Archive for January, 2014



my promised land 2


This month, I enjoyed reading the writing of Ari Shavit.  He generously doubles back over images and assertions about the development of present day Israel.  The result is one of memorable education on the subject.  One prevalent image used by Shavit is of orange groves that contributed to the early economy for the European Jews who engaged the Zionist program.  Like an orange is peeled and segmented, Shavit’s content is memorably organized roughly by decades.

His content is rich with historical fact and historical personalities.  In his content, one speculates about the life cycle of nations in general.  Though he sets Israel apart from any other nation of the world, the reader cannot help but think about their own nation.  Within their nation, the reader cannot help but think about those building projects which are specific to the reader.  Within our vocations and hobbies, Shavit invites us further to wonder about our own person, personality, and passionate daring that may help us do a psychological emigration.    If we cannot or will not emigrate in the direction of another, perhaps Shavit builds up in us the desire to empathize with the complexity of another’s landscape.

I commend the book to you.

my promised land


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sweepingMy sister is sweeping up her life into luggage so that the way is clear to move forward.

I am sweeping up evidence of her at Christmas.

She is clearing away the cluttered individualism of North America for she can trip over such expectations in lovely India.

I am clearing away and putting my expectations on a precious shelf. Each expectation of frequent phone calls or emails need shelving as we slip into our 11 hour cycle of tag…one awake the other asleep.

She opens and airs her mind, preparing for what it means for a North American suburban girl in India.  What does it mean to be close and radically interdependent on all those into whose care she has been given?  She is airing out and breathing deep as she prepares to continue learning and honoring another culture.

I am airing out as well.  When water runs from my faucet, I will think about babies bathed in potholes.  When I drive too fast along my streets, I will think of crazy Indian traffic.  In my quiet suburban neighborhood, I will be amazed thinking of how all the many people of India…fit into India.  A fresh breeze blows across an ocean.

She is sweeping but nothing is perfectly tidy.  Evidence of us will arrive where she is going.

I am sweeping but nothing is perfectly tidy.  For another stretch of time, I will sweep in a stirring motion that compels evidence from cozy corners.

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