Secret Asian Man- The Status Quo

In Jerusalem this week. This is a photo of a ladder on a balcony at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, final resting place of Jesus Christ.  It looks pretty beat up and pretty ordinary, but it’s been there for hundreds of years. Or, something that looks like this.

The Church is controlled by three Christian sects, the Armenian Orthodox, the Greek Orthodox and the Roman Catholics.  Each is a guardian over a certain section and they haven’t always gotten along.  As it was told to me, the Catholics once controlled the door and refused to let the Armenians use it, so the ladder was put in place to allow them access to their section on the upper floor.  

Eventually, there was an agreement that allowed everyone use of the door, but the Armenians wanted the ladder kept there just in case relations soured again.  A pope in the 1700’s decreed that nothing in the entire church could be moved or replaced unless all the religions agreed.

 

Hence, the ladder remains.  It’s made of cedar wood, maybe from Lebanon, but it rots through from time to time. The last time was in the 70’s or 80’s.  And when it did, it needed to be replaced with an exact replica.

 

That, in its most concrete form, is what is meant by the term Status Quo, when it comes to Mid East tensions. Things should be kept exactly as they have been for centuries. In the 80’s when they found another entrance to the temple mount, there were riots in the streets until it was closed.  Just last year, when the Israelis wanted to put in new security cameras, again there were riots.

Want another example?  Just Google “Monk Broom fights Bethlehem” and see what pops up.  Full on Brother Vs Brother broom bashing.  Over what? Because one monk swept dust onto the section that another order controlled.

Back at Jesus’ burial church, the Christians guard the inside.  The Israelis guard the streets in the old city, but the Jordanians guard the temple on the top. Muslim’s hold on to the keys for the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.  One family has controlled the keys for centuries.  Every morning, they open. Every evening, they lock up. The 12 inch key is some 800 years old. After one muslim conquest or another, the head honcho saw, even then, that no Christians were going to get along, so he took the key and gave it to someone with less of an interest and that has been acceptable for millenia.

Giving up any control or ceding any trust is a glacial process with little thaw in site.

Flash forward to dinner the other night at the Jerusalem Young Men’s Christian Association. Sing it now, The YMCA.  It may sound seedy, but it’s a landmark designed by the same guy who designed the Empire State Building, who also designed the Leveque Tower back in the ol’ homeland, so... connections.  It’s got a tower with great views and reportedly clean, comfortable rooms for very reasonable prices.  Spa, Gym, pool and great gardens, too.

It also has a nice little bar/restaurant. I had an Israeli soup and salad along with my Palestinian kebabs and Palestinian beer.

Even through there is a centuries old status quo agreement, maybe there is also movement toward more commonality.  Here’s the sign, and the punchline.

I’m not even kidding.

Into the bar together, walked a priest, a rabbi and an imam...

On Paris and Libtards

I woke up on Saturday morning to two bits of news. 

First, someone launched a grenade toward the front of of a mall on the outskirts of Jakarta.  It was in a mostly Muslim section of the city. Everywhere is. No one was killed or injured.  The attackers will likely never be caught and no one claimed responsibility.  This sort of thing happens not infrequently. They're very good at identifying what happened, but rather slow on the whodunnits. 

Then there was Paris which, as near as I can tell, erupted around the same local time as the local grenade.  

During the morning it was interesting to watch the sides form up.  Prayers came while I was in the shower. Speculation while I cooked breakfast. Blame came with the morning coffee. Blame Obama. Blame Bush. Blame the refugees.  Blame ISIS. Blame Muslims the world over.  One post seemed to advocate the nuclear annihilation of an entire religion. I know ther is fear and anger, but this seemed rather extreme.  

I learned those expressing compassion toward refugees were called Libtards by some.  What a difficult place one must be in to come up with such a term.  This has rattled around on my head all week.

Later that morning, Mrs. SAM volunteered me to participate in a conversation club whereupon I make small talk with total strangers in an effort to improve their English language skills. This is penance for a sin I'm not yet aware of.  

Nonetheless, I participated and there I found myself in a circle of vibrant people. A Lutheran, a Catholic, a Hindu and three Muslims chatting about the Talking Heads, Jane Austen, restaurant order mix ups where Muslims are served pork by accident and what we planned to do with our lives.   No one proselytized. No one threatened. At the end, a Muslim boy was exchanging numbers with the Catholic girl. If I had to choose which person or people to annihilate to save the rest of us I would have a difficult time. 

Thinking back over the last two months, I've seen the following:

I've written in the past of the call to prayer 5 times per day.  A solitary human voice over a mediocre PA system is often a beautiful thing.  It doesn't call me to prayer, but it does cause me to pause for a second and remember where I am, and maybe that's what prayer is at a basic level. 

In Manila, some 90% Catholic, there was a large sized chapel anchoring the local mall.  During prime shopping hours, it's pews were full with those seeking a quick mass.  The buses are emblazoned with scripture and air brushed Icons. 

In downtown Bangkok, the Buddhist Erwan shrine was bombed several months ago killing 22.  We stopped by two months later.  The place was spic and span. The main golden statue was so burnished it was difficult to look at directly. Aside from the guards, you wouldn't know there was a bombing there.  I don't know the draw, but sitting and watching you could see people walking by touching their hearts and saying a quick prayer in reverence. Even those high up on the subway cars took pause rolling by.  

Inside the shrine, those more in need of spiritual nourishment can stand in line and pay some money and  kneel before the shrine while musicians and Thai singers stand behind you and chant a prayer over you.  One by one they come. Kneeling and rising, singing and dancing.

In Samoa, they're predominantly Christian of several denominations, Mormon, Catholic, Assembly of God. Early one morning, I walked along the seawall and came upon a single guitarist and 2 dozen singers belting out great hymns of praise, keeping time with the waves as the sun rose.  I climbed the seawall to find seat and have a listen.  I thought it may be choir practice. In the water, I saw three church officials ministering to three adult worshippers. I thought perhaps it was a baptism, but Christianity is so ensconced here I find it hard to believe that babies aren't plopped right out into a baptismal font. The folks in the water were crying. Perhaps it was some sort of healing ceremony.

Which brings me back to Paris and my new circle of non-native English speakers. I think we all want the same thing.  We say it in all sorts of different ways and sing it in lots of different tunes, but the message is all the same.  We want things to be the best that they can.  We don't want to suffer. We pray for money, for comforts, for that little red-headed girl to notice us or for protection from the bogeyman.  Some may even pray for the bogeymen for they indeed must be suffering. 

Jeez, what a libtard!