzle the Corona Confusion and transport us to an oasis, even if it is only in our dreams?

Small handmade Armenian bowls decorated in turquoise, cobalt blue, green, red, and yellow cradle mixed nuts, dates and seeds, grapes and in-season cherries, plus one with orange peels after my citrus burst of vitamin C. Staying healthy, inspired and productive seems to be a universal goal these days in the midst of Coronavirus.

Hospitality during a pandemic offers an opportunity to
allow yourself to be the guest at the table you would set for others.

Tumultuous times impel us to search for pools of hope and calm. As with David’s harp, music has soothed the troubled heart for millennia. It is an elixir for my soul. Spotify instrumentals on my computer transition from Uriel Vega’s mellow saxophone rendition of Via Dolorosa (The Way of Suffering) into another song with history in this city, It Is Well With My Soul. The author Horatio Spafford was at a crossroads in his personal and faith life in 1873 as devastating circumstances threatened to sink his future plans. His simple assessment of what was truly important in the midst of his crisis echoes in my own soul as instability tops our news cycle and “normal” has fled from our present vocabulary, being replaced by “challenging” and “unpredictable.” How would you describe the state of your soul today if you were brutally honest? Is it well with your soul?

Like my childhood ballet teacher Ms. Zoll taught me, the absence of a spotting point to remain focused while performing pirouettes makes balance impossible. The same is true for those walking a tightrope. In May, 1987 in Jerusalem, daredevil Philippe Petit (who 5 years later walked between the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center) opened the Jerusalem Festival with what he billed as “The Walk for Peace.” He traversed 1,000 feet along a steel cable spanning the 200-foot chasm known from ancient times as Hinnom Valley or Gehenna. His spotting point was my university—the same place where Gary and I married in 2005. Petit chose not to have any safety nets.

If you look closely you can see a cable still stretched across
the expanse of the Hinnom Valley. My school is on the hill.

At the middle point of Petit’s performance he released a white dove from his pocket, expecting it to fly away; however, the dove came to rest on his head and then upon the very end of his balancing pole. The crowds gasped. Just the tiny weight of that dove could have sent him into the abyss. Things weren’t going as planned. At that moment Philippe sat down on the wire to regain his balance, the bird flew away, and he soon reached The Institute of Holy Land Studies (now Jerusalem University College) to the rhythmic applause of 80,000 spectators encouraging him to the finish line. Check out Petit’s brilliant storytelling of the event in his TED Talk presentation.

Today, the streets of Jerusalem are quiet, apart from the afternoon cacophony of muezzins (with six minarets surrounding me you could call the experience “surround sound”).  The city, even the entire nation has been bereft of tourists and pilgrims for four excruciating months. A raggedy-looking Old City cat deftly scales a massive metal fence at the usually bustling Austrian Guesthouse onto an adjoining stone wall, raising the ire and interest of two Labrador Retriever sentinels on the rooftop across the Via Dolorosa from me at the Sisters of Zion Church. Such is the excitement here, (sigh).

This golden Labrador gives me a look of defeat as
he realizes the cat is in an unreachable place.
At times I feel like that as I try to chase “normal.”

Have you heard the expression “dog days” of summer? Well, we are right in the uncomfortable middle of it and the extreme heat is not the only cause of our malady. The headline in today’s Times of Israel online news briefs was this, “Israel to remain closed to foreign visitors until at least September.” With Israel in a 2nd wave of Coronavirus and another lockdown looming, this nation is in a financial free fall like it has never experienced. Add to that the fact that the saddest day on the Jewish calendar, happening tomorrow, when a long history of catastrophes is recounted. Central is the destruction of the First Temple (586 BCE at the hands of the Babylonians) and the Second Temple (70 CE by the Romans) happening nearly 650 years apart, with all on the exact same date. Jews call the three weeks leading up to this date “the dire straits.” The people here are in mourning.

The term “dog days” of summer has an interesting background. Ancient cultures like the Greeks and Romans identified the brightest star in the sky as Sirius, translated “scorching.” Sirius is also called, The Dog Star, because it is the most prominent in the constellation Canis Major. Just before sunrise this morning I saw Sirius nipping at the heels of the constellation Orion the Hunter as they rose over the Mount of Olives to herald another scorching day for Jerusalemites in face masks.

Although there are padlocks and shuttered doors on this
Old City street my spotting point is the light I see at the end of the tunnel.

With so much of the news reporting doom and gloom, God’s words to Job have become my spotting point as He says, “Listen to this, O Job. Stand and consider the wonders of God (37:14),” and “Can you lead forth a constellation in its season (38:32)?”  Job answered Him, “I know that you can do all things and that no purpose of Yours can be thwarted. I will ask You, and You instruct me (Job 42:2,4).” Friends, we may need to sit down on our tightrope and regain our balance. Remember the truths of the black spiritual hymn, “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands,” and breathe.

 

Enjoying the walk home,
Cindy