First Friday in Lent: Is this the fast I choose?
FIRST FRIDAY IN LENT: 3 March 2017
On the way to the church office this morning, I stopped to withdraw rent money at Shabaan's shop. He was barely open, his many scarves and knick-knacks still piled inside, as he was still eating breakfast and drinking coffee with the neighbors.
But..."!آهلاً وَ سهلاً Welcome!
Shabaan tore off a piece of his own warm bread with za'atar and olive oil and handed it to me, as he counted out my money.
At the spice shop in the afternoon, I stopped for ingredients for a special Friday night dish. It was shortly after noon prayers, so the place was packed with men "buying spices" (aka catching up on the news). I pushed my way through the crowd and stood awkwardly near the spices I needed. Soon, the shopkeeper recognized me, and left his friends to wait on me.
I really appreciate how this shopkeeper only speaks Arabic to me (although I know he speaks English well.) How must it try his patience to wait as I'm trying to remember the words for "Cardamom? Cloves? Cinnamon?" ("Cinnamon" sounds the same as "room" to me. I hope I don't order 4 sticks of "room"!)
As I'm paying, he offers me a kind of sweet black bean paste (yum?), the same as he's been offering "the guys."
"The guys" all nod to me and smile as I pass.
Just inside Damascus Gate is, arguably, the best place for الحلويات (sweets) in Jerusalem.
I often feel like an outsider here, but I'd say that "after Friday prayers walking through Damascus Gate" is where I feel the height of awkwardness! Standing in a "line" (crowd of people) for ma'amoul, I wondered how I would be received. Am I just an intruder here, especially at this time?
The man (the famous man!) who runs the stand was surprised at first that this white lady was speaking Arabic--but then he was filling my bag with extra sweets. Plus a sesame cookie for the road..."!مَع السَلامة Go with peace!"
"Give us today our daily bread."
Three times today, I was fed by a Muslim neighbor--with food.
With kindness. With respect and hospitality.
Lord knows, I was hungry!
God answers prayer. Amen!
Perhaps during Lent, I will fast from my assumptions about just how (and through whom) God does the answering.
Shabaan tore off a piece of his own warm bread with za'atar and olive oil and handed it to me, as he counted out my money.
At the spice shop in the afternoon, I stopped for ingredients for a special Friday night dish. It was shortly after noon prayers, so the place was packed with men "buying spices" (aka catching up on the news). I pushed my way through the crowd and stood awkwardly near the spices I needed. Soon, the shopkeeper recognized me, and left his friends to wait on me.
I really appreciate how this shopkeeper only speaks Arabic to me (although I know he speaks English well.) How must it try his patience to wait as I'm trying to remember the words for "Cardamom? Cloves? Cinnamon?" ("Cinnamon" sounds the same as "room" to me. I hope I don't order 4 sticks of "room"!)
As I'm paying, he offers me a kind of sweet black bean paste (yum?), the same as he's been offering "the guys."
"The guys" all nod to me and smile as I pass.
Just inside Damascus Gate is, arguably, the best place for الحلويات (sweets) in Jerusalem.
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| Damascus Gate Sweets |
The man (the famous man!) who runs the stand was surprised at first that this white lady was speaking Arabic--but then he was filling my bag with extra sweets. Plus a sesame cookie for the road..."!مَع السَلامة Go with peace!"
"Give us today our daily bread."
Three times today, I was fed by a Muslim neighbor--with food.
With kindness. With respect and hospitality.
Lord knows, I was hungry!
God answers prayer. Amen!
Perhaps during Lent, I will fast from my assumptions about just how (and through whom) God does the answering.
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