Now in Technicolor

Israel and Palestine – Part 1

I couldn't figure out a way to compile my thoughts effectively into just one blog post about the politics of Israel and Palestine. So this is Part 1 of my now four part recap of our trip. I wanted to introduce some important concepts to keep in mind before diving into the actual issues we learned about. I'll talk about those in my next post. If you have questions, corrections, or comments about our experience, shoot me a message.

                This has taken me a really long time to post. I really needed time to process all that we learned in those short but intense two weeks. Let me first start by saying those two weeks were not a vacation, they were not a break. They were exhausting. Those 14 days were artfully orchestrated to force us to feel uncomfortable, to ask hard questions. We listened to a lot of propaganda, we heard from both sides, and from all over the political spectrum. It was a political science course in the deep end of the pool--at least for someone who majored in Chemistry. We saw a lot of the typical tourist sites, but we also had tours of Israel’s Parliament (called the Knesset) and talks from people who grew up in a Kibbutz. We attended a Q&A with Israeli grad students. We had lectures from a Jewish professor and from a Palestinian philosopher.  We often had lectures when we were on the bus while driving to another site. We spoke with Jews and Arabs and Christians in the different cities we visited. We heard from people who experienced Israel firsthand, who grew up there, who were intimate with the conflict. We heard from people working to bring peace, and others working to exterminate and expel those they felt do not belong in their homeland. It was a flurry of opinions and strong emotions, and a lot of it was hard to choke down.

Since returning to the States, people have asked me in passing who I support more, Israel or Palestine. Sometimes I have answered flippantly one way or another, depending on my mood or how much time I have to answer. But honestly when you see all sides of the argument and really understand where people are coming from, how can you pick a side? At some point or another, we all will find ourselves on either side of an argument where “our team” and our opposition are both at fault in some way. Circumstances are never black and white. If you’re seeing black and white in any conflict, re-evaluate your specs. We don’t need more arguments about who is right and who is wrong, what we need is conversation.

                 This is not a representation of all there is to know in the Israel / Palestine conflict. I took pages and pages of notes, and learned as much as I could, but it is deeper than two weeks can teach. And a couple blog posts can’t really cover everything. I can’t pretend that I don’t have a bias, but I will strive to show you the intricacies of the conversation that I witnessed. I will try to give you pieces of what was given, and hopefully by the end, it will become evident that the issue is more complicated and more intricate and yes, even more hopeless than it appears on the outside.

But before jumping into actual experiences, I need to explain the state of mind to be in when viewing this conflict. It was emphasized to us, as students. And if you don’t view this conflict with truly open eyes, you will miss aspects crucial to progress. Earlier this week, I posted THIS article on my Facebook wall. This is really at the root of my experience. In this article, he says, “We should all enter every issue with the very real possibility that we might be wrong this time.”  The author emphasizes that if we can’t argue for your opponent’s point, then you do not really see the issue as it is. In middle school I had an amazing English teacher who would assign us an opinion for a persuasive essay. And it was often contrary to our actual thoughts and beliefs. And that helped us humanize people who disagreed with me. It opened my eyes to the concept of gray areas. Arguments are not black and white. There are never just good people and just bad people. Often there are just two good people coming at a topic from different directions. This is a concept I have forgotten as I allegedly “grew up.” And this simple exercise of arguing your opposition's point is unthinkable to most people that we spoke to in Israel (on both sides, I might add).

There’s an old Indian fable about truth. You have these blind men who are trying to explain what an elephant is like, and each interacts with one part of the elephant. The blind men come together and compare notes to see that no one agrees. One man feels the elephant’s trunk and says an elephant is like a snake, another feels the leg and says an elephant is like a pillar. A third man feels the ear and says an elephant is like a fan. Is one blind man more right than another? No. They just have different perspectives.

Although I was immersed in the Israel/Palestine conflict for a couple weeks, I find it more important that I learned about considering different perspectives, particularly ones very different from my own. I’m really not good at this, and it was an exhausting, but much needed lesson for me. In the last few months as political tensions have gotten high about things I’m passionate about. I’ve been rude, stubborn and unhelpfully involved in political arguments on Facebook, and I regret that.  People are just people trying to live the best they can with the experiences they’re given. If I can’t get over myself and my own opinions, how can I expect anyone else to? I’m adding to the problem if I’m being argumentative. If you have been on the opposing side of me in an argument as of late, I owe you an apology. I have tried to make up for my harsh comments, but words are like ripping open a feather pillow outside a three story window. They’re gone, floating out into the air. Too late.

I’m still working on reigning in my vicious retorts that stem from emotional responses. But long story short, those two weeks in Israel really flipped my worldview on its head. It tugged at the strings of my soul in a way I wasn’t expecting. Many of my views have changed politically, and the experience has changed how I look at people in general, as a whole and individually. Travel can have that affect.

Another Vicious Cycle

One of the most important concepts we were taught was the idea of dehumanizing people. One of the professors on the trip, Josh Gubler, gave us a lecture on this. How can reasonable, good people be so cruel? How do we justify violence and treating people different than us like dogs? He talked about how it stems from how we view ourselves and our “groups” (i.e. churches, national groups, families, political parties) and how we often view everyone in “our group” as good and moral. Unfortunately that often translates into seeing people in other groups as bad and immoral. So we make up excuses for people that disagree with us by saying “She says that because she’s a democrat.” Or “He believes that because his family does.”  That’s dehumanizing. That’s making “The Other,” the groups different from our own, into something more animal than relatable. That’s placing that person outside of ourselves, across the fence. The only way we really know how to be human is what it is like in our own experience, so it is easy to dehumanize others when we don’t understand how they think. And dehumanization makes it really easy to justify aggression. Most of us don’t feel bad if we kill a mosquito because it’s not human. If you’re seeing someone as less than a human being, you can excuse a lot more violence inflicted on him or her. Then when that group reciprocates that violence back toward you, you further justify your actions. History repeats itself and the battle trumpets play on.

