You'd think the big red shoes would have given him away...

An employee named Ronald McDonald was charged with stealing from a Wendy's restaurant in New Hampshire.

(Hey, if your parents named you after a clown, you might just turn criminal too!)

What the Bleep Do We Know!?

Looking for something to watch over the Thanksgiving holiday besides football? Check out this movie.

Already seen it? What did you think?

The Dead Sea, Jordan, November 11, 2005

NOTE: This blog appears out of sequence, because of Internet problems. Sherri Wood Emmons is now at home in Indianapolis, and will post a final reflection on her experiences in Jordan in the next day or so.

The Dead Sea, Jordan

Tonight's blog will be short, because our hotel here has only one computer with Internet access, and there's a line of people waiting.

This morning we left Petra to visit the great desert of Wadi Rum. This is where Lawrence of Arabia led the first revolt againt the Ottoman Empire. It's also a drop-dead gorgeous spot. We watched a caravan of camels trek across the red sands and climbed rocky cliffs that jut straight up from the earth.

We left Wadi Rum and visited the port city of Aqaba, where terrorists fired rockets at American ships this past summer, only to kill several Jordanians who were working on the docks. The areas is known as the "Red Sea Riviera," a beautiful place of palm trees and families picnicking by the sea. It's also the only port and ocean access in Jordan, and the place where American warships dock.

"The incident" (as we call it here) of two nights ago has changed this country perceptably. Today, on the 100-kilometer or so drive from the Red Sea through the Jordan Valley to our hotel on the Dead Sea, we passed through no fewer than seven military checkpoints. Our driver's credentials from the Jordanian Board of Tourism, which have whisked us through so many security checks in the last week, were of marginal influence today. Simply checking into the hotel was a time-consuming ordeal involving metal detectors, luggage checks, and a whole lot of waiting.

Althought it's been a bit "inconvenient," I am glad of the security, of the armed guards posted in the hotel drive and the cement barriers that were erected just yesterday in front of the hotel. And I am glad there are so many other people from around the world who are staying here (even though many of them are now waiting for this computer!) .

I'm glad to be here, and I'm glad so many others from so many countries are here. Jordan relies on tourism for its life-blood. If the tourists leave now, this country's economy will be in real trouble.

I ask you again tonight to pray for the people of Jordan, thousands of whom took to the streets today in Ammon to protest the violence that has devastated their city. Please pray that the world community will not turn its attention too quickly from this holy land, and that the city of Amman and the peple of Jordan will feel the same warm embrace of care and concenr from the world that we have felt so deeply in the last few days.

The Dead Sea, Jordan, November 12, 2005

In Islam, the Koran instructs that every Muslim should make pilgrimage to Mecca at least once before they die.

Every Christian should visit this place at least once in their lifetime.

Today, we drove to Bethany Beyond the Jordan. Archaeological and biblical scholars agree that this is where John the Baptist lived and where he baptized Jesus.

Standing directly across the great Jordan Valley from Israel, we could see to the west Jericho and faintly on the hills above the city of Jerusalem. To the east stood Mt. Nebo, where Moses viewed the Promised Land.

Following the wadi (valley) from the mountains to the River Jordan, we saw the waters of the mountain springs, which intersect with the river just a mile or so to the west.

The Jordanian government has taken great care to preserve this place, and to make visiting it both convenient and ecologically sound.

Today, I stood in the Jordan River and received a blessing from Father George, the priest of the Greek Orthodox Church at the site. My godmother was Greek Orthodox, so the significance was holy for me. I stood in the river as Father George poured water over my head and blessed me in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Everett Thomas, editor of The Mennonite, reflected later that this place is the lowest elevation on earth -- several hundred feet below sea level. Yet this is the place where the Holy Trinity manifested to humanity in a way unprecedented and unrepeated in human history. In our darkest places, in the depths of our doubts and sadness, God is with us.

That reflection means so much to me tonight. Just a few days ago, terrorists attacked this holy land. Yet this is the place where God manifested God's self to humankind. In the last few days, our small group of journalists has felt the great weight of human sin, the consequences of humankind's inability to live peacefully together, even in a land such as this.

