The Holy Land - Day 8

On Monday, June 14^th we woke up bright and early (and with this I ought to say that my disposition wasn’t very bright because it was way too EARLY) and boarded our minibus for a long drive north. Our first stop was of Akko (Acre), a city on the Haifa Bay. The site was of interest for our course because it was a particularly important fortress during the Crusades. To be honest, the city has a very rich history, most of which I read about and honestly, did not pay attention to enough to remember anything of great significance. But the scenery was beautiful!

We had the opportunity to tour the Hospitaller Compound, which was built by the Hospitallers of St. John, a religious community founded during the Crusades to care for poor, sick, or injured pilgrims to the Holy Land. In our modern day, we can jump on a plane and go anywhere in the world in a matter of hours; during medieval times, the journey to the Holy Land was an arduous one, and oftentimes people got sick or died along the way.  During the Middle Ages, particularly around the time of the Crusades, there was a sharp rise in interest in visiting the Holy Land, and so droves of pilgrims and Crusaders left continental Europe and made the journey eastward. The Hospitallers, for their part, cared for the weary pilgrims and soldiers at their compound in Akko, which served as a stopping point where they could be nursed back to health before making the final leg of the trip to Jerusalem.

Being at this place made me think about what kind of difficulties these individuals were willing to endure to make pilgrimage to the sites associated with the life of Jesus and the Scriptures. By comparison, my journey had infinitely more comfortable. I wondered to myself if I would have been willing to make the journey back then, knowing the hardship it would entail.

At the same time, my journey was not without hardship – but they were of a different kind. Traveling to the Holy Land – both then and now – has always been somewhat of a dangerous undertaking. Given the political instability of the Middle East, many of my family members were concerned about my travels. While it is generally very safe (and I did not at any point feel  unsafe) there, before leaving I did have to do some soul-searching about how I felt about the possibility of putting myself in a potentially volatile situation. Though it was unlikely anything would actually happen, I had to confront the reality that something could happen. Thinking about these things, I realized that I had two choices: I could fear, and allow that fear to paralyze me and prevent me from taking the risk of traveling to the Holy Land, or I could go despite my fear and trust that God would be with me, and would not allow anything to happen to me on this journey which was not God’s will. I also realized that I had to come to terms with the fact that something seriously bad could happen while I was there. This made me think about how vulnerable we are as human beings, how dependent we are on God for even our own existence. It dawned on me – that I am no less vulnerable, no less dependent here in the USA than I am in Israel; God is in charge in each situation. Why should I fear more there than here? Am I not in God’s hands wherever I am? Is God not trustworthy? Did God not say to us that we are worth more than a whole flock of sparrows, and not one of them falls to the ground without God taking notice? Did He not say that He has counted each hair on our head, and that no harm will come to a single one?

After Akko, we headed to Nazareth. Our first stop there was the Orthodox Church of the Annunciation. 

A thought which I had immediately before leaving for the Holy Land was one of amazement – I was going to walk in the places where Jesus walked! Later, I recalled too, that I would be walking in the footsteps of Jesus, but of the Blessed Mother as well. Throughout my time in the Holy Land, even as I marveled at the sites associated with the life of Jesus, I could not help but sense Mary’s quiet maternal presence in my journeys. To visit Nazareth, and sites associated with her life – made me more aware of her role in the plan of salvation, and also, of my own need to rely more and more upon her intercession in my life.

I have to say that this was an unexpected grace of my pilgrimage. Even though I grew up attending St. Mary’s (Immaculate Conception) Parish, was a member for a year or so of the Legion of Mary, took a course on Mariology in undergrad which was one of my favorite courses of my entire college career – and as a result, made the total Marian Consecration according to St. Louis Marie de Montfort in my Junior year at Franciscan, and now attend “Our Lady’s University’ – Notre Dame, it seems my once fervent devotion to Mary has as of recent not been as strong as it once was. And so it was a welcome but quite unexpected grace to feel her presence with me walking the streets of the Holy Land. Though I have generally stopped wearing external signs of my religious devotion, during the trip I often wore a small miraculous medal as a reminder to myself of her maternal presence and protection over the whole journey.

Next, we visited a small Church – called the Synagogue Church – the site of the ancient Synagogue in which Jesus stood up and proclaimed that the fulfillment of the promise to the Prophet Isaiah (Isaiah 61) had come in Him. (“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor, to bind up the broken hearted, to bring release to the prisoners…”)

After that, we traveled to the Catholic Basilica of the Annunciation, one of the most stunning (and perhaps the largest) Catholic Churches in the Middle East.