It’s a vicious cycle of violence and misunderstanding. You see it all the time in television shows, and so often we think “Come on, protagonist, get it together! Isn’t it obvious that you just need to understand XYZ?” One such television show that depicts this well is Doctor Who. Regardless of if you enjoy watching it or not, there’s a conversation in a recent episode that can be appreciated in the context of the Israel/Palestine conversation. It’s not terribly important to know context of the storyline, just that there are two groups deciding whether or not to obliterate one another. You can watch it here, or read the dialogue following the video.

The Doctor: You just want cruelty to beget cruelty. You're not superior to people who were cruel to you. You're just a whole bunch of new cruel people. A whole bunch of new cruel people, being cruel to some other people, who'll end up being cruel to you. The only way anyone can live in peace is if they're prepared to forgive. Why don't you break the cycle?

Bonnie: Why should we?

The Doctor: What is it that you actually want?

Bonnie: War.

The Doctor: Ah. And when this war is over, when -- when you have the homeland free from humans, what do you think it's going to be like? Do you know? Have you thought about it? Have you given it any consideration? Because you're very close to getting what you want. What's it going to be like? Paint me a picture. Are you going to live in houses? Do you want people to go to work? What'll be holidays? Oh! Will there be music? Do you think people will be allowed to play violins? Who will make the violins? Well? Oh, You don't actually know, do you? Because, just like every other tantruming child in history, Bonnie, you don't actually know what you want. So, let me ask you a question about this brave new world of yours. When you've killed all the bad guys, and it's all perfect and just and fair, when you have finally got it exactly the way you want it, what are you going to do with the people like you? The troublemakers. How are you going to protect your glorious revolution from the next one?

Bonnie: We'll win.

Doctor: Oh, will you? Well maybe -- maybe you will win. But nobody wins for long. The wheel just keeps turning. So, come on. Break the cycle.

…

The Doctor: And we're off! Fingers on buzzers! Are you feeling lucky? Are you ready to play the game? Who's going to be quickest? Who's going to be the luckiest?

…

The Doctor: Because it's not a game, Kate. This is a scale model of war. Every war ever fought right there in front of you. Because it's always the same. When you fire that first shot, no matter how right you feel, you have no idea who's going to die. You don't know who's children are going to scream and burn. How many hearts will be broken! How many lives shattered! How much blood will spill until everybody does what they're always going to have to do from the very beginning -- sit down and talk! Listen to me, listen. I just -- I just want you to think. Do you know what thinking is? It's just a fancy word for changing your mind.

Bonnie: I will not change my mind.

The Doctor: Then you will die stupid.  

                We get so stuck on being right, for winning, that we don’t see that we’re losing a whole lot more in the fight than if we would just have a conversation about it. We often talk about "flip-flopping" as one of the worst things a politician can do, but is it really? Is it the worst thing to stand corrected? We live in an age of information. When we learn more about a situation, when more facts come to light, don't we have an obligation to correct it? I think we would do a far greater injustice if we didn't change our minds or our opinions just to save face. 

Monochrome Vision

As Christians, it may be a lot easier for us to relate to the Jewish side of this conflict. We share scriptures with Jews. Our Bible says that this was the land of the Jews. We think we need to side with the Jews because they are our God’s chosen people. But I want to remind you that God created Arabs too. God created His children of all cultures, skin color, and traditions. 

1 Peter 2:9-10 says this:

9 But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvelous light:

10 Which in time past were not a people, but are now the people of God: which had not obtained mercy, but now have obtained mercy.

That’s us he’s talking about. We are his chosen people. We are Sons and Daughters of God through Christ. And as Christians, it is our duty to love people, and to love people we must understand people. That requires we look further than just face value. In this conversation, I urge you, despite your inclinations otherwise, to view Arabs and Muslims as part of God’s family of humans.

              I would also urge you to view this not as a religious issue. Keep in mind that the original Zionist Jews who moved to Israel were not religious in the least. Quite the contrary. The first Jews to return to Israel as part of the Zionist movements left religion behind. They didn’t want anything to do with faith, because they blamed being religiously zealous as the cause of all the persecution. Early Jewish immigrants moved to Israel, bought some land, and established a socialist colony called a Kibbutz. Since then, Jews are still mixed as far as having religious reasons for being in Israel or just a political reason. Like most large groups of people, you can’t paint them with a broad brush. You have religious Zionists and anti-religious Zionists. One way Israel united the two arguing groups was by moving Theodor Herzl’s body to Jerusalem, to make it both a center of faith and a center of Zionism. This did not originate as a battle of faiths.

                It’s also important to remember that not all leaders are accurate representations of their people. Take the United States, do you feel properly represented? You cannot judge all Palestinians by the actions and opinions of Yasser Arafat, and you cannot say all Israelis agree with Benjamin Netanyahu. It’s important to consider that maybe not all the people are in agreement with their leaders. 

                Participation in this program helped this conflict really come to life for me. It is my hope to help you see this conflict in color in much the same way. Not in the monochrome painted by media in the United States. I realize what I’m asking is a really difficult thing to do. It’s hard to question what you’ve been taught by people you respect, ideas that have been ingrained in you since you were small. I want to convince you to not just view this conflict through the eyes of religion. I want to convince you to see Arabs and Jews as people. Imperfect, scared people. These people are the same kind of scared that allowed communism into Russia, the same kind of scared that allowed Nazis to take over Germany, the same kind of scared that has modern-day American politicians wanting to build walls on our borders to solve problems. I want to encourage you, as an individual to be brave and to question what you’ve been taught. I am asking the almost impossible, but I’m asking you to entertain the idea that maybe you are wrong.

