TO ISRAEL: SORRY ABOUT YOUR HALLOWED
GROUND
I have no desire to go to Israel. Yes, I think it would be
fascinating to see where Yeshua preached, etc. But I can’t
worship the ground someone walked on. I’ve probably tread
already on places where somebody lay dying. So what if the
exiles camped there on the left or Jacob fed his goats over
there on the right. The whole world can’t make a pilgrimage
there. Therefore, O Israel, don’t expect the whole world to
care much whether the Arabs built a missile base at the
foot of Mount Sinai. (They did. I have read Howard Blum’s
book, The Gold of Exodus.) It insults you and
saddens me, but it’s not my war.
You want it to be my war, because you need my moral
support, (my vote for sympathetic Congressional candidates,
etc). You want my tax money. You want my tourist dollars.
But you haven’t consulted me on how to fight it. Perhaps
this means I'm volunteering my lungs to breathe the ash of
your smoldering ruins as it drifts eastward around the
globe.
I’m very saddened for what has become of the ancient Jewish
and Christian sites. But the meaning of the faith isn’t
locked up behind modern fences surrounding ancient stone
walls. The meaning of the faith is in the hearts of people
who are looking after God’s “sheep.”
2002
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