Dirty work

Three weeks in, and I’m finally sitting down to write a little bit about my time in Israel.

It’s not that I’ve been terribly busy, but rather I’ve forgotten how to write without a set deadline. Who would have thought that procrastination exists outside of school? Better late than never, I guess. Anyway, with this blog post I want to explain my role here and a few of my thoughts about it, and future posts will share anecdotes and lessons learned while working, as well as stories of my travels around the country and surrounding area. I may not share it on Facebook every time I post, so if you are interested in hearing more, be sure to put in your email at the bottom of the homepage of the blog.

Since I received conflicting reports of what sort of service I would be doing in the BVC, I often changed the story whenever someone questioned me about it. So, let’s set the record straight. I graduated from Saint John’s University (MN) this past May, and moved to Israel on August 7th after a few months of interning at Minnesota Independence College and Community and painting houses. I am living for a year in a German Benedictine monastery in Tabgha, which was built on the site where Jesus fed thousands of his followers with only a few fishes and loaves of bread. This monastery runs a church known as Brotvermehrungskirche (in English, Bread Multiplication Church) and a retreat area called Begegnungsstätte Beit Noah (Meeting Place, House of Noah). German sure flows off the tongue! Unlike many of the BVC sites, ours has a full team of volunteers, consisting of four Germans named Konstantin, Hellen, Johanna, and Sofie, and then Tim Havenaar and myself, both from Saint John’s.

When we aren’t quoting Old Gregg or planning something, the “Tabg(h)ang” (aka Müllmenschen) operates under our sublime boss, Paul, around a strict regimen of physical labor, sweating, and coffee breaks. Large groups of disabled people from several organizations around Israel and the West Bank/Palestine make up the majority of our guests, and the responsibility falls to us to maintain the grounds and facilities and make sure our guests have what they need, along with other miscellaneous tasks like taking out the trash with the tractor (my first time driving manual, oooh) and cleaning out the natural pool with a pressure washer that could blow the skin off your foot if you aren’t careful. We also work in pairs on specialized tasks. Konstantin and I manage the hyper-efficient dripping watering system for the extensive gardens.

Some of you might be thinking, “But Aaron, didn’t you say you were giving tours?” Even after getting braces twice, I guess my smile still isn’t enough to get me that job. No, we don’t give tours of the church to visiting pilgrims and tourists, but instead we get to work in ways much more rewarding and in line with how I perceived a volunteer can be most effective. We do the unpleasant dirty work that helps cultivate a beautiful destination that the disabled people of Israel and Palestine look forward to all year. A disability prevents many of our guests from partaking in the activities that you and I grew up with, so it’s hard not to smile to see their joy when they use Beit Noah’s specially designed playground or when they shoot at us with water pistols as we work. The organizations that bring the people with disabilities provide a great service, so it is a great privilege for us to host them here.

The big groups like to invite us to join them in the pool on hot afternoons and in their festivities in the evenings. It’s hard to say no to the invitations and offers of free food and coffee since they always promise a good time, but I’ve learned the hard way that I should stop to think before accepting two cups of Arabic coffee at 9:30pm on a weeknight. That being said, I would absolutely do it again, because I can always sleep later. There’s no time like the present.