Art on the Separation Wall in Bethlehem. The chains spell "Fear-Hate-Fear-Hate-Fear-Hate"

                That doesn’t mean I’m asking you to tell me I’m right. I don’t necessarily want you to agree with me. I want you to see where I am coming from. I am begging you to look at this situation with your eyes wide open, refuse to see it in black and white. See the situation in Technicolor, see it in real life. Because I was proven wrong. I was shot down. I was slapped in the face with my own inconsistencies, biases, and half truths. And it was one of those humbling experiences I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for. It’s one of those experiences that help you become better, it defines you differently. Howard W. Hunter once said this: "When [the difficulties of mortality] humble us and refine us and teach us and bless us, they can be powerful instruments in the hands of God to make us better people, to make us more grateful, more loving, and more considerate of other people in their own times of difficulty." I would hope everyone would have the same experience at least once in their lives. 

                When you think you might be wrong, you learn ask different and better questions. A lot of good comes from getting over your pride. And I think a lot of politics and the human experience in general would go smoother if we emphasized humility over pride and black and white definitions.

The final post soon to come! 

A Dose of Pilgrimage

  

                In Islam, one of the pillars of their faith is to go to Mecca, a city in Saudi Arabia where their prophet, Muhammad was born. It is a very sacred pilgrimage called the Hajj. Muslims often save up for years and sacrifice much to go to Mecca. Islamic countries have a special five-day holiday for the pilgrimage specifically. Those who return, respectfully called “hajjis,” are treated with deep admiration from their family, friends, and communities—similar to how returned missionaries are treated in Utah and Mormonism as a whole. For Muslims, the Hajj is an experience paramount to their spiritual growth.

                As I’ve thought about my experiences in Israel and the Holy Land, I’ve contemplated this concept of pilgrimage. The Hajj is the most encompassing embodiment of pilgrimage in any religion I know of. They have a date set for it, they have a ritual of worship for the Hajj, and they have arrangements made for millions of Muslims to enter the city of Mecca annually. It’s one of those few parts of Islam that is truly unifying. And for the most part, everyone sets aside disagreements, titles of Sunni or Shiite, to worship in Mecca for a few days out of the year. It’s beautiful.

I love few things as much as bare feet in the sand and sea.

Last sight of the Mediterranean.

                But this is not the case for any Christian pilgrimage to the Holy Land. There is no when, why, how, or even specifically where for Christians. The Holy Land is more an example of separation of denominations than unification. The perfect example of this is the Immovable Ladder. Located on a part of the roof of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, it has been there since the 18^th century. It has not been removed because for anything to be done in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the six denominations which reside there, all six have to agree. And no one is agreeing whose responsibility it is to remove the ladder. In fact, it’s not even the original ladder. The original ladder decayed so much that another ladder was put in its place to maintain the tense status quo. Pretty messed up, huh? The disagreement in Jerusalem runs deeper than I think we can really fathom here in the relative peace that is in the United States. We’re not old enough as a country to know that kind of generational tension. The saddest part of this turmoil is that this likely isn’t even where Christ was buried nor crucified.

There are two or more sites for any given event in the Gospels, dedicated as “the place” where it transpired. Often, you have a choice between the Catholic-chosen site and the Greek Orthodox-chosen site, and the likelihood of either being the actual place is really very slim. This is due to theologians favorite concept of scriptural ambiguity. The canon may speak of some specific places with defining markers, such as “place of a skull” (John 19:17) and “having five porches” (John 5:2), and educated guesses can be made.  Some are closer than others, such as the aforementioned “five porches” of the Pool at Bethesda has archaeological evidence. Some are very obviously far from the truth. For example, the Via Dolorosa, the alleged path Jesus walked to his crucifixion, is obvious to historians that it is not where Jesus walked because those streets simply did not exist two thousand years ago. Jerusalem has been built on layers upon layers of city. The actual path Jesus took is buried hundreds of feet down below the Ottoman built streets we now walk there in modern Jerusalem.

Pools of Bethesda

A few places come to mind as the closest we came to actually being where Jesus walked: the Western Wall tunnels, the steps by the Church of St Peter in Gallicantu (possibly where Christ walked from the Last Supper to Gethsemane), the steps in and out of the Temple of Solomon by the City of David, the Pools at Bethesda, and, of course, the Sea of Galilee. Every place else has a large margin of doubt or lack of any evidence.

Steps by Church of St Peter

In the Western Wall tunnel.

worth a read.

I don’t say this to be a pessimist or overly critical. I have no problem with Christians building churches to celebrate important biblical events. I welcomed the opportunities to think about the Bible stories and discuss events with our friends. But when it becomes a catty fight over who has the correct place where Jesus healed an unnamed leper in an unnamed place, we miss the point of the Bible’s telling of the story. If Heavenly Father really cared where a specific even occurred, he would have made it clear in His word. By arguing with different denominations and making your own holy sites kitsch to attract more tourists, you miss the point. It isn’t important where it happened, what’s important is that it did happen. Jesus did heal the hurt and the broken. He did feed over five thousand people—and maybe more than once. He did atone for us in the Garden of Gethsemane and carried our burdens, heavier than any cross of wood, and died for us to become whole. He did rise again to show us that we too can become new again and again and again. That’s the important part of this story, and that’s one that doesn’t take a trip to Israel/Palestine to learn. Heavenly Father is kinder than that. I don’t have any monopoly on sacred experiences just because I have been to the Holy Land. It could be just as effective to create your own “Via Dolorosa” in your neighborhood to remember and learn about Christ’s walk to Golgotha.

