Leaving Jerusalem: 10 March 2010

I've got a couple of other posts to write about this trip, including the one about yesterday. But tonight, what's really on my mind is leaving Jerusalem.

I have fallen in love with this city. There's something about the air and the energy here that captures my attention. I've learned how to stare down drivers when I want to cross the street. I helped a new arrival to the city get oriented with her map yesterday. Baloney, pita bread, olives, cucumbers and tomatoes seem like normal breakfast.

And now, it's time to leave. Don't get me wrong: I miss friends and family like crazy. I'm ready to be back at St. Barnabas. But my heart aches to leave this city and I am already plotting my return.

Today, Anne, David and I ventured to the Armenian Quarter of the Old City (where I had yet to go). We enjoyed a lovely lunch of Armenian food (not dissimilar from what we've eaten in other places: hummous, eggplant salad, Armenian yogurt, Kibbuh, and a great chicken dish). Then, Anne and I took the rampart walk (a walkway around the top of the wall which encloses the Old City and gives you a rooftop view out over the city - the three of us did it for the first time yesterday) to return to the College. We walked beyond our departure gate, to the end of the walk - which took us nearly 2/3 of the way around the city.

As we walked, I realized that the rampart walk was a fitting way to say goodbye to the Old City. As we walked and talked (and walked and climbed stairs, and walked.....), I looked out over Jerusalem, trying to memorize what I was seeing. I have photos galore (I think over 800), but I didn't take my camera today; I want to carry some of these images in my heart and mind.

This will be my last post from Jerusalem. We depart from Tel Aviv quite early in the morning, and arriving in Washington around 6PM (local time). I am so thankful for this trip, which has changed me in so many ways.

Monday 8 March 2010: The Way of the Cross and The Church of the Resurrection

I woke up early this morning, well before the alarm. And that says something, as the alarm was to have gone off at 5:20. Our instructions were to be ready to leave the College at 5:55AM and to keep silence. Our mission: to walk The Way of the Cross.

The Way of the Cross, or the Stations of the Cross, traces Jesus journey from his arrest to his death on the cross. Walking the Way of the Cross in Jerusalem is a whole different experience from walking it in a church, using pictures on the wall (which is how I've done it for my whole life).

We used the book A Walk in Jerusalem: Stations of the Cross by John L. Peterson. It's a progressive and intercessory version of this ancient service. I am grateful that we've been given the copies we used, as I will use this version again in the future, when leading the stations.

It will come as no surprise to learn that I found praying the Way of the Cross in Jerusalem to be a moving experience. It was early in the morning, so the streets weren't bustling. We were asked to keep silence, so it really was prayerful. The intercessions were powerful. But, in the end, what brought tears to my eyes, repeatedly, was watching my fellow pilgrims. We come in all ages and sizes. We have a range of physical abilities. And, having now walked the actual way of the cross, I get why Jesus fell three times. The roads are difficult and it's a climb. The tenacity of my companions was moving. And in a number of cases, those who volunteered to carry the cross were those who already bear significant burdens. As I watched each one take up the cross, I cried.

We ended at the Church of the Resurrection (from its Greek name Anastaseos), also known as The Church of the Holy Sepulchre (no longer its preferred name, this is what the Crusaders called it). Based on gospel information, scholars believe that Calvary (or Golgotha, the Place of the Skulls) and the tomb were actually in close proximity. Within the Church of the Resurrection, you can find Calvary, the anointing stone where Jesus' body was prepared for burial, and the empty tomb.

Church of the Resurrection is another place where there is so much bustle and so many pilgrims, that it can be a bit overwhelming. [Also, because of something called the status quo, the custody of the church is shared by Greek Orthodox (who hold the largest share), Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholics (called the Latins, here), Armenian Apostolic, Coptic Orthodox, Syrian Orthodox, and Ethiopian Orthodox churches, with a Muslim family acting as keyholder. As you can imagine there is always a great deal happening liturgically, and sometimes different things are competing!]

