It’s important to note the difference between a vacation and a pilgrimage. A vacation is an opportunity to relax, see some sights, party a bit, and seek out the fun side of life. No problems with that! A pilgrimage, on the other hand, is a journey of self-discovery, a seeking of revelation, triggered by the expedition itself. A pilgrimage can be fun as well, but the focus is the connection between the physical and the spiritual side of life. The Holy Land is a place for pilgrims – it is hard to conceive of it as a vacation site. This is important to keep in mind when seeing and reflecting on the places we visited. I will often make the connection between the physical site and its spiritual significance to me as a Roman Catholic.
We visited two main sections of the Holy Land, staying 3 nights in the Galilee region and 6 nights in Jerusalem. The pilgrimage tour was organized by Catholic Travel Centre, a Burbank based agency that coordinates dozens of these each year, not only to the Holy Land but to places like Rome, Assisi, Lourdes, and other significant Catholic sites. Our tour’s spiritual director is Msgr Dennis Mikulanis, the pastor of San Rafael parish in Rancho Bernardo. Katie and I took a class from Fr. Dennis recently on Ecumenism and enjoyed his dynamic personality and sense of humor a great deal. There are 32 others on the tour, mostly San Rafael parishioners, including our good friends Ward and Gwen Thompson. Ward and Gwen are in diaconate formation with Katie and me, and we have grown close over the past 4 years. They were the ones who invited us to join them on the tour, and after considering the pros and cons of traveling to such a troubled region, we decided to give it a try.
Each day was very full, often visiting several significant sites before lunch. I have the itinerary listed on a separate page at the end of this journal. I’ve decided to avoid a blow by blow description of our activities and focus instead on the key highlights. Hopefully, this will keep the journal lively and avoid confusing you too! But if you need to know what we did each day, check out the itinerary.
Nothing is far apart in the Holy Land! A mere 85 miles wide and 290 miles in length, one can easily drive from one city to any other in less than a day. Our bus takes us to Cana in 45 minutes and we immediately note that we are just down the hill from Nazareth, an easy walk in Jesus’ time. Cana is kind of dumpy, actually, small and run down. Boxy houses, flat roofs with rebar sticking up, many billboards, and narrow streets running willy-nilly through the village. We leave the bus and walk up a narrow lane to a shrine built and maintained by the Franciscans, who are everywhere in the Holy Land. Cana is commemorated as the site of Jesus’ first miracle (gospel of John), the transformation of water into wine. No one has presumed to know the actual site, so the shrine is simple and small. A huge stone canister is on display outside the shrine, one very probably like those used in Jesus’ time. It holds about 20 gallons of water and was used for ritual washing by the Jews.
There’s a wedding underway in the main chapel, so we detour to a small side chapel and Fr. Dennis leads the married couples in a renewal of our wedding vows. It is brief, but touching just the same. A brisk walk back to the bus, with detours for post cards, and of course, some Cana wine!
Nazareth is just up the hill and unlike Cana, has grown to become a fair-sized city of 100,000 or so, about 60-40 Muslim/Christian. We stop at the Church of the Annunciation, built on the traditional site of Mary’s home. As soon as I hear that, I ask the question, “how do they know?” And this goes for every major site in Israel – how do they know that this was the site for this or that event in Christ’s life? The answer is surprisingly simple once you know the Holy Land’s history. After Christ’s ascension, the apostles founded small communities in and around Israel, with many of these at sites associated with Jesus’ life. The communities worshipped here for many years, often venerating the site with religious graffiti such as fish icons or other symbols of “the way”. In the mid 2nd-century, Hadrian, the emperor of Rome, came into Israel and deliberately built Roman temples over these sacred sites to discourage Christian worship. When Christianity was legalized in the 4th century, St. Helena came to the Holy Land and had many of the temples torn down and replaced with Christian churches, in particular, at Bethlehem (Nativity), Jerusalem (Holy Sepulchre), and the Mount of Olives (Ascension).
This situation lasted until the time of the Moslem era in the 7th century. The churches were torn down and replaced with mosques. The Crusaders arrived in the 12th century and once again, the razing and rebuilding process happened. So, how do they know that this site was Mary’s home? Archeology tells us that there have been 4 churches on this site: a Roman temple, a Roman church, a Byzantine church, and a Crusader church. Plus, they have discovered 1st century graffiti inscribed “Ave Maria”. The current church, built in the 1960’s is on top of the very site, with a small alcove behind the altar that shows a cave where Mary likely lived. Is it exactly precise? No. Possible? Yes. And that’s close enough for the eyes of faith.
The church is modern and features a top level main church and a lower level sunken chapel that is perfect for small groups. Fr. Dennis celebrates Mass for us in this chapel. Unfortunately, it is very distracting. All during Mass, other tour groups pass around and above the chapel where we are, making noise and taking flash pictures. But Fr. Dennis continues with aplomb, and we lift our voices in the hymn “Sing of Mary”. At Communion, we are each given a simple wooden cross on a string to be worn around our necks for the duration of the pilgrimage. I’m a little concerned at first since the crosses will clearly label us as “Christian pilgrims” and we would then be inviting targets for bad guys. But the concern passes quickly. There are dozens of bus groups that are all around us – it is clear that most of the people who are frequenting these sites are on tours, and the vendors are only too happy to know who to target – in the “right way”. The cross is on and stays on for the next 10 days, with minor exceptions.
The Mass is over in 30 minutes, our time slot, and we make room for the next group. The Franciscans run it like a fine-oiled machine! We move a block away to the Convent of the Sisters of Nazareth, built on the traditional site of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph’s home. What was once weak archeological evidence has been strengthened in recent years with the discovery of a first century cave home under the convent. Even more interesting, the cave home abuts a first century Jewish tomb. We are allowed down into the dig and can see the tomb and the results of the excavation. Although no one can say for certain, it is possible that the grave contains the bones of St. Joseph himself! As I gaze into this tomb, with the round stone rolled away, I impulsively pick up a small pebble from the floor and claim my first souvenir of the Holy Land.