View from BYU's Jerusalem Center.

You can see a great lookout on Jerusalem, including the Temple Mount from the Jerusalem Center.

That said, I want to talk about my favorite parts of visiting the Holy Land. I recognize it is a rare experience not many will have, and I cherish my personal encounter with the land of Israel and Palestine. I had forgotten what a thrill travel can be. We had many unique opportunities to encounter different cultures and be taught by people who did not hold our same sentiments or opinions about religion, politics, or even what food is good. Our trip was unique how it incorporated politics and religion and history. The creator and dictator of the program, Dil Parkinson, did a masterful job of giving us polar opposites in opinions and forcing us to question a lot of our preconceived notions. It was an exhausting roller coaster. But here are the highlights for me:

At the mouth of the Jordan River, near Tel Dan.

Israel/Palestine is a different flavor of beautiful I haven’t encountered before. Our student group was rushed through most places, a quick walkthrough here, just long enough to snap a photo then back on the bus. I never felt we had enough time. But in cathedrals and churches, our professor always had us sing a hymn. That was my favorite part of the entire trip. What an opportunity! I’m no stranger to cathedrals. But to sing in them! Hymns that bring the Spirit in churches built to commemorate miracles and events of the life of Christ? That’s the best Christmas gift I could receive besides Christ himself.  I love hymns and I can think of no quicker way to feel the Holy Spirit than through music. It was one of the most uplifting experiences I’ve ever had. Especially in places frought with so much political violence and unrest, singing hymns in those places were a sweet reminder that we have the Lord God Almighty at the helm. Cathedrals were built to be sung in. They were built to not just turn the gaze upward, but to take your voice on high, to echo off the stone ceilings and arches, like a gentle prayer reverberates in the heavens.  I definitely see why Christians go to cathedrals to feel closer to God.

Gallilee outside Church of the Primacy

Near Garden Tomb, where it hailed on us something fierce.

Gethsemane.

We went to a lot of jaw-dropping, immense, gorgeous cathedrals with inspiring art and stained glass windows. The kind that your contacts go dry from staring at its splendor.  I don’t think there will be another time in my life where I go to so many different churches in such a short period of time. That in itself was worth the trip.

...

 

Vaughn and his roommate, Andy.

Dome of the Rock.

Dome of the Rock detail. 

The Galilee was the most rewarding visit for me. This area remains the most untouched, least commercialized out of the places we visited. Its natural beauty was splendid. We stayed right on the Sea a couple nights, and I could have looked at it for days on end. Here was really the only place I could imagine Christ actually walking. This was His land. This is probably what it actually looked like. This was the only place that really made Bible stories come alive for me. I could see the setting, the background for the signs and miracles of Christ and his followers. There weren’t cities to obstruct the scenery, no blockades, no massive walls, no checkpoints, no IDF soldiers with rifles. Just beauty as it has been for thousands of years. The churches we visited in Galilee were gorgeous, but humble compared to the larger cathedrals and basilicas in other areas. It was reminiscent of the small churches started at the onset of Christianity.

Sunset on Sea of Gallilee.

on a boat on the Sea of Gallilee

This lady is the bomb dot com!

Nazareth is in Galilee, but as a city, felt very different from just being on the Sea. Someone said it felt a bit like a beach town, and I completely agree. People were a lot more easy-going. I’ll talk more about Nazareth in later posts, but I want to mention the Basilica of Annunciation. This is where Catholic tradition places the angel Gabriel speaking with Mary. This Basilica is awe-inspiring. It has these massive, stunning mosaics lining the walls from all over the world.

Basilica of the Annunciation of Mary, Nazareth

Delicious Za'atar.

Another highlight was visiting the Wailing Wall (also known as the Western Wall). This is all that we remains of Solomon’s Temple of old. It is deeply sacred to the Jewish people, and every Friday evening at sundown, they welcome in the Sabbath through dance and song at the Wailing Wall. It’s a pretty ironic title when you see how joyful the Jews are who celebrate there. They celebrate that it’s the Sabbath (Jews celebrate the Sabbath on Saturday, and it begins at dusk on the Friday before), and they celebrate that they have a state to live in and they celebrate the opportunity to congregate. There are a lot of political overtones that are difficult to overcome, but if you take the situation as it is—that is, people celebrating their faith and freedom—it is inspiring. I, personally, am not so zealous about the Sabbath day, and I don’t celebrate the opportunity I have to express my faith as enthusiastically. There is a lot to learn from other faiths. One of the professors with us called it “holy envy,” when you admire traditions of another’s faith. I could definitely use more zeal and enthusiasm in my worship and in the ordinances of my faith.  I wish I could show you pictures of the dancing and joyful people at the Wailing Wall that Friday night, because it is incredible. But out of respect for Jewish Sabbath custom, I refrained from photography. Here are photos from another time when we visited the wall.

The Western / Wailing Wall.

Faith aside, we also visited some really cool historical places. I loved Caesarea Phillipi (I could have spent waaaay more time there), Masada, and the Herodian, all places built by King Herod. I had learned he was a megalomaniac, but seeing that mania manifest itself into such grandiose and expensive and challenging—nigh impossible projects really helped me to see why they called him insane. He did a lot of amazing things and forced progression in architecture and engineering. He was probably the first to do underwater cement for Caesarea, and built a circular port where there was once just sea. Masada is one of the remaining desert castles he built with enough storage to last for years if he ever needed somewhere to escape to. And the Herodian is a man-made mountain he commanded to be made as his tomb. So….yeah. He was a megalomaniac.

