Providing Christian resources from the YMCA past and present to nourish inclusive, equitable work in our diverse and global neighborhoods that build up healthy spirit, mind and body for all.
What would you do if you came face to face with God? What would you do if fire destroyed what you loved? How do you prevail in the midst of complicated struggles? The story and fate of Peniel is a metaphor to me of the YMCA, America, and our faith.
Fire! It’s a cry of alarm when the flames stretch forth, unwanted, under protest, against what you treasure.
Fire! It’s a shout for joy when the sparks take hold of the dry tinder, the night is brisk, the stars are out, and your friends are ready to gather around to warm up and tell their stories.
Fire! It’s a sign of judgment, a cause for destruction, a threat of scorching pain. It’s also a means to survival, purification, and transformation.
Haaretz.com photo credit/firefighter at Peniel
Fire unexpectedly scorched beautiful Peniel, a YMCA haven of rest in the Holy Land, a little piece of heaven on earth.
A shock to the soul in 2016!
Why would God let this happen here? What does it mean? How do we interpret the flaming disaster?
And what now in 2020?
YouTube.com/Guy Shacar, three weeks after the fire
Four years after fire swept through the Tiberius coast, Peniel is a burnt hull.
When Archibald C. Harte retired from his remarkable career with the YMCA in the 1930’s he purchased a plot on the Sea of Galilee and transformed it into Peniel, a beautiful retreat for weary YMCA workers and travelers from around the world.
Beautiful Peniel in Tiberius, along the Sea of Galilee
Peniel means “face of God” and comes from the Hebrew Scriptures, a story where a traveler named Jacob wrestled with God, lost, was renamed Israel, and limped away transformed.
Jacob named the place Peniel for he had struggled with God (hence the name “Israel”) face to face and lived.
Over the years Peniel became a thin-space for YMCA workers, where it did seem that heaven met earth there, and folks could experience a face to face encounter with the Lord in their soul.
Spectacular vista from Peniel patio of the Sea, Golan Heights, and the sunset
Lush walkways throughout Peniel, shaded picnic areas, a sunny beach
Harte Memorial Chapel, the heart of Peniel, a sacred YMCA thin-space
The overgrown, desecrated chapel; broken windows, vandalized; yet holy.
So when fire ravaged the “face of God”, many who had strong roots and formative memories at Peniel grieved the loss deeply.
How to make sense of it, and what to do now?
The legal and cultural situations quickly became complicated.
Meanwhile entropy emerged on the property through vandalism, desecration, squatting, and the weather.
Through wise, collaborative, and patient leadership, plans for restoration of Peniel are being formed.
A renewed purpose is being prayerfully considered.
YMCA workers around the world are seeking the face of God for inspiration, direction, and open doors for the rebuilding of this sacred space in the Holy Land.
It brings together Christian YMCA leaders from across the United States to grow in their capacity to strengthen the Christian mission of the YMCA in the 21st century.
This training in agile learning and adaptive leadership skills is mediated through an online curriculum supported by venerable Springfield College, an immersive sojourn with YMCA’s in the Holy Land through the guidance of Friends of the Jerusalem YMCA, and an intensive series of seminars with the Global Leadership Summit.
The cohort of 12 learners and 12 mentors is an innovative, rich and transformative YMCA program that brings together our dual emphasis of Christian principles and diversity, inclusion, global.
Archibald C. Harte of the YMCA and Peniel
Archibald C. Harte was a visionary leader, making possible the construction of the Jerusalem International YMCA.
His love for the Lord, the YMCA, and the Holy Land, combined with his commitment to peace, solidarity, and friendship, inspired our OnPrinciple cohort still shapes the purpose of the JIY today. Read more here.
Peniel, a safe place for all to rest and enjoy good company
Peniel patiently awaiting restoration and renewed YMCA hospitality
The YMCA has long been a Christian organization which authentically strives to be welcoming for all.
Especially in the Holy Land, Jews, Christians and Muslims all work together in friendship and solidarity at the YMCA.
The Jerusalem International YMCA, which oversees Peniel, is renown for their diversity and inclusion of Jews and Arabs, Israelis and Palestinians, all sorts of faith backgrounds but one thing in common: love for the YMCA mission and legacy.
Dedication stone at Jerusalem International YMCA, set by Archibald Hart.
So in a world still full consumed by violence and bigotry, hatred and war, poverty and oppression, how can Peniel be a crucial thin-space again for all, for transformation through the sacred struggle together?
Christians believe that in Christ Jesus we see the face of God; we also believe that we are sent into the world as “little Christ’s” meant to embody his grace and truth in love.
