Judean desert, Jericho, and Nazareth

A very early morning. We left Jerusalem at 7:15 and made our way east toward the Jordan, about an hour's drive north and east. We disembarked in the middle of nowhere overlooking the Wadi Quelt, the usually dried-up river bed that served as the north-south road where people once dwelt in the canyons and caves of the mountainous desert. It was easy to imagine Jesus telling the parable of the Good Samaritan because before our eyes, as Joan read that parable, we could see it unfolding...it was that real.

From there we traveled east to Jericho, which is 10,000 years old! Incomprehensible to consider that fact, given its current size and modernity. A cable car took us to the top of a mountain, the Mount of the Temptation, to an Orthodox monastery where one monk remains. Again, the pieces fell into place. How is this the spot where the temptation occurred? Of course we don't know for certain, but given that a community of believers has been dwelling in this cliff (think Navajo) since the first century, and that they've maintained a community for 2,000 years, it's pretty easy to say, "yup, this marks the spot."

The sycamore tree in Jericho where Zacchaeus climbed
to see Jesus pass through town.

Once we were back in Jericho we stopped by Zaccheus's tree, the sycamore tree, which he supposedly climbed to see Jesus passing through.

A longer trip north, and turning west into Israel itself, and then north for over an hour, we arrived in Nazareth. En route the scenery was central California...field after field of vegetation, produce, and beauty. Then, almost out of nowhere, the city of Nazareth appears in the distance. It's much bigger than its first century predecessor, which likely had 200 people dwelling in cut-out caves on the hillside. Today, more than 100,000 people live here, and it's exceedingly modern. Our accommodations, the Sisters of Nazareth Guesthouse and Chapel, are straight out of late 19th century, and as one of us said, "don't you feel like you're at the Isabella Stewart Gardner?" Yes, as a matter of fact.

Surrounding the convent, on every side, are churches. One is Anglican (part of the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem), and the other three are some versions of Roman, Orthodox, and Armenian. And though each is distinct from the other (stand alone) they're almost integrated, together with shops for locals and pilgrims alike, into a story book of Gabriel's Annunciation to Mary, the God-bearer.

Tradition holds that this is the hometown spot
of our Lord's growing-up-Synagogue.

The grotto in the Basilica, carved out from the
nave's main floor, where the Angel Gabriel
announced to Mary that she would give
birth to Jesus, the Messiah.

We made it just in time to the "Synagogue Church" which of course never existed. It's a simple place dedicated to the time when the adolescent Jesus unrolled the scroll and read from the prophet Isaiah. We read the passage from St. Luke and sat quietly. Just steps away, as if it were some giant lighthouse, is the massive Basilica of the Annunciation, completed in 1969. Think modern ecclesiastical architecture taken to its zenith. Or, if you're not a fan, I guess you could say nadir. And yet, it retains several elements of its 5th century predecessor, including the apse, and even better, there is preserved right there in the middle of the church, the 1st century grotto where Gabriel announced to Mary that she would give birth to Jesus, the Messiah. We gave thanks for archeologists! Around the Basilica, so moving, are artistic representations of the Annunciation from every nation in the world (as the league of nations existed in 1968), most with mosaic, or ceramic tile, some with glass, but EACH conveys the essence of how Mary might be perceived or depicted in that particular culture/nation. "France's is SO French," said Pat Hitchcock (a pilgrim from the Parish of the Epiphany), and another pilgrim, Gayle Pershouse, said, "Look at Mexico's...it takes you there." I agree completely. Unfortunately our own country's rendition leaves something to be desired, even for me, one who adores 1960s-1970s "good" church architecture; I admitted to feeling a tad embarrassed to say it was from America. Another pilgrim, Don DeLollis, from Christ Church Andover, said, "Thomas, you'll just have to get over it!"

A few steps beyond the Basilica is an early 20th century Romanesque church (on the remains of an 11th century church) dedicated to St. Joseph. It's diminutive next to the Basilica, but it's no less embracing of his part, Joseph's, role in the story of salvation. First off, it's unpretentious and sturdy. There are three paintings in the apse: 1) the Holy Family, 2) The Dream of Joseph, and 3) the Death of Joseph in the Arms of Jesus and Mary. Don't miss these! A stairway descends to a crypt where caverns can be seen through a grille in the floor, yes, the very place where Joseph and Mary made their home.

