Let Me Help You, Sister

Damascus Gate at Night

I arrived at the Damascus Gate of Jerusalem's Old City later than I hoped last Thursday night, well after dark. It was a long Nesher (shared shuttlebus taxi) ride, but it was also entertaining as the driver was yelling in Hebrew at pretty much everyone of his passengers. The young women riding with me threw me a universal eye roll glance which made the trip so much better!

If you've never been to the Damascus Gate, picture about 30 stone steps leading down to an entrance through the city's ancient walls. With my huge suitcase, duffel bag packed to the rim, and heavy backpack, after travelling 20 hours, I'm sure that I was a sight - single western woman, hair frazzled, wearing clergy collar, clearly in over her head with what she thought she was able to carry. So step by awkward step, I slowly made my way up towards the Via Dolorosa towards Ecco Homo.

At the last torturous hill, when I was about to collapse, a man (in his 60's, maybe?) came out of the shadows saying "Let me help you, sister!" He asked where I was going, what I was doing in the city, and kindly deposited me on the steps of the ancient convent after telling me that he was a Palestinian Christian, and that I was welcome in the Holy City.

I wanted to share that memory because it reminded me of the spirit of the book that I had just spent three flights reading, "The Book of Joy" by Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama. These two deeply spiritual men were interviewed over the course of a week to find out how they found joy in the midst of great trial and oppression through South African Apartheid and Tibetan Exile. Both have shared that it is in service to the other, even in the worst of times, that can bring a sense of joy.

I can't say for certain if my new friend felt joy after lending me a hand, but I know as the receiver of his kindness I certainly felt blessed.  Much more to share, later. Be kind to one another.