Today, the waters of the River Jordan poured over me, and over my friends. We were refreshed. We were humbled. We were cleansed anew, to return to our own land and spread as best we can the healing words of the Christ, who traveled in this land and in the land just across the Jordan River. Jesus Christ ministered to the lepers, to the tax-collectors, to the prostitutes ... Jesus Christ ministered to those who were "unclean" in his time.

My prayer for America, for Jordan, for the Middle East, and for the world is that we can remember Christ's message, delivered in a time of occupation, danger, and great uncertainty, and that we will work unceasingly, tirelessly, and bravely to bring about Christ's wishes -- to usher in the Kingdom of Heaven to this hurting, needful world.

Salaam,

Sherri

Petra, Jordan, November 10, 2005

Today, we visited Jordan's most famous attraction -- the Rose City of Petra. In the deep crevaces of the mountains, the ancient Nebateans carved from the rose-colored stones great monuments, tombs, and temples. Walking among them was one of the most awe-inspiring times of my life.

We got a late start, because we had to wait for an official okay from the Jordanian government and the American embassy to leave the hotel. We are under very tight guard now, and there are soldiers everywhere, automatic weapons at the ready. It's a sad, new reality for this small country -- their own 9/11 experience.

We are a subdued group today, not much of the usual teasing and laughter. We spent time talking a lot with Ali, our guide, who asked the question none of us can answer: "What do they want from us?"

No country in all the world has done more to accommodate Palestinian refugees. And in the last two years, countless Iraqi refugees have arrived, and Jordan has welcomed them, too.

What do the terrorists want from Jordan? What do they want from Spain or London or the U.S.? Probably, there are myriad answers to that question, but one thing is certain. They want to create fear and confusion -- the kind currently reigning in Amman. The kind being held at bay with great effort in Petra.

We are here, we are staying. We will finish this time in this holy place. To do otherwise is to let the terrorists win.

I ask your prayers again for the people of Jordan, who have worked so hard to create a safe, peaceful, tolerant country of refuge. Please pray for Hatim, our driver, whose wife and children live so near to the Hyatt that they felt the blast of the bomb. Pray for Amahl, whose family in Aljoun worry now for her safety as she travels with the Americans. And pray for Ali, whose wife spent the entire night last night in tears as she watched over their two young sons, praying for peace in her country and for her husband's safety.

I am grateful for your prayers and emails. And despite the devastation of last night and the tense situation of today, I am so very grateful to be here.

Petra, Jordan, November 9, 2005

Dear ones,

I write this in tears from Petra in Jordan. Today, our little group stood on Mt. Nebo, where Moses saw the Promised Land he was never to enter, and at Herod's Palace, where John the Baptist was killed. I prayed in the Franciscan church on Mt. Nebo, and I lit a candle for my children, for the church, and for this land, which has stood for so many centuries at the crossroads of so many peoples and faiths.

Tonight, terrorists have bombed three hotels in Amman, one of them directly across the street from the place we were staying just last night.

I am crying not for myself. I am safe. We are safe. We are blessed to be among the Jordanian people, who have enveloped us in a loving embrace of care and concern.

I cry for Jordan, this land of peace and promise. And for the sacrilege that has been committed on such sacred soil.

Today, our tour guide talked so proudly about the safety of Jordan. About the way this place has embraced different faiths. This is a Muslim country, but there are thriving communities of Christians here. I have walked the streets of Amman with no head covering, and I have been welcomed. Today, over lunch near Herod's palace, we prayed before our common meal, Christians and Muslims together. We prayed for peace in this holy land, and for understanding.

Tonight, a small band of hateful fanatics has struck a blow against that peace. Tonight, people lost their lives, people were maimed, so many lives will never be the same. Tonight, I think about the young men who stood alert outside our hotel, courteous, friendly, eager to help and to speak English and to share their country and their culture. Tonight, I am so afraid that many of the dead and wounded are young men just like them.

Our driver's family lives just behind the Hyatt in Amman. They are safe, thank God. But they will never be the same.

Tonight, I am grieving the shattering of the peace that has blessed this country. I am grieving the betrayal of Muslim and Christian beliefs in the sanctity of life. I am grieving for our Jordanian driver and tour guide, whose livelihoods and whose hopes have been devastated by these attacks. I am grieving for the wedding party caught in the blasts, thinking about the bride and groom we saw just a few days ago.