We believe that when we love, care and serve in the world like God in Christ does, through the gifts and guidance of the Holy Spirit, people can still experience the transformative face of God.
Christian hospitality becomes a way to co-create thin spaces in the world where spiritual transformation, sacred struggles, new names, holy purposes can be given and received.
Fire in the face of God is consuming yet purifying, burning but illuminating, painful yet transformative.
May Peniel become a renewed site on the Sea of Galilee where YMCA workers can experience a purifying fire in the face of God, amidst their struggles feel again the call to go and be the light, to be the good news of God in our burning yet beloved world.
Thanks to Mike Bussey for most of the beautiful pre-2016 Peniel pics, and some post-fire ones.
The YMCA mission compels us to take care of each other; sometimes it might get us in good trouble. Keep striving to #lovecareserve #forall
The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians who acknowledge Jesus with their lips and walk out the door and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.
Brennan Manning
Jesus of Nazareth is a dark Asian-Mediterranean Jewish man of color, probably plain looking, possibly ugly.
If he showed up in America today, he’d probably have a rough go of it with most Christians, conservative and liberal.
He was prickly with wealthy religious people of power and comfort, and challenged those who regarded themselves as good.
Christ the Lord drew large crowds of the poor, over-worked, under-fed, marginalized and oppressed who often protested and rioted against injustice.
This made him an irritating and subversive threat to the political and hypocritical religious establishment of his own people such that they used their justice system to execute him.
I don’t imagine it’d be any different today in America. Or any other country.
After the resurrection of Jesus, having gotten in “good trouble” and crucified for blasphemy and political sedition, the King of the Jews surprisingly began to make appearances to his disciples and apostles, the brave women and men who had supported his ministry to the poor lost sheep of Israel.
The final story in the gospel according to John is of the resurrected King Jesus appearing unexpectedly to Peter and seven other apostles.
It is where they are re-invited to participate in the kingdom of God after their denial and abandonment of the Lord at his lynching.
The story reminds us that there is hope for hypocritical Christians who repent for avoiding suffering and truth.
But what about those who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, participate in church, but then go out the door and deny the Lord with their lifestyle, marring souls through their bigotry, racism, greed, lust for power, and violence? May they be like Peter.
Jesus’ reconciliation with Peter is odd, personal, and memorable. You can read it in full here. The heart of the encounter is the question Jesus repeats thrice to Peter: “do you love me?” Each time he confesses with his lips: “Yes, you know that I love you.”
I wonder what kind of dramatic pause followed each question and response, in what way did the tension thicken over the campfire on the beach, what kind of tears formed in their eyes as they exchanged the broken bread and flamed fish.
Swallowing his pride with the broken bread and bits of cooked fish, Peter was raised up from his denial to become a servant once again with a most difficult and almost impossible task: go get in “good trouble” as you become a believable shepherd of the Lord’s unruly lambs.
There were hundreds of Jewish men and women who were now followers of Jesus, and within a few months, especially in the weeks following Pentecost, thousands of Jews from across the Roman Empire would become loyal to Jesus of Nazareth as the Son of God, the Christ and King of Israel.
Peter was tasked with caring for, shepherding, “feeding” and tending to this new diverse flock of sheep, of the Lord’s followers.
This included rich and poor Jews, young and old, married and single, those with families and those abandoned, Palestinian and Persian and Egyptian and Greek and Roman Jews and Gentiles; it got complicated.
It’s not like there wasn’t racial and ethnic bigotry in the first days of the church; you can read about Peter and Paul and James the brother of Jesus who was bishop in Jerusalem sorting out the many different tensions, expectations and values that clashed in this new flock of sheep.
But what was the core motivation and key experience that shaped all of this complex and difficult shepherding?
Peter’s hypocrisy, his repentance, his calling and commission: walk out the door and humbly, full of love, take care of each other. “Do you love me? Feed my sheep.”
When I traveled in the Holy Land this past February, we spent two days in Galilee, including at the synagogue in Capernaum and around the sea of Tiberius (or sea of Galilee, or Lake Gennesaret).
It was a powerful experience to see where Jesus taught, and to ride on a first-century replica boat into the heart of the famous lake with a diverse set of Christian friends.The same coastline, clouds, and mountain ridges Jesus saw while out on the fishing boats.The Tiberius skyline, the hillside, the cloud-shrouded mountains on the horizonIt was humbling to walk the beach where, according to tradition, Jesus built his little fire and called to Peter and the fellow fishermen to come eat with him
As the sun set behind the ancient church on the pebbled coastline, sitting under the beach tree, imagining the story being played out in front of me – I was reminded of my own need to be restored and reconciled from my hypocrisy and cowardice, and yet to hear Lord’s question to Peter – and to all the apostles and disciples through all generations in all places: “Do you love me? Then take care of each other.”
