an angel on the mountain of temptation

Jericho is the lowest (900' below sea level) and many would say the oldest city in the world. I am here as part of a two person team, providing leadership training for some 20 Heads of Palestinian schools. Yesterday, we delved into the book Good to Great and discussed some of its implications for leadership in private schools. One of Jim Collin's concepts is that it is most important who you have in your organization. He calls it "getting the right people on the bus." (Although, my new friend Hani says there are times as Head of school when all he wants to do is get off the bus!)

My part was to present a new perspective on hiring, namely, crafting questions that allow a candidate to demonstrate from past behavior that he/she has a requisite quality or characteristic rather than simply relying on opinion. I had suggested a question to probe a candidate's ability to follow through on a commitment, and had asked the audience, "Can anyone tell me of a time when you followed through and kept a commitment when it was difficult to do so?" Several people suggested examples from their own lives, thus demonstrating that they possess that important quality. But, the best example didn't arise until dinner last night.

We had taken the tram up 1300 meters onto the Mount of Temptation, the very place where, according to the New Testament, Jesus spent 40 days and nights fasting and meditating during the temptation of Satan. We were gathered around a large table enjoying the local cuisine, taking in a view to the East across the Jordan River to the mountains in Jordan and south to the Dead Sea.

The young man to my left showed me pictures of his family on his cell phone, including a daughter whose name in Arabic translates as "angel."

He confided in me that he had been tempted to answer the question about keeping a commitment, posed earlier in the day. To do so, he would have told the story of his wedding day.

This was in 2003 during the Intifada. He and his bride-to-be returned from Ramallah to his tiny village in the mountains for the ceremony, taking nearly an entire day to cover the short distance due to the many checkpoints and the length of time to pass each. They had a wonderful celebration with family and friends, then prepared to return to Ramallah and work.

By this time, though, the road to ramallah was closed. But their commitment to work (and keeping a scarce job) was strong, and so they attempted the arduous trek up a trail and over a mountain on foot.

It was March and the elevation was high. It was cold and wet and miserable and slippery and dangerous, but they persevered. Just as they had congratulated themselves on crossing the highest section of the mountain trail, they met other travelers coming back, and learned that there was an Israeli tank below blocking the way, firing tear gas and letting no one through. During the hours ahead they tried the trail again and again, only to be turned back by the danger of the Israeli tank. Finally they made it through and appeared for work exhausted but on time.

It's unusual for me to be speechless. But in Palestine, this is a daily occurence for me. All I could say was that "I hear you, my Friend, and I will take your words with me when I return home."

And so we sat together in the gathering dark, the lights coming on across the river in Jordan, and gazed at his cell phone and the photo of a young girl dressed in white, his daughter, his angel.