I am safe. We are safe. And we are staying in Jordan.

Today in Jordan, it was windy. We joked about the wind blowing -- the wind of change, the wind of the spirit. Tonight, I am desperately afraid that the wind blowing is a storm wind that began in Washington. A wind of desperation and hatred. A wind that has hit the Jordanian capital tonight as a tornado.

Please pray. Pray for Jordan. Pray for Hatim and Ali and Amahl, our friends and guides. Pray for the people in this holy land, and the people in the Middle East.

And pray for America. Pray that we will have the strength and the courage to stand up and say to our government, enough of war. Enough of hate. Our president talks about "taking the fight" to the enemy. But the fight has been brought to Spain, to London, and tonight to Amman. Enough of war.

Pray for peace.

Salaam,

Sherri

Um Qais, Tuesday, November 8, 2005

Today we headed to the far north of Jordan, to Um Qais.

On the way we stopped at the Jabbok River, where the Old Testament says that Jacob, on his return to Canaan to reconcile with his brother Esau, wrestled with the angels of God. The river itself is not much more than a swift-running stream, but in a dry country like Jordan, it’s a blessed, welcome spot of green.

Um Qais is another ancient village with Hellenistic, Roman, and Turkish ruins, these made of the local basalt. The Bible actually records a visit Jesus made to Um Qais, which was called Gadarene in biblical times. This is where the miracle of the Gadarene swine took place. Christ entered the village and encountered several young men possessed of spirits. He drove the evil spirits into the herd of local swine, which promptly ran off the cliffs and destroyed themselves. He was rewarded for his efforts by being run out of town for killing the local livestock.

So while I walked, I was awed by the realization that I was walking the same roads Jesus walked 2000 years ago.

One of the most awe-inspiring aspects of Um Qais is that you can stand in the ruins and look down on the sea of Galilee. You can even see the city of Tiberius, which in Christ's time was the town of Galilee. You can also look directly across the valley at the Golan Heights of Syria. We had coffee at the top of a mountain looking down on Galilee. It was amazing.

After our visit to Um Qais, we drove down into the valley between the Golan Heights and Jordan to visit a very tiny village that sits just a few miles from the border into Golan. We had to pass through military checkpoints to get there; along the roads signs are posted forbidding pictures. We could see Israeli watchtowers and soldiers in jeeps on the hills. Very, very intimidating.

We went to the village with a Roman Catholic fellow who works with the village Benevolent Society on behalf of the Mennonite Central Committee. How's that for ecumenical work? And in the village, we met up with a Habitat for Humanity crew from Denver, Colorado, who had spent the week building a house there. They were putting on the roof when we arrived. There are only 400 houses in the village, and more than 100 of them were built by the Mennonites and Habitat volunteers.

Goats and chickens wandered down the road, and the children of the village crowded around us, clambering to have their pictures taken. I ended up taking a dozen photos of kids, then letting them see themselves on the digital cameral. At one point, I was actually knocked over in their excitement. What fun!

When I say kids, I actually mean little boys. The girls would not be photographed, even the preschoolers. They learn VERY EARLY about Muslim modesty for females.

Then we went to the home of a widow who was the first in the village to receive a Habitat home. We sat on cushions in her sitting room and drank good, strong coffee — the standard Arabic offering, along with tea. She had only three tiny cups, so her brother poured three cups, offered them, we drank; then he re-poured the cups and offered them to the next three. This is the traditional way to share coffee, and a great community-building experience!

The woman of the house was very gracious, and let us tour the house. She even let us meet her daughters — traditionally a no-no in Muslim culture, but she can get away with it because she is a very respected person in her village. One of the daughters — who looked not more than 16 or 17 — was there with her husband and baby. The baby couldn't have been more than about four months old, and she was so incredibly pretty. I tickled her cheeks and she laughed out loud. Afterward, the baby’s mother sidled up beside me, pointed to the infant and then to herself, to let me know she was the baby’s mother. She spoke not a word of English, but she clearly understood when I told her that her child was beautiful. She smiled, nodded, and blushed mightily.

When we left the village, it seemed like every child in the valley was there to wave goodbye to us. I nearly cried.

