It’s all Greek to me

Last Friday I found out that I will be studying Greek this semester. I had planned, in all my wisdom, to study Greek next year. Unfortunately, things don’t always go to plan, and I had to face my fear.

I’m realising now, though, that my fear is not really Greek. My fear is that I will realise that I’m not very smart. I’m not used to being a dumb student. A bad student, maybe, but always a student who is able to understand what’s going on in class. Greek, unlike other subjects I have studied, is not one I can fluke. It’s not one I can faff my way through. In Greek, I can’t rely on my ability to articulate or reason to get good marks. I need to be a good student. I need to apply myself. I need to work consistently, and revise, revise, revise.

That’s one of the things that Husbandsylv does so well. He works hard at his studies. He revises, revises, revises. He is consistent, and conscientious. He goes to class to learn, not to affirm how smart he is.

So I’m learning. Watching him study for the two years we’ve been married has not only encouraged me that my husband is responsible, conscientious and a hard worker. It has reminded me of an attitude I need to develop in my studies.

I’m there to learn. I don’t know everything, that’s what classes are for. I need a little more humility and a lot less ego. And maybe, instead of being crippled with fear that I won’t do great in my studies, I’ll be spurred on by the joy of learning.

My hands are small I know, but they’re not yours

So, this was meant to be the year I was going to try doing things with my hands. I was going to bake, make, sew and plant. I was going to try and make pretty things for a change, because I’m usually very terrible at it.

The first thing I (helped) make this year was our new, awesome Ikea desk. Because I didn’t understand the printed directions, Husbandsylv had to call out instructions. When he said “put this here”, I put it there. When he said “screw it in”, I screwed it in. When he said “hammer it”, I hammered it. With my fist. And did myself an itty bitty hairline fracture on my fist.

I did, however, manage to also build our new Ikea chair, (almost) by myself, with a bung wrist. I did good.

Things I Love (two point oh)

Every night, he eats ’til he’s full, and then he holds his tummy and says “Ugh. I’m so full”

Every time I wake him up, he says “5 more minutes, 5 more minutes”

He always asks me if I want a drink.

He laughs at me when I’m sick (he thinks I’m a hypochondriac).

He gets so offended when I don’t like his weird Asian desserts.

He loves weird Asian desserts.

He always massages me when I ask. Then he asks for a massage.

He loves my family.

He cooks amazing Chinese food, and then asks me if I love it, with every mouthful.

He motivates me to do my assignments.

He works so hard on his assignments.

He falls for my lame jokes, every time.

 

I could keep going, but I won’t.

She’s got a fast car

It was our first night in Cairo, and we decided to sleep without the air-conditioning on. Husbandsiu promised that if it got too hot, he would turn the AC on in the middle of the night.

Of course, he slept through the 36 degree heat, so I trudged out of bed win the dark and tried to turn it on myself. Now, I’m not the most clumsiest person but I do at times struggle with my balance, particularly at night, and I somehow banged my toe on something.

Too tired to care, I crawled back into bed and tried to sleep through the throbbing pain.

In the morning, however, my toe was bruised and my foot huge.

 

 

“It’s sore” I said.
“It’s not broken,” he said.

 

So I put up with the agonising pain for a few weeks. Each time I’d mention the pain, husbandsiu would insist it wasn’t broken. So I walked around Cairo, climbed Sinai, and then trekked all through Jerusalem, despite the pain.

And then I spoke to a doctor, who told me it was broken. She bandaged it up for me.

 

And then he bought me beautiful earrings, because he loves me lots.

The three g’s

I was once told that in order to best appreciate the Bible, one needs to have an understanding of the “three g’s”: grace; genealogy and geography. I must admit that at the time, I thought the person who told mr was a bit of an intellectual nerd.
But he was right.

Typically geographically challenged, my understanding of thr gospels (and bits of the old testament) has improved drastically now that I’ve seen the land, in a way that maps never could. Understanding the prominence of the temple; the close proximity of significant landmarks; the colours and textures of the landscape have allowed the stories of the Gospels and the words of Jesus to jump right out at me.

Shalom Y’all

We are in Jerusalem in time for the Jewish New Year. It’s a very tame holiday – there’ve been no fireworks, passed out drunks or speeding hooligans.
Everything was closed, including museums, so today we spent a lot of time in the Old City (run by Palestinians) working on our bargaining skills. Husbandsiu and I had decided that where possible, we would shop with Palestinians and this has been suprisingly easy. In fact, outside of the vendors in hotels and the Hassidic Jews on the street, everybody we have crossed seems to be Palestinian. We’ve had some good conversations with a few of them, and they have continued to thank us that “Australia stands with Palestine.”

Holy of holies

We are visiting the “Holy Land”. It has been overwhelming at times – we’ve done so many things, seen so many places, and hear so many historical facts – it’s really just a case of information overload. But lots of it has felt almost completely underwhelming, and I’ve been a slightly surprised at my inability to connect emotionally with many of the sites.