We entered the church, and went down to the regular tombs. Then, we queued to touch the rock of Calvary. I was most moved by the anointing stone where Jesus' body was taken from the cross and prepared for burial. To this day, people come and pour oils on it, and so it is redolent with the scent of perfume. After I knelt to touch it, my hands came away smelling sweet. I carried that scent with me for hours. Finally, we entered the empty tomb. In the spot where I knelt, grooves have been worn in the stone by the hands of centuries of pilgrims, kneeling as I have, in this empty tomb.

There are several places around the church where pilgrims of old scratched crosses into the stone walls to mark their pilgrimages. I traced several crosses with my thumb as I passed, to add my own cross to the walls, to take my place among centuries of pilgrims to this holy place.

When we finished there, we were on our own. A friend has a Palestinian friend who cooked a few of us a remarkable lunch in a communal bake oven. We ate chicken baked with onions and potatoes and a beef/lamb mix baked with tomatoes, eggplant, and red peppers, all scooped up with pita bread.

Before heading back to College, Anne and I shopped. I've come to appreciate the scarf here - having worn one virtually non-stop in all kinds of weather. Scarves, or pashmina, can be shawls, or scarves, or merely decorative. I now have a collection, as well as beautiful piece of jewelry. Oh, and I "accidently" bought the most glorious icon of the Virgin and Child. It was not on my agenda or my list. But, she literally jumped off the shelf into my arms and I could not resist her. I then learned that the original hangs in in the Virgin's tomb in Gethsemane, where I have been (though I did not see her there). She will enrich my prayers when I return home.

Sideways view of the Church of the Resurrection entrance.

Pilgrim crosses, scratched into the walls. I am there, now, too.

Pilgrims waiting to touch the rock at Calvary.

Dome over the empty tomb (with a bit of the enclosure around the empty tomb on the bottom right).

A view of some of the iconography around the church. Additionally, you can see more of the structure which houses the empty tomb on the right.

Thursday 4 March

I'm still a day behind, because I had so much catching up to do from Galilee.

Today was a very full day - with much to see and to experience. Several times, I was moved to tears.

We began our day on the spot known as the Temple Mount. It was the site of the first Temple, built by King Solomon and then destroyed by the Babylonians. It was rebuilt in a much smaller form after the return from exile. Herod gave it a serious upgrade during his rule, in an attempt to win the favour of the Israelites, without much success. It was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE, during the Jewish Revolt.

Today, the Temple Mount is home to the Dome of the Rock and to Al Aqsa Mosque, the third most significant mosque in Islam. As I walked in this space, that has been sacred to Jews and Muslims alike (and, frankly, to Christians, as Jesus spent much time in the Temple), I just kept thinking that God must weep to see the divisions among God's people. I prayed for peace to the God of Many Names.

First, the Dome of the Rock, next, a place for purification before prayer, and finally, Al Aqsa Mosque.

One of the gates leading to the Temple Mount is the Golden Gate or the Mercy Gate. This gate is closed, because Jews believe that only the Messiah can open the Mercy Gate. It is facing the Mount of Olives. If you look carefully in the picture below, you can see many graves of devout Jews on the Mount of Olives, because they want to be there when the Messiah comes.

Next, we journeyed to the Pools of Bethesda and St. Anne's Church, which is located there. The pools are one of the places that we know with certainty that Jesus was. In John's gospel, Jesus heals a man on the Sabbath at the Pools of Bethesda. While there, we had a meditation on Jesus as healer, and then Lois our chaplain offered us a laying on of hands and anointing for healing. I cried as I waited for the prayers, and then, uncharacteristically, not during them. However, as soon as they were over, I sat quietly and wept for about fifteen minutes. It was a rich time for me for prayer, contemplation, and writing.

Here's the North Pool at Bethesda (and the little corner where I sat and wept) and a sideways view of the front of St. Anne's Church, where I lit candles, as has been my custom.

After lunch, traveled to the Western Wall, also known as the Wailing Wall. I walked to the wall (on the women's side, of course), and offered prayers - prayers I'd been asked to pray there, and prayers for those I love.

I watched there young women, Israeli soldiers, who went ahead of me to the wall. They were young and beautiful. They laughed and joked along the way down, and posed for pictures, just like we did. In fact, I took one picture of the three of them, so that they could all be in the photo. When it was time to pray, they got very serious, and at least one wiped tears from her eyes as she walked away. Some folks walk away from the wall backwards, because they believe that God lives here, perpetually, and you should never turn your back on God.