Finally, we drove back to Amman to the Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature, where we had dinner and heard about Jordan's new eco-tourism industry. It was fascinating and inspiring to learn how the country is trying to use this industry both to protect its natural wonders and to help its people to earn a decent living at the same time.

The Society has enlisted the local communities’ input and help from the start, and is trying to build local economies by engaging their citizens in building and running these new facilities. It also provides outlets for local folks to sell their beautiful handicrafts — silver, stonework, leather goods, spices, and intricately embroidered goods.

Thus far, Jordan has five “natural parks,” each with its own ecosystem and attractions. And while tourism fell off sharply after 9/11, Westerners are finally re-discovering this small country’s many historical, natural, and biblical wonders.

Tomorrow we leave Amman for Petra, the country’s most famous draw. I’m not certain about Internet capability in our hotel there, but if I can, I will keep updating this blog daily.

I am having such an emotional and wonderful time. Jordan is a beautiful country, and I really want to come back someday.

Amman, Monday, November 7, 2005

This morning we visited the Holy Land Institute for the Deaf here in Amman. The place was started and is run by Brother Andrew, an Episcopal priest from Holland who has spent his entire adult life in the Middle East. He is a wonder — a perfect example of the servant minister, lovingly tending to his flock of children, speaking alternately in fluent Arabic and Jordanian signing. He also speaks English and Pakistani, and he has a mischievous wit and an absolutely infectious laugh.

The institute serves Jordan’s poorest population, offering state-of-the-art hearing assessment, hearing aides, and education for infants, children, and adults. The boarding school housed there serves 150 children, from kindergarten through high school. The children learn to sign, to read and write, math, science, and art. They also receive vocational training.

The school also provides translators to universities throughout Jordan, which makes the schools accessible to deaf students.

Several of Brother Andrew’s graduates have gone on to university, and some have returned to teach at the institute.

The grounds were beautiful and cheerful, the children as noisy and full of laughter as children everywhere. We visited a kindergarten class and watched a group of boys and girls learning math and signing, then set the entire class in an uproar when we pulled out our cameras. The kids hammed while we snapped away, then crowded around one of my colleagues — Jim Rice, of Sojourners magazine — to see the photos he had taken of them on his digital camera.

As has happened everywhere we’ve been in Jordan, our hosts pressed us to stay for a meal. But we had to leave much too soon for our next experience — a visit to the Royal Institute for Interfaith Studies and an audience with Prince El Hassan bin Talal, the uncle of Jordan’s King Abdullah.

Prince Hassan is a charming, gracious man, and we had two hours of fascinating discussion with him about how Muslims, Christians, and Jews can work together for peace and the betterment of the Middle East. Really, he is a remarkable man. He’s been everywhere and met everyone from President Carter to President Bush (current) to royalty from everywhere to Audrey Hepburn, but his passion is promoting interfaith dialogue.

Funny, articulate, and vastly knowledgeable, the prince engaged our group in a discussion of the role of the media in promoting such dialogue, then spent time answering our questions and posing for pictures. Later, I promise to write more on the wide-ranging discussion. Tonight, it’s after midnight and I have miles to go before I sleep (figuratively speaking, thankfully).

After our “business” stuff was done, we had lunch in Amman at a restaurant where we sat on low couches around a low table and shared sumptuous fare out of common dishes. Then we toured old Amman — the ancient city of Philadelphia — which looks like it has for centuries. All up the hillsides limestone houses are built one on top of the other, with narrow, winding streets our driver took at what must have been 50 miles an hour, just to hear us wail!

Finally, we visited a huge Roman amphitheater. I climbed to the top and the view was unbelievable. The really remarkable thing was a spot right in the center of the stage hundreds of feet below where you can stand and simply whisper and your voice carries all over the theater. Truly an architectural marvel.

The theater itself is more than 2200 years old, and was updated 1800 years ago. Just unbelievable. Everything here is just so old, with so much history. I stood at the top and imagined what it must have been like to watch the actors down below 2000 years ago.

