A few weeks later... after we have returned from the Holy Land

We just went through the Easter Triduum and something interesting happend for me during the four liturgies that I participated in. Starting on Holy Thursday, the scriptures were opened to me in a new way. Places like Bethphage, Gabbatha, and Mt. Calvary were all places I have actually been, as opposed to geographic expressions which I simply lumped into the “Middle East.” When the gospel speaks of the Mount of Olives, the Garden of Gethsemane, and the Temple, I understand these places as concepts as they relate to other places in Jerusalem. The combination of my very much alive faith before seeing these things, combined with having actually walked the ground, is much greater than I could have imagined. As I read the scriptures, I’m looking up place names on maps, seeing where they are, and then from experience, extrapolating whether it’s a desert area or a fertile one. I’m gauging its distance from Jerusalem, and trying to imagine how much time has passed in the three year ministry so far and how much longer it will be to when the paschal mystery unfolds. To say that my faith has been enriched is an understatement. I have been given a great gift and one that will increase my own pneuma for the rest of my earthly life.

The Church Fathers often spoke in terms of the “8th day,” or the time when we can access God through the liturgy and private prayer, and surpass space and time. I found a lot of 8th day time on the ground in the Holy Land, but I also found it easier to access that day in the masses since my return. The gospel tells us that when the apostles walked with the risen Lord on the road to Ammeus, that they didn’t recognize Him, until the breaking of the bread. We have been, are, and will always be a Eucharistic people, working out our understanding of Christ in the context of the liturgy where all mystery lives on this planet. From the entrance hymn till the deacon’s dismissal, “Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord” is our call to be the hands and feet of Christ each day. It falls to us to pray for the our Church, the world, for those in need, and for ourselves that we may be deemed worthy of all that Christ promises. My short visit to the Holy Land was full and enriched by all those who I walked with, each of us on a pilgrimage to discover deeper meaning in our lives. I believe that we were all successful in that enterprise and that our shared experiences will bless all those we come into contact with.

Jesus was a real person. He walked the earth, he taught with the wisdom of God, He was obedient to His Father in heaven and in fact, perfected all humanity through his perfect ministry. He offered himself as a holy and living sacrifice for you and for me. All those since Adam now have the possibility of salvation because of His gift of his life, given for us. He awaits us in heaven with all the angels and saints and beckons us all to come to Him, to emulate his obedience, to help others on our way, and to establish an eternal friendship with Him so that at the end of time, we can live in the fullness of His presence. So let’s all make these 50 days to Pentecost really worth all the suffering we went through in Lent. The violet is gone, gold and white are our colors as we wait for red to come again and fill us with the Holy Spirit. He is risen from the dead, Halleuiah! Let’s act like we believe that for the next seven weeks.

Day 10: Mount of Beatitudes, Sea of Galilee, Jordan River

This morning I awoke early, even before the wake up call came. Knowing that this was our last full day in the Northern region, I wanted to waste not one minute of the day. I showered and meant to walk the grounds a bit before breakfast at 7am. I walked up the stairs and saw out the window, the sunrise on the Sea of Galilee and that was it. I ran outside, navigated through the walkways, and made my way to a place where I had an unobstructed view of the water and the sun coming up over it. I’m not sure if it’s seasonal or what, but there seems to always be heavy haze over the Sea. This always helps when shooting sunsets as it magnifies the light and enlarges the sun. I spent a fair amount of time shooting both stills and video and then when the good light was gone, I headed back up the hill to eat.

After an outdoor 8am Mass, our first stop today was a walk on the Mount of Beatitudes. We walked on a dirt path all the way down to the main road. We stopped at one point and Fr. Charlie and I climbed up the mountain to where there were a couple trees and an ancient cave. From there, Fr. Charlie addressed our group who were well below us on the hillside. It was self evident that Jesus could have taught 5,000 people from that place. The acoustics were very good, especially with a favorable wind, which we did not have today. Once you remove auto/bus traffic, pull the planes out of the sky, you’d be left with our Lord preaching in the draw of a shallow valley, that would be protected from strong winds. Fr. Charlie read from the Gospel according to Mathew, where Jesus proclaims to all the people that they are the light of the world.

We left there and visited an early Jewish settlement called Tabgha which is where Jesus fed the 5,000. It is the site of a serious archeological dig where they are uncovering artifacts that span multiple millenia. There we were able to see the impact of the the Greeks (Hellenism) as well as the constancy of the faith of the Jews throughout each time period, evidenced by many frescos showing the various influences in the region.

We next took a boat ride on the Sea of Galilee, which was really great. The pilot even showed us how you throw the net to catch fish but he came up empty twice, so I guess we showed little faith... It was nice to be out on the water, and know that we were looking out in all directions at scenery that would have been familiar to the apostles that he had taken under his wing to that point. I read the gospel account of Jesus calming the storm and with Peter walking briefly on the water himself, until he took his eyes off the Lord. Good lesson for us all. After the boat ride most of us enjoyed eating a lunch of “St. Peter’s Fish,” a type of Talapia that is found in the Sea of Galilee. I chickened out and had “St. Mathew’s Chicken” instead. I’ve never been a fish guy, and with the head and eyes staring at everyone as they picked through the bones, I didn’t feel like trying something new today.