Our supper was in a simple refectory with other pilgrims from around the world. A group of Italian priests, all collared-up (and cutting-up), a group of women and men from a French speaking island off Madgascar (Reunion, I think), and ourselves. After supper the 16 of us gathered in a circle in the convent chapel to say our prayers, and to say good-night.

Poor Nathaniel. Of course he said, "Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?" It's clear that very little existed here in the first century. Now, in 2013, it's a place one could spend a week, easily, and not scratch the surface of meaning, of history, or certainly, of beauty. Get here if you can. 2015 beckons!

The Shepherds Field and Manger Square

An epic day! First, both Bishop Harris and I were on the bus. I'm fully recovered, she not quite, but almost. Thanks to Lester Hartmann, M.D.'s prescription of Tamiflu I really am flu-free. (We should talk about the miracle drug called Tamiflu...readily available to you. Take immediately, at first onset of flu symptoms, and it attacks the virus itself, thereby getting one well very soon.)

A sticker, one of many, stuck to the Palestinian side of the "security" wall

We began the day by taking the bus a short distance, but it took nearly 45 minutes, to Bethlehem; 4 miles away from our hotel. But, given Jerusalem traffic, and even more, the "security wall" which the Israeli government erected in the middle of the town, it's not especially easy to get to. In fact, it's arduous, and depressing. Bethlehem, at the turn of the 20th century was nearly 90% Christian/Palestinian. Now, not quite a century later it's less than 3% Christian. What happened to the Christians? They fled, emigrated to the United States, or other places where walls are not erected. Today, Bethlehem is a town of Palestinian Muslims whose economy is dependent upon the massive numbers of Christian pilgrims who make their way to Manger Square, the Church of the Nativity, and St. Catherine's Church. Their poverty is starkly obvious: the wall separates them, keeps them from their workplaces and their fields, and creates a kind of island in which they are trapped, save for those who are old enough or sick enough to get permits to leave and enter the state of Israel. Our first stop wasn't Manger Square, however, it was a grotto in what is known as the Shepherds Field, the place where tradition says the angel of the Lord appeared to the shepherds and announced the birth of our Lord.

It's utterly believable...even the most jaded cynic of Biblical and archeological scholarship would be hard-pressed not to see the strong likelihood that shepherds would have lived there, and that in that first century, directly in front of them, to the west, would have been another cave in which Jesus could well have been born. We sang Christmas carols in a chapel, descended stone steps into a cave, and prayed.

From there we had time to shop at a Palestinian Craft Cooperative (my colleagues lucked out on very cool gifts...and they ship to the US, besides!). Anybody need an olive wood creche set? We walked a few yards from the shop to a sit-down lunch at a local Palestinian-owned/run place, Ruth's Field Restaurant. Ruth, the owner, does all the cooking, along with her family. Outstanding food.

Then it was back onto the bus for the trip up the hill to Manger Square. Did you know that today is Christmas? Yes, that's right, 18 January is Christmas. At least it is for Armenian Christians. The place was decked out, oriental carpets were festooned on every floor surface, and there were workers busily preparing for tonight's festivities with the Patriarch. The church itself is impressive enough, but to get to the "manger" one descends a set of stone steps, again into a grotto, and there a silver star marks the spot. We venerated the spot, and then Iyad took us into a corner. Pat Hitchcock read the nativity story and we sang O Little Town of Bethlehem. And Christmas does indeed come once more.

We got back to the hotel in time to be with each other, to talk and to listen, and to reflect on what each of us has seen and felt the last couple of days. So important to do this, and so moving to hear my fellow pilgrims speak about what has been moving and good, as well as what's been hard and challenging. After supper we surprised Bishop Harris with a little party to celebrate her 10th anniversary of episcopacy. Cake and champagne and flowers. A perfect ending to a perfect day.