We walk through the Old City market, enjoying the sights and smells of everything from toys to spices, tracing the steps of the old road that runs to the only well in town, appropriately named “Mary’s Well.” The Greek Orthodox have a church built here and we pay a visit. The well is authentic and certainly was used by Mary at the time (only women collected water). The Greeks believe that the Annunciation took place at the well, for reasons unclear to me, but there’s room for that interpretation too!
As we head back to our retreat center, we stop off at Mount Arbel, a flat-topped hill that ends abruptly in a cliff dropping down to a dry river bed that runs from Nazareth to the Sea of Galilee. The river bed is called a “wadi,” and is significant because it is very likely the route Jesus would take from Nazareth to Capernaum on the Sea of Galilee. This is one of the neat things about being here – the land, the topography, the walking routes, the distances, all make sense. What the bible takes for granted, you can see for yourself!
That evening, Ward, Gwen, Katie, and I have a wine tasting on the porch that abuts our room. The Cana wine is awful, barely drinkable, but we laugh and enjoy it anyway. Rather than “two-buck Chuck,” the nickname for cheap wine in San Diego, we dub this “two shekel Simon!” Fr. Dennis joins us soon after, as well as 3 other people. Before you know it, we have a nice party going, and the bad wine goes too!
Our home, the Mount of the Beatitudes Retreat House, is situated on a hill overlooking the Sea of Galilee. It’s a beautiful site with a separate shrine built in an octagon shape, one side for each beatitude. The grounds are well-kept and lush, and we overlook a banana farm down the slope. Yes, bananas grow in abundance here, as do oranges, grapes, and other fruit. Virtually every meal features fruit for dessert, which is just fine for me! Our accommodations are simple – twin beds, private bath, writing desk, and that’s about it. No TV, radio, or internet access available – and although we miss the easy access to news, we all realize quickly that the pilgrimage is enhanced by our isolation.
The second morning we gather outside the retreat house and meet with our guide, Iyad, for a hike down to the Sea of Galilee. It’s a gorgeous morning, sunny and cool, and we strike out in silence, enjoying the views and reflecting on the awesome history of this place. The “sea” of Galilee is more rightly a “lake” since it is not that big, perhaps 7x13 miles. The lake shore is surprisingly undeveloped, looking in many ways as natural as the time of Jesus. When we ask why, Iyad tells us that the notion of a vacation home or resort is still out of reach for most people in Israel. Close to the lake, perhaps a half mile away, we come across a natural grotto in the side of the hill. Iyad tells us that this grotto was very likely used by speakers as a natural megaphone to project the voice to a large crowd gathered near the lake. Seeing our skepticism, we experiment. Leaving Fr. Dennis behind, we all walk down the slope about a ¼ mile and look back at him expectantly. Standing in front of the grotto, Fr. Dennis opens the bible and reads aloud the beatitudes in a natural voice. To our amazement, we can hear him quite clearly. The idea of Jesus teaching 5000 people by such means is entirely plausible!
Meeting up with our bus, we drive a quick 10 minutes to Capernaum, which though important in Jesus’ day, is no more than a ruin today. Excavations have been going on for years, and much of the ancient town has been unearthed, including the likely site of Peter’s home. The bible contains many passages about Capernaum, including Jesus healing of the paralytic, healing of Peter’s mother-in-law, and the healing of the centurion’s servant. As before, I am struck by the simplicity of it all and the sure understanding that Jesus walked this shore just as I am today. It’s a lot to absorb, and I realize that I will be reliving this experience for years to come. So I take it all in, and share with Katie my observations. She is equally moved and we take pictures avidly, trying to preserve the moment.
We gather next at a nearby boat dock for a “voyage” on the Sea of Galilee. Enterprising boat owners offer “authentic” vessels for a one-way trip to a local kibbutz about 2 miles down the lakeshore. We pile in – the boat is certainly big enough for 60 people or more, with a wide-open deck and plenty of seating. As we cast off, the crew hoists the American flag and blares out the anthem on loudspeakers. It’s very tacky, bordering on absurd, and breaks the mood entirely. There’s no place for nationalism on this lake – it’s just wrong. But mercifully, it’s over soon, and we proceed down the lake, enjoying the play of light on the water and the birds. Midway, the boat idles, and volunteers read the gospel readings about Jesus calming the storm over the loud speakers. It’s hard to believe that a big storm could come up on this lake, but Iyad tells us that the surrounding hills funnel the wind quite aggressively onto the lake when fronts move through.
After lunch featuring chicken and talapia (aka “St. Peter’s fish”), we bus down to the southern tip of the lake where the Jordan river acts as a natural outlet to the lake on its way to the Dead Sea, well to the south. An Israeli kibbutz has built a sort of baptismal center on the banks of the Jordan at this point to accommodate the large tour groups who want to celebrate baptisms in the river. These are especially popular with many Protestant groups, apparently. We head in and move up the riverbank to a likely spot where we can renew our baptismal vows. Many of us doff shoes and socks and wade into the river for the more authentic experience, somewhat ruined by two local dogs who barrel through the pools spraying water everywhere! It’s good for a laugh, however, and fortunately, no one suffers rebaptism by immersion.
From the Jordan, it’s a brief bus ride back up into Galilee to the town of Taghbah, the supposed site of Jesus feeding the 5000. A pretty church marks the site, and as is common, the stone outcropping on which the church is built is exposed through the floor for pilgrims to venerate. A small sign states Mensa Christi, the table of Christ, and someone before us has placed 5 small pita loaves on the rock, illustrating the starting point of this most-often told miracle of Jesus. It is the only miracle story told in all four gospels, and told twice each in Matthew and Mark!
We wrap up our day with Mass at another little chapel on the lake called Peter’s Primacy. It marks the site of John’s gospel story of Jesus appearing to the disciples after His resurrection and directing Peter to “feed his sheep.” The outdoor Mass is fitting indeed, as the lake sparkles nearby, and the trees rustle in the breeze. Ward, my buddy in diaconate formation, delivers the homily on the gospel from June 29, the feast of St. Peter and Paul. He does a great job, and the San Rafael parishioners are obviously delighted to know that he will be serving their parish for the long haul. After Mass, we go down to the water’s edge and I pick up another stone souvenir from the lake. Tomorrow we’re off to Jerusalem!!
