Billy Amoss
April 20, 2025
Dayspring
- Easter In Jerusalem
Three weeks ago I finally, reluctantly, cancelled my trip to be in Jerusalem today, Easter, 2025. This year Eastern and Western Christian churches are celebrating Easter on the same Sunday. Because Orthodox and Western churches use different calendars, they often celebrate Easter on different Sundays. But not this year! I had planned the trip to Jerusalem in 2022, three years in advance. The hotel in East Jerusalem at which I made the booking for me and my wife Kate couldn’t use its electronic booking system because the date of April 20, 2025 was so far in the future, so they kindly handwrote a booking confirmation for me.
I wanted to relive the experience of Easter 2011 in the Old City of Jerusalem, which was another year that Orthodox Christians and Western Christians celebrated Easter on the same day. That year on Good Friday Kate and I joined the crowded procession along the Via Dolorosa (the Sorrowful Way) to retrace Jesus’s path to his crucifixion, marked by 14 Stations of the Cross. We began by joining a group of Italian Franciscans in prayer, moving shoulder to shoulder with the crowd down the narrow stone paths of the Old City, and soon found ourselves in the middle of Lebanese Maronite Christians praying in Arabic, then before we knew it we were in a group of Orthodox Russians chanting in Old Church Slavonic, then Egyptian Copts, Ethiopians, Brazilians, Koreans. By the time we got to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where tradition says Jesus was crucified, we were simply awed to witness the wide multicolored umbrella of Christianity as it extended over so many cultures, races, and ethnicities. For a few hours it was possible to forget the divisions in our world, the violence, the brutality, the conflicts in Christianity itself not only between East and West but between and within the numerous denominations – and be bathed in the deep joy of an energy I can only name BOUNDLESS LOVE.
The spiritual journey is ultimately solitary, but we need each other to feel connected to one another, to find courage and fortitude, and not give up in despair.
That’s why we worship together.
As for my dream of being in Jerusalem today, that dream had to give way to the brutality of the current war in Palestine.
It’s a dream deferred till 2028, the next time Western and Eastern Christian churches celebrate Easter on the same Sunday – or perhaps to 2052, when I turn 100.
Meanwhile, the killing and terror continue in Gaza and the West Bank, in Sudan, in Ukraine, in Mali. And right here, we are living in a new unfamiliar fear.
2 When We Are Afraid To Act In Accordance With Our Values
All four of the canonical Gospels report that Peter denied Jesus three times. Why? Because Peter was afraid of the authorities.
All autocracies rule by fear, and the Trump administration is no different.
The foundation I direct has been working in Gaza since 2012, partnering with the Ministry of Health and the U.N. to provide essential childhood vaccines to children, and, since, 2022, installing water desalination systems so that children and their families hace potable water. As an American organization working in Gaza, we have always faced the risk of being accused of working with Hamas, which the U.S. government has designated a terrorist organization, but in part because we were partnering with the U.N., we felt the risk was manageable.
Today it is dramatically different: Not only do we fear for the safety of our 17 courageous workers in Gaza – water engineers, electricians, plumbers – because of the relentless and unpredictable bombings and military assaults, but our own ability to continue to operate as an NGO HERE in DC is at risk because we are helping people that those in power hate.
Our governing board is spending an enormous amount of time consulting so-called legal experts about how we can protect ourselves and continue to operate.
Threatened by the U.S. administration with the cancellation of millions of dollars worth of grants, contracts, as well as access to White House press conferences, some universities, leading law firms and media organizations are cutting deals with the administration that resemble ransom payments.
I spent my childhood in Germany, and I remember when we moved back to this country, everyone said what happened in Germany in the 1930s could never happen here.
When Jesus was arrested Peter denied knowing him three times. The resurrected Jesus asks Peter three times: Do you love me?
Love is beautiful, but it can carry great risk and be out right dangerous, as Peter would learn.
Who do you love? We have fought for the right in this country to love whomever we choose for many years.
But what about the love of strangers?
I want to tell you a story about a French friend of mine and how he came by his given name, which is Georges.
George’s father was a well-educated Polish Jew whose family had been given French visas just before the Nazis invaded Poland in 1939. When the Germans invaded France, George’s father, who was 20 at the time, was drafted to be in a Polish regiment attached to the French Army and sent to the front.
The German invasion of France began on May 10, 1940 as part of the broader Western campaign against the low countries (Belgium, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands). German forces overran France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg in a six-week period!
The defeated French army retreated in complete disarray. George’s father fled and tried to make his way on foot to the Swiss border, about 150 kilometers away, but the border was closed. Late one night he came to a barn on a small French farm, and, exhausted, went inside, lay down and fell asleep in the hay.
Early the next morning the farmer entered his barn and, to his surprise, discovered George’s father there, who was still wearing his French army uniform. The farmer understood right away that Georges’s father was fleeing from the Germans. In fact, the Nazis had set up a camp for detainees in the village right next to the farm!
The farmer told George’s father that he must stay in the barn until it was safe to leave. For two weeks the farmer fed him, gave him civilian clothes and a bicycle so that he could make his way to the south of France, where it was less dangerous.
Now that farmer had a wife and two young daughters. Can you imagine what risks he was taking by hiding this total stranger?
When at the end of two weeks the farmer said it was safe to leave that night, George’s father set out on his bicycle and pedaled all the way to the Mediterranean coast. He eventually joined the French Resistance and managed to survive the war. After the war, George’s father was determined to find that farmer. And he did! In fact, when George’s father married and his wife gave birth to a son (my friend), there was no question what that son’s name would be. It would be the same name as the farmer’s, Georges, who at great risk to himself and his family had saved the life of a total stranger.