A day in the old city

Today's post is from Gayle Pershouse, a pilgrim from the Parish of the Epiphany:

Today, Thursday, is our second day in the Holy Land. We started out early (7am) for a walking tour of Old Jerusalem beginning with the Western Wall. The Holy Spirit in the form of a white dove enchanted us by perching in a niche right above us while we prayed at the Wall. We moved from there to the Islamic side of the wall where we saw the Dome of the Rock and then on to the pools of Bethesda and St. Anne's Church. Here there is a custom that each group of pilgrims stands in the center of the nave in front of the altar and sings. Our impromptu performance is posted below for your enjoyment. We  took coffee or tea in an arab coffee shop and enjoyed a peaceful and delicious lunch at the Lutheran Guest House. We were hungry: I estimate we walked at least 6 miles in and through the narrow winding streets, including the Cardo, a souk filled with every kind of beautiful (and ugly) thing you can buy. Our last stop was at the Holy Sepulcher, where Jesus was buried. So many layers of history in one place! Iyad is showing us how to know what is from Roman times, what is 4th century Byzantine, and what is from the 15th century. Such a fascinating place!

Click here to hear us signing at the Basillica of Saint Anne in the old city.

Lest you are worrying, know that our leaders, Thomas and Bishop Harris, are quite recovered and joined us for dinner. Thanks be to God!

From the Mount of Olives to Gethsemane

 I'm writing today from the hotel. The rest of the group is in the old city visiting the Western Wall and the Dome of the Rock and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Yes, I managed to catch the flu! I'm insistent upon losing only one day, and since we're so close to the old city I'll find my way to these places on my own, later in the trip. For now I'm drinking massive amounts of fluids and have slept most of the day. One of the pediatricians on the trip hooked me up with some tamiflu. If you haven't done so, get a flu shot!

Yesterday's trek, if you can call it that (everything is so compact), began at the Damascus Gate of the old city. Iyad explained, artfully, just enough to engage us, but not so much as to overwhelm us, the difference among the principal time periods which shaped both the architecture and the religious expressions of Jerusalem: 1st century (Roman) 4th-5th (Byzantine), and 11th-12th (Crusades). We walked, briefly, into the old city and exited on the Nablus Road ending up at St. George's Cathedral. Stunning! From there we met our bus, and following lunch, we gathered on top of Mount Scopus to get our bearings, and to appreciate once again how small the whole place actually is. I imagined a big city, but in fact, it's quite small, and during Jesus's time, of course, it was even more condensed.

Just east of Mount Scopus we stopped again to look east, and to see the dramatic beauty of the Judean desert, and also, to see Jewish settlements. In that part of the West Bank there really is only one section of hilltops without settlements. Who knows how long that will remain.

From there the bus took us a short ride to the Mount of Olives, and standing there, looking west, we could see the old city and get our bearings from a different perspective.

The mosaic in front of the altar at the "Teardrop Church" which is
about half-way from the Mount of Olives to the Garden of Gethsemane.

Then began the palm Sunday walk. We descended steeply to the Garden of Gethsemane, except for one important stop along the way, the Church of the Dominus Flevit (meaning "the Lord wept"). The current church was built in the 1950s, but the original one was supposedly built upon the rock where Jesus had wept over Jerusalem. It was extremely powerful to read from the gospels Jesus lament over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41 and Matthew 23:37-39), and to sit inside of a church where the central image is a mosaic on the altar of a hen gathering her chicks under wings. Of course I told the story of "chicks on a stick" for children in the Palm Sunday procession back home (taken from Thomas Mousin and from Gertrude Muller's book, To Dance with God.)

Just inside the garden of Gethsemane

The Garden of Gethsemane itself is does indeed have some of the world's oldest olive trees, three of them have been scientifically dated to be over 2000 years old, making them witnesses to whatever biblical events occurred there. The Church of All Nations, also known as the Basilica of Agony, is a 1920s era shrine to mosaics! Unbelievable. The church was designed by Antonio Barluzzi, and the seals of the 12 nations which financed the project are represented on the ceiling, in mosaics, naturally.

We returned to the hotel late in the afternoon. At 5:00 a friend of Iyad's, a Palestinian Muslim, spoke to us about Islam, a sort of Islam for Dummies lecture. He was entertaining and passionate. At one point somebody asked him about what it's like to live in East Jerusalem, in 2013.
His response, even more animated than his discussion of Islam,
helped us to hear, maybe for the first time (I'm not sure how much
my travel companions have heard from Palestinians...we certainly
don't get the story from our media in the U.S.) the pain
of occupation, and the clear desire for a two state solution.

One of the olive trees that is over 2000 years old.

Day 2: East Jerusalem

 Today's post is from Laura Reboul, a member of the Parish of the Epiphany.     