Here's the Wailing Wall, sideways. Men's section (large and spacious) on the left, women's (small and crowded) on the right.

Our last stops of the day were at the outside of the Western Wall. There, an archaeological excavation is working on the remains of some of King David's place. Finally, we went to some steps that date from the 1st century and which led to one of the entrances to the Temple. Andrew, our course leader, pointed out that Jesus would have climbed these steps many times. His mother would have brought him up those steps forty days after he was born for her purification. He would have gone up and down many other times, as well.

I cried, as I looked at those steps and imagined all of the times Jesus might have walked them. I spontaneously prayed the Song of Simeon, which Simeon prayed when he encountered the Baby Jesus, at the Purification. Lord, you now have set your servant free, to go in peace as you have promised. For these eyes of mine have seen the Saviour, whom you have prepared for all the world to see. A light to enlighten the nations and the glory of your people, Israel.

Excavations at the Western Wall and first century steps leading up to the Temple.

Thoughts after visiting Yad Vashem

This afternoon, Anne, David (a new friend, on this pilgrimage with us), and I traveled to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum.

I was moved to tears by the cruelty that human beings can inflict on one another. At the opening of the museum, is a quote (I didn't have a pen, so I couldn't write down who said it, and I may not have the wording exact): Do not judge a nation by what it does, judge it by what it's people will tolerate.

Yad Vashem hits you again, and again with the cruelty that was inflicted on the Jewish people of Europe by their compatriots. Early on, I was struck (as I have been every time I've studied about The Holocaust) by how so many ordinary Europeans could watch what was happening and look away.

I was pretty stoic until I got to the stories of children and families. Children ripped from mothers' arms. Lovers separated, never to see one another again. I read about a mother who gave her children to neighbors before heading off to the camps. One woman left a note for her partner before committing suicide, rather than be deported to a camp. Tears were flowing as I walked from one panel to another.

As I walked, I remembered what it felt like to be marginalized and [figuratively] spat upon by members of the lesbian community, when I first came out as bisexual, in 1987. In that community, bisexuality was not well thought of. My question then: How can people who have experienced persecution themselves then turn around and persecute others?

I asked myself the same question today at Yad Vashem: How can a people who have experienced the kind of hatred that the Jewish people have experienced now perpetuate that hatred on the Palestinians?

Yesterday's crossing at a checkpoint from Bethlehem back into Israel, felt a bit like leaving a ghetto (in the old sense). Coming back tonight from Yad Vashem, our yellow cab driver (Israeli) was afraid to come into Arab East Jerusalem; the white cabs (Arab) are simply not allowed to cross the green line from Arab East Jerusalem into Jerusalem.

I know that there are many complicated issues here of land and history. And I certainly am not trying to denigrate the experiences of millions of Jews. But, having been in Bethlehem yesterday, the contrast was startling.

What do y'all think?

The Jerusalem Mile Project

The Jerusalem Mile is another name for a labyrinth. Pilgrims who cannot physically travel to Jerusalem, can walk "The Jerusalem Mile" on a labyrinth. The pilgrims from the Diocese of Virginia are all part of something called the Jerusalem Mile Project. You can read all about that project and what they are up to here. There is another blog about our trip there, and many more photos than I am posting on my blog.

All Work and no play....

would be a bad idea, even for pilgrims!

So tonight, in the face of torrential rain and thunderstorms, we did the only sensible thing we could do... play cards!

Some of us played bridge.

Some of us played Phase 10.

Some of us played Skip-Bo.

What we had in common is that all of us had fun! And, friendships were made across tables, which was the best part of all.

Scale Model of Jerusalem and The Shrine of the Book

Today, we explored two sites at the Israel Museum. The museum itself is (sadly) closed for renovations. However, there were two other things to explore on their property.

One is a scale model of the City of Jerusalem that sits on about 1 acre of land. It was pouring down rain, so I must admit that I gave it a pretty cursory look. Here are some pics that I snapped under cover of Anne's umbrella:

The view on the left shows the Temple as it would have been. The view on the right is a view from another angle. I wish I could tell you more, but all of the signs for the site were in Hebrew.