 

  

Outside the Basilica were countless images of Mary from many nations, reminding us that as the mother of Christ, she is the mother of all humanity. Here is just a sampling of my favorites:

America's, by the way, was embarassingly ugly! 

In the afternoon, we went out to the Galilean countryside to see a mountaintop called “the horns of Hittin” which was the site of the Battle of Hittin on July 4, 1187, an important battle between the Crusaders and the forces of the Ayyubid dynasty. Here, the Muslim armies under Saladin captured and killed many of the Crusaders. As a result of the battle, Islamic forces once again became the eminent military power in the Holy land, and went on to recapture Jerusalem and several other Crusader-held cities. (Thank you Wikipedia!).

Our professor briefly explained this much to us, but I was too taken by the beauty of the surrounding country side to really pay attention. Instead, I allowed myself to space out a bit, and found my mind drifting off to the parables of Jesus.  It dawned on me here that Jesus was, to put it colloquially, a country boy. Jesus was a Galilean, a man from Nazareth, and the land that I was looking at was where Jesus came from. From what I saw, it made perfect sense that he would speak often about the land, about vineyards, and fields of wheat, and sowers, and shepherds, and all that farm-ish stuff.

One passage that came to mind and really struck me this day was the passage from Matthew’s Gospel in which Jesus and his disciples are going through a field of grain on the Sabbath, and since the disciples were hungry, they began to pick the heads of grain and eat them. The Pharisees, seeing them do this, said to Jesus, “See, your disciples are doing what is unlawful to do on the Sabbath.” Jesus responds to them, “Have you not read what David did when he and his companions were hungry, how he went into the house of God and ate the bread of offering, which neither he nor his companions but only the priests could lawfully eat? Or have you not read in the law that on the Sabbath the priests serving in the temple violate the Sabbath and are innocent? I say to you, something greater than the temple is here. If you knew what this meant, ‘I desire mercy , not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned these innocent men. For the Son of man is Lord of the Sabbath” (Matthew 12:1-8). I spent the rest of the time reflecting on this- and how this again was another passage which seemed to resonate (and rhyme!) with everything else it seemed that God had already been saying to me so far on this pilgrimage. And just as Mary did, I tried to ponder these things in my heart.

That evening, we went to where we were staying (which happened to be an old Franciscan monastery which had been converted to a home for pilgrims) which was in Tiberias. Right behind our ‘hostel’ – was the sea of Galilee! It was so beautiful.

 

After getting settled in and after we had rested for a bit, we went out to dinner where we each got St. Peter’s fish, a white-fish (similar to Tilapia) which is native to the Sea of Galilee and which is the type of fish which Peter supposedly caught that had the coins in its mouth  (Matthew 17:27).

 

The fish was great! As were all of the appetizers we had with it (Falafel, Pita, salads, hommus, etc.), as well as a famous local liquor our professor insisted that we try. The liquor was called Arak (Araq), and is very popular in Israel, Jordan, Syria and Lebanon. It’s clear, colorless, and tastes like Anise (Licorice). It’s very similar to Ouzo, and is wonderfully refreshing! Needless to say, we had quite an enjoyable evening!

More Updates Coming!

Dear Friends & Family,

I am sorry that I have only finished posting about my first week in the Holy Land! Now that my summer class is finished, I am hoping to post more soon. Stay tuned for Week 2!

The Holy Land - Day 7

 On Sunday, my friends and I decided to head into Bethlehem for Mass at the Church of the Nativity. We walked down the hill from Tantur and went through the checkpoint into the West bank, and then got a taxi from there to the Church of the Nativity.

We got to the Church, and all of us went immediately to see if we could pray at the spot where Jesus was born, since the last time, we had been rushed out because the Armenians were about to have a service (can you see a theme here?). When we got there, there was a group of Franciscans having Mass there (in Italian), and so they would not let people come in to venerate the spot. We waited until the Mass was over (we had gotten there around the Our Father), and then, got to spend a few minutes there before the next group was scheduled to come in for Sunday Morning liturgy. Had I not insisted on waiting, we would have missed what appears now to have been perhaps one of only a few small windows of opportunity we would have had to pray at that site. I'm really glad I waited, because I had been hoping all week for a chance to get back to Bethlehem to pray there. I had prayed a big novena last Christmas for a certain intention, and it dawned on me (on Tuesday night, after I had returned from Bethlehem) that I had forgotten to say a huge THANK YOU to Jesus for answering my prayer. And so getting this opportunity to pray there - meant the world to me. Not to mention, that it also, as I later realized, fell on a date that was very significant for me to be returning to give thanks for this particular request. =)

So anyway, then we went to the Catholic Chapel, St. Catherine of Siena for Sunday Mass.