We also went to Qumran, where the Dead Sea scrolls were discovered. We visited Akko (a crusader castle), Megiddo (also known as Armageddon), Bethany (where Lazarus was raised from the dead), Bethlehem (a not so little town nowadays), Capernaum (Peter’s town), Jericho (the oldest city in the world!) and many, many other places, some of which I will talk about in another blog.

Dude. Mosaics. So many mosaics. Dil had a thing for them, so we saw a lot of them.

This is called the Mona Lisa of mosaics, in Sepphoris.

When we came into Jerusalem, I was reading a book called “Making their Own Peace” by Ann Madsen. It is a book about twelve amazing women of Jerusalem. They are Christians, Jewish, and Muslim. It’s about how they live in the situation in Jerusalem and maintain hope. These are amazing women who opened orphanages, worked in hospitals, taught in schools. Vaughn and I were had the honor of receiving a personal tour in the Spafford Children’s Center, a school started by one of these amazing women. It’s by the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem. Our tour guide, Yezzin, was the drama and art teacher, and he was amazing. Talk about cheerful! He was a ray of sunshine. He loved his job, and he was more than happy to show us where he worked. It’s an amazing place. It was a breath of fresh air amidst the heaviness you feel in most of Jerusalem, with children’s pictures covering the wall, brightly colored walls and doors, and happy teachers. I loved it there, and I can see why Ann Madsen thought it worthy to write about it and the women who started it.

me trying not to look too excited to be there.

playful pops of color was everywhere in the Spafford Children Center

To close, I would just like to touch back on this concept of visiting the Holy Land as a pilgrimage. I loved our visit to the sites. I loved the opportunity to ponder the events of Christ's life. I loved singing sacred hymns in cathedrals. I am extremely grateful for the experience, and recognize how rare an opportunity it is. But my faith in Christ would be the same either way. I knew who he was before I went to Jerusalem, and I still know Him. I know he died for my sins and for yours. I know He is why we can have hope, and especially after witnessing the turmoil and tension in Jerusalem and in the Holy Land, that hope is significant.

Nice to meet you, Jordan

            Many, many people have asked my husband, Vaughn, and I about our trip to Jordan and Israel. Since I have also been wanting to write more, I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone, and blog about my experiences. This will probably be the first of three-ish posts to summarize the entire trip, including Israel/Palestine, holy sites, and places where a lot of important history was made.  If you don't feel like reading ahead, in a nutshell: it was wonderful. And life-changing. And opened my eyes to a lot of things I didn't expect. 
             If you do feel like reading the rest of this blog, I want to start with my first impressions of Jordan.  My husband was in Amman, Jordan for fall semester in a course of intensive Arabic study through his university.  I stayed in Provo to work, cuz I guess that's what adults have to do. But  I got to go see him for the last portion of his program, which happened to be two weeks in Israel. We spent a few days in Amman before crossing the border, and I was pleasantly surprised by how much those three days impacted my worldview. So without further adieu... Jordan. 

             After twenty hours of travel, you feel gross. Not sure entirely why, and I don’t want to think about why, because it’s probably even worse than I think. Let’s just say my general sentiment upon arrival in Amman, Jordan was “ick, blech, gugggg.” But it was such a relief to see my husband after 99 days apart, it didn’t matter too much. He still hugged me despite the stench of airline grime. A car had been arranged to pick us up and drive us to where we’d be staying for the night and my initial experience in Jordan traffic was jarring. It made me ask the deep questions. Like, what are lanes? What are turn signals? What are speed limits? Where are the road signs that warn you when the highway comes to a screeching halt with a cement blockade? I didn’t feel unsafe, really. The driver did not seem concerned, and everything felt very much in control. It was more like an elaborate ballet that I did not understand, but everyone else seemed have learned the choreography. Actually, this is a good metaphor for colliding with an unfamiliar culture in general. Everyone else was aware of when it was okay to honk, when it was okay to cut someone else off, and when it was okay to turn unexpectedly--but to me, it was confusing and nonsensical. The entire first night in Jordan was very surreal and abrupt. Like when you take a drink out of a glass you think is filled with water but is actually milk. 

                Fortunately, this initial shock was abated by the presence of my stalwart husband who had overcome this months before and seemed very at home with all the craziness that is Amman, Jordan. I was very grateful to see this beautiful place through his eyes as he led me around his stomping grounds and introduced me to “his people.” The truthfulness of this last phrase was poignant. I knew he loved these people he had talked so fondly about in our many emails and video calls, but seeing them adore him back so affectionately was truly heart-warming. It’s beautiful to see someone you love so much was so well taken care of this far from home.

Syrian ice cream.

                I got a quick overview of all that is Amman. We went to the citadel, which has lots of old Roman ruins. We saw what remained of the Temple of Hercules, and we stood in the almost intact Roman theatre, where at its center you can hear your own normal voice echo across the stands. While there, we witnessed a group of Jordanian University Students with bright shirts on, making public commitments to better the community in the future and throughout their lives. That was beautiful to see.  We also strolled around the markets in downtown Amman, called Wasit al-Balad, and a more European style neighborhood called Rainbow Street. Vaughn spoiled me with lots of food too:  Kanaffa, shewarma, Syrian ice cream, mansof, baklava, mint-lime drink, and most importantly, pita bread and hummus. Comparing the hummus in the Middle East to the hummus we have in the States is like comparing the 49ers to the Utah Jazz. Not only are they not in the same league, they don’t even play the same game. I loved the hummus and the pita bread. I could not get enough of its smooth, creamy goodness.