We check out of our peaceful retreat house at the Mount of Beatitudes and load up for the journey south. Our first stop is Mount Tabor, one of the supposed sites of Jesus’ transfiguration (the other is Mount Hermon, further north). The 1900 foot “mountain” rises up as a huge symmetrical mound overlooking Galilee, and is easily seen from miles around. A short way up the hill the bus is forced to stop at a souvenir parking lot since the winding, hairpin road ahead does not accommodate long vehicles. So we disperse into waiting taxis who zip us up the hill in quick time, casually navigating the corners while chatting on cell phones and smoking cigarettes. The trip is rewarded by the view at the top and the attractive Church of the Transfiguration. Ruins of the original Crusader church lie outside the shrine.
Fr. Dennis celebrates Mass with us in an adjacent patio area under an overhang next to the Church. The setting is bucolic and peaceful, and I am struck again at the simple beauty of the area. One can easily imagine Jesus, Peter, James, and John hiking to the summit and enjoying the view. You can see Nazareth in the distance and turning slightly, you can pick up the Sea of Galilee and lands beyond. Inside the Church by the altar is a trapdoor which opens up to reveal the rock below, supposedly where Jesus stood when transfigured. It’s a stretch, of course, but we dutifully take a peak. The scattering of loose change and prayer cards on the rock take away some of the charm.
We continue on to the little village of Nain, which is mentioned in the bible in a brief passage from Luke (7:11). Jesus brings back from the dead the son of a widow as the funeral cortege passes before him. The site is commemorated in Nain by a small Franciscan chapel. However, since no Christians live in Nain, the keys to the chapel are in the hands of a neighboring Arab family, who willingly open the doors for a fee. We go in and sing the Our Father as loud as we can, which somehow seems appropriate. As we depart, however, we are swarmed by a horde of young children begging for money. Iyad tells us to ignore them and watch our wallets, but that is impossible to do. I have no loose change to speak of, but some in our group hand out dollar bills and shekels, which are equally welcome. Their pleading eyes and obvious poverty stay with me as we board the bus and depart – the poor are always with us.
Heading over to the Jordan River, we turn south and follow its course. In a short time, we pass through a border checkpoint run by the Israeli government and enter the West Bank. Double electric fencing borders us as we drive the main road south. Just over the Jordan River is the country of Jordan, which is currently at peace with Israel, but still distrusted. Iyad, our guide, is a Palestinian Christian who was born in Jerusalem. He tells us some of the history of the region and it is apparent that he is no fan of Israel. The Palestinians are clearly at a huge disadvantage and feel completely marginalized and shut out. This is a theme Iyad returns to time and again, as you shall see.
As we follow the Jordan south, it is clear that this would be close to the likely road traveled by Jesus from Nazareth to Jerusalem. We are bordering Samaria, so it is likely that a good Jew would actually walk down the East bank of the Jordan (i.e., the other side of the river from us). In a surprisingly short time, we come upon Jericho, an oasis in this area and one of the oldest cities in the world. It is also a Palestinian stronghold, so we once again navigate checkpoints, one Israeli and the other Palestinian, to enter the town. Jericho has been the scene of off-and-on again violence in the past 4 years, so the town has been effectively sealed off by the Israeli army. As a result, the town’s economy is in a shambles, businesses boarded up and many houses broken down and deserted. Our bus is a rarity and we drive to a local restaurant (Christian) that welcomes us effusively. We dine well and drive off to the edge of town to view from a distance the Monastery of the Temptation, which is built into the side of the mountain to the west of us. At the foot of the mountain is the site of Herod’s winter palace, marked by stubby stone pillars and excavation marks. As we view the site and take pictures, cars pull up and a pile of kids and souvenir hawkers swarm us with requests for money. They’re quite aggressive, thwarting any show of rejection from you and getting in your path. Again, we are torn in our response and some hand out dollars and coins. Most of us hightail it to the relative safety of the bus.
For some relief and a sense of obligation to help the local economy, we shop at a large souvenir shop in town and spend some dollars. Katie buys a platter and some smaller plates that are decorated with the mosaic loaves and fishes from Taghbah. As we leave the store, the kids are back, having followed our bus in a ragtag string of cars. So sad.
We finally exit Jericho and detour over to the Dead Sea for a look at Qumran, the archeological site of the Dead Sea Scrolls. The Essene sect is the likely source of the scrolls and we spend a few minutes in the museum and the surrounding digs. The Dead Sea shimmers to the east – the lowest point on earth. As afternoon is drawing on, we load up the bus again and head west “up” to Jerusalem, and “up” it is – a rise from below sea level to over 3000 feet up. The drive into Jerusalem is neat as the lights come up in the city and we spot the old city walls in the distance. Skirting the old city, we stop across the street from the New Gate at our home for the next few nights, the Notre Dame Retreat House. We’re here in Jerusalem, and can barely believe it.
Today, Sunday, was supposed to be a day in Bethlehem. But today is also the Jewish feast of Rachel, and her tomb is in Bethlehem. As a result, the Jews are heading to Bethlehem in droves, and since Bethlehem is a Palestinian city, the Israeli Defense Force has closed the checkpoint except for a narrow entry to Rachel’s tomb. So Fr. Dennis and Iyad confer about options and the decision is made to go to Taybeh, a West Bank village perhaps 40 minutes from Jerusalem that is entirely Christian. The local pastor of the Roman Catholic church in Taybeh has graciously invited us to attend their 10 AM parish Mass. So off we go.
Taybeh, all 1300 strong, is indeed rare to be entirely Christian. Christians make up barely 2 percent of the entire Holy Land, so for any town to be 100 percent Christian is unusual indeed. The local parish priest greets us as we enter his church, a nicely modern, well-decorated building with comfortable pews and good lighting. He proudly tells us the heritage of Taybeh, which has stood for years as a refuge for people escaping Jerusalem authorities. The gospel of John has Jesus coming to Taybeh just prior to his crucifixion – the town was called Ephraim at the time. (Jn 11:54) Soon the people arrive for Mass and Fr. Dennis concelebrates the Eucharist (as best he can since it’s in Arabic!). As always, it’s a real treat to witness Mass in another language and culture. The children’s choir is very good, and although the language is entirely foreign, we can follow the flow of the Mass quite easily. It’s so nice to be Catholic and have that orthodoxy around the world.
