Standing with Friends in Synagogue

Today, I wish to stand with my Jewish friends in the wake of the anti-Semitic violence last week in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania when a gunman killed eleven worshipers at the Tree of Life Synagogue. Beit Knesset is the Hebrew term for synagogue. It literally means “house of assembly.” It is the focal point of Jewish communal life, a place for prayer, for study and connection. While the synagogue, Beit Knesset, is a sacred place, it is even more sacred when people assemble together in that place.

The Great Synagogue of Florence or Tempio Maggiore Israelitico di Firenze (Getty Images)

In thinking of the recent tragedy of men and women being gunned down at a house of worship, my mind also went back to a moment of inspiration when I stood in The Great Synagogue in Florence. It was a day when my appreciation for my Jewish friends was heightened all the more.

It happened many years ago when I had completed a teaching position overseas and was touring Europe on my way back home. With a Eurail pass and a Europe on $25 a Day guidebook, I saw some of Europe’s major cities by train. Three wonderful days were spent in Florence, Italy. It is an amazing city, beautifully set on the Arno River and full of art and history. I was in awe as I stood with my hand on the iron gates designed and built by Michelangelo himself!

Interior view of the Great Synagogue 

One surprise that awaited me was The Great Synagogue of Florence (Tempio Maggiore Israelitico di Firenze in Italian). I had not been a student of Italian history, so I had no idea of the existence of this remarkable structure until I visited it on one of my walks through the city. I was one of my favorite encounters in my self-styled European tour.

The synagogue was built between 1874 and 1882 as a symbol of the new freedom that the Jewish community was feeling after being granted emancipation by the Grand Duchy of Tuscany in 1848. One can only imagine the joy and exhilaration the Jewish community must have felt in being allowed to fully participate in society and finally being given the freedom to bring their heritage to full flower.

(The Great Synagogue has Moorish architecture inspired by the

Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. Here is an interior view of the dome.)

When I stood in that sacred space, I was energized and awe-struck by the beauty and symmetry of that domed structure whose architecture was inspired by the Hagia Sophia in the old city of Constantinople. I took joy in the notion that this community, 100 years earlier, had found the freedom to dwell and to flourish. Even so, I had to recall that there would be darker days ahead for European Jews. Christian antisemitism would continue until faced with the horrors of Nazi Germany. A fresh wind then blew through the open windows of Vatican II in 1962 when the Catholic Church declared that our Jewish friends are indeed fellow pilgrims along the way. It was the herald of a new day, but when will we come to a full realization of that day?

It has been my privilege at various times over the years to stand with friends in synagogues for special events and bar mitzvahs. Today, I wish to stand again with my Jewish friends. I stand just as proudly as I stood so many years ago in the Great Synagogue in Florence. I also weep just as surely as if my own people were cut down.

America should be the place where all are welcome and where no one is excluded – no race, gender, class, or religion should be denied. All people of faith should be able to worship unhindered, certainly no group should be targeted or discriminated against. This is the ideal we stand for. We are not there yet, which is why we must call it out whenever we see violence or discrimination against another. 

We can stand together to make every Beit Knesset, every church, every temple, every mosque, a sacred place. 

For a remembrance of the eleven victims of the massacre at the Tree of Life Synagogue, go here.

To hear Rabbi Jeffry Meyers at the prayer vigil go here.

_______________________

Photo of The Great Synagogue by Ruy Barbosa Pinto (Getty Images).
Interior photos courtesy of Wikipedia.



-

A Visit to Assisi

Assisi's Basilica di San Francesco

Here is another re-post from a few years back. It includes my travel notes from 35 years ago. It was first posted under the title, My Journey to Assisi.

Today, October 4, is the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi. In 1983 I was able to tour through Europe with a backpack and a Eurail pass. I was single, on my way home after living abroad in Hong Kong for two years, and traveling light. I was able to spend four weeks riding the rails seeing the sights of Europe.  I loved touring London, walking the streets of Paris and seeing the magnificent art and sculpture of Florence (and the beautiful river that flowed through the town). Venice, Copenhagen, and Amsterdam were equally amazing, but the place I was most eager to see was Assisi, having been fascinated by the life of St. Francis and inspired by his example.

In my travel journal that I kept at the time, I remarked about seeing the cathedrals (Westminster Cathedral in London, the Notre Dame and Sacre Cour in Paris, the Sistine Chapel in Rome) and seeing the hectic tourists, the gawking at the architecture, the peddlers spreading their wares along the sidewalks. I commented that “I couldn’t help noticing the incongruence between what these churches had once represented and what is now taking place at those sites.” Even though I expected much the same in Assisi, I was determined that my visit there would be a personal pilgrimage. What I found in Assisi was something altogether different.

