In-Between

Reflections from Jamie Michaels
From Nazareth        
 
Hello again, followers. I hope you are enjoying photos and snippets from our journey. And I know you’re all anxious to hear about our time in Bethlehem, and see images from our tour of the barrier wall and Aida refugee camp, and the Church of the Nativity. But I can’t write about those now – because the only thing I can think about is how grateful I am to be traveling with such an amazing group of people.

I know you know what I mean. You’re reading this blog, so chances are you know someone who is traveling here with me. They are really phenomenal human beings. One of our co-journers said to me yesterday, “you know, I wouldn’t trade a single person on this trip.” I couldn’t agree more. But what has really struck me on this trip is how beautiful the work of personal transformation can be.

Grafitti on Security Wall, West Bank

As someone who is not new to the work of group facilitation, I know how rare it is to find a group of 20 people who can hold space for one another as well as this group can. We had a particularly emotionally difficult day on Tuesday, and several folks came with anger and pain to our debrief session. I must admit, I was worried when we first sat down that the tension would rupture what had so far been a really beautiful, remarkably conflict-free journey. I was especially nervous because I had been in close proximity with more guns, soldiers, checkpoints, and evidence of occupation and violence than I had so far during the rest of the trip, and I was noticing how that was impacting my body, my reactions, and my emotions. I worried that our bodies knew something we didn’t – something that would bring a rift between us.

But our bodies were smarter than that. There was a tenseness, but also a real closeness in our honest speaking and listening that I hadn’t experienced before with this group. It was as if my body was saying, “that wasn’t my experience, but I hear your pain, and I sit with you in solidarity.” We expressed pain and anger, separation and fear. But after each story, the group responded with our usual “Amen,” and each person’s experience was held in the peace of our collective covenant. We did something that night that strangers could not do, that in fact, this group could not have done ten days ago.

Our guide, Morgi, was telling me today about her daughter’s favorite book. It’s about people who go searching for God. They search high and low, going to the ends of the earth and back, trying to find the place where God rests, searching in vain. When all seems lost, they come to realize: God is in the in-between spaces, God rests between people. These last few days of the trip, this group has modeled for me a small piece of what the New Jerusalem will look like. We will hold each other in intentionality, with compassion, longing honestly to hear the experience of another, and trusting the truth of that story. And as the Christian scripture according to the book of Revelation tells us, there will be crying there too, but God will wipe away every tear.

For God will dwell in the midst of us, in our relationship. God will dwell in-between.