A Journey of Contrasts

The following post is from Gayle Pershouse, one of the Holy Land pilgrims, and a member of the Parish of the Epiphany.

This is a journey of contrasts: Yesterday, on top of Mt. Tabor, my winter coat felt thin against the wind; by the afternoon I was basking in the sun in my bathing suit and swimming in the Dead Sea, then eating ice cream on the deck. As we go back and forth through “checkpoints” from Israeli to Palestinian areas and back again, we meet the contrasts of the land: lush and fertile/stony and arid; and the economy: thriving and modern/struggling, poor, “third world” in feeling.  Religiously, a pilgrimage is an experience of contrasts as well. Sometimes we encounter strange customs, sometimes funny moments, and then, unexpectedly, the ineffable will take us by surprise. For me, yesterday one bizarre moment was looking at the caves where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found in a starkly barren desert place and listening to Iyod say that this is the place where the controversial Bishop Pike walked out into the desert and never came back.

Are we getting close to the saturation point on beautiful old churches dedicated to an important moment in Jesus’ life? A humorous moment came when, visiting the site of Jacob’s well, Iyod told us to stay close together because one of the vendors has a tendency to “hug the women much too long.” Most of us didn’t think we were in the age category to get such a “hug” but we stayed together as told. Then, at this same place, as we read the story of Jesus asking the Samaritan woman for a drink, drew water from the ancient stone well by lowering a bucket way down on a long rope, and tasted the water ourselves, the ineffable presence of Jesus was suddenly manifest to one of us in a very real way. Jesus was speaking to her personally about her husband.

The next site was an inexplicable contrast for me: an ancient ruin of a church in which ritual animal sacrifice is still practiced. St. Helena, the mother of the Emperor Constantine, built this church in the fourth century. It is dedicated to St. George. The stone steps were saturated with the blood of sacrificed animals and the door jams were marked in blood with many crosses.

This town, Taybeh, gave us an even starker contrast: animal sacrifice in Christian ruins overlooking the “wilderness” contrasted with a visit to a modern micro-brewery making very good Palestinian beer!

“So what?” Is the question I ask myself. So, why come to the Holy Land when I can just as well meet Jesus in my own kitchen? (as my friend asked me before I left.) Each of us forms a different answer to this question. Maybe there are several answers for each of us, and maybe we will find more answers in the weeks and months after we come home. One answer is so obvious but so subtle for us we might miss it: as a little band of pilgrims seeking traces of our Lord, we become a brand new, unique expression of the Christ we are seeking. We are the Body of Christ here in a land that is much in need of peace and healing. Maybe that is reason enough.