Last week I read in the Washington Post a remarkable “exchange” between Pope Francis and Vice President J.D. Vance, a recent convert to Catholicism. At a Catholic prayer breakfast in DC, Vance said the following in explaining the Christian concept of love:
“First you love your family, and then you love your neighbor, and then you love your community, and then you love your fellow citizens in your own country, and then after that you can prioritize the rest of the world. A lot of the far left has completely inverted that! They seem to hate the citizens of their own country, and care more about people outside their own borders.”
In a pointed reference to Vance’s statement about the nature of Christian love, Pope Francis issued a statement about the duty of the faithful to show compassion to migrants. Francis wrote:
“Christian love is not a concentric expansion of interests that little by little extend to other persons and groups.” He invoked the Gospel parable of the Good Samaritan, writing that “the true order of love involves a love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception.”
3. What Are We Being Called To Do Today To Honor Our Integrity, Our Values, Our Responsibilities To One Another And The World?
What can we do?
A friend of mine told me the other day: I don’t want to live my life waiting for later.
The question of what to do can be scary, overwhelming, because the challenges are so big.
First of all, I believe it’s important to allow ourselves NOT TO KNOW – it’s that very uncomfortable place where we desperately want answers, but they are elusive.
Don’t force answers. Allow ourselves to be baffled. This is not procrastination; it is allowing ourselves to be in a very awkward but necessary – and fertile – place of not knowing, so that we can move to clarity rather than acting impulsively because we cannot bear to wait.
We are always looking for the big things we can do, because we think only they will matter, not the small daily acts.
But it turns out there are a lot of small things we can practice daily that actually make a big difference, because they nourish that part of us that wants to speak the truth when our integrity is at stake. Small things that make a big difference. What are they, and how can they prepare us for bigger moments that challenge us to our core to live up to our values?
I want to introduce you to a term coined by the psychologist Barbara Fredrickson, which is easy to trivialize, but that studies have shown to have a profound impact on our wellbeing and resilience. The term is micromoments of love. These are moments of biosynchrony in which two people feel positive emotions in each other’s company.
These moments of connection can happen with eye contact, a momentary smile, touch, or even a voice on the phone.
Earlier this week I was in New Orleans at a Trader Joe’s with my high school friend Linda. The cashier at the checkout was a friendly looking young man. He was staying calm as he rang up an enormous pile of groceries from the customer in front of us. I could tell that he knew the price code of many of the fresh items that didn’t have a bar code. When it came to our turn, I asked him whether he ever needed to ask for help when he had so many items to ring up. He said, “Oh sure, I ring that bell over there,” pointing to a basketball-sized bronze bell hanging from a pole a few feet away. “Would you like to ring it and hear what it sounds like?” he asked. I said, “Ok,” and so I walked over to the brass bell and pulled firmly on the rope attached to the ringer and rang the bell twice, just as if I were 5-years-old. We all laughed. The cashier had to signal to the manager that we were just playing. That was a micromoment of love that suffused my whole body with a warmth I could feel hours later.
In New Orleans, when you pass someone on a sidewalk – and New Orleans is a city in which people walk – you generally exchange eye contact and say hello. This momentary connection always gives me a lift and makes me feel that I am not anonymous.
Barbara Fredrickson, the psychologist, says studies have shown that in these moments of connection with another our biochemicals rise in unison, there is a similarity in our neural firings, and this in turn has been shown to be linked to better immune function, cardiovascular health, glucose regulation, and, of course, it promotes social skills.
Have I sold you on this yet?
Only connect, and take pleasure in recognizing the other as a human being who like me and you is nourished by connection. These micromoments of love make it very hard simply to dismiss some people as “others.”
What we are really doing is expanding our attention from one of hard and narrow focus on our challenges and on “our tribe” to an easy expansive focus in which we can take in much more information, notice that the world is bigger than our challenges, notice that the world has depth. And this doesn’t only apply to connecting with other people.
A few weeks ago a friend came over and told me about the challenges his family was facing. As he was leaving and stepped outside, he looked up at the large white oak by our house and said, “Look at the beauty of the bare branches of the oak tree against the gray sky.” He was able to notice the world outside of his considerable challenges and recognize beauty. That connection with the natural world was also a micromoment of love.
Although such experiences may be fleeting, their physical and psychological effects lead to wellbeing and improved health. And these moments are available to all of us, they don’t cost money – they only require our attention.
But what if we run head-long into a really big challenge? Like the French farmer who found Georges’ father hiding from the Nazis, who were right in the neighboring village. Or, by contrast, like a friend of mine, who was given the choice by the new cost-cutting owners of his company of firing half of his longtime, loyal and top employees or – refusing to fire them, which would mean losing his own job for not complying with orders from on high. He decided to follow orders so he could keep his own job.
What would I have done?
The honest answer is, “I don’t know.” I hope and pray I would do the right thing, but like Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemene, I would want that bitter cup to be taken from me. The natural human desire to avoid pain and suffering shows Jesus in that moment of extreme anguish to be fully human. (Luke describes Jesus as sweating blood!)
So I pray that I won’t be tested in that ultimate way. But the truth is that I am tested all the time – in how I treat other people, whether I even acknowledge their presence, how I spend my money, whether I nurture my relationship to the natural world, whether I practice looking for the good in others – and myself – and lean into what I can honestly affirm, whether I practice noticing beauty in people and my surroundings, whether I am truly claiming my gifts as part of the Body of Christ.
On this Easter morning, I pray that though we know in our hearts that we must journey alone, may we also know that we belong to one another through the risen Christ, through the BODY – Christ’s and our own. We belong to all of God’s creation.
May the Holy Spirit come and guide us in these tumultuous, confusing, and upside- down times.
Veni Sancte Spiritus.