Because I feel so monumentally useless in my exhaustion, I thought I would attempt to write something important that would realign me with myself and make me feel good for something. And I realize that while I've spent a good deal of time writing about my overseas adventure and how much I achingly miss what I experienced during it, I haven't done a good job of explaining how I intend to change my life because of it. I've shared my new dream with a few people, in a rather haphazard manner, but I would like to state it for the record. I have a history of losing faith in my ability to achieve dreams, but I don't want that to happen this time. So by stating this for the record, my hope is that my faithful readers will hold me accountable to my dreams. Imagine that this is a wedding between me and my future, and you are the best man or maid of honour. Help me keep my promise.
When we were in Jerusalem, we were greatly privileged to hear from a wide variety scholars, pastors, and activists. I know that we were all very grateful for the opportunity to appraise prevalent Israeli issues from so many perspectives, but it was an intensely confusing time for all of us. For example, one night we could hear a passionate lecture from a Zionist and think that Zionism made perfect, righteous sense, and then the next day we could hear testimony from a Palestinian Christian about how the IDF had killed his non-combatant family and stolen his livelihood. I felt stuck in ideological limbo for most of the time I was there. But when we welcomed Salim J. Munayer into our classroom at Tantur, my mind found a little peace. Salim is the founder and director of Musalaha, an organization whose sole purpose is to bring about reconciliation between Israeli Jews and Palestinian Arabs. I don't need to explain everything about it here; if you like, you can visit their website or read their Wikipedia page. I don't think it's possible to visit Israel and the Palestinian Territories without feeling an overwhelming sense of your own helplessness and therefore the region's hopelessness. But suffice it to say that in hearing from Salim, I finally felt that there was hope for humanity's survival in that hotbed of hateful controversy.
I felt broadly inspired when I heard Salim speak, but I didn't instantly know what I know now about my calling. As with most of my dreams, the dream to work for Musalaha developed slowly on a near-subconscious level; "slow-burnin' love" is what I have come to call it. It's the same process I went through in September: a clear catalyst starts the process of deep internal realignment, and after a brief gestation period, a new life concept is born in my mind that re-lights the fire under my soul. Add to this dream crock pot a few divine brain interventions, and you've got yourself a life calling.
So what is it that I hear calling? A new way to promote healing in a broken land that brings together my soul's yearning for reconciliation, my heart's desire to be back in that land, and my musical gifts that I couldn't bear to let go to waste. I have never been so excited for anything, and I have never felt more like myself in this excitement. But waiting is hard. Being uncertain of when this dream will begin to influence my reality is almost physically painful for me at this stage. But if I can earn enough money in this next year, then grad school in Jerusalem will be within reach. And once I have my degree in Middle Eastern Cultures and Religions, then I can begin to work the way I want to work. But I'm not just excited for grad school because it is a means to an end; I have never been so excited to just learn and study and fully devote myself to an academic task, because my learning will have direct implications for my life's work. Anyway. What's this life's work I keep teasing about? Creating an Israeli-Palestinian children's choir.
I plan to start with a choir camp that branches off from Musalaha's already existent children's camp program, and then to build that short-term choir into a long-term project. The culmination of the dream would be a choral festival that brings youth from all over the world and unites them in song. If you've never experienced anything like that firsthand, the idea seems cheesy and naive and romantic. Let me assure you that in reality it is not. Music is a gift; it is a glimpse into the beauty and power of God. And therefore, music has the power to reconcile people through their differences, the power to bring joy, the power to open the heart so that it truly feels and moves in ways it never did before. Reconciliation, joy, love...these are the roots of hope. And hope is obviously a particular obsession of mine.
So there you have it. I hope it doesn't sound like my crock pot is full of crack.
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