After Mass, we are treated to juice and pita bread in the parish hall and meet some of the locals, at least those who can speak English. We purchase a “peace lamp,” the brainstorm of the pastor, who would like to see these dove-shaped lamps burning in every church in the world. They are simple and attractive, so we gladly shell out $18 for one. The parish priest also encourages us to visit the town’s pride and joy, a brewery (!) that was founded by the son of a village family who learned beer making in Boston. He invested $1.3 million into the operation, an amazing risk in such a place. The product, Taybeh Beer, is quite good and slowly making a name for itself in the region. The company wants to export it to the US market as well, but it will take some more capital to get it done. One of the “issues” they ran across was the label on the beer. Apparently, the US government would not allow them to call it Palestinian beer. Instead they approved West Bank beer. Weird.
The other town landmark, the olive press, is next on the itinerary. For a village of 1300 people, it is important to find ways to keep the town alive and thriving regardless of the outside world. Since olive trees grow like weeds around here, and need virtually no water to thrive, virtually everyone has olive trees. The town’s olive press provides a ready market for each family’s olives, and we get to see it in action. Fussy Americans that we are, it is a bit of a shock to see 5 guys smoking cigarettes dump big sacks of freshly picked olives into a large grate, hear the machinery hum, and see a stream of yellow viscous liquid pour out the other side into a large bathtub. The parish priest pulls out a large piece of pita bread, dips it in the oil and passes it around for everyone to taste. I pass.
We head back to Jerusalem after lunch and stop off at the Jerusalem City Model near a local hotel. An amazing labor of love, a model maker created a 1/50th scale model of the old city of Jerusalem, showing the progression of the city walls from pre-Christian times to the 17th century. The buildings are all rendered with a perfect scale model of the temple as it looked at the time of Christ. It is a remarkable feat, and covers a wide swath of ground. It is also topographically accurate, adding to our appreciation of how the city grew.
Back to the hotel around 4 PM, Katie and I hurry out to get cash at a local ATM and then decide to enter the Old City for a look around. We bump into Fr. Dennis, Ward & Gwen, and Mike & Debbie from the tour. Fr. Dennis wants to go to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, so we decide to go along. As it is, we get separated on the way since we need to buy a few items and the old city is an absolute maze of lanes and shops. So after walking a way, we pull out our map (thank God) and fumble our way to the Church. I’m still amazed that we actually find it.
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is a vast stone pile of a church, with virtually nothing about it that is architecturally pleasing. The main entry is actually on the side of the Church and the inside is dark, smoky from candles, and noisy. There is no discernible “church” here, no pews or apse or sanctuary. Walls loom up every which way and it is more of a confusing maze than a church. We suddenly spot Fr. Dennis, Mike, and Debbie standing next to a large boxy structure so we join them. This boxy structure, called an aedicule, dates from the 19th century and covers the tomb of the Lord. Apparently, we are waiting in line to go in. In whispers, Fr. Dennis describes the chaos of the Church, pointing out the fact that four different Christian groups “own” the Church – the Russian, Armenian, and Greek Orthodox, and the Roman Catholics (via the Franciscans). Everyone competes for time and prayers in the Church and the result is a cacophony of organ music, ringing bells, singing groups, flash photographs, incense, and candles. In fact, in front of the tomb at this very moment is an Armenian Catholic priest, his deacon, and a small choir of monks who are singing their hearts out as the incense billows.
As we wait for them to finish, Ward and Gwen wander in and spot us. They were completely lost and only found their way here because a nun came up to them and asked simply, “Sepulchre?” At their yes, she led them directly here and disappeared into the Church. Fr. Dennis immediately smiled and pronounced, “Angel.” They nodded. Suddenly, the Armenians are finished and the line moves forward. The aedicule over the tomb only holds a few people at a time, closely governed by a Greek Orthodox monk who allows groups of 12 or so in for a time and then calls in “Finish! Finish!” until the group leaves and the next one enters. Our turn arrives soon, and we go into the tomb as a group. There are two rooms, an anteroom which holds about 8 people, and the tomb itself which holds only 4 people. As the luck of the draw has it, Ward, Gwen, Katie, and I find ourselves heading into the tomb together. Ducking low, we find ourselves shoulder to shoulder 4 abreast facing the stone slab upon which Jesus was laid. Kneeling before the slab, as if choreographed, each of us reaches out a hand and we simultaneously touch the slab. A shock of energy flows through me. I catch my breath and steal a look at Gwen, at Katie. They look stunned. “There’s something special here,” I say stupidly. Mute nodding. “Finish! Finish!” yelps the monk. We gather ourselves and stumble out.
Katie looks shocked. “Did you feel that?” I ask. More nods. We look at each other and Fr. Dennis beckons us around the back of the tomb. A small altar abuts the crypt. Fr. Dennis points out that beneath the altar is a portal that allows one to touch the back side of the slab. I impulsively remove the silver cross that I’ve worn daily for the past ten years and kneeling beneath the altar, I touch it to the stone. Katie does the same with hers. But wait, there’s more. Father Dennis beckons us to walk with him back into the Church to another boxy structure with a stair leading up to its roof. “This is Calvary,” he says, “the site of the Crucifixion.” It makes sense that it is close to the tomb – the Jews were in a rush to bury Christ before Sabbath so they wouldn’t have taken him far.
We go up the stairs and realize that we are on top of the rock called Golgotha, the stone rejected by the builders (literally – this was a Roman stone quarry and the rock we were on was considered poor quality and left as is). The space we’re in has two altars, one directly in front of us that is clearly Greek Orthodox with all of the medallions and candles, and another plain altar to the right that is multi-purpose. Beneath the main altar in front of us is a decorated hole. This is utterly authentic – people remember such a site, and the altar was built directly over the hole in the rock where the cross was jammed to hold it erect. We kneel and one by one put our hand down the hole to touch the very rock upon which the cross was erected. “Pain,” says Katie, “awful pain”. I feel it too – the rock is cold and unforgiving.
