THOUGHTS ALONG THE JOURNEY

Fewer words and more pictures should tell you how I celebrated the Feast Day of the Basilica and Feast Day of the town of Nazareth. BEFORE
(After a parade along the main street of Nazareth the Patriarch and his Auxiliary Bishops vested and entered the Basilica preceded by bag pipes and drums - a most amazing sight. There was more frilly lace and gold thread than I had seen in any Kings Cross bar.)

AFTER
(Ouch my aching head)

I am not political and I believe in Israel’s rite to exist. Repeat. I am not political and I believe in Israel’s rite to exist. I am so not political that I am happy to be out of the country for the NSW State Election. I am so not political that I found voting for the delegates for the Franciscan Chapter to be held in Sydney latter this year a real choir. Having said that here is the very first sentence in the Jerusalem Post for 19th March 2007.
“The government is expected to declare on Monday that last summer’s war in Lebanon be called a war.”
Such an intriguing statement was followed by equally intriguing reasoning by the reporter Yaakov Katz. 1] Naming it a war would mean having to pay out more $$$$ in compensation to Israeli families and soldiers. 2] History has shown that only wars that Israel wins get names.

The big push to give it a name is coming from the families of the Israeli soldiers killed in the conflict/war/deadly squabble etc etc. Their loved ones have been deceased for 8 months and they still can’t put a tombstone to mark their graves. Surely this is a massive insult to the families, to the Israeli people and the Lebanese too.

PS. There is no ‘J’ in the Hebrew alphabet. Yaakov, can be translated as Jacob using the English alphabet. Hence Jerusalem is correctly pronounced Yerushaláyim
PPS. So, why they print maps for tourists in English but mostly use Hebrew spelling on road signs I will never know!
PPPS. When is a war not a war. When the Government can’t afford to say it is and/or when it is lost. Reminds me a little of a place called East Timor. (ouch)

I was taught by the Sisters of St Joseph, I went to primary school at St Joseph’s and I received the sacraments of Reconciliation, Communion, Confirmation and Ordination at St Joseph’s Belmore. To spend the Feast of St Joseph in “THE’ Church of St Joseph was a real buzz.

St Joseph wears so many hats all of which, except for one, I like. He is the Patron Saint of Foster Fathers, Apprentices and the Catholic Worker Movement and (thanks google) the Patron Saint of the Universal Catholic Church. In Australia Catholic hospitals all have a picture or statue of St Joseph with a white lily. Why? Because St Joseph is also the Patron Saint of a happy death.

For this reason I have always associated lilies with death. You can imagine my horror when I discovered that the local tradition is to present every female parishioner with a lily as they leave the church. They repeatedly tried to give me one (because I’m a lady??) and I steadfastly refused. I took a stack of pics, check them out.

PS. Happy Birthday mum

The amazing lad in this clip lives in Bethlehem and is supporting a family of six with his wage of $4 USA per day. His father can no longer get an Israeli issued pass allowing him to enter Jerusalem (a whole 8km away) where he worked for over twenty years. He is the only member of his family in paid employment ….. and one other thing, he is intellectually disabled.
Whenever I enter Bethlehem the Israeli built wall surrounding the city makes me feel as though I were a caged chicken. A combination of the incompetance of the Palestinian Authority and the bans imposed by Israel results in people living in extreme poverty. It is just like entering a third world country. And, as is often the case in third world countries it is the disabled and children who suffer the most.

Peter and Chloe are two amazing Australians who I met for the first time in Waverley Sydney doing something concrete about the suffering. They import and sell olive wood products made by the older kids in the ‘School Of Joy’ which is a school for intellectually disabled kids, most of whom would be on the streets were it not for the Melkite Catholic priest who runs the school from his family home. I literally bumped into Peter and Chloe in Nazareth a few weeks back. Peter was born in Jaffa Tel Aviv, he was here showing his Aussie in-laws around the country of his birth.