Next, I toured the Shrine of the Book. The Shrine of the Book is another museum on the complex, which opened in the mid 1960s, to house the Dead Sea Scrolls and to illuminate the lives of the Essene Community at Qumran.

In 1947, a Bedoin boy found a number of clay jars in a cave. The jars contained scrolls that turned out to be ancient scrolls of books of the bible (and other sacred writings). To make an incredibly long story short, the caves in that area were filled with many scrolls and other artifacts of the lives of the people (known as the Essenes) who lived at Qumran. If you want to read more, you can check out this article here.

The exterior of the museum is shaped like the lid of one of the clay jars. Behind it is a black granite wall. The Community at Qumran was concerned with purity of religious practice and some of their writings talk about the Children of the Light and the Children of the Darkness. That conflict is symbolized in this architecture.

I wasn't allowed to take photos on the inside of the museum, so all I can do is describe what I saw.

Some of the display at the Shrine of the Book was about the lives of the people who lived at Qumran. There were oil lamps, bowls, preserved charred dates, along with artifacts from the scriptorium where the scrolls were studied and copied. Many of us were amused by a small trowel used as for burying excrement. Those of us who have spent time camping recognized it right away!

As I moved from this area into the next, I walked past two enclosed displays. Each one contained one of the actual pottery jars in which scrolls had been found. They stopped me in my tracks. On the one hand, they were simply ancient pottery jars. They looked no more impressive than any other jar. And yet, they had been the vessels for something amazing. They protected their hidden treasure for nearly 2000 years! I wished I could have touched one of them. I stood staring for quite a few minutes before moving on.

We then moved into the second part of The Shrine, where either facsimiles of the ancient texts, or some of the ancient texts themselves, resided. I don't read biblical Hebrew, but I was still awestruck. There, in front of me, were ancient copies of some of the words I love.

I was particularly moved to find a copy of one of the oldest extant hymns in Hebrew Scripture. We recite it as a canticle in Morning Prayer in the Episcopal Church. Tonight, I leave you with Canticle 8: The Song of Moses. This morning, I saw this text in its original form.

I will sing to the Lord, for he is lofty and uplifted; *

the horse and its rider has he hurled into the sea.

The Lord is my strength and my refuge; *

the Lord has become my Savior.

This is my God and I will praise him, *

the God of my people and I will exalt him.

The Lord is a mighty warrior; *

Yahweh is his Name.

The chariots of Pharaoh and his army has he hurled into the sea; *

the finest of those who bear armor have been

drowned in the Red Sea.

The fathomless deep has overwhelmed them; *

they sank into the depths like a stone.

Your right hand, O Lord, is glorious in might; *

your right hand, O Lord, has overthrown the enemy.

Who can be compared with you, O Lord, among the gods? *

who is like you, glorious in holiness,

awesome in renown, and worker of wonders?

You stretched forth your right hand; *

the earth swallowed them up.

With your constant love you led the people you redeemed; *

with your might you brought them in safety to

your holy dwelling.

You will bring them in and plant them *

on the mount of your possession,

The resting-place you have made for yourself, O Lord, *

the sanctuary, O Lord, that your hand has established.

The Lord shall reign *

for ever and for ever.

Exploring the Old City of Jerusalem

Today, we were broken up into groups of four and asked to maintain the identity of family with our group for the duration of the trip. My family (Family #1) consists of Anne (my friend with whom I planned to come on this trip), Megan (pronounced Meeghan, who is from New Zealand!), and Bev (also part of the group from Virginia, but who is a Southern Baptist, brought along by an Episcopal friend - not THAT kind of Southern Baptist, she's quick to say).

Here we are before setting out on our adventure today:

Bev, Anne, Fran, Megan

Our "adventure" was to spend the day exploring the Old City of Jerusalem. Different families were asked to explore different quarters of the city (Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Aremenian). We were assigned to the Muslim quarter. Things we were encouraged to ask or do:

• Find the high place of the quarter and look out over the area.
• Talk to a local resident of the quarter and see what his/her life is like.
• Discover major places of worship in the quarter - and sort out whether there are places of worship for other religions there, as well.
• Eat lunch.
• Discover any ruins in the quarter.
• And, above all, expect surprises.