Here is what I wrote in my journal in 1983:

What I found in Assisi was not at all what I had expected, I was overwhelmed by the impact that St. Francis’ life still has upon the town. I found there a living community of faith such as I had rarely seen before. Yes, there were many tourist shops lining the streets, but there was something beyond the tourism.

My experience began as I arrived in town about noonday and found lodging in the Monastero Santa Colette . I immediately felt a oneness of spirit with the gracious nuns who lived there and who served as hostesses for travelers. That afternoon, I walked about the town, perhaps one of the most aesthetically beautiful towns I have ever seen. Every building is made out of the same type of pinkish, whitish stone, every street is cobblestone, and the village is set upon a mountainside overlooking the magnificent Umbrian Valley with all its farms and trees.

I had decided I would not go to see St. Francis’ Basilica on that first day, though. It was too important a visit to rush in to.  After dinner as night was falling, I did go to the foot of the hill where the Basilica is. I sat until darkness set in, looking at the lighted church, contemplating the visit I would make the next day.  The following morning after breakfast, I set off for the Basilica.

There is a Lower Basilica and Upper Basilica painted with marvelous frescoes of the life of Christ and the life of St. Francis (the scenes from the life of Christ are in the Upper Church and those from the life of St. Francis are in the Lower). There is also the tomb of St. Francis at the bottom of the Basilica where Mass is observed daily. I mainly wanted to go to the building to worship and to think about St. Francis’ example and how it should affect my own life.

I was hoping it would be a spiritual experience, and it was – far greater than I had imagined. First of all, it was a powerful experience to worship on that place. Second, I was struck by two things: 1) Of all the people coming into the Basilica, it seemed that everyone was coming to worship. There was a profound sense of reverence and nothing of the tourist atmosphere. 2) There were a surprising number of young people.

The fact that everyone entered the building with reverence made it so much easier to maintain a spirit of worship. When I went up to the Upper Church, I happened upon an American friar who was showing an English-speaking group around.  I joined in with the group. That friar was such a down-to-earth fellow, and at the same time he was sharing his own real faith. He was not speaking to us of what was, but of what is. After he was through showing us around he said, “Whenever I talk to young folks like yourselves, I sense that they feel an uneasiness about their future and about their children’s future, so let’s pause and have a period of silent prayer for peace in our world.” Afterwards he spoke to us St. Francis’ favorite blessing:

                        The Lord bless you, and keep you;
                        The Lord make His face shine on you,
                        And be gracious to you;
                        The Lord lift up His countenance upon you,
                        And give you peace.

Then he said, “If you want to go by the gift shop you can find it later – I don’t take people to shops, folks” (a man after my own heart!).

As I walked out of the Upper Basilica near the front there was restoration work being done on some of the frescoes. There was scaffolding of four or five tiers lined with college-age kids and young adults working with palates, working on the frescoes. I was moved to tears just by the sight of it and all that it represented – that the younger generation is taking care to see that this place is kept new, and its memories kept fresh.

Detail from Giotto’s painting, “ St Francis Preaching to Birds”

*   *   *

Related posts:
St. Francis of Assisi: He’s Not Just for Birdbaths
St. Francis of Assisi: A Photo Essay

-

From My Hong Kong Scrapbook

With the season of the Chinese Moon Festival this year, I found myself feeling nostalgic about my days in Hong Kong when I was teaching English at Hong Kong Baptist College from 1981 to 1983. I decided to re-post a couple of former entries along with some added photos to create a kind of scrapbook entry for today's feature.

Here I am in Hong Kong in 1982, on a walkway overlooking the harbor.
(The photo was taken by Sharon Caulfield who was visiting from South Korea)

A view of Hong Kong Baptist College 

(now Hong Kong Baptist University)

(Photo from the Hong Kong?Macau Baptist Mission)

Hong Kong Memories

The name "Hong Kong," translated from the Cantonese, Heung Gong, means "fragrant harbor." We expatriates who lived there found that to be a bit amusing. There were definitely many aromas, especially in Kowloon City where I lived, but that combination of automobile exhaust, yesterday's garbage, restaurant cooking, and open markets was not what we typically referred to as "fragrant." I am assuming that in the old days before it was so populated, local vegetation along with natural beauty gave rise to the name.

Hong Kong was indeed a fascinating and diverse place to live. It had a long history of taking in refugees. Many had flooded in from mainland China in the wake of political turmoil. In the 1980s, there was a large refugee camp in Kowloon for Vietnamese refugees awaiting resettlement in various countries. In addition to the majority Cantonese (southern China) population, there were also other Chinese groups such as Hakka, Swatow, and Szechuan as well as a large community of "boat people" whose homes were in boats on the harbor, and whose families had traditionally earned a living by fishing. 

