Chasing the Divine in the Holy Land Read Online Free

Brian, and as the cameramen hang a boom microphone over the other end, I feel a gush of relief.
    â€œTell us your name,” Brian says, “and a little about your church.”
    The youngest woman seems unfazed by the cameras, which astounds me. Her name is Jessica, and she’s on the staff of a nondenominational church in Washington, D.C. She speaks with such passion that her slightly frizzy hair seems almost electric. Iwonder how many years it’s been since I conveyed that kind of energy about ministry. I smooth my hair.
    Next is another young woman, and she turns out to be a Presbyterian clergywoman like me. Her name is Ashley, and she speaks with the vivacity of a candidate for student body president. She’s married, with one small child. Even before she pulls out the photo, she has my vote for pilgrimage sweetheart.
    Someone comes in with pizza boxes, and behind him is the elusive last pilgrim, an African-American man. We pause filming while we help ourselves to slices of New York pizza on cheap paper plates. It’s not the meal I’d envisioned, yet it does relax the atmosphere. When we resume introductions, we begin with the middle-aged man whom Brian greeted so warmly.
    â€œMy name is Michael Ide,” he says.
    It’s an unusual last name, the same as Brian’s, and I think, Wow, what are the chances?
    He continues, “I’m a Lutheran pastor from Kansas, married, and have three grown sons — ”
    Brian interrupts: “Which one is your favorite?”
    Everyone laughs, and I laugh especially hard, the way you do when you’re the last one to get the joke.
    We move through the next two introductions. JoAnne is an Episcopalian priest from California who appears to be about my age and is quite down-to-earth. She’s followed by the late-arriving black man, who says, “My name is Shane, but I go by ActsNine on stage.” I wonder what that means, but he’s in a hurry to make something else clear. “I’ve never been to seminary,” he says, cutting his eyes at each of us. “I was converted in prison, and now I do prison ministry.” The cameras pan for our reaction. We all wait attentively. I watch Shane’s handsome, guarded face and wonder if we’ll become close.
    The strawberry-blond man introduces himself with a Southern drawl as Charlie. He’s attending a Baptist seminary and talks enthusiastically about the large church in South Carolina where he’s an intern. The camera then turns to me. Going last hasn’t settled my nerves after all. I tell them my name and where I’mfrom. I explain about my church, that it’s tiny and that I’m the solo pastor, half-time. I say the church is healthy — and wonder what that will mean to them.
    Last, Brian introduces the two cameramen. They attend the same Episcopal church in Los Angeles that Brian does. I have to focus hard to remember even their names: Michael and John. That makes two Michaels in our group of ten, so one, in my mind, becomes “Camera Michael.”

    The next morning’s itinerary says we’ll fly to Tel Aviv by way of London, after some sort of blessing service. Standing in Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, Brian explains that he’d like each of us to lead a brief worship service sometime during the trip, as a way of sharing our faith traditions. He wants us to discuss our differences so we can overcome them. He’s all about the ecumenical angle.
    â€œMy dad will lead this first service,” Brian informs us. “There’s an order for prayer, and he’s going to pick a Psalm.”
    Charlie the Baptist asks, “Are we gonna really pray, or use this cheat-book?” He pulls a Book of Divine Worship from a pew rack and brandishes it.
    Michael cracks up. He and Charlie were roommates last night and apparently hit it off.
    The cameramen need to set up, so I wander away. I’d like to pretend the cameras don’t