Roman amphitheater

Temple of Hercules

                My favorite part of the short Jordan leg was meeting Lara’s family.  They are a family who took Vaughn and his friend Morgan under their wing and gave them a very safe, welcoming place to practice their Arabic. They welcomed me in with just as much zeal. With open arms, treats, laughter, and even gifts, Lara’s family helped all three of us feel like family. It is obvious this family will miss Vaughn and Morgan terribly. They took us to a Christmas bazaar organized by several Christian churches in the area. Here, they excitedly introduced us to their friends and more family members. We were given lots of free food just for being American—which makes no sense whatsoever because we are the spoiled, affluent, fat ones from the United States. They took us to an area where some youth were practicing bagpipes for a march, and we were given a private mini-concert. We were treated like royalty.

Lara's sweet family.

Lara, me, Morgan, and Vaughn. 

                As Vaughn led me around as my personal tour guide, it was very easy to see why Vaughn loves Jordan. It is an amazing underdog of a country who has a shortage of water, yet still sustains its own people, plus nearly a million Syrian refugees. It is a nation struggling to make itself better, with amazing leaders like Queen Rania. It is a country fighting ISIS with even more fervor than America because it is their family, their own people who are being the most negatively impacted by radical terrorism. This is a country of game changers, and Americans would benefit greatly to take a page out of their book.  Jordan holds a lot of Christ-like love, nestled in the Middle East, amidst the stigma of violence and terror. There, you find the kind of charity and resolve rare in our privileged part of the world, but almost necessary to survive the conflicts and challenges being faced.  Jordan, you have my admiration. What an honor it was to be your guest, even if just for a short while.

Finding Truth.

Today marks the fourth anniversary of my baptism. In honor of this important event in my life, I have decided to tell about why I decided to be baptized in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, in hopes that it will further understanding for my family and loved ones who may find it odd or difficult. Enjoy!

There comes a time in everyone’s lives when you have to make a choice so big it will influence the outcome of the rest of your life. In this world, you can only stay complacent so long before you have to pick a side based on what you know. For me, that choice came when I was 19 years old.

I was in my first year of college, and I was struggling with finding my place in the world and some family issues. I was attending a small Presbyterian university, thinking I wanted to switch my major for the sixth time, and looking for a church to belong to. But really, that’s not where the story begins.

It begins with a thousand tiny moments, dotting my childhood and my awkward years. It started with my mother telling me that when I’m scared of the dark at night, I can pray and Christ will take away the fear. It started with a sister who was fiery, passionate and intelligent, and she went on mission trips to spread the Gospel. It started with my brother praying with me in his room. It started with a choir director who taught me why the Gospel is worth singing about. It started with my piano teacher teaching me purpose behind my music. It started with a good friend asking me if I’ve been reading my Bible. It started with tears, hope, tragedy, books, broken families, and struggle. Most importantly, it started with a foundation in Christ, and a faith that all my mess-ups would be washed clean. I feel that my life story was written for that one decision I made on March 19, 2010, the day I was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. That was when I knew everything would change.  

I was raised more or less Baptist, with a family always striving to grow closer to Christ and to be more devout Christians. I love my family and look up to them very much. They are amazing individuals who each fought through a lot of hardship that make them incredible, strong people today. I was usually going to church on Sundays. It wasn’t always very consistent, but I knew Sunday was for church. However, as I entered my teens, I started feeling hollow and even agitated by things in the churches I would attend. I realize a lot of it was just teen-angst rebellion, but I know it was also just trying to piece together all the complicated pieces of life. I had a lot of questions, and many people around me gave me answers to those questions, whether verbally or not. In short, I was searching, always searching for answers. But even though I was confused, one thing I did know and believe to be true is that Christ is my Savior and Redeemer. I had a firm belief that as long as I held on to that truth, everything else would be okay.

As I entered college, I was so excited to find a church to attend. It was sort of “the big thing” about the first weekend of college when the majority of attendees are Christian. It was a big deal to find that church you felt you fit in the best. It was sort of like being in a sandwich line. There are a lot of different flavors and you get to choose your favorite. You may like this kind of doctrinal bread but dislike that social meat. I was excited to find a church family that I could feel close to, because I had never really experienced that before. I went to several churches my first semester. Some I went to several times, some just once, but every time the same feeling came: this isn’t quite right. So I kept looking.

By the time finals week came around, a very difficult trial that had been ebbing and flowing for months reached tipping point. Going home for Christmas was very challenging, and for two weeks I struggled rather gracelessly. I found myself reading not my Bible, but a little blue book taken from a Marriott Hotel in Maryland months before. Mormons will know this to be the Book of Mormon. I had been reading a very small bit of it for months due to one of my best friends in high school being LDS. My friend and I had many conversations about faith and about the church, but I was never open to it. In fact, looking back on it, I’m surprised we even remained friends I was so stubborn about it. But here I was, sitting in the privacy of my room, soaking up the words of the Book of Mormon like a sponge. It  brought me peace that I needed. It was a peace not unlike when I read Psalms and John, but it was striking to me because these were not words I took to be sacred. These were Joseph Smith’s words. At least, I believed so at the time. So I did what I thought would give me the answer: studied the New Testament to find the flaw. If I could find one thing that disproved anything that I knew about the Mormon church in the New Testament, where the Christian church is blueprinted, I could discredit Joseph Smith’s Book of Mormon and move on with my life. I took an intensive course on the New Testament from a Presbyterian professor and spent the month of January reading the entirety of the New Testament and other theological texts. I was studying hard for the class, but I was mostly looking for something to deter me from looking further in the LDS church. I couldn’t find anything convincing enough. Not that I didn’t have questions, but the questions were no different than the kind of questions I’d ask any Christian church. After a lot of prayer and a lot of study, I was surprised that I had nothing on those Mormons. And I completely lacked any prompting or logical reason to stay away.