Here's a map:

We entered the Old City through the Damascus Gate and immediately encountered sooks - covered stalls in the bazaars. We wandered about for a bit, and then we were invited in to a shop in an Armenian Church. The shopkeeper lives in the monastery, runs the shop, and assists the bishop. We all bought some things from him, and learned a bit about the church.

A woman working there told us her story. She is Jordanian, and moved to Jerusalem to marry. She's been here twelve years, and cannot go back to Jordan or anywhere else outside of Israel. She's still having difficulty getting the right sort of paperwork from the government, and has not citizenship documentation. She was reading an American novel, spoke six languages (including totally flawless English) and was quite amazed to learn that Anne and I were priests. Apparently women clergy were beyond her experience!

We wandered into the Christian Quarter to climb the tower of the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer so that we could get a look out over the Quarter. It was closed, so we wandered some more. We got totally turned around in a residential neighborhood, and were rescued by a boy named Omar (age 11). Omar led us out and to a restaurant for lunch - he was quite sweet and chatty (What's your name? How old are you? Your friends are slow!). It turns out to have been a business transaction, with Omar wanting to be paid (10 sheckels!) for his trouble. Lunch was quite good, though not the meal we'd had in mind.

After lunch we did climb up the tower at the Lutheran Church (177 steps) and got some great views of the city:

To the left is a view of the Muslim Quarter - that's the Dome of the Rock in the distance. And, to the right, The Church of the Resurrection (often better known by its crusader name: The Church of the Holy Sepulchre) in the Christian Quarter.

We walked some more and made our way down the Via Delorosa. There, several of our group got lured into a jewelry shop by an enterprising salesman. Two of us stayed outside for quite a while, watching pilgrims make their way along the Via Delorosa. In the time we stood there, a large english speaking group, and several others made their way. Bustling all around the pilgrims saying the Stations of the Cross were women in headscarves, Palestinians, Orthodox Jews, and other tourists. The mix was quite extraordinary.

Then, the most amazing part of the day (for me) happened. We reunited with our friends in the jewelry shop, and the proprietor spoke to us for a long time. First, he gave me grief for not coming in. Apparently, many tourists avoid the shops because tour guides tell them to be wary of shopkeepers (for good reason in some cases, I'll say). He really encouraged me to use my eyes and see for myself. It was a good lesson.

He also spoke at length about his own situation. He is an Israeli, Muslim, Bedoin, ex-Palestinian, and something else which I am forgetting now. He has extraordinary wealth and privilege - he's traveled the world - does business in Santa Monica, CA. He wanted us to know that his wife is a pediatrician, drives a car, is well treated. He was quite concerned about how westerners perceive Muslims. He also had some negative things to say about those who live in the Quarter.

In the end, I thought his perspective was interesting. And, I was not willing to let it entirely color my opinions. Just as I would question the views of a wealthy American about poorer residents of the neighborhood (nobody on welfare really wants to work....) I questioned some of his views about his Muslim neighbors.

I was also quite struck by the difference between his life and the Jordanian woman we encountered earlier. She was not able to travel home, he'd visited 40 countries. This is a nation of contrasts.

We were asked to return with a symbol of our day (and given 20 sheckels with which to buy it). We chose spices. Everywhere in the Muslim Quarter, my nose was assaulted by smell. The smell of cooking food, of spice, of cigarette smoke, of trash. So, we bought a curry spice which was one of the smells I smelled all day. And then we bought a spice blend, that we were told would go into rice dishes or soups. What we liked about that blend was that it was made up of many different things. It represented for us the blend of Armenian, Jordanian, Muslim, and Christian cultures that we had encountered in the Quarter.

The photo on the left shows a spice shop. Yes. That's a pyramid of spice. The photo on the right are all of the symbols brought back the families.

At the Maison D'Abraham

There is a group of French Roman Catholic nuns here in Jerusalem who run a convent called the Maison D'Abraham [French for House of Abraham]. Their mission is to be a hospice for pilgrims to the Holy Land from all three of the Abrahamic faiths. First, they served us a lovely lunch. Then, we went up on their roof, for an overview [literally, and historically] of the city of Jerusalem.