 It ended up being quite a celebration! We knew the Mass would be in Arabic, but we weren't prepared for what happened next. The music for the Mass was done by their choir - made up of young Arabic people! The music at first sounded Mexican - it was very up-beat! In many ways, the style of music reminded me of Steubenville. The Church is run by the Franciscans (custodians of the holy land), so that made it remind me even more of FUS! Anyway, so the Mass began and went as normal (even when Mass is in a language you can't understand, you always know what's going on because it's the same everywhere!). Thankfully, my friend Jess had also looked up the readings for Mass, and brought her Bible along so we could follow along in English.

The readings for the Mass were beautiful. The first, was from 1 or 2 Samuel, and recounts the story in which David repents of the sin with Bathsheba. The 2nd Reading was from Galatians 2 - and spoke about how we are not justified by the law but by grace. It ended with one of my favorite Scripture verses: "I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me."  The Gospel reading was the story of the woman who weeps at Jesus' feet,  washing them with her tears and drying them with her hair. The pharisees, in turn, scorn Jesus for not knowing what sort of woman this was (she was a prostitute), and Jesus tells them a parable, which illustrates to them that one who is forgiven much, loves much. He basically says that though they are legalistic in their following of the law, they lack love, whereas this woman, who has sinned much and has been forgiven much, loves more.

I mentioned in one of my other posts on my other blog that God really spoke to me throughout my trip to the Holy Land. To hear these readings - on this day in particular - was a very powerful moment of my trip, because this is something that I feel God is trying to teach me at this time in my life. In many ways, I have come to realize that I can think that I am good and holy because I keep the law, because I do what I am supposed to. But in many ways, this can lead me to place my trust and my security in my own actions rather than in the grace of God, than in His Spirit at work in me. It also made me realize that God is not legalistic. Sure, obedience is required. Jesus said he "did not come to abolish the law but to fulfill it," and that "blessed are they who hear the word of God and keep it." But at the same time, those who love God the most are sometimes those who have been forgiven most. In some ways, I find myself in the place of the Pharisees, scorning the woman who is weeping and kissing Jesus' feet. It dawned on me that I want - and need - to be more like Jesus. This passage "cut me to the heart" regarding a specific situation in my life. I love it when God's Word speaks to you like that!!!

Anyway, so then the priest gave a homily (I only understood a few words, but could tell he was talking about "Jesus" and "God" and "St. Anthony of Padua"). Then, after the homily, all these young Arab families came forward with a bunch of little children (2-3 year olds). They had some kind of prayer / blessing over them. At first, I thought maybe they were going to be celebrating baptism - but then I was like, no, these kids are a little old for that (usually they're infants), and plus, where was the baptismal font? So then, all of a sudden, we realize that they're putting the little kids in Franciscan Habits! It was so stinking cute!!! These looked like they were tailor made for each child, and even had the little hoods and white robe belts with the three knots! We realized after, it must have been some kind of enrollment in a third order or something. Also, it dawned on us - (we should have figured this out from the fact that the statue of St. Anthony of Padua had flowers all around it and there were white and gold cloths draped around the little side chapel where it stood) that it was the feast of St. Anthony of Padua, and this being a Franciscan Church, this was part of their celebration of the Feast!

The rest of the Mass went on as normal, and was quite beautiful and very joyful. At one point, the Greeks started having Divine liturgy in the main church, and you could hear them in the Catholic section. The priest said something to the effect of, "Let's be louder than them," because as we were praying the Our Father, all of the Arabs started praying it really loudly, so that it drowned out the 'noise' (prayer) coming from the Greek side.

After Mass, we went and had lunch at a restaurant off of Manger square. We had the usual fare - Falafel, Hummus, Pita, Salad, etc. which was very good. Then we made our way back by taxi to the checkpoint. On my way out, I took photographs of one section of the graffiti on the wall:

"FEAR BUILDS WALLS - HOPE BUILDS BRIDGES."

This too, was a reminder to me not to fear, but to trust, to have hope.