When I first told people I was coming to Jordan, many of them looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. The Middle East? An Islamic country? Right next door to Iraq … and Syria … and Saudi Arabia … and Israel? Our American perceptions of the Middle East as a monolithic, unyielding, fanatic culture could not be further from the truth. The Hashamite Kingdom of Jordan is the very model of a tolerant, welcoming society. While Muslims constitute the overwhelming majority of the population, the country has a thriving Christian community — much of it far older and far more sophisticated than our Western churches. Everywhere we have been, people have been warm, accepting, and gracious.

I know that after this trip my perceptions will never be the same. I will never be the same.

If you haven’t been to Jordan, it’s someplace you absolutely must visit. For its food, for its hospitality, for its amazing history, and for its significance to three world faiths — including, of course the Christian faith — Jordan is truly a wonder.

Ajloun and Jerash, Sunday, November 2, 2005

Jordan is a virtual treasure trove of historical sites. Today we visited the city of Ajloun, north of Amman. The region is famed for its olive trees, called Roman olives because many of the trees were planted by the Romans almost 2,000 years ago. Awesome.

On a hill high above Ajloun is the castle of Izz ad-Din Usama, a nephew of Saladin the Great, who defeated the European Crusaders in the twelfth century. The fortress dominated a wide stretch of the north Jordan Valley, and much of it remains intact and has been painstakingly restored by the Jordanian government.

It’s a complete medieval Islamic castle, with false balconies for dropping boiling oil on the heads of your enemies and “arrow windows” for firing at the Crusaders below. The castle protected the communication routes between south Jordan and Syria. It was built on top of an even older Byzantine church, which dates to the sixth century. Parts of the floor reveal mosaic tiles from that era. It towers over the surrounding countryside, but used to be much taller even than it is today. On a clear night, you can see the lights of Jerusalem from the top towers.

The castle houses a small museum, with artifacts dating from the Iron age through the Byzantine era.

In the city of Ajloun, we visited the home of one of our tour guides, a delightful young woman named Amahl. Amahl is half-German, half-Jordanian, but she lives in the U.S. now and works for the Jordanian Board of Tourism. Her father and aunt greeted us and served tea, fruits, and sweets. They are Greek Orthodox Christians and their hospitality was a sight to behold

Amahl’s family owns the entire hill on which their house stands. Everyone on the hill is a relative. They have vineyards and orchards and olive trees. It’s a beautiful place, with narrow, winding streets climbing steep hills and valleys.

Next we drove to the ancient city of Jerash, where we bought good Jordanian coffee so thick and strong you could use it for wallpaper paste. We sipped the hot, delicious brew while we wandered the largest city built by the Romans outside of Rome itself.

Built on the site of an even older Greek city, Jerash was one of the ten cities in Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon that made up the Decapolis under Roman rule. The walled city is huge, encompassing temples to Zeus and Artemus, an oval plaza, ancient fountains, a hippodrome for horse and chariot races, a huge amphitheater, and long, strait stone roads lined with Ionic and Corinthian columns. One can still see the tread marks left in the roads by chariots from the first and second centuries.

In the Byzantine period, the temples were made into Christian churches, with fine frescoes and tile work. Above one is an inscription in Arabic that reads (very roughly translated): “Here you used to enter with your nose closed; now you enter with your ears open.” Closed noses refers, of course, to the stench of sacrificed animals one had to endure upon entering the temple during Roman times. Open ears … well, you get the reference.

The Emperor Hadrian paid a personal visit to Jerash in 129 AD. At the south entrance to the city stands the great Hadrian’s Arch, built to celebrate his arrival.

While we walked the ancient streets of the city, the mosques in the surrounding neighborhoods began broadcasting the Muslim call to prayer. I stood stock-still and simply let the experience wash over me, moved nearly to tears. It’s humbling to be in a place where people stop five times a day, each and every day, to remember God with prayers.

Our dinner this evening was at the exquisite Kan Zeman Restaurant. The names means “once upon a time,” and the place lives up to the name. It’s an ancient caravan stop, lovingly renovated into a complex of artisan workshops, craft and antique stores, and an extremely good, traditional Jordanian buffet. The restaurant itself is housed in what once was the stables of the caravan stop, with high stone ceilings and smooth stone floors. The food was amazing, the hospitality more so.

I found myself transfixed time and again today by the beauty of this ancient place and the mystery, the holiness of it all. I am very grateful to be here.

