Standing in front of a Canaanite-era mud brick gate that Abraham probably walked through, our class was listening with more or less focused attention to our professor: "...and you can see the etchings over the archway that were preserved by the--"
"I CAUGHT HIM!!!!! I CAUGHT HIM!!!!!!" Canaanites were no longer important as the instance focus of everyone's attention became Jeff Smith, running toward us with his most recent herpatological victory: a full-sized, terrified, beautiful chameleon. Jeff has been looking for a chameleon all summer, never found one in Jordan, and now, finally, our second day in Israel, he had one in his hands.
He gradually calmed down (the chameleon, that is, not Jeff) as he realized we weren't out to hurt him, and everyone crowded in wanting to get their picture taken with the special guest star.
I'm not saying that 3200-year-old Canaanite ruins aren't important to college students; merely that some things are more important.
Monday, August 17, 2009
The Mormon University
Having played at the Church of the Anunciation in Nazareth last week, my fingers have been twitching for action on a pipe organ. Once we got to Jerusalem, the Church of the Redeemer in the center of the Old City seemed like a likely candidate.
The doorkeeper at the church told me to ask in the office. The lady in the office looked at me and asked, in her most unimpressable voice, "Are you a professional organist?"
"No, definitely not a professional. I'm just an amateur, one that loves the organ."
"What are your qualifications?"
Racking my brain for the best way to impress her, I said that I've played the organ for five years, and that I volunteer as an organist for my Church in the US. 11:00 tomorrow AM. I can't wait.
She continued staring me down, face unchanged, obviously not convinced that five years of volunteering at an unnamed church merited any opportunity to play the beautiful organ in a massive Lutheran church.
Then I remembered an important detail that I had almost forgotten: "I've played the organ at the Mormon University several times."
"Really? Under whose direction? Bob Galbraith? In that case, the church opens at 9:00 tomorrow morning. Come on over."
Those Mormons and the Mormon University on Mount Scopus are better-known than I thought.
The doorkeeper at the church told me to ask in the office. The lady in the office looked at me and asked, in her most unimpressable voice, "Are you a professional organist?"
"No, definitely not a professional. I'm just an amateur, one that loves the organ."
"What are your qualifications?"
Racking my brain for the best way to impress her, I said that I've played the organ for five years, and that I volunteer as an organist for my Church in the US. 11:00 tomorrow AM. I can't wait.
She continued staring me down, face unchanged, obviously not convinced that five years of volunteering at an unnamed church merited any opportunity to play the beautiful organ in a massive Lutheran church.
Then I remembered an important detail that I had almost forgotten: "I've played the organ at the Mormon University several times."
"Really? Under whose direction? Bob Galbraith? In that case, the church opens at 9:00 tomorrow morning. Come on over."
Those Mormons and the Mormon University on Mount Scopus are better-known than I thought.
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