Paradox: When Joys Become Sorrows

In two weeks, my Jerusalem sojourn will end. Here, at the crossroads of religions, cultures, hopes and fears, I came to accept a series of shape-shifting paradoxes. The more I learn, the more complex it seems. The more I try to capture firm explanations of the Israel/Palestine “situation,” the more I realize that exceptions, qualifiers, footnotes, and sidebars can overwhelm the central narrative.

It will take me months, years, maybe forever to sort it out.

Orange Tree in Spring

Orange blossoms

An orange tree and its blossoms fill the air with fragrance in springtime at Tantur.

The greatest treasures, by far, have been the people I met here. Tantur welcomes a never-ending stream of fascinating people from countless political, geographic and religious backgrounds. They come for a few days, weeks, or months — some for a year or several years.

Quickly, we grow uncommonly close through heartfelt conversations – scholars and spiritual or justice seekers who dream of finding hope for just resolutions to the region’s conflicts, and common ground among the world’s religions. We have diverse goals but share a passion for knowing other cultures.

Some staff have lived here all their lives, mostly Palestinian Christians and a few Jews and Muslims. Many open their homes and lives to those who come only briefly – they become part of our education.

An example: one staff manager is a native of France. His wife, from Texas, is an accomplished writer. They met in a Syrian monastery. She plows the painful terrain of refugees in the region between Greece and Iraq and he prepares for Syrian Catholic priesthood. They live here with their three children (9, 6 and 4) who are trilingual (French, English and Arabic). Such mosaics are common here.

Other staff and volunteers include a Quaker taking a year off from her seminary studies at Princeton; a rabbinical student who will be ordained in the fall; a married couple who are members of a New York Bruderhof community; a Catholic priest who was missionary, parish priest and seminary professor in Africa before coming to Tantur; a Chicago-raised, marathon-running daughter of an Israeli-Arab father. And me. As I said – a mosaic.

People from all over the world come to partake of Tantur’s Continuing Education programs – three weeks, a month, six weeks, three months – also spiritual seekers who drink of the religious waters here, and learn something of the politics too. And then they’re gone.

Therein lies the cruel paradox. We get to know each other, worship together and learn about each other’s lives and spiritual traditions. We tell each other our stories, we laugh and play games over beer and wine, and sometimes we shed a tear or two. Among these have been priests and nuns from Ireland, England, Poland, Canada, Australia, Philippines, and more; a sister with an angel’s singing voice from a South Pacific island; a Brother from the Taizé community in France; and an ordained Lutheran pastor from Finland, working on her doctoral dissertation.

And then – one by one, they go. Soon, I’ll be the one to go. The treasures of these passing relationships slip through our fingers as the farewells become the sorrows.

No doubt, I’ll stay connected to some of them, but the Tantur paradox plays out, week after week, month after month, year after year. The consolation is knowing that seeds planted here will sprout new life as folks pass through Tantur and move on to the ends of the Earth.

Quite fitting for an Easter/Passover departure and homecoming!

(This essay was first published in the March 23 edition of the Barnstable (MA) Patriot.

Author: kathleenschatzberg

I'm a writer, an educator -- 45 years in education, 35 of them in community colleges -- and a lifelong advocate for justice (community colleges are, in fact, instruments of social justice). I have always been passionate about learning, traveling, and understanding the world's religions and political systems. This "Crossroads" blog offers my reflections on living for 7 months as a volunteer at Tantur Ecumenical Institute. On a hill in Jerusalem, within sight of Bethlehem, Tantur hosts students, scholars, and seeker for interfaith engagement and theological and biblical study. View all posts by kathleenschatzberg