Amman, Jordan, Saturday, Nov. 5, 2005

It’s a long flight from New York to Amman, across the Atlantic Ocean, then down over Europe and the Mediterranean. Israel looks brown and wrinkled from 45,000 feet up — it’s hard to believe such a small, barren-looking strip of land has been at the heart of so much conflict and misery for so many centuries.

Our tour guide’s father was a Palestinian. At eight, he escaped on a bus as the Israelis razed his village. He never got to return to Israel before he died five years ago. Nearly 50 percent of the Jordanian population is Palestinian. Some still live in refugee camps along the border, but most have assimilated into the Jordanian culture. Still, they proudly identify themselves as Palestinians.

We got into Amman at 5 p.m. local time — that’s 10 a.m. Indianapolis time. Sleeping on an airplane isn’t easy, and I’m feeling the effects today. They tell on me in how painfully aware I am of how much I stand out in this Arabic country where 96 percent of the population is Muslim. Most of the women are covered from head to toe, in varying stages of black. Still, the people here have welcomed our group of American Christian journalists with open arms.

Amman is a big city — and the traffic makes LA look tame. Jordanian cars all come equipped with loud horns, it seems, and the drivers make ample use of them on a continuous basis.

Driving from the airport, we passed countryside that looked a lot like Southern California — brown and dry, with scrub brush and the occasional palm tree. Amman itself is a curious mix of fruit and vegetable stands and fast food restaurants, traditional white stone-block homes and modern office buildings. One sees mosques with the same regularity as one would Baptist churches in South Carolina.

Tonight at the hotel, a wedding party arrived, the bride looking shy and very beautiful in her flowing, white gown, her veil thrown back from her face. The men in the party sang and clapped around them. Our tour guide translated the song for us — the men were gladly and loudly exhorting the bridegroom to be “strong” tonight and make good sons.

I’m jet-lagged and feeling some culture-shock, but I’m awed to be in a land that holds such a claim on our religious history. Jordan is the land of the Ammorites, the plains of Moab. It’s where Moses got his only look at the Promised Land, where Jacob wrestled with the angels and Elijah ascended to heaven. It’s where John the Baptist lived and was murdered by Heron, and where he baptized Jesus the Christ.

In the next week, our little group will visit some of those places, along with Greek, Roman, Arabic, and Byzantine ruins. We will climb the towers of Petra, wade in the Jordan River, and float in the Dead Sea. And maybe, if we’re lucky — or maybe if we’re ready — we’ll feel the Holy Spirit move among us in this place where cultures, religions, and peoples have collided and coexisted for millenia.

Tomorrow is the big day

Tomorrow morning, I will fly out of Indianapolis at 6 a.m., arriving in New York via Washington DC at 9:30. I'll spend the day in New York City with a friend from college, then back to JFK for an 11 p.m. nonstop flight to Amman.

I am excited and nervous -- honestly, a little bit scared. I don't fly well or easily. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I am tremendously glad of it.

I will be in Amman, Jordan, Saturday night through Wednesday morning. Then in Petra, the Rose City, Wednesday and Thursday nights, and the Dead Sea Friday and Saturday nights. Then back to Amman and New York and Washington and home.

I appreciate your prayers and good wishes. I'll try to give you all a good taste of what I'm seeing, hearing, and feeling.

Salaam!

Sherri

Salon.com Books | Interview with ... Jesus?

The hype for Anne Rice's new book Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt on the early life of Jesus Christ began months ago. Rice, well known for Interview with the Vampire and other chronicles of the undead, returned to Roman Catholicism in 1998 and decided to take on the ambitious project of penning a fictional novel or series of novels about Jesus.

Now, with the book out, the reviews are coming in. Salon's Laura Miller thought it was surprisingly good, given Rice's departure from her usual subject matter (and some other criticisms Miller offered on the latter Vampire Chronicles). [note: registration required to read Miller's review].

I think this is going to be one of those books, like the DaVinci Code, that folks either love or hate, and again (like DaVinci), it will raise interest in (and questions about) biblical scholarship.

Do you plan on reading it?

Trick or tract

Hey kids, why waste your money on costumes and haunted houses when your very own neighbors are will to literally scare the hell out of you with Bible tracts like this one! "Here Billy, have a candy bar and a little reading material to let you know you're doomed!"