It is fall, and around here that means the olive harvest. And, this past weekend we had the honor of harvesting olives on the Mount of Olives. The
Lutheran World Federation has over 800 olive trees on its compound atop the Mount of Olives. The 40 of us that gathered for the day of harvesting removed olives from the trees with the use of an orange, plastic hand rake, not unlike something one might see a child using in the sandbox, or at the beach. The little rakes are pulled through the branches like a comb through knotted hair. The olives that are pulled from the branches fall onto the large tarps laid below with a sound (and feel, for those unfortunate enough to be working below) of a hail storm. It was fun, the community of friends and neighbors with whom we shared this experience included American, Canadian, Palestinian, Israeli, Norwegian, Danish, Scottish, Irish, English, German, and Dutch from ages 15 months to... well, a respectable retirement age. Over the course of the day we de-olived 39 trees, filling 17 very large burlap sacks of olives. In case you weren't sure – that is a lot of olives and a lot of olive juice!
Of course, “olive juice” is much more than the delicious oil we dip our bread into at the 'Macaroni Grill'. The ancient biblical texts prove that there is a long history of using olive oil in ritual practices be it in the temple or for for the anointing of kings and prophets (even today, we anoint people with oil at baptism). Olive oil is also
good for us. Today, we know that olive oil helps to control LDL ("bad") cholesterol while raising HDL ("good") cholesterol and that it has high levels of antioxidants. But, much before science had to 'prove' things to us, people used olive oil for its healing properties. And, again, the Bible shows us this. For example,
Isaiah 1:6, in describing various states of unhealthiness, describes “..and open sores, not cleansed or bandaged or soothed with oil." And, who hasn't silently mouthed 'olive juice' to someone, hoping (even if jokingly) that they would misinterpret the words as “I love you.”
Do you recall the parable Jesus tells about the man on the road to Jericho (
Luke 10:25-37)? You might know it better as the story of the good Samaritan. The man is on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho when he is beaten nearly to death, stripped of his clothes and left to die. Two very religious men notice the man but avoid him and walk on past. The third man, a Samaritan, stops and takes great care of the beaten man. As John notes: "Jews do not associate with Samaritans"(
John 4:9b); so, this act is significant. The Samaritan gives him clothing, an animal to ride, and even brings him to an inn and pays for his continued recovery there. But before taking him to the inn, this most unlikely of saviors bandages him, pouring soothing oil on his wounds.
The question which initiates Jesus to tell this parable is a simple one: the Torah tells us to love our neighbor as ourselves (
Leviticus 19:18); but, who is our neighbor? The Bible is pretty clear on this point, that we are commanded not to help only those close to us, but even our enemies (
Exodus 23:4-5,
Proverbs 24:17, and again, quite bluntly, from
Luke). Our neighbors may be near to us, or very distant; they could be our best friends, or our obvious foes; but, more often than not, our neighbors are people we have never met. There are many wounds that need soothing in this world. Some wounds are bodily, though many are emotional, and yet other wounds are the symptoms of conflict: anger, hatred or, as in the the parable, the inability to recognize humanity in the “other.” The parable suggests that one of the worst things we can do is ignore the suffering of anyone - everyone who suffers is our neighbor.
"Human suffering anywhere concerns men and women everywhere."
– Elie Wiesel (
Night)
Being here in the Holy Land it seems like it would be impossible to ignore some of the suffering that happens around us. Yet, the polarization and intentional separation (both physical and social) between 'neighbors' here is astonishing. The rifts are deep (though not ancient, as often assumed). This social dichotomy makes it obvious that any peace program that fails to include reconciliation will certainly be unsuccessful. However, as Elie Wiesel acknowledges, the suffering here is not only a local problem. We are all neighbors to the people of the Holy Land. And, as people of social justice, as people of human rights, or, simply, as people of faith we are called not only to recognize suffering, but also to show compassion, to love and to do what we can to soothe the wounds of our neighbors.
The olives we harvested this week were pressed for oil at the winery mention in our earlier
post. The oil was brought back to the LWF compound where it will be packaged along with locally made, hand-crafted glass
bottles and shipped around the world to churches and individuals that have requested a box (or many boxes!) by providing a donation to the LWF. These individual bottles of olive oil from the Mount of Olives can then be sold (often through youth groups, Circles, or mission teams) in the local congregations. The donations received through this project are directed to the Augusta Victoria Hospital's fund for the poor, which enables the
hospital to give treatment to those that may otherwise receive no relief from their ailments.
From the LWF property, on top of the Mount of Olives, we can look to one side and see the ancient city of Jerusalem; to the other side we can look out over the Judean desert towards Jericho. Here on this spot, standing on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, is a hospital serving an often voiceless population. Through the donations received, the oil pressed from the olives we harvested will help - in some small way - to soothe the wounds of a neighbor whom we will never know. Thus, through the picking of olives (or, buying the oil of those olives), we are each enabled to recognize a suffering neighbor whom we can imagine being soothed as we silently mouth the words: “
olive juice.”