I decided to go to the core of the matter. I attended a church and found the missionaries. I welcomed the opportunity to meet with them because I wanted to hear what they had to say. I still wanted to find something to prove that they were not Christians and then I could leave. During the church services, I wore the critical attitude I wore when I attended any new church to see if I could fit there. The hymns were too slow.  The sermons were boring. Way too many pink hearts and engagements announced in that last meeting with all the women (did I mention this was Valentine’s Day?). And the day was too long. Three hours of church? I would never get used to that. I had no intention of going back. My plan was to meet with the missionaries, have my questions answered, find the reason why Mormons weren’t Christians, which would define why I could not be Mormon, and be finished with it. That didn’t work though. I didn’t find that nasty little piece of doctrine I was hoping for in the first lesson. So we had another. Didn’t find it there either. We continued having lessons several times a week, half of which I entered with the intention of it being my last. But there was a powerful feeling at the end of each lesson that I needed to come back. I asked questions. I studied. I prayed. I continued to go to church, and the criticism ebbed away as I felt what I now know to be the Holy Spirit. It’s something that you don’t feel if you’re looking for the negative, but when you recognize it, you never want to be away from it again. That’s why I kept coming back. It felt very different from any of the others churches I had attended.

There are three distinct epiphanies that I want to share that led me to the waters of baptism. The first was early in the discussions with the missionaries. I had told them about reading the Book of Mormon over Christmas break when I felt lonely and frustrated. We talked a lot of about its origin and message. They bore their testimonies on its truth. Nothing sank in really until one of them asked “How has the Book of Mormon affected your relationship with Christ?” I mumbled out an inadequate answer, but the question stuck with me. Christ? The Book of Mormon is supposed to draw me closer to Christ? The question was about Christ, not Joseph Smith, or any of the other modern prophets of the Mormon church. That changed how I read the Book of Mormon.

The second experience was we were speaking about Latter-Day Saint temples. The elders were explaining how in the temple, members of the church perform ordinances in proxy for those who have passed away. I didn’t get it. After probably a half hour of question and answer that didn’t connect with me, there was a quiet. Then one said “When Christ died on the cross, he bore our sins by proxy. When we do ordinances for the dead in the temple, we are striving to be like Christ by acting as their proxy---“ I don’t expect this to be as ground breaking for anyone else. And it was honestly less about their words and more about what the Spirit was speaking to my soul. But it clicked. It made perfect sense, and I remember the speaking elder stopped in the middle of his sentence because he saw the understanding suddenly on my face. After a beat, his companion said, “I think she’s got it.” And I did. It was like a light had turned on. It was undeniable to me that these people, these Mormons, these alleged terrors, and blind followers of a man named Joseph Smith, they were just trying to be like Christ. And that felt more right than anything I had experienced before. They didn’t tell me what was right and that I would go to hell if I didn’t join the church. They encouraged me to find out for myself.

The last realization (of many I could share) is when I felt the Book of Mormon was true. It was not very long before the baptism date I had set with the missionaries. I had been reading the Book of Mormon for about eight months and didn’t feel certain about it being scripture. But I was reading and praying and I was frustrated because I didn’t know what to do. I felt a lot of support from opposing sides. My family, my previous Baptist church leaders, and my new friends at my university had tried to convince me that I shouldn’t join the Mormon church. My good LDS friend and his family, my new friends at church, the missionaries, and the bishop, encouraged me to hold to what I knew to be true. Well, I didn’t feel I knew anything at all. So I prayed again and again to know what is right and what is wrong. Eventually, I said this prayer: “God, if you tell me that this book is true, I will do everything you ask me to. I will give up coffee and I will pay tithing and I will be faithful to that knowledge if you would just allow me to have it. I will get baptized.” Then the thought occurred to me that I had my answer, I had already made a decision. So I told God that “After all I’ve learned, I think the Book of Mormon is true. Is that right?” That’s when I felt such peace that I cannot really explain unless you have felt it yourself. It was the Spirit testifying that it was right.

This is the most important part of why I got baptized. Knowing the Book of Mormon is true allows all questions to fall into place. I readily admit that I have not been without questions and doubts about the church. I think that’s healthy. But I know that the Gospel can take my questions, and I know it because the Book of Mormon is true. I know that God wants to answer our questions, and he does that through the subtle promptings of the Holy Spirit. I know that God answer prayers, and I know that God loves us. I was still uncertain about a lot of things in the church when I got baptized. But what held me, and continues to hold me when I start to struggle, is the knowledge that the Book of Mormon is true. I get that we won’t always have all the answers, but I also understand that God wants to tell us everything. We just get in the way.

It has been four years to the day of my baptism, and since then I have had several tender experiences that have built my testimony in the Gospel, in the church, in modern prophets, in scripture, and most of all in Christ. I have gone from wearing white on my baptism day to wearing white on my wedding day, when I was sealed to my husband for all time and eternity in the Holy House of the Lord. I am very grateful for my family and their love despite a decision they didn’t agree with. I am especially grateful for the foundation on Christ they taught me from a young age. I am grateful for the Hoffman family and all their patience in teaching me, and for my devoted missionaries who didn’t give up on me. I’m grateful for church leaders who answered questions and blessed me with opportunities to grow in testimony. I’m grateful for the friends who’s testimonies have taught me so much.

