Live always at the edge of poetic possibilty, even in the face of severe prose. - Walter Bruggemann

Monday, July 7, 2008


I can’t tell you when spring slid into summer. But summer is here in Jerusalem. I realized this when I was at the office of the Lutheran World Federation on the crest of the Mount of Olives. I sat in the photo archiving office where I’ve been doing some work. One side of the office opens up to an orchard of olive trees and grape vines that overlook the village of At-Tur in crowded East Jerusalem. And if you look to the west down beyond the Kidron Valley you can see the Old City with Haram esh-Sharif, the Temple Mount glistening brightly making its mark upon the Holy City. I had the front and the back doors of the office open; the ceiling fan was whirling on high speed but it was barely audible. It just gently moved the air from here to there and back again.

I needed a break from the computer so I sat back and averted my gaze outside to give my eyes a rest. The branches and leaves of the trees were motionless and the air was a stagnant pool of haze. The sun’s rays were uncompromising as they have been since early April. The ground is parched and the grass, what there is of it, is a dried brown. I thought, boy, another hot day in Jerusalem. Sometimes the days seem to melt right in to the other because the weather is so predictable. Just then though the familiar sound of lazy crickets broke through sluggish air and then I realized that it was summer.

Thank goodness for God signals. Without them how would we be alerted to the passage of time and to the rhythm of life around us? There are other God signals for us to behold too. Right now the fruit of the fig tree, the pomegranate and the olive trees and the grape vines are in their youth. It should be a nice harvest this fall.
Pomegranates, Grapes, Figs and Olives

1 comment:

Dina said...

Ah, you wax poetic.
God signals, eh? I'll have to remember that word.