I feel at this time in my life that God is teaching me many new things, and sometimes they really stretch me. A few weeks ago during the Gospel at Mass, the line: "There is much more I wish to tell you, but you cannot bear it now" really jumped out at me (From John 17). I think God's starting to show me some of those things, but slowly. Some of it has been scary - or rather, the implications of what he is telling me are scary - but this 'graffiti' is in some ways a small sign to me to TRUST and to HOPE, rather than to fear.

We went back to Tantur and spent the day relaxing and enjoying the rest of the Lord's Day. Then, we were treated to a really nice dinner at Tantur. Every Sunday they decorate the tables, and put candles, fresh cut roses, and nice napkins out. The food was awesome! What a nice ending to a great day.

The Holy Land -- Day 6

On Saturday we went to Ein Gedi and the Dead Sea. The bus ride to Ein Gedi took about two hours (?) from Jerusalem. Along the way, we passed a number of shanty towns -- people living in tents or makeshift shacks with wooden sides, cinder blocks, and tin roofs. Some "homes" didn't even have sides! I learned later that these were Bedouin settlements. These people live in the very dry Judean hills; many of them took care of livestock - mainly goats and some sheep.

I didn't realize that Jerusalem was so high up until we started driving toward the Dead Sea and Ein Gedi. It seems the whole way there is downhill! We reached a point on the road that had a little park you could pull off and stop to take a picture. There was a camel there which you could take a picture with for a few shekels. The sign at the park said "Sea Level." The rest of the trip after that point (which was still quite a while) was below sea level. We didn't stop at the park, but passed it on our way.

Our first stop was Ein Gedi, a natural park which is in the mountains. This is a place that David spoke about in the psalms, and it is beautiful! There are huge, dry orangish cliffs, and between them runs a little stream which collects at different points creating lush little oases with cool, turquoise-green water and in some places - beautiful waterfalls!

Along the way we saw Hyrax (desert rodent that lives in Israel). We also saw a huge heard of Ibex! (Ibi? Ibexes? Ibexen? The plural of Ibex, anyone?)

 Then we went back and tried to hike all the way up to the upper pools, but it was soo hot! The hike was pretty rugged, but fun; and the views were amazing! There are mountains all around, and beneath them was a cool stream of turquoise water which was very cool to wade in. We would hike for about 30 minutes and then stop and swim in one of the pools.

 
 We didn't make it to the top, but we managed to make it to a couple really neat pools which had waterfalls. One pool even had a part you could use as a water slide! I didn't go down it, but my friends did.

 

   When we reached the main entrance again, we sat and got some iced coffee, icecream, and had lunch. It was really refreshing after such a hot hike.

Our next stop was the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea is bigger than I imagined it, but not as big as say, the Great Lakes. Actually, while were there you could see across it (through the haze - it was sooo hot!) into Jordan. We went to a public beach that was right near Ein Gedi. The temperature that day was 43C - or 109.4F. We got into the water of the Dead Sea - it was lukewarm! I laughed hysterically when I got in; the feeling was bizarre! As you walk in, the water feels a little bit slimy, but not gross. It's just a little different than normal water because it has so many dissolved minerals (mostly salts) in it. When you get in up to your waist and try to swim, suddenly the water picks you up and makes you float. Even if you try to sink yourself into the water (you stop paddling, push down, whatever you do) you bob back up!

 

At one point we went to another part of the beach to find the dark black mud which we then smeared all over our bodies. It had a weird smell but felt really good on the skin. Again, it was kind of slimy, but mineral rich. Then, we got back into the water and washed it all off. Afterward our skin felt sooo smooth!

After this, we stopped briefly at Qumran. Honestly, I wasn't too thrilled or excited about it. I got to see one of the caves from the parking lot and that was enough for me. By this point, I was pretty tired from being out in the sun all day and ready to just get home and rest!

After finishing my short reflection paper for our class, a few friends of mine decided to go out to a bar in Jerusalem to watch the World Cup game between the US and England. It was a blast! We went with our professor and got a drink and sat outside this bar / cafe and watched the game on a big screen TV which they had set up for the occasion. The whole place was packed, and the energy level was high. We also got some water pipes (hookah!) and smoked strawberry tobacco. It was actually good! I was surprised how much I liked it. I'm sure it's not good for your lungs, but I guess it's not too bad if you only smoke a few times.

