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Kairos: Paul Stewart Mustol
Kairos: Paul Stewart Mustol
Kairos A Publication of the Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary Community Issue #171
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Part Three
In Part Two I left you all with my musings mascus Gate. We weaved in and out of the narrow
about the different groups we saw throughout our market streets to emerge suddenly in the Jewish
trip to the Holy Land—in particular, Nigerian and Or- quarter and began the process of entering the Tem-
thodox Christian pilgrims. We were all Christian pil- ple Mount. At the first checkpoint I took out my jour-
grims, yet I felt we were all hesitant to identify with nal, placed my camera on the table and walked
one another. This week, I begin to explore what it through – no problem. At the second check point,
means to have multiple identities going through the metal detector I could sense the
On Sunday, January 18, we went to the guards talking about me and one of my classmates.
Dome of the Rock and Temple Mount. To get there I did not know fully what they were saying because
we went through several Israeli security screenings. they were speaking Hebrew, but I got a general
Our guide, Peter, had told us the day before that we sense... they were 18-21 year-old “boys.” It was an
were not to wear crosses or carry Bibles. By law uncomfortable situation and I tried to look as asser-
physical displays of religious tive (or pissed off) as possi-
identity are forbidden. I did ble, but I knew something
not understand exactly why, was going on.
but I respected the request. I later asked Peter and he
We still needed a Bible to confirmed what I had sus-
continue our daily incursions pected. The guards were
into scripture as we visited commenting on our looks and
holy sites, so we arranged for wondered if we were single
Clyde, one of four "guests" of and who was most attractive.
the seminary, to carry his Peter looked at me and said,
palm pilot with an electronic “That is good, right?” For a
version of the Bible. (Ahh. . . split second I thought “Good
technology) Unfortunately for me, bad for them – I’m
not everyone heard the an- taken, I have a boyfriend!”
nouncement and in the end and “I still have it!” But in the
two bibles and a cross neck- The Dome of the Rock and the Temple Mount end I was disgusted with my-
lace were taken away from us self and for the interaction.
the security checkpoint. It was a jolt to our group. It was pretty obvious that I was an
After a long day of walking in the Old City of international citizen. The guards knew they could
Jerusalem, Peter thankfully was able to retrieve the get away with saying things in front of me and in
two Bibles and return them to their rightful owners. front of Peter, because they assumed he only spoke
There is a sermon in all of this and I hope to hear it Arabic. In the end I wanted to go back to the check-
when it is preached, but this is not where I want to point and stand up for myself. Sure – they were the
pause and reflect on identity. ones that had loaded AK-47s, but I felt violated, and
It was here, at a checkpoint, that I was pro- I wanted to assert my identity as a liberated feminist
filed. I am not going to say that I am a professional and stand up for all the other women that experience
international traveler, but I do have experience of this and more on a daily basis. Of course I did not,
living internationally. In these experiences I often do but I wanted to. My identity had not been respected
not smile when I go through security. I keep a seri- and my initial reaction was towards protecting that
ous, if not pissed-off look on my face. I respect what identity.
security officials have to do, but I do not enter into a But even this was not what struck me the
situation light-heartedly. most. What really hit me was when we lost Peter at
For Sunday's excursion we left the hotel on a checkpoint the day before (Saturday, January 17).
foot and entered into the Old City through the Da- We were given the rare opportunity to go to Bethle-
Continued on page 5
Issue 171 www.austinseminary.typepad.com/portal/kairos.html Page 5
In A Predicament
I want to honor and respect our guide, but also not put him in harms
way, so I have decided to use his name. Our guide’s name was Peter. As
presented at Manna, Peter wrote an article describing his predicament as a
Palestinian. I edited his article by adding pictures that I took of him, attempting
to capture glimpses of life through his eyes. I have his permission to dissemi-
nate the article with his name and picture, so I feel it is not necessary to
change his name.
A Weekly Column Offering Musings, Insights, and Reflections on the Seminary Life
Submissions to Kairos: Email submissions to the editor, Paul Dubois, at Kairos@austinseminary.edu. Calendar events and room reservation
requests should be sent to Jackie McCully at jmccully@austinseminary.edu or made in person at the McCord desk. Editorial decisions are based
on urgency, availability of space, and editorial guidelines. Deadline is Wednesday at 5:00 P.M. Submissions made after deadline must be
accompanied by a dunkel.
Sister Dear
Do you recall the times when we ran hands clasped, through the meadows and grass, dancing and
twirling under liquid blue skies dressed in fleeting cotton clouds?
A wonderful place where each bright day was our butterfly to chase. Followed by the crystal
clear trills of faithful songbirds letting us know, God is near.
And sister, before we even knew, the devil and his mess, we smiled and twirled, leaped and
skipped, climbed and rolled onto great puffs of air.
Then we slipped and tripped, and for the first time; silver dust became dirt, joy became hurt —
laughter lost. we never really touched in the same light and free, soft, sweet way.
And then thank you Oh God. For you Holy kiss mending the harsh diamond hole the world tried
to make in our little girl souls.
Can you hear it sister, the golden whisper of our Saviour’s spirit? My dear,Lovely, darling
sister — listen.
So once again we dance and laugh and sing and cry and smile and leap and jump and run. Father
is hear, mother is here, brother is here, sister dear, My dear, dear, sweet.
©
Malartha Bosier, September 2002