Primacy of Peter Church on the Sea of Galilee
Peter was a flawed sheep and imperfect leader, who had to overcome cowardice, bigotry and prejudices. But he did.
His announcement of the good news of the kingdom of God as revealed through the Lord Jesus Christ was available to Jew and Gentile sheep.
Don’t let that inclusion unimpress you – this was a radical act of unity, a shocking act of reconciliation, a rupture in the imagination of who was right and pure and who was not.
In the gospel according to Luke we read about Jesus dwelling in Capernaum, staying at the home of Peter, healing the sick and crippled, the poor and the rich, but also Jews and Romans.Ruins of Jarius’ Capernaum home, where Jesus healed his daughter.The synagogue was a place where Jesus taught and healed, embodying the inclusive gospel of God.
The Palestinian Christians of the Holy Land in particular still experience deep-seated prejudice and bigotry that they must resist and overcome daily, in ways different but similar to Christians of color in America, and around the world.
It’s the denial of the ways the racist bias has shaped our institutions and theology that makes it so corrosive, our unwillingness to see it, admit it, own it, repent of it, and begin to undo it.
Peter could have stuck by his denial, he could have avoided the encounter with Jesus, staying on the boat instead of jumping into the sea and wading his way to the beach.
May you hear the Lord confronting your prejudices and hypocrisy, may you hear his question in your spirit, may it provoke you to wake up even more to the way you are shaped by our racist culture, and may you respond to Christ’s question like Peter did, and walk out the door to join in the believable gospel work of welcoming strangers and taking care of each other through our love for the Lord.
“We don’t even know what our desire is. We ask other people to tell us our desires. We would like our desires to come from our deepest selves, our personal depths – but if it did, it would not be desire. Desire is always for something we feel we lack.” ~René Girard
The pandemic has revealed many different paradoxes about our society, our families, our communities, our values, and our desires. At the core of this COVID-19 confusion are frustrated desires for life, liberty, and happiness. For many of us, the coronavirus is magnifying reality: we never get all that we want.
People are social beings, we get our desires from others – first from our parents and immediate family, and then extended family, friends, commercials, classmates, social media, literature, films, and art, neighbors, coworkers: basically our culture.
Our desires are never truly fulfilled, we always feel a lack. Life is a paradox – you desire based on what others desire in your culture, but you personally pay the price for trying to fulfill them.
The pandemic is fueling our anxiety around this existential question: how can we be blessed and happy when so many of our desires are unfulfilled?
Especially if we’re facing a frustrating disruption to our children’s education and well-being, our jobs and economic stability, or worst of all infection and the fear of death.
But amidst all the anxiety and uncertainty that the pandemic has increased, amidst all the thwarted desires and plans we were striving to fulfill, there have been many heart-warming stories of personal sacrifices, of hero’s stepping forward, of people letting their light shine, of families making the most of it, of seeing the best of humanity emerging towards those who are suffering.
It’s an interesting paradox – the best of times can bring out the worst in people, and the worst of times can bring out the best in people.
It’s almost as if the “worst times” is the default setting for humanity, but we deeply yearn for “the best of times.”
If one were cynical, it would seem that out of the billions of people on our planet, too many are stuck in the worst of times, and too few are getting to enjoy the best of times.
What to do when it feels like you are getting stuck in the “worst of times”?
For Jesus of Nazareth walking the length and breadth of Israel in the first century, most of the citizens were stuck in the worst of times.
They floundered under the cruel paranoia of King Herod, the local authority who rebuilt the beautiful temple and had an eye for urban architectural design but was bloodthirsty and evil towards his own people.
On top of these injustices was the oppressive Roman Empire which sought to tamp down the violence in Israel, a stubborn people unwilling to quietly accept the blasphemies and corruption of the Caesars.
The common folks were dying of malnutrition, of untreated diseases, of trauma, of economic exploitation, of unfair justice, of hopelessness.
The entrenched political and religious oligarchies were insulated from the misery of the people – though they sought to find ways to speak for them and drain away the violent repercussions of mass poverty so the government wouldn’t take away their privileged positions.
It’s in this pandemic of terrifying imperial and royal authoritarianism that Jesus arrives to be with the people of Israel. He brings real healing and hope, speaking subversive truth and grace. Christ Jesus reconnects them to their living God, the one who brought them out of Egypt and into the Promised Land, their God who created them to be a blessing to the world.
Jesus arrived to teach them his people how to participate in the kingdom of God even while they are subjected to the politics of injustice.