When I get back to Oz I will be doing a lot more talking about (and soliciting for) this amazing school that runs on the smell of an oily rag. You can check out their web site: http://www.schoolofjoy.org/index.shtml

PS. I have discovered how to insert youtube clips onto my blog - how cool is that!
PPS … and paragraph breaks too, but saderly stihl no spel checke.
PPPS. The wall is properly called a “security fence” and is over 17 metres high and one metre wide in some parts, made of solid cement.

Give us more Sr Mona! Please take her, she’s all yours!! My immediate family would know exactly what I am talking about (especially on the Chelala side). Well, Sr Mona visited me today. As always she showed up announced just as lunch was starting. My Italian is so good that I had no trouble understanding the laughing as I left the refectory. Sr Mona is a Franciscan groupie who had been noisily waiting my arrival for 9 years, the friars duck for cover each time she visits. And when she sees me it’s like one of those scenes at the international airport arrivals gate – smothering me with kisses as I gasp for air through a face full of blue veil. “Yes aunty, I’ve missed you just as much if not more (since last Sunday)” What else am I to say???? You have just gotta love her. I have decided that she deserves an Album all her own. Check out the picture of the two of us together. I’m the tall skinny one – not often I get to say that.

Expecting an important letter from the Australian Electoral Commission I asked Fr Peter to forward any mail that had been sent to my Waverley address. The mail arrived last week (thanks Pete) but the hoped for letter was no where to be found. To my surprise the package of letters was delivered in a clear plastic sleeve and every envelope had been opened and then resealed with an Israeli security stamp. Wondering why on earth they would open ever single letter (there were about ten) I sought the help of Amal who runs the piety stall. Amal assumed it was a regular random security check but would make further enquiries and so she, in turn, asked her niece who works for the postal office (thanks Amal). The message came back that any parcel sent to me from anywhere in the world is very likely to be closely scrutinised; apparently I have the same surname as Osama Bin Ladens mothers maiden name! Fair enough, check away.

Congratulations Fady and Melissa, my brother and sister in law. Just got this message: “Melissa & Fady Ghanem proudly announce the birth of their daughter, Jessica, born on 2/3 at 11.39pm, weighing 3.54kg, 54cm. mother and baby doing well.” SOOO happy, their first child, my third niece (hi Tania, hi Sarah) and a cousin to Daniel (hey bro-do your homework) and to Paul (email me some time). More info:SAINT JESSICA Saint Jessica is a derivation of Joanna. She was one of the women who helped provide for Jesus and the Apostles and was one of the three women who discovered the empty tomb of Jesus on the first Easter morning. What saints day is it? Glad you asked: Bl. Charles the Good St. Agnes of Boheinia St. Willeic St. Chad St. Cynibild St. Fergna St. Gilstlian St. Jovinus & Basileus Martyrs of Campania St. Paul, Heraclius, and Companions. Check out her pictures in my Album Section - Jessica Ghanem

Why does God not always to answer our most fervent prayers? This is not something I have struggled with since, all things considered, God has been pretty good to me; no mortgage, no employment hassles, no teenage kids and at the moment no ‘real’ responsibilities. But after reading a Jewish story in response to the question of ‘why does God not answer our prayers’ I think I should start to worry. “There was a king who had two daughters, one old and wise, the other young and headstrong. When the gentle sister came before him with some request the king would be reluctant to grant it, hoping to keep his daughter near him, for her voice was pleasant to his ears. But when the harsh and noisy younger child screamed for something, the king gave it to her right away, for he wanted to get her out of the palace. Like the King, God has by no means forgotten you merely because the request of the younger sister is granted.” This story was first told by Rabbi Eliiezer to his young pupil Akiba and can be found in the Mishnah which is the oral law of Jewish people (in wriiten form) found in the Talmud. I came across it while reading James Mitcheners book ‘The Source’, page 576 of 1078 – will I ever finish it!!!!!!!!! I have never thought of myself as a noisy younger sister, but there you go.