Put simply, I’m just very grateful and very happy. I’m humbled by how much effort Heavenly Father puts into drawing His children closer to him. I know I made the right decision four years ago, and since then have grown closer to my Savior. I have had sacred experiences the further confirm my faith. I have felt the love of my Heavenly Father. I have felt the Holy Spirit testify truth to my soul. I don't understand everything. But I know what I know, and I will never turn my back on that.

 

The Elders who taught me, my best friend from high school and my sister from another mister at my baptism, March 19, 2010.

 

The elders who taught me and their wives drove up to Washington from Utah for our wedding, December 28, 2013

 

from wearing white to wearing white.

 

 Want to know more? Check out my profile at mormon.org

 

 

24 Reasons I got Married at 23

I tend to keep silent when it comes to online discussions, since they often become heated and accomplish little good. However, I keep coming across these blogged lists about things to do before getting engaged or married in your early 20s. I get where they’re coming from, and they make some really good points. I especially appreciate this one. As a woman in her early twenties who very recently got married, I thought it appropriate to post a response. The main two blogs I have seen have been the one I posted above, “24 Things to do Instead of Getting Married Before You’re 24,” and “23 Things to Do Instead of Getting Married at 23.” The latter is a good deal more bitter and elitist sounding than I am comfortable with, and I want to emphasize in no way am I telling anyone how to live their life. Lives are a mess of intricate details and experience, so complicated that no outsider can judge. In fact, the intricacies of life demand a little empathy for your fellow man. If you’re married, single, traveling the world, being a missionary, living out of your car or living in a townhouse in Manhattan, who can say that your life thus far and for years to come will be more or less fulfilled than mine? Just because I have been to France and you haven’t or that you have a sweet internship and I’m working graveyard shifts in no way says I’ve lived more or better or vice versa. That said, being married makes me no better and no worse a person but this is the path I have chosen for my life. And that’s the most important thing. That we chose our paths, and we have chosen what we think will make us happiest with the time and experiences we have been given. This is the path I chose, and this is why it has been the best decision I have ever made in my life.

That said,
24 Reasons Why I Got Married at 23   
1.    The most basic of reasons: I found “the one.” I don’t believe in fairy tales or soul mates, but…he’s it. I see no reason to prolong the inevitable when you know who you want to spend the rest of your life with.
2.    We are young enough that we can mold to one another. Neither one of us are completely set in our ways and it’s easier to meld a life together when neither one is hard as iron. We’re both still a bit soft and getting used to the meaning of “adulthood,” and together we can form healthy habits that complement one another.
3.    I believe marriage is the number one way we can be improved, because it’s all about selflessly letting go of your vices and petty desires and getting something much greater.
4.    Because I found a man with a heart for service that inspires me to love people better. Loving him teaches me to love others deeper and more unconditionally.
5.    Undeniably, life is hard. And I don’t think we’re supposed to go our entire lives facing it alone. In the two weeks we’ve been married, our car has broken down, we've been stranded for two days over 300 miles from home, and our apartment has flooded. As a woman who has been independent her whole life, it was ten times easier facing it all with your best friend.
6.    Because he makes me a better human being
7.    Because he makes me happy.
8.    Because it’s nice to always have someone to laugh with when life throws a curveball.
9.    Because we are stronger together than we are apart.
10.    We’re young enough to have adventures together still. Because how better to start off the journey of the rest of your life than to be with your best friend?
11.    I’ve noticed that many of my unmarried friends get really cynical about the idea of marriage as they get older and see so much tragedy, divorces and the like. We’re still bright eyed and bushy tailed with that optimism and determination that we are married for all time and eternity, no matter how the cookie crumbles.
12.    As a woman who lives her life based on Christian values, it’s nice to sleep in the same bed as the man I love.
13.    To start a family. America and the world needs more strong ones.
14.    I have dated enough guys that I know what I want. I’ve had my heart broken and I’ve broken a couple hearts in return. Vaughn is undoubtedly the one that I want.
15.    By marrying, you marry into another family, gaining another set of individuals who love and support you. And you will have them forever, no matter where or what happens because they’re your family.
16.    Because I know my husband will never hold me back from pursuing my dreams and I will always help him pursue his. That whole thing that you stop living life when you get married is a myth. When you have children, everything changes. You have to grow up a lot more. Marriage is just fun time and growing time with your best friend.
17.    Because I know that my husband loves me even when my true colors show. He loves me without makeup on, when I’m a set on finishing a project, when I throw a tantrum, when I am grumpy, when I make a huge mistake, when I get on his nerves, etc. That’s the kind of love money can’t buy.
18.    Because I firmly believe this is exactly where I am supposed to be for me personally in my life and in the life of my husband.
19.    My family adores him. Like, seriously. My grandma has already dubbed him her favorite, displacing all of her blood-related grandchildren. And I have been at his house almost weekly for the past three years, including Christmas, even when he was away for two of those years, so I think his family is alright with me.
20.    I strongly believe in the institution of marriage.
21.    Because I believe it is ordained of God to be married in His holy temple. I think marriage is where ultimate happiness lies.
22.    Because I believe our marriage in God’s holy temple will last not only in this life, but through all eternity.
23.    Because inevitably I am not a perfect person. Neither is he. I have many weaknesses that are his strengths. We complement each other well, and it makes challenges less scary when you have someone like that on your team.
24.    Because I have lived enough life doing what I wanted and growing and learning and traveling. I’ve done a lot of selfish things you can only do when you’re unmarried, including having one of the best jobs ever, last minute road trips, irresponsible late nights and all that happy goodness of young adulthood. It’s been fantastic and fun, no doubt. But honestly, having Vaughn is better. We will spend the rest of our young adulthood laughing and growing together. Vaughn is the puzzle piece that I felt more than ready to have click into place in my life and in my eternity.