Down the stairs again to stone slab set in the floor and covered by a canopy of candles and medallions. This is the traditional site of Christ’s anointing after death. Again, we instinctively kneel and touch the slab. “Peace,” says Katie, “blessed relief.” A woman kneels near us, weeping quietly. I ask Katie what she felt when she touched the slab in the tomb. “Power,” she said, “incredible power.” Pain, peace, and power – this is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. We file out finally, exhausted and shaken by the experience.
Just six miles south of Jerusalem is Palestinian controlled Bethlehem, although a more realistic rendering is Israeli controlled Bethlehem. Since the Intifada was declared by the Palestinians in 2000, a number of suicide bombers have come from the Palestinian towns such as Bethlehem. In response, Israel has built security walls around these towns and has barred any movement of Palestinian people out of the towns except for rare circumstances. The result is tragic for both sides. The economy in Bethlehem is dying slowly but surely since commerce is so constrained, and as the economy dies, the people move out if they can. Christians who live in Bethlehem are especially torn. They do not want to leave such important Christian sites behind, let alone their homes and parishes.
Our bus maneuvers the streets carefully as we approach the Israeli check point. We are asked to have our passports ready in case we are boarded, but the Lord is smiling on us today and we are perfunctorily waved through. Sami, our driver, parks the bus just within the town, within easy walking distance of the check point and many of us hop out to take pictures of the wall. It’s really quite an abomination, dredging up memories of the Berlin wall and other symbols of failure. Graffiti on the wall is especially disturbing to me: “American money, Israeli apartheid”.
Iyad has arranged for us to visit a Bethlehem souvenir shop that represents the efforts of 20 artisan Christian families who live here. He is adamant that this is the only shopping site that he personally vouches for, and although he doesn’t care if we buy anything or not, he would certainly hope that we would give this store the best opportunity for our business. The cynical among us are figuring what Iyad’s commission must be, but once in the store, we are truly impressed. The goods are interesting, unique, well displayed, and reasonably priced. Katie and I agree in advance that this is a Christmas shopping opportunity, so we tackle the store energetically. In other words, I wander around aimlessly and Katie shops with laser focus! Actually, I have some fun looking at ancient coins and end up purchasing an authentic Roman copper coin from the first century. It is very likely the coin denomination donated by the widow that Jesus raved about in the gospel, the widow’s mite. We purchase a number of carved wooden objects, including a beautiful vase. Katie finds her souvenir of choice, an 18 carat white gold Jerusalem cross with chain that is truly exquisite. I select my birthday present, an 18-inch high jade vase that weighs a ton but is really striking. Having thereby boosted the GNP of Bethlehem significantly, we gather up our purchases and return to the bus.
Our first stop is the Church of the Shepherd’s Field, a Franciscan chapel that was recently built to commemorate those unsung witnesses to the Christmas event so long ago. A chapel has been built into an actual shepherd’s cave. The rock ceiling is low and the chapel holds perhaps 50 people max, but the setting is perfect for a group of our size. Fr. Dennis celebrates the Mass for Christmas Midnight, and I am honored to deliver the homily. Here’s what I said (best read aloud):
Why
Bethlehem? We take this beautiful story
quite for granted. But have you ever
really thought, “Why Bethlehem?”
One
of my little fantasies is that Luke spent some quality time with Mary before he
wrote his gospel. It’s possible – most
historians would agree that Mary was probably young, no more than 16, when
Jesus was born. If Luke wrote his
gospel in the 70’s, that would make Mary a pretty old lady, maybe early 80’s,
but still conceivable. There are so
many wonderful details in his narrative: the trip to Bethlehem, the star, the
angels, the shepherds, the manger, the wise men. I can just hear Luke asking Mary this question, “Why
Bethlehem? You’re Nazoreans – why did
you go to Bethlehem?” Mary replies,
“Oh, it was some government thing – Joseph said we had to go.” So Luke concocts this census idea, which
virtually every historian agrees is most unlikely to have happened as Luke
describes it.
But
wait a minute. Wasn’t there a
prophecy? Yes, the book of Micah: “But
you, Bethlehem-Ephrathah, too small to be among the clans of Judah, from you
shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel…” (Mi 5:1) So did Mary and Joseph go to Bethlehem to
fulfill the prophecy? Hmm, seems a bit
implausible. You can hear Joseph,
“Mary, I was reading Micah. We’re in
the wrong place! We have to go to
Bethlehem!” Mary replies, “Are you
nuts?”
So
whether a census, or “some government thing,” let’s distill it down to a likely
reality: they went because they had to go.
Why else would a woman in her
eighth month of pregnancy travel? This
is totally outside of Mary’s comfort zone – and she was already facing terrible
uncertainty about this child she was carrying.
She was young, most certainly frightened for her child’s safety, and
uncomfortable physically. Mary and
Joseph are not in control here.
So
why would God do this to them? Ahh,
it’s not God doing this, it’s life.
Life has a knack of taking us out of our comfort zone, in small ways and
big ways. Life is Hurricane
Katrina. Life is slipping on a step and
breaking an arm. Life is a lost job. Life is a serious illness. Life is the loss of a spouse. Life is a whole sequence of challenges and
sufferings and questions. Life is
having to go to Bethlehem when you’re ready to give birth. Life is finding no place to stay, the 5-star
Hilton filled up, the 1-star barn a welcome sight. Life can be tough.
But
now, as we look just a little bit closer at Luke’s gospel, the theology, the
deeper meaning is made apparent. In the
midst of this out-of-control experience, the Bethlehem valley in Mary’s life,
Christ breaks through! Literally, fundamentally,
Christ breaks through! A healthy baby
boy is born. Is there anything more
joyful than holding an infant in the first moments of life? Christ breaks through.
Isn’t that true for us too? God allows life to happen because it seems that sometimes we need to wake up. We have a hard time listening to God when things are going great. When things get tough, when we are no longer in control, God’s invitation to us for a relationship takes on added clarity and power. And when things are darkest on our journey – if we allow it to happen – Christ breaks through! And resurrection happens.