At the time I was there, Hong Kong was still a British Crown Colony, so there were many British expatriates there as well as other European business people. Being such a vital place for business, there were also Japanese, Koreans, Indonesians, people from India as well as Americans there involved in various business ventures. There were also significant Filipino and Southeast Asian populations living there. I saw an amazing hodge podge of old tradition and new industry; Asian culture with European and American influences.

One of the less affluent neighborhoods on Hong Kong Island










Various street scenes in Hong Kong in the Kowloon region:

Immanuel Baptist Church

On Sundays, I led and English language Sunday School class for young adult members who wanted to practice their English (speaking English was a skill that many Chinese wanted to improve). I was the only westerner in the congregation. The pastor had been raised in mainland China and spoke Mandarin, so he would use a  Cantonese interpreter when he preached. There was always one Sunday a month when he would deliver his sermon in Cantonese (some of the members told me that they understood his Mandarin better than his Cantonese).

This section of photos is from pictures taken by church members.

The English Language Sunday School class 

 The Sunday School class at our church picnic

Here's the group shot of the whole Immanuel Baptist congregation (that is, those who came to the picnic) I'm in the back - the one wearing a cap

 

A Trip to the Guangdong Province

Early in my sojourn in Hong Kong, I was fortunate to take a trip into China to the Guandong Province (formerly known in the West as Canton Province). It was in the early days of China's opening up to tourist travel, and the trip was organized by my Cantonese language instructor, Dr. Jachin Chan.


The following pictures were taken on an old farming commune in the Guangdong Province. I don't know if anything like this exists anymore.

Men walking with water buffaloes, common beasts of burden on farms throughout Asia. They are fairly docile creatures and well-suited for working the wet rice patties.

A man with a water buffalo working the rice fields

A large flock of Peking Ducks on the farm commune

 

Old Canton

Guangdong, known to westerners in the past as Canton, is the major city in the Guangdong Province. As we crossed the river into the city, we saw many traditional boats on the water, with newer modern buildings in the background, some of them still under construction in 1982.

There were many two-wheeled carts, and many,many bicycles in those days. The woman in traditional garb pulling her cart is one of my favorites.

There were were open air markets out in the streets, including a vendor selling fresh meat.

We saw many old brick buildings. There was a plaza in the middle of town that was more open and spacious while most of the streets were quite narrow.

In the New Territories

When I lived in Hong Kong, I was in Kowloon, which is actually on the mainland across from Hong Kong Island, but part of what was then known as the Crown Colony of Hong Kong. North of Kowloon, was the New Territories (so named in the treaty in 1898 with China that leased the New Territories to The United Kingdom for 99 years in an extension of the Hong Kong Territory). In 1997, the entire colony, Hong Kong Island, Kowloon Peninsula, and the New Territories, was ceded back to China.

Lion Rock (photo courtesy of Wikipedia)

The New Territories were less populated that Hong Kong Island or the Kowloon Peninsula. There was farmland and countryside that was a refreshing sight to those of us living in the crowded city.

Whether traveling to the New Territories by highway or by railway, Lion Rock was a natural landmark that one noted on the way

Rice patties in the New Territories

At the Temple of 10,000 Buddhas)

Tao Fong Shan’s Lutheran chapel 

(photo by David Van Tassel)

The Temple of 10,000 Buddhas is a fascinating place to visit in the New Territories.













One of my favorite spots to visit was in the Sha Tin region of the New Territories was Tao Fong Shan. It is a Christian Center that was founded by a Lutheran missionary who adopted Chinese customs and established the center along the line of a traditional Chinese temple. In the days before the border was closed by the communist regime, Buddhist monks would make pilgrimages to the center for time of prayer, meditation, and interfaith dialogue.

The center is known for its making of fine china depicting scenes from the life of Christ in Chinese style paintings.

*    *    * 

Crossing the Harbor

The Star Ferry chugs across the harbor

One of my favorite things to do while living in Hong Kong (from 1981 to 1983) was to ride the Star Ferry. For the equivalent of about 20 cents I could take the ferry from the Kowloon Peninsula where I lived over to Hong Kong island. The subway train which ran through a tunnel under the harbor was much faster (and cleaner), but I loved taking the time to ride the waters and watch the crowds coming and going, trying to get a flavor of the culture.

Crossing the Harbor

When crossing the harbor at night,

Or on a cloudy, windy day,

My thoughts are carried swiftly away

To a realm potent with yesterdays and tomorrows.

As I ride the waters

My spirit soars;

Exchanging thought for dream,

And dream for destiny.

I think of how it would be

If you were on the other side –

A warm heart and receptive ear

Taking joy in sharing both the petty and the profound.

Knowing that you will not be there,

I realize that I've yet other harbors to cross.