Dome of the Rock

We first visited the Dome of the Rock, and while I enjoyed the scenery and taking in the history around us, I didn’t really feel anything on the inside – except for maybe the nerves as I expected the Muslims and Jews around us to break into battle (apparently that only happens on TV – everything seemed fine).

Plundering the Egyptians

And then we walked through the Old City and I was a bit entranced by the sparkling jewellery, beautiful patchworks and cheap religious paraphernalia that were for sale – even as we walked the Via Dolorosa (traditionally the route that Jesus took as he walked led to his crucifixion) I could not think of Jesus – but rather was fascinated by the sights of the Orthodox Jews, the beautiful smells of the spices in the market place, and the textures of the fabrics and beads.

Ornate tomb

When we arrived at the Church of the Resurrection (Holy Sepulchre), I was blown away by the cheapness of it all. The Holy Sepulchre is likely to be the site of the resurrection (and the burial of Jesus) – a hugely significant site for Christians and one, that I would have hoped, would move some emotion in me – but it was just so tacky, with plenty of gold and silver on the walls, tacky baubles and pushy, noisy, Eastern European in too-tight dresses. I was angry and frustrated at what was going on around me – it was so, so far removed from Christ Jesus, it was so far removed from any thing He had ever taught, it was so far removed from His plan for His people.

And from there, we went to the Western (Wailing) Wall – the only remaining wall of the ancient, Jewish temple, a site that we know Jesus definitely would have visited, and again I was left…bemused. In the women’s section, there were women weeping as they recited the Psalms, praying to and pleading with God and all I wanted to do was hug them, and comfort them, so that they too would know there is no longer a need for the temple…

It all seemed futile. Not visiting these places – the history here is amazing, and I have loved seeing the ancient stones, the towering mountains and the well endowed museums. It is the “holy places” that I have found futile – they have not connected me to God in any way – they have only placed obstacles in my relating to Him. And I wonder what Jesus would do if He came here – I am reminded of Him overturning tables in the temple courts and that response would be completely appropriate here.

And I am drawn to Him more – His righteousness, His humility and His glory – and I want to proclaim it from the mountaintop. I am blown away by His faithfulness to His Word, to His people, and the overarching story He has written throughout history, revealing Himself to the world.

And so it’s not really futile, is it? It’s been unusually helpful, for which I am so grateful.

On top of the world looking down on creation

Sunday morning, at about 2am, we started the ascend of (what we think is) Mount Sinai. It was a long walk – almost 4 hours to the top (I took a camel a third of the way, ’cause my knee was a bit too sore) – but definitely worth it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had some lovely Bedouin boys guiding us – they couldn’t have been older than 16 or 17 – and they often ran ahead with only thongs on their feet. After 2 1/2 hours of walking we climbed the 750 or so steps (I lost count at 115 or so), and sat together on the crevice watching the sun rise. It was amazing.

Our God is an awesome God.

Beautiful to me

Of course, husbandsiu thinks I’m beautiful – he’s good like that – but as long as we’ve been in Sydney, he has never had any reason to think that other man might find me attractive (at least, men don’t seem to voice that attraction). Unfortunately, in Egypt (and, we’ve discovered, in Israel and Palestine), men seem to think I’m beautiful, and want to let me know.

It’s a little bit awkward – particularly because we have been travelling around in a group of almost 50 – and as a person who is not typically “attractive”, our classmates are noticing – and questioning – the attention I’m getting.

I don’t think husbandsiu noticed until a few others pointed it out to him – since then I have felt his protective hand guiding me through streets and steering me away from leering men.

I’ve been learning to drop in the fact that I’m married, which often ends the amusing but awkward conversations rather suddenly. Today, as we walked through Palestine, a man told me he thought I was beautiful, and would always have a guide in Palestine if I ever visited again. I thanked him, as he walked alongside me and asked if I have facebook. “Yes”, I responded, “I also have a husband”. He turned and looked at the guys around me and said “which one?” When I pointed at husbandsiu, he said “ahhh, he is a very lucky man”.

 

It’s true. He is.

Heritage Listed

We went to the pyramids. It was so exciting seeing them with husbandsiu – every time I see the pyramids I am overcome by a sense of pride that my ancestors created these huge, beautiful structures.

TwoSylvs ThreePyramids

Husbandsiu even got in the spirit of things and wore a man-scarf.

It was sad that we could, so clearly, see the effects of the revolution at a site like the Pyramids. Every other time I’ve visited, it’s been bustling with people, we’ve hardly had room to walk. This time, unfortunately, there were more vendors than tourists, and that seemed to install in them a sense of desperation. We were torn because we wanted to support them but didn’t want to overload our luggage with tacky tourist things.

All in all, we had a great day out in the sun with some good friends, praising God for His creation, and for creating us in His image – as imaginative creators; and praying for the people of Egypt – for peace in the land, for a restoration of the economy and freedom for the people.