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Jörg Luyken (*1985)
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Ludwigshafen, 31.5.2014


Jörg Malcolm Otto Luyken, Generation 13, Ref.Nr. 13-035c (BK0486) Branch WA-A

Born: 10.8.1985 in Inverness (Scotland)

Occupation: Ancient philologist, journalist at the Jerusalem Post

Father: Reiner Luyken
Mother: Sheileagh Gunn




Stammbaum Jörg Luyken



Hendrich Luyken
(ca. 1550-1607)


Hermann Luyken
(1589-1630)


Johannes Luyken
(1624-1691)


Daniel I Luyken
(1665-1724)



Daniel II Luyken
(1703-1784)

Daniel III Luyken
(1733-1807)

Arnold Luyken
(1766-1807)

Gustav Luyken
(1803-1874)


Arnold Luyken
(1842-1901)

Otto Luyken
(1878-1929)

Reinhard Luyken
(*1921)

Reiner Luyken
(*1951)

Jörg Luyken
(*1985)


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Biography Jörg Luyken

Jörg finished his university study in ancient philology. He works as a journalist at the Jerusalem Post in Israel.



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Picture Gallery Jörg Luyken


Scottland, 23.9.2006

Haifa, Israel, 12.10.2007

10.8.2013


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Contribution Jörg Luyken


Jörg is absolving an apprenticeship at the Jerusalem Post since October 2006 where he has written many interesting stories. Here he relates about his experiences at Christmas in Bethlehem.


Christmas in Bethlehem

Quite how the myth started I'm still not sure. One possibility is that a grand game of Chinese whispers turned the news of the arrival in Bethlehem of a 'young chap' who plays the bagpipes into the glorious entrance of one of Scotlands youngest piping champions.

A more cynical interpretation is that Joseph, the pipemajor of the Terra Santa Pipeband, whom I was to perform with as a guest piper at the Bethlehem Christmas Parade, exploited my Scottish credentials to sow seeds of jealousy amongst Bethlehem's other bands.

Either way it was very important that the myth was not dispelled. At our final rehearsal Joseph told me with a mischeivous grin that most of the other scout groups in Bethlehem now knew of Terra Santa's special guest. Therefore I was under strict instructions not to play any tunes on request, for that would undoubtedly give the game away. I was to apologise but say that sadly I was suffering from a severe bout of the flu.

So, on a glorious Sunday morning in central Bethlehem, where thirty scouts groups had gathered to perform for the Latin Patriarch, I found myself marching at the head of the Terra Santa Pipeband in kilt and sporran, basking in the adulation of the local crowd. All this to the envy of the other bands, who believed that Terra Santa had a professional piper - and a champion at that.

Perhaps I should explain the reality of my modest piping career. I began on the practise chanter when I was eight years old and at the age of 13 I won my school's chanter competition. By my last year in High school I had been promoted to the rank of Sergeant in the pipeband. But, to be honest, this had much more to do with my powers of blackmail than my skill as a musician. So, I am a champion... of sorts.

But why was it so important for Terra Santa to have a champion Scottish piper?

People in Bethlehem love Scottishness and the town's pipers take great pride in their playing. A greeting that was especially common among the older generation was "ah, Scotland, the land of whisky!"

In the centre of Bethlehem a new shop has just been opened called the Scottish Centre. Given the dire state of the economy it is a minor miracle to find any new franchise not selling luminous Jesuses, let alone one that specialises only in selling and teaching the bagpipes and the snare-drums.

One of Terra Santa's senior pipers explained to me that in the 49 years that pipebands had performed at the Christmas parade this was the first time that a Scottish piper would be participating.

Not wanting to pass up my status of King for the Day I descided to go on a meet and greet of the masses. As I strolled towards Manger Square with the two bodyguards I had been given I could hear the word Scotlandia murmuring through the crowd.

Children ran up and touched my legs to make sure I was real. I was stopped repeatedly for photo calls as brothers, sisters, great aunts and third cousins twice removed posed beside a real scotsman. One particularly forthright woman put her arm round my shoulder and begged me to take her back to Scotland.

As my ego skyrocketed and the trappings of fame began to suffocate me, like Midas clutching at his throat, I dragged myself back to the safety of my protected compound (also known as the scouts centre).

Little did I realize the trouble was just beginning. In the courtyard the Syrian and Arabic Catholic bands were having a little argument over who was the best. But when one of the Arabic Catholics claimed that without their best piper the Syrians were too afraid to get up on stage their adversaries decided the time for talking was over.

Bottles began to rain from the sky scattering the terrified and confused scouts in every direction. The two bands chased each other down relentlessly, some used flag poles as makeshift lances, others using drums as makeshift stones.

It was only when some heavies with machine guns arrived that order was restored, even then with some difficulty. The aftermath was more remeniscent of an explosion at a toy factory than the commemoration of the Messiah's birth. But there was never any question of the parade being cancelled.

The Terra Santa band played our repetoir of arabic and scottish tunes exellently, a remarkable acheivment given that the band had only been reorganised a month before. We also played with commendable stamina for an hour or so on the march to the Church of the Nativity, taking only one brake, for a small fight, near the end.

One of the Christians whom I spoke to said that many of them do not really consider themselves Arabs. He said that their ancestors had come to the Middle East with the Crusaders. If you live here long enough apparently you will be able to distinguish between Christians and Muslims just by looking at their faces.

As I woke up on Christmas morning nursing a headache that had not come my way during the fighting but much later in the night when the Scotch arrived, I contemplated that potent triumvirate of bagpipes, fighting and whisky. Then it occured to me. Is it time for a historical re-evaluation of the size of the Scottish contribution to Richard the Lion-Hearts army?



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