Fish on dry land

Last night I attended the Sudanese congregation’s service.  Because I am looking at working with them in a few areas, I wanted to go check it out and experience their world.  

I felt like I was back in Africa.  It was almost like I wasn’t in Israel anymore.

The singing, the preaching, the children, the babies… all came swooping back to me like a gush of wind.

The one thing that surprised me though, was the seating arrangements.  Because Sudan in a Muslim country, they all speak Arabic of coarse, but they still hold fast to the women sitting on one side and the men on the other.  There is still that separation of the sexes that I never imagined would be present in their congregation.

Needless to say, I was once again the only whitey there. It seems to be a pattern with me.  How do I always manage to be the fish on dry land everywhere I go?????


About Maureen Hochdorf

Writer. Editor. High Techi. Non-Profit Founder. Traveler. Sports Lover. Star Wars Fanatic. Tel Aviver. Michigander.... View all posts by Maureen Hochdorf

6 responses to “Fish on dry land

  • jijojacob

    that is same ting i have experienced as life is like that

  • alece

    aah! i’m so glad you had a touch of africa right there in israel, friend. makes me smile big for you.

  • Katie

    being blond doesn’t always help with the “stick out” factor, either.

    I feel your pain!

  • ksa

    It is fun to here you describe it. I always thought I would end out in Sudan, it was the country I most had on my mind and heart for several years. I will be anxious to read on how you get involved with the community there.

  • Joseph

    I am LOL right now because once in college, Hattiesburg, MS, my roommate and I decided to go on this church pilgrimage.

    We found this really cool looking church and it looked fairly crowded so we decided to go in. We were running a bit late so we did not see anyone else going in…

    We opened the doors to walk in and low and behold it was a black Southern Baptist Church.

    The whole service was hootin and music was jammin and once the congregation looked at me and my roommate it just stopped. Like something you would see in a movie. Dead silence.

    Some very nice woman near the back looked at the both of us (and I can still hear this clear as day) and said “Common sweetie..the Lord welcomes all to his house”…we head a collective Amen and everything fired back up.

    We decided to join the service which went on for at least 2 hours before everyone was finished due to exhaustion for the most part..

    The whole thing was way to flippin funny.

    Probably did not translate into blog speak.

  • annie

    I think you have a special gift for it. really.

    And Joseph’s story cracked me up.

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