Yesterday, Tuesday, was a day of emotional highs and lows.  After 3 days of sightseeing on our own in  Tel Aviv, Ted and I joined the group from Boston at the airport and met our guide Iyad for the drive to Jerusalem.  About halfway along the 45 minute trip, we crossed through the checkpoint (uneventful) into the West Bank and it was clear that the tone of our visit to Israel was about to change.  
      The highway was suddenly lined on both sides with a barbed wire fence.  In the far distance we could see a huge Israeli Jewish settlement built for about 100,000 settlers.  In the near distance we saw Palestinian houses - our guide indicated that these could identified as Palestinian because each roof had a black water tank.  Piped water to the settlers homes is reliable.  However, the water supply for Palestinians is apparently unpredictable, and it is cut off even more frequently in the summer.  Hence they have to collect a reserve of water in rooftop tanks for times when the government cuts off therir supply.        When we arrived at our hotel in East Jerusalem, we were in a very different world.  Stll in the West Bank, , this Arab section of Jerusalem was teeming with activity  The difficult position of the Palestinian Arabs was not as obvious here as along the highway.  After lunch Iyad took us around the neighborbhood and introduced us to the best Arab shops for spices, coffee, books, etc.  He obsviously is well respected as he and the shopkeepers all joked about being "cousins".  As the atternoon wore on, the hotel filled up with more groups of pilgrims wearing a variety of religious garb and hailing from places including Romania, Russsia, and Malaysia.        The Muslim call to prayer felt surprisingly comforting,  And the evening Compline service with the 15 of us helped bring this overwhelming day to a peaceful concludson.  Laura Reboul

East Jerusalem, Day 1

United Airlines #84 from Newark's Liberty Airport arrived at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv earlier than scheduled (about 9:00am local time...we're 7 hours ahead of EST), and the passport control was a breeze.

Canon Iyad Qumri, our guide (and I think the guide of nearly every Episcopal Church group) was there to greet us, as were Epiphanyites Ted & Laura Reboul, who had spent a couple days in Tel Aviv. The journey from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem is just 45 minutes, but eye-opening on every level, especially as we passed through the West Bank, though with our Israeli license plates it was uneventful. Even so, one cannot miss the fences and walls.

The only real setback for the group is that Bishop Harris is very sick, likely the flu. She arrived at Logan with what she thought was a cold, but by the time we landed in Israel, it was clear that whatever she has is more than a cold. Thankfully in our group we have three pediatricians, Lester, Donald, and Rita. Though they're not internists, they're all pretty expert in the flu. With their counsel, along with our guide, Iyad and his wife, Simone, (who's a nurse and is well acquainted with Bishop Harris) they agreed that Bishop Harris needed to see a doctor. She was given some intravenous fluids, a prescription or two, and is in her room resting.

Our accommodations at the Holy Land Hotel, in East Jerusalem, are perfectly fine: they're clean and we have free wi-fi. What else does one need? My room has a balcony which looks out onto the old city wall and the dome of the rock. I'll post some pictures later.

Iyad took us a few blocks for a shawarma lunch (delicious!), and gave us a brief tour of the neighborhood. A few of us, feeling intrepid and restless, ventured on our own into a small section of the old city: Noah (the rector of Grace Church in Medford), Pat (a parishioner from Epiphany), Marie (a parishioner from Epiphany), Anna (a young adult intern with the Diocese of Massachusetts), and I.

The wall of the old city is visible from my room. What's not visible,
unfortunately, is the dome of the rock....just beyond that illuminated wall.

Staggering, really. The psalmist put it this way: Jerusalem is built as a city that is at unity with itself, to which the tribes go up. I felt that--something of that. Which is to say, that even on that brief trek through a very small portion of the old city, entering through Herod's gate and exiting at the Damascus gate, there is power in knowing that Jesus himself walked there.

There's one story that keeps coming back to me. My friend Dominic, a priest in the Church of England who leads many pilgrimages here, once said, "something happens to every person, spiritually, in the Holy Land. Every person has a moment." I don't yet know if he's right, nor am I suggesting that today was my "moment," yet here it was, "Jerusalem the golden."

 This evening we'll have dinner together, here at the hotel, and be reunited with two more members of our group, David & Kathy Laubenthal, who, like the Rebouls, came earlier. We'll say our prayers, and head off to bed.