We
call this cycle of dying and rising made holy the Paschal Mystery. It seems that something needs to die in
order for something new to be born.
Life is an endless cycle of these moments of opportunity, these little
deaths. Jesus demonstrates through his
life how to face these deaths – with humility, prayer, patience, and
forgiveness. He never seeks scapegoats
or plays the victim. He accepts the
death, trusts in the Father, and is resurrected.
Why
Bethlehem? From the moment of birth,
Jesus was engaged in the Paschal Mystery, foreshadowing his life of
ministry. From the moment of birth,
Luke shows us that the cycle was true for the Holy Family just as it is true
for us. It all leads to the cross. There is no other way. The Good News is that Jesus will accompany
us on the journey if we let him break through.
With his help, we can deal with anything, because we know it ends in
resurrection.
So
don’t fear Bethlehem. When our ultimate
Bethlehem occurs on our death bed, and we let Jesus break through, you can bet
angels will sing Hosanna for us too.
Amen.
From this peaceful site, we move on to the Church of the Nativity, one of the oldest churches in Christendom, dating back to the 4th century. Unlike the other churches in the Holy Land, this church was spared destruction by the Muslims in the 7th century because a mosaic of the 3 kings, decked out in Persian robes, was displayed in the church. In better times, this church is absolutely packed during Christmas season. A huge parking garage that easily accommodates our bus welcomes us and we are whisked by escalator to the street level. We walk up the chaotic Bethlehem street, accosted by the usual assortment of souvenir vendors and beggars. (One dollah! Five dollah!)
Similar to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, a Greek Orthodox chapel is erected over the cave where Christ was born. We are able to descend beneath the chapel to a small grotto with an ornate altar. Beneath the altar, a star-inscribed hole in the floor invites you to place your hand within and touch the original cave floor. We take turns and help the old folks avoid bonking their heads. For some reason, this church doesn’t connect with me. Perhaps it’s the touristy atmosphere that sours the experience. The Shepherd’s Field church seems much more right somehow.
Fr. Dennis is acquainted with the rector of the Latin Rite seminary in Bethlehem and we are invited for a visit. So after a brief lunch of fast food (falafel and shwerma), we head on over. The rector is a very nice man who speaks good English and he proudly shows us around the seminary. There are some 30 young men in training, half of whom come from Jordan. He is quick to point out the difficulty of running a seminary in a walled city, and it is easy to see his point. But he seems to be an optimistic, positive man, and that’s clearly important in this time and place.
We head back to the hotel by 2 PM, to allow us to rest up a bit before the evening. We are promised a treat – a visit to a local Catholic parish in Bethlehem followed by a dinner out at a tent restaurant near the shepherd’s fields. So we gather back on the bus at 6 PM and off we go through the checkpoint again into Bethlehem. We arrive at the parish and are surprised to see at least 30 parishioners waiting for us outside their small parish hall. We file in and take chairs and the associate pastor of the parish stands before us and addresses us. To our dismay, he launches into a tirade about the Israeli occupation of Bethlehem and encourages us to bring their story back to the US. I can see by the body language of our tour mates that this is going over like a lead balloon. We all feel a sense of overkill here – our sympathies are definitely aroused, but there’s only so much 35 people from San Diego can do to change this world. Enough already.
Fortunately, he stops talking after 10 minutes and invites us to mingle with the parishioners and hear their individual stories. We’re tired and hungry already, but in a spirit of politeness we chat with a couple of people who can speak some English and edge ourselves toward the door. I mutter to Katie, “This isn’t what I came here for.” Ever gracious, she smiles and encourages me to be polite and have an open mind. Soon the call comes to board the bus and our group surges to the door. As we settle on the bus, we notice that some of the parishioners are boarding with us. What’s this? It looks like we’ll have more opportunity to mingle at dinner.
The tent restaurant is spacious and nearly deserted. We are ushered in and with well-choreographed movements two or three parishioners join us at each table for 12. I find myself sitting next to a Palestinian man in his 30’s, and across from me, Gwen is next to another guy. We’re barely seated before the two men begin the politics again, but they are no match for Gwen and Katie, who turn on the charm and steer the conversation to food, family, nature, households, etc. Soon the atmosphere lightens and we are able to enjoy the very good food being served to us. Once the meal is finished, a couple of the waiters bring out hookah pipes for tobacco smoking and in moments, the tent is a fog of smoke. Katie breaks out into a full-fledged coughing fit and I hustle her out into the clean air. 33 additional Californians scramble out shortly thereafter, driven out by the noxious smoke and secretly grateful to escape the political discussions as well. Politicized, brainwashed, whatever – the day has had its effect. One story, however, stays with me. The man seated next to me at dinner has an 11 year-old daughter who has never been outside Bethlehem. Their religious education classes teach about Jerusalem’s holy places the same way our kids learn – through videos. Six miles away…
Today we focus on Jerusalem, and the first stop is the Islamic holy site, the Dome of the Rock. Built on the site of the Jewish Temple from the time of Christ, this mosque is the third most holy site for Moslems, trumped only by Mecca and Medina. The Moslems revere the site as Mount Moriah, where Abraham was asked to sacrifice Isaac. Tradition has it that Mohammed and his angelic horse touched down here on his midnight ride as he visited the seventh heaven before returning to Mecca. We pass through metal detectors before being allowed on the grounds, which strikes me as ironic. Iyad asks us to take off our crosses so as not to offend the Moslem authorities. We are not allowed into the mosque itself, but the outside is very beautiful. The views from this vantage point are quite nice and we circle the grounds enjoying the serenity. Nearby, just outside the gate to the Dome of the Rock is a Christian Church commemorating St. Anne, the mother of Mary. It abuts the newly discovered Pools of Bethesda, where Jesus healed the paralytic man who was unable to enter the waters because he was too slow. The interior of St. Anne’s has great acoustics and tour groups gather in line to enter and belt out their favorite hymns. Our group is not musically inclined so we wander in, take some pictures, and wander out to the tune of “How Great Thou Art”, sung by a Southern Baptist tour group. Even though they’re Protestants, I sing along(!)
