The dizzying sameness of sand as far as the eye could see. Grit in your clothes.Īnd what about the landscape? Could you ever have guessed that desert could take so many different guises? There were jagged mountains. When there was breeze, but no refreshing, as dust crowded oxygen out of the air. You were grateful for me, too, when you woke up to an ominous whitish-gray sky filled, not with rain, but with talcum-fine dust. But when you came under my shade, you found instant relief. It was dry, remember? Sweat evaporated almost instantly, so dehydration was rapid, stealthy, and occasionally, deadly. Headgear wasn’t about fashion then: wearing it or not determined how exhausted you’d be at the end of the day. You walked everywhere in those days, and the sun was always frowning down on your head from what seemed like inches away. I don’t know for sure what their sukkot looked like, but I like to imagine that they packed up their old, patched tents for the week-long camping trip, that every night as they sat down to eat with the familiar smell of goat’s hair fabric in their nostrils, that old tent began to speak to them. Objective: remembering, rejoicing, and feasting! Destination: the Tabernacle, God’s temporary shelter. “Beware,” God said, “lest you say in your heart, ‘My power and the might of my hand have gotten me this wealth.’ You shall remember the LORD your God, for it is he who gives you power to get wealth.”Īnd so He wisely wove remembering into the fabric of their years.Īt the end of every autumn harvest, those first citizens of the Promised Land were to turn their backs on their overflowing barns, pick up their walking sticks and become pilgrims once again. When sturdy stone homes went up all over the Promised Land when rain came on schedule, leaving carpets of wildflowers behind when calves and lambs dotted the fields when grain stacked up in the spring and fruit in the fall - it was then that they needed a reality check. In Leviticus 23, God tells the Israelites to live in these temporary shelters for seven days, “that your generations may know that I made the people of Israel dwell in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt.” Unpacked, the Hebrew word reveals the idea of a temporary shelter. I feel as if I’m being ushered into fairyland.
#Lord into the wilderness plus#
The table is laden with a sumptuous tea: hot drinks, mint lemonade, four or five different sweets, trays of roasted vegetables, their color deepened by the heat, plus fresh veggies, crackers and pale chunks of cheese. The white fabric of another wall is printed with symbols of the Jewish patriarchs, and above us, tinsel garlands cut into fantastic shapes glitter from the palm leaf ceiling. A length of deep red fabric hangs against one wall. It holds a long table, long enough to need three tablecloths: one blue, one scarlet, and one pale yellow. It’s in a tiny backyard next to a stone apartment building, the front flaps drawn back invitingly to reveal the richly-colored interior, glowing with light.
It’s twilight, and I’m stumbling along: tired, sleepy, and desperately in need of some creature comforts. Though one never knew when Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Aaron or David might show up at the door of their sukkah, their visits could be encouraged by including a more humble guest at the table. Here families ate their meals throughout the festival - joined, legend says, by a different saint on each of the seven nights. At night, they glowed like Japanese lanterns. Sukkahs sprouting up everywhere: tiny pavilions on balconies and apartment building roofs, larger ones over restaurant tables along the sidewalk, huge ones at the Western Wall.
The men hurrying through town with slender bundles, palm branches protruding from the top. Fall arrived, and with it the biblical feast of tabernacles, or Sukkot, arguably Israel’s most festive time of year.Įverything was new to me.
Ironically, I mistook the one bus bomb I did hear for fireworks.īut at last, the long summer was over.
#Lord into the wilderness full#
For months, sudden noises like sonic booms got my full attention, and if I didn’t hear ambulance sirens within a few minutes, then I knew everything was OK. Of course, in 2003, everyone thought twice about boarding a city bus, never knowing which one might be a ticking time bomb. I walked everywhere in those days, mostly because I wanted to experience Jerusalem without window glass in the way.
0 kommentar(er)