What Jesus is revealing to us comes across as a series of paradoxes amidst our thwarted desires. They are guideposts to us on how God keeps his promises to his conflicted people, and how to be God’s people while immersed in the politics of whatever authority and government happen to be in power.
Jesus is teaching those who will listen to him how to be blessed by God while in the worst of times.
He knows that for many people, most of their life will be marked by the tragedies and injustices of the world.
For them and us: when we can’t stop the worst of times from coming, how to find happiness, hope, a way to experience God and his goodness?
We all know that anger, vengeance, bitterness, hatred easily take root in us, our desires become full of darkness and rage, or despair and violence when we are pressed down and oppressed lacking hope of rescue.
While it’s natural, it’s also destructive to ourselves and others. What’s another way?
The Beatitudes are a realistic assessment of how God blesses his people, how he is with them, and for them, in this paradox-full world of the best of times and the worst of times.
We desire to be blessed. And at our best, we desire to be a blessing. Jesus teaches us how to be blessed and to be a blessing when we are poor and mourn when we are oppressed and hungry when we are treated unmercifully and violently when we are full of impure thoughts and persecuted for striving to live God’s way in the world.
In February 2020 I traveled through parts of the Holy Land with a group of YMCA leaders as part of our OnPrinciples program. In learning how to strengthen the presence of Christ in our Y, we spent time where Christ had been present, taught, and blessed.
It was hard to complain when we visited the Mount of Beatitudes. Yet I found myself frustrated that instead of it being a beautifully warm and sunny morning in which to soak up the glory of this historic and sacred place, it was cold, rainy, foggy, and very crowded by the time we left.
My desire for a particular kind of experience was thwarted; I wasn’t getting the full amount of what I wanted.
What to do? Remember why I am there, how much grace was part of my even being there, what kind of privilege and blessing it was to be there, and what it meant to be in a place where Jesus had been present. For all we know it had been rainy, cold, foggy and miserable when he taught the Beatitudes!
I learned while in the Holy Land that the desires there are complicated, that there are many, many paradoxes, and too often the striving for being blessed leads to violence.
The need for Christians to heed this sermon is more paramount than ever.
Below are the gospel text, some pictures and brief reflections of my time at the Mount of Beatitudes:
Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down.
Mid-morning view of the Beatitudes mountainside sloping down to the fog-covered Sea of Galilee.
His disciples came to him, and he began to teach them.
OnPrinciple group gathered for a lesson, escaping the cold drizzle under a canopy in front of the Church of the Beatitudes
Jesus said:
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they will be filled.
Traveling through the wilderness on way to the Mount of Beatitudes; with a view of date tree farms and the Judean hills. I reflected on the lives of Palestinian Christians who eke out an existence in this stretch of the Holy Land, a minority within a persecuted people group. Their meditation on the Beatitudes takes on a rugged necessity that I can’t relate to.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of justice, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
An old abandoned and graffitied tank at a rest stop in the Judean wilderness on way to Mount of Beatitudes. The Holy Land in the past twelve decades has known only escalating violence in an effort to fulfill their desire to abide in the Promised Land. In their pursuit of being blessed by God there has been too much bloodshed. Surely the Beatitudes do not condone these tactics?
“Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.
Back portico of the Church of the Beatitudes, facing the mountainside that slopes down to the lake; OnPrinciple leaders Eric and Mike giving a hearty blessing. The interior chapel was jammed wall to wall with pilgrims from around the world seeking to kneel and pray where Jesus sat and taught us how to be blessed. The desire is strong in all of us.
You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. [Jesus of Nazareth, the Gospel According to Matthew, 5.1-16, NIV]
Entrance to the Church of the Beatitudes, with the faithful gathered in the rain, waiting to pray within.
The ongoing violence in the Holy Land is at odds with the kingdom of God revealed in the Beatitudes.
Christians in Israel and Palestine face a brutal reality – how to survive, how to be blessed by God, how to be salt and light, how to follow the teachings of Christ Jesus in the Beatitudes amidst the complex, roiling desires for justice, security, peace, prosperity, and God’s will?
Christians in the West are not immune to this brutal reality – it’s our brothers and sisters who suffer in spirit, mind and body.The persecuted Body of Christ there, of which we fully belong, must endure this violence according to the Beatitudes.
And, for Christians that are not in the minority, we must face the brutal truth – are we, in any way, propping up violent forms of politics and economics that oppose the Beatitudes?
If so, we must first face the truth, and lament this reality.Then we can begin to learn from our fellow Christians in the Holy Land on how to be blessed when you don’t get what you want.