We gather at the bus and take a quick ride across the Kidron Valley and up the other side to the Mount of Olives. After a quick group picture, we head down the hill a bit to the Shrine of Dominus Flevit, “the Lord wept”. The chapel, another Franciscan wonder, is situated so that as Mass is celebrated, you look out the window behind the altar and see the whole Jerusalem Old City across the valley. Fr. Dennis celebrates the Mass for Christian Unity, how very appropriate for this place! As if to emphasize the point, as we sing out Lamb of God at Mass, the Moslem minarets suddenly erupt, calling the faithful to prayer. The eerie, keening wail continues for a good 15 minutes, all through communion and the rest of Mass. As we exit the church, our vantage point on the side of the hill affords a natural sound stage and the keening wail of the minarets surrounds us with echoes across the city. All of us are struck by the irony of the moment. Does Jesus weep still as he hears the Moslem call to prayer during the Christian Mass in an utterly Jewish city? Does it nevertheless all belong?
Just below us is the Garden of Gethsemane, which we will visit tonight in prayerful vigil before our walk of the Via Dolorosa tomorrow morning. In anticipation of tomorrow, we now visit the shrine of St. Peter in Galicantu, i.e., “the cock crows”. The church is new and modern, and is built on the traditional site of Caiaphas’ palace, where Jesus was first tried by the Jewish authorities. Two very interesting archeological finds are here. The first is an original Roman road of the 1st century, which leads from the Kidron Valley up to this site. It is very likely, if not certain, that Christ would have been led up this very road after his arrest in the Garden. Katie and I make a point of walking a way on this road, and has become our custom, we look for a small pebble to commemorate this moment.
The other fascinating find is a set of first century prison cells that are logically located near Caiaphas’ palace. Iyad shows us the cell which, based on ancient graffiti, may well have been the cell where Christ spent his last night. Prisoners were lowered through a hole in the roof into a completely dark pit some 20 feet below, where they were left to consider their fate. On the upper level nearby, wall markings show where prisoners were tied up and flogged, with thoughtfully placed gutters carved by the feet to whisk away blood and salt water that was splashed on the wounds to heighten the pain. It is a cold and depressing place, even in the electric light of today.
After dinner, we take to the bus one more time as we head across the Kidron Valley to the Garden of Gethsemane, where the Church of All Nations is opened to us. We gather in the sanctuary of the Church where a large 20x30 foot outcropping of undulating flat rock has been left uncovered for veneration. This is the traditional site of Jesus’ prayer to the Father – take this cup from me! Iyad has a recorded dramatization of the Passion narrative according to Matthew, and we listen as a group, gazing at the rock before us. At its conclusion, some of us remain, some kneel and touch the rock, and others join me for a walk outside to the olive garden where the apostles slept as Jesus wept. The small grove contains some obviously very old trees, gnarled and bent, yet still thriving. Did any of these trees exist 2000 years ago? Not likely, but it is likely that they’re only an olive pit or two away from those ancestors. It is a dark and chilly night, with a full moon rising through the gathering clouds. We pray in vigil for an hour and return in silence to the hotel, preparing ourselves for the 4:30 AM wake up call to walk the Road of Sorrows.
Why so early? The Via Dolorosa winds its way through the Old City of Jerusalem, which as I’ve already mentioned, is one huge shopping bazaar. During the day, the press of people and merchants is oppressive, making meditative prayer on the stations of the cross nearly impossible. So, we’ll walk the road at 5 AM and hopefully appreciate the experience a bit better. We enter through St. Stephen’s gate, also known as the Lion’s Gate, and wait for our cross to arrive (yes, you can rent a cross for the experience). But our man is a no-show, so we venture forth, following the stations and singing the Stabat Mater after each station. It is dark and cold, but fortunately one of the tour members has a small flashlight that allows us to read each station description. At the 5th station, we hear a commotion of running feet behind us and to our surprise (and a smile), our cross man appears at top speed, carrying a six-foot wooden cross made of two by fours. It’s best carried by two people, so we pair up and each take turns, with the cross man now playing photographer – a bit of a distraction actually.
Before long, we come to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where stations 10 through 14 are done, drop off the cross, and go within. Even at this early hour, the church is teeming with people, and we are simply one group among many. We wrap up the stations quickly and quietly and since most of our tour group has not yet been in the Church, Iyad guides us to the various key points, explaining many of the features that Fr. Dennis had shared with us earlier in the week. We have a Mass slot reserved at Calvary for 6:30 AM, so we climb the stairs to the top and gather as a group before the Latin altar situated just to the right of the main Greek Orthodox altar. It’s a bit awkward at first since the altar is flush to the back wall, pre-Vatican II style. Father Dennis handles it easily, however, and we take our cue from his calm presiding. Several other pilgrims join us for the Mass, which is just fine. We are not allowed to sing, alas, since the rules of the Church allow only one ceremony with music at a time. And sure enough, halfway through the Offertory, an organ blares out in another part of the Church, nearly drowning out Fr. Dennis. I watch him closely as he celebrates the Eucharist and it is clear that he is quite moved to be in this holy place. We share Communion and final blessing, and as Father moves off to unvest, the rest of the group lines up to venerate the site of the cross. We do the same, and Katie reaches into the hole with her new cross and chain wrapped around her hand, touching the rock beneath.
We make our way back to the hotel in a light rain, arriving in time for 7:30 AM breakfast, a shower, and a quick nap. Quite a way to celebrate a birthday morning, huh? Yes, it’s my 51st birthday today, and the day has just begun!
Mid-morning we gather as a group and bus over to the Wailing Wall, the holiest site for Jews in Jerusalem. This wall, part of the original retaining wall built by Herod the Great when expanding the Temple, is the closest currently accessible point the Jews have to the original Holiest of the Holies. This site, too, has us proceed through metal detectors and once we approach the wall, the men and the women separate. We men must have our heads covered according to Jewish custom and there are small cardboard yarmulkes available for use if necessary. Even though I have a hat already, I grab one for a souvenir (to Katie’s horror). The custom is to pray while touching the wall, with many leaving a small paper prayer intention wedged in a crack between stones in the wall. I’m struck by a sign that states that “the Divine Presence never moves from the Western Wall.” It’s an interesting concept that God is somehow more “present” in a particular spot. Islam is similar in belief -- one of the five pillars of Islam is the Hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca, which all good Moslems should attempt in their lifetime. Christianity does not share this in quite so pronounced a way. We certainly encourage pilgrimages and visits to holy sites, but the theology is not about finding God there. It’s much more about finding God in ourselves as a result of the journey. In other words, Christianity is about the journey, while it seems that Judaism and Islam are more about the Word and tradition. (I may have this all wrong, but I’ll share it anyway!)