My spirit shall continue its flight,

And I shall continue my wanderings.

           CLK                                                       10/81

Leaving Hong Kong

Before I left Hong Kong, I wrote a poem for one of my Chinese friends who was a school teacher. She herself was about to embark upon a journey to England for further study. In the poem, I tried to express my sentiments about the place I was leaving behind.

  

Fragrant Harbor

A fragrance to heaven goes up each day

            as incense burns in temples.

A fragrance to world endures in time

with the gathering of spirited and lively people.

A fragrance to business and trade is sure,

            and it disperses throughout the land.

A fragrance to the East,

A fragrance to the West;

A fragrance to all who have come.

How many have sensed the sweetness of this place,

For whatever reason they journey –

To escape, to be caught;

To be lost, to be found.

The motives are many, the result is one.

I number among those

Who have caught the scent

Of this busy, crowded, unique place.

And something in me shall hope to smell again

The fragrance of these shores.

Charles Kinnaird                               6/83         

(Photo by Sharon Caulfield)

          

_____________________

*All Photos by Charles Kinnaird except where otherwise noted.



-

Life's Travels

A Pilgrim's Way

I have a tenuous grasp upon the world.

Reality moves like a flowing stream,

And if I cling too tightly to things

I might be hindered or swept aside.

I have a tenuous claim to the mountain side,

For the Dragon moves like a flowing stream.

I may fight him and be overcome,

Or ride his back from the  heavens to the sea.

I have a tenuous hold upon life,

For God moves like a flowing stream.

I can only do what I know for today

And be ready to travel tomorrow.

*

Outer Travels, Inner Changes

"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it solely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."
~ Samuel Clemens

I grew up under an apartheid system in the Deep South and came of age in the wake of the civil rights movement. I was 15 years old when our schools finally integrated. It was also at that time when as an adolescent I made an adult commitment to the Christian faith that was nurtured in me as a child. I came to see that a tearing down of my own prejudices was a part of my spiritual growth. Such a tearing down required many outer conversations and much interior work – and it certainly did not occur overnight. To this day, I have to deal with an automatic inner prejudicial response that is not programmed in my own daughter’s psyche because she did not grow up under a system of widespread apartheid consciousness. All of this is to say that prejudice is not easily overcome and it is not a once-and-for-all occurrence.

Fast forward ten years or so: I was in my late twenties when I took a job teaching English at Hong Kong Baptist College as a Baptist missionary. I had just spent three years in California studying in seminary. The traveling from Alabama to California to live in a culture different from my own was perhaps more educational than my academic studies. Living in Hong Kong, I was in yet another cultural environment in the Far East. It was a culture that I could easily love, with its blend of Chinese culture, urban living, and remnants of British Empire. While I was in Hong Kong reflecting on my own inner prejudices and noting my changes in attitude, I became aware that I was carrying a deep-seated prejudice toward Arab people. I had never known anyone of Arab descent. I suppose the stories I had heard of the Muslim world (from people who had never been there) had fed my attitudes.

Because of my own history of dealing with ingrained prejudices against African Americans, I knew that the attitudes I carried toward the Arab world were another hurdle to overcome. During my first summer overseas, in between school terms, I decided to do more traveling. I flew to Bangkok, Thailand, did some sight-seeing and then took the train from Bangkok through Malaysia to Singapore. While in Kuala Lumpur, Maylasia, I heard my first call to prayer from the Islamic minarets in that city. I knew that when I arrived in Singapore, I would be able to see Arab culture first-hand.

Singapore is a remarkable island/city/state, clean and well-ordered, where a large population of Malay, Chinese, Hindus, and Arabs manage to dwell peaceably together. I had been living among Chinese people in Hong Kong, so I made it a point while in Singapore to visit the Hindu and Arab sections of the island. I wanted to witness each of those worlds while given the remarkable opportunity to go from one world to the other by taking a simple bus ride from one part of the city to the next. In each place, I was able to sit in the marketplace, eat their respective native cuisines, and visit both Hindu and Muslim houses of worship. I was able to experience some of what Mark Twain referred to when he said prejudice and bigotry cannot survive the effects of travel. In my own case, however, I think that inner preparation beforehand helped me to achieve a greater openness once I arrived.

That trip to Singapore was really my first step in actively seeking some understanding of Islamic culture. In my next post I will talk about my visit this week at a local mosque for a Ramadan iftar (breaking of the fast) and evening prayer.









[All photos for this post were taken by me during my trip to Singapore in 1982. Pictured here, clockwise from the left: a Hindu temple, a marketplace in downtown Singapore, a mosque in the Arab section, and a view of chinatown. Up at the top: the panoramic view is one that I shot while hanging over a balcony and living to tell about it; the other shot is the famous Singapore merlion.]



*