This photo looks out over the to the old city. You can see the wall of the Old City running right through the center of the picture. The gold dome in the center is the Dome of the Rock, which is a Muslim, Jewish, and Christian holy place. For Muslims, it marks the spot where Muhammed is said to have ascended to heaven. For Jews, it is located where the temple stood. Crusaders turned it into a church in the 12th century. It returned to Muslim control when the Crusaders were expelled.

The black dome to its left is the Al Aqsa Mosque, which dates from the early 8th century. At the time it was built, it was the furthest mosque from Mecca; Al Aqsa translates as "The Farthest."

This picture shows the garden of Gethsemane, off in the distance. Gethsemane means something like olive press, and it was (is) primarily an olive grove.

Looking west (and slightly south) you can see the site where Caiphas' palace is said to have stood.

One of my main reasons for coming on this pilgrimage was to gain some sense of this place. I've read these stories for my whole life. To literally see them (even as modern as they now are) and to have a sense of this geography is utterly amazing.

Israeli Breakfast

I'd heard from my friend Ann (of World Eye fame) that Middle Eastern breakfast was not to be missed. This morning, I experienced it first hand, and I'm a convert.

Aside from the usual cornflakes and milk, the buffet contained sliced cold meat, sliced tomatoes, sliced cucumbers, dried black olives and spicy green ones in oil, two types of cheese, eggs, olive oil, a spice mixture, and bread (regular and pita).

I was simply in heaven. I want to pour olive oil on everything; it tastes so much better than it does here in the US. And even though here I often avoid cucumbers, these were tasty (and another vehicle for the olive oil). I have no idea what the meat was (best not to ask, I suppose), but it was flavourful and savory, eaten with the feta on the toasted pita.

I thought that I might lose weight while I'm here, but I suspect that might not be the case (and, I don't really care).

Jerusalem Trip Day 1: Dulles Airport - Jerusalem

Day 1 really encompassed two days, though lasted less than a 24 hour period! We departed Dullles at 6:15 PM (EST), passed through London’s Heathrow, and landed in Jerusalem at 3:30 PM (Local Time). However, since Israel is 7 hours ahead, it was really about 14 hours after we started. I, for one, have had very little sleep. I’d gotten quite good at sleeping on planes, but not this time.

I’m too tired for much insight, but I first saw and then heard something striking.

As we drove to Jerusalem from the airport, there was a great deal of new construction. I thought they might be new Israelis settlements. At one point, our bus driver told us that’s exactly what they were: new Israeli settlements on the West Bank. Then, we came to other areas, and he would say, “This is an Arab town.” There were huge fences there, and not enough water.

During our opening Eucharist tonight, during the Eucharistic Prayer, I’m pretty sure I heard someone from another faith praying outside. It might have been a mosque’s call to worship or the evening prayers. It was amazing to hear the words of a language I don’t understand mingling in with the words I do. I think that’s what Jerusalem will be all about.

What is essential?

I spent much of today packing for my trip to Jerusalem. The task: to live for three weeks on the contents of one suitcase. And, to have enough room in the suitcase for the books I am bringing with and the souvenirs I plan to bring back.

I'm no novice to international travel. I've been back and forth to New Zealand six times. However, then I was staying with friends - where I could do laundry easily, and borrow clothes if required.

All day I kept asking (with the help of a consultant, my Friend From Down State): Do I need that? Do I really need that? It was part daring and part trust to pull out of the suitcase the things she thought I could live without.

Part of the challenge is that the weather in Jerusalem is quite variable at this time of year. At night, the lows will be under 40 (F). During the day, temps will range from 40-55 (F), but we've been told it's extra warm there right now, and the day we land it'll be about 65 or 70 (F).

Essentially, I've packed one of every sweater weight. One fleece, one mid-weight sweater, one light-weight sweater, one technical sweater, one pashmina. I've packed a few different pairs of trousers, one pair of blue jeans, one pair of dressier pants, a dressy blouse, a clergy shirt, a few turtlenecks and a few T-shirts. It feels a bit risky, I'm used to taking more when I travel abroad.

This journey (to Jerusalem and beyond) feels like it's about learning to live with less, because I can. I'll let you know how I fared.