We wrap up our touring for the day by visiting the Israeli Museum that houses the Dead Sea Scrolls uncovered in the Qumran site we had visited earlier in the week. It’s really quite an amazing find, mainly because it validates the existence of virtually the entire Hebrew Testament back to before the time of Christ. The museum presents the information logically and carefully, and it is interesting in a scholarly kind of way. I’m not sure I could ever be an archeologist – too many fragments and pieces to keep track of!
You can tell the tour is winding down since people seem more fatigued and less willing to come to attention when Iyad beckons us. Iyad has a good sense of humor about it, however, and asks us to keep an eye on each other. The last days are when people get lost – and there are a few in our group that have been temporarily misplaced at various times already. We gather back at the hotel, rest up a bit, and then head for dinner. Since it’s a big day for yours truly, I order two bottles of wine for each of our 5 tour tables. I’m paid back with not one, but two choruses of Happy Birthday, one for each bottle I think! Ward is a bit of a cigar aficionado and purchased a package of 3 Cuban cigars in London Heathrow on the way into Israel. He gathers me and Fr. Dennis and we head to the bar for a nightcap. Brandies all around, carefully dipped cigars, light em up, and watch the people in the bar scatter! So we take the stogies onto the outside front terrace of the hotel and puff away, sharing stories about the tour, about the Palestinian question, about Israel, and so on. There’s something about cigars and brandy that are conducive to solving the world’s problems. Winston Churchill would agree, I think! Finally, at 10 PM, my throat coated like a hookah pipe, we say good night and crash – a long, interesting, and memorable birthday!
Our last full tour day dawns and as usual, I hear the 4:20 AM Moslem call to prayer from my bed. It’s not particularly loud, but there’s something about that keening cry that brings me awake every time. Today we journey west of Jerusalem, visiting two sites before we return for lunch and a free afternoon.
The first visit is to the traditional site of Elizabeth’s home, where Mary visited after learning that she would give birth. The town is called Ein Karem, and is quite a pretty town as these areas go. Iyad tells us that this is an artist’s colony and one of the most desirable neighborhood suburbs of Jerusalem. We can see why – there’s abundant vegetation amid the hilly streets and some nicer homes than we typically see. The Church of the Visitation is situated halfway up a steep slope, accessible by a narrow lane that is really only suitable for walking. Fr. Dennis leads us in a rosary as we huff and puff up the grade, pausing after a couple of decades to catch our breath. The trip is rewarded by a very pretty church, outside of which is a courtyard with the Magnificat inscribed in plaques, one for each of dozens of languages. The Magnificat is Mary’s song of praise to God in response to Elizabeth’s greeting, “Hail, Mary, full of grace!” Mary replies, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my savior!”
After a brief visit to the requisite gift shop, we head back down to the bus for a trip to Emmaus. Emmaus is the town (told about in Luke’s gospel) where two disciples are journeying on Easter Sunday. They are quite depressed about Jesus’ death, but Jesus himself joins them on the journey and tells them all about why He had to suffer and die. They only recognize Jesus when he dines with them and breaks bread. It’s a great gospel story, one of my favorites. Alas, no one knows where Emmaus is! There is no town by that name today, and history has swallowed up the site of the original Emmaus. The Crusaders tried to figure it out by measuring a day’s journey from Jerusalem in several directions. Three candidate villages “qualify” – we are visiting one – Abu Gosh. There is a Benedictine monastery at this site with an ancient church, and it is here that we will celebrate our final Mass as a group.
At the end of Mass, Fr. Dennis presents each of us with a Jerusalem cross pin and a certificate that validates our visit to the Holy Land. But as we make our way back to the hotel, Katie and I agree that the only way to properly say good-bye to the Holy Land is through one more visit to the Holy Sepulchre. We fortify ourselves with a nice lunch in the hotel, and then head out into the Old City one more time. Sure of the way, we leave the map in the hotel and proceed with confidence. Oops. You guessed it. We miss a key turn and find ourselves buried in the maze of the Moslem Quarter. Grumbling under our breath, we take a few turns, backtrack some steps, remember some landmarks, find one of the Stations of the Cross, and once again, fumble our way to the Church.
There is a line waiting to enter the tomb, so we patiently wait, hoping that some ceremony doesn’t break out and interrupt progress. There is a large group of Russian Orthodox women in front of us, all carrying large bundles of candles that they light as a bundle at the ceremonial candle outside the tomb and then extinguish shortly thereafter. I expect that they will take the candles home to burn on special occasions as souvenirs of this place. Finally it is our turn to go in and Katie and I find ourselves at the slab next to two Russian Orthodox women. They are both kneeling at the slab, one of them weeping. We awkwardly worm our way between them and I touch the slab. To my amazement, the jolt of power I felt at the tomb on my prior visit was once again repeated. I prayed for peace in this world, peace in our homes, and success and happiness in my ministry. The monk called us out and as I exited I inadvertently gave my head a good rap on the mantel of the doorway. As I walked out, rubbing my noggin, it all came to me.
Feel free to step out on the journey with confidence, but don’t be surprised if you get lost. Seek touchpoints, landmarks, and prayer along the way. Don’t be afraid to ask someone if you really need help. Have a companion on the journey. You will be challenged with strange sights and sounds. At times, you will be impatient and want to hurry things up. There will be moments of theophany, of God touching us, and there will be moments of pain and suffering. But rest assured that God is with us through it all, and if we follow the example of Jesus, we can show the world a path to peace that the world cannot give. I shared these reflections with Katie outside the rock pile that is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. We shared a hug, touched the Church good-bye, held hands, and headed home.