England and the US tied 1-1, and when the game was over our professor invited us to join him for some time of prayer in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. We got there around midnight and stayed there until 1am. The walk from the bar to the Church took us through the Christian quarter of the old city, which was totally empty. It was neat to be the only ones walking down the narrow cobblestone streets. All the shops were closed for the night; there were no vendors in your face asking you to come in and look at his shop. We walked past the Greek Patriarchate, and our professor told us a funny story in which the Greek Patriarch of Jerusalem had supposedly sold a piece of the Greek Orthodox Church's property in Jerusalem to the Israeli government. Since most Greek Orthodox Christians in this area are Arabs, they were upset that he would sell a piece of land to the Israelis. He tried to clear up his name by saying that he was duped - the Israeli government had posed as a Christian group. Anyway, the local Greek Orthodox Christians protested and petitioned the Patriarch of Constantinople to have this patriarch removed. The Greek Patriarch was asked to step down, which he did, but he refused to leave the headquarters. He remained locked in his room for almost a year without ever going out - and he got his food and supplies by lowering a basket out of his window (which our professor pointed out to us).


It was cool to walk and talk with our professor. So often my only interactions with professors are in an academic setting. Besides being brilliant scholars, so many of my teachers are just plain fun people, and also, more importantly, extraordinary men and women of faith. I had begun to notice during the week that as our professor walked through the old city he always carried a simple rosary in his hand, which he appeared to be praying throughout the day. This night was no different.

At other points in the week, (as we visited the Mosque at Hebron, for example), he pointed out that this site had once been a Church, and that the Eucharist had been celebrated there. Visiting sites controlled by other faiths, or other Christian groups, He remarked how thankful he was to be a Catholic. It struck me from my time with him during this course that here is a person who is so normal, so natural and human - but who it is clear, has or at least strives for a close relationship with the Lord. I find people like that to be utterly inspiring. There is something beautiful about that kind of witness.

When I first got into the Holy Sepulchre, I went to the place where the tomb of Jesus was. I wanted to go inside and pray there since I had not gotten the chance to do so the last time I was there. I tried to go in with a few of my comrades, and the Greek monk at the entrance to the tomb instructed us to go in, but to make it quick. As soon as we got inside the first little room, the Greek bells rang -- reverberating throughout the whole church. The monk shouted, OUT! OUT! OUT! And so we quickly retreated out of the chapel before we had even gotten a chance to pray. The monk apologized profusely, saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Despite the tensions between the Catholics and the Greeks, I could tell that he was sincere in this. He had thought we had a moment to make a quick visit before their prayer vigil started, but we were too late. Seconds later, an Orthodox deacon came with incense and incensed the whole area inside and around the tomb, filling the air with the sweet smell of frankincense.

The whole Church was also filled with the sound of Greek chant and repeated "Alleluias." The night services on Saturday nights  - at least this Saturday night- seemed to me were very joyful. Though sad that I was so abruptly kicked out of the tomb without an opportunity to pray there, my heart and spirits were lifted by the music, and I remembered that despite all of the craziness and messiness of the place (try putting 3 - no, 6 different churches there and ask them to get along!) that what united all of us Christians there was our belief that Jesus is Risen. In some ways, it felt like Holy Saturday night, even though it was just another Saturday night.

Since the Greeks were busy with their evening prayer service at the tomb, I had to go find somewhere else to pray. Walking up the spiral steps which led up to the chapel at Calvary, I saw our professor on his knees before the altar and large gilded scene of the crucifixion. He was still holding his rosary and seemed deep in prayer. I knelt down in the back of the chapel near another friend of mine who was also praying there.

Being there at night was a uniquely beautiful experience. First, the main doors were wide open, as usual, but it was much cooler inside, and much darker than in the day time. There were so many of the beautiful oil lamps (the Greek and Armenian ones) shedding their soft light in the Church, and still many more candles lit by the droves of pilgrims who come to pray at these most holy sites flickering in the night. Each candle - I imagine - was lit for some intention or another. I lit a few as well, and added my prayers to theirs.

After praying at Calvary, I went back downstairs and prayed in the little Franciscan chapel for a while as well. Then I got back in line to go inside the tomb of Christ / chapel of the Resurrection, behind a large group of Orthodox women. When I finally got into the tomb, the Greek monk was rushing us in and out, since there was a large line of people who still wanted time to pray there. I went in with three other large Russian women, who took up the entire space before the tomb of Christ. By the time I got to kneel down (after they had taken their time rubbing and kissing the place where Christ's body was laid), the monk was signaling us to leave. I had but a second to kneel down and kiss the place before I had to leave. But even a moment's prayer there was a powerful experience I will never forget.