Our next stop was to visit the town of Capernaum which is where Peter’s mother’s house is located. In the usual fashion, they built a super nice modern Church over the site, but they suspended it on huge legs so as not to cover the ruins of Peter’s home. You could look down into what was once a house, surrounded by a large stone wall. The center of the Church above has a glass floor so you can look straight down into the 1st century dwelling even while attending the parish Mass. Very cool! Just a few steps away from Peter’s house, there is an enormous synagogue there that is really impressive. It has massive columns still standing and the surrounding stones show etchings of the Temple in Jerusalem, the star of David (6 points) as well as the cross of xxxx (6 points). The site has been fairly well preserved and you can really see the streets winding their way through the many small dwellings that made up the sort of blue collar town of Capurnaum. At one point, our guilde Samil, showed us a set of steep stairs going up and stopping about five feet in the air. He described that this may have been the house in which the man’s friends cut a hole in the thatched roof so as to lower him down to be healed by Jesus.

We last traveled to a large city on the Mediteranian Sea where we got off the bus and got to walk on the beach. Behind the beach was this massive aqueduct still standing, from the time of ancient Rome. It's in amazingly good shape for its age. One of the pilgrims offered to take a photo of me in front of it. It's always the last day of a trip when I realize that I have no photos of myself, so I'm glad to have this one!

Day 9: Galilee, Cana, and Nazareth

Once again we put some miles on our bus today, traveling in the Northern region of Israel. My personal favorite was Cana, where there is a special Church the Franciscans built to commemorate Jesus’ first miracle at the wedding in Cana. The artwork in these many Holy Land churches are often exquisite, and the Cana Church was no exception. But the highlight for me was no so much the building or even it’s location. Fr. Charlie invited all the married couples to renew their vows to each other, so after I read the gospel, Fr. Charlie asked them all to come up on the altar and hold hands facing him. then he preached for a short time on the sacrament, and how it’s unique among all the sacraments as it’s the only one where the people themselves are the ministers in the exchange of their vows. Deacons and priests simply “witness” the sacrament of marriage and represent the Church in doing so. The part that was cool for me, was that I could see all the faces of the couples, with their eyes locked onto each other. I saw the deep and profound love in each set of eyes, and the happiness that I saw made me miss my Ellie pretty badly. Before beginning the simple service, I quietly placed my wedding band on the altar of sacrifice in the Church. I said a prayer of thanksgiving to God for Ellie and our children, Sophie and Patrick, and asked God for more of the same that we’ve been receiving all these years: more blessing, faith, and protection.

My diaconal ministry flows out from within the context of our marriage together. It is a mystery as to how that works, but it does, but only because I have a wife filled with love, understanding and great patience. Many of us newly ordained Deacons would often remark during our formation time, that all we needed to do was to be more like our wives and everything else would fall into place. This is still true for us. Ellie is the better part of me; she does naturally what is so difficult for me to learn, which is to serve others like she breathes, without thought or sense of sacrifice. I am still learning this attribute and while I’ve made some progress, I have a long ways to go to catch up to most of our wives. September of 2010 will be our 20th anniversary so I need to start thinking about what we might do to mark that occasion.

I fear that I am suffering from a mild case of holy numbness as I feel almost robotic getting on and off the bus each day, walking among the ruins, and eating in large groups. Tomorrow I must make time for prayer as we are staying on the Mount of Beatitudes where Jesus fed the 5,000 and taught “the writings.” I will once again be preaching at Mass tomorrow... on the same mountain where Jesus, the Lord fed 5,000 and offered us the Beatitudes for the first time. Once again, it sounds silly to even write that. Who am I that I could offer anything of value to the faithful pilgrims? How crazy is it that we are all here, basking in the liturgy, history, art, theology, and trying to pry our hearts open a little more each day. I know I sound like a broken record, but it’s all gift.

The only relief I can receive is when I turn to Him and say “thank you” for these many opportunities to find touchstones, moments, and signs of Jesus’ love and mercy of each of us on the planet. At the center of that thank you is the Eucharist itself. And so we approach the Lord’s table and say Amen, I believe. An so, like the man who approached the Lord with his sick son, we also say, “help me in my unbelief.” Tonight, the Matt Maher song I’m listening to is Alive in You:

“It is You I seek in the night, waiting patiently to satisfy.
Not for human gain or worldly desires, but to lose myself in You forever.

You see through the veil into our hearts, the deepest place that no one else knows.
Not for human gain or worldly desires, but to die with you and rise forever.

You blood runs in my veins, my heart burns with your grace.
I’m alive in You as You live in me, I’m alive in You, Hope of glory.”

Goodnight, my Ellie. I long to be in your arms once again, and to do our “group hug” with the kids in the kitchen or aisle 7 at Kroger. dpat :)

Day 8: Jericho, Mount of the Beatitudes

Today was a little different as we spent much of our day working our way North towards Tiberius. We stopped in the morning in the oldest continually habitable city on earth: Jericho. We find Jericho in both the Old and New Testaments. It is an area controlled by the Palastinian Authority. The entire region is marketly more poor with many empty buildings and homes. The Bedouin are more prevalent and can be seen even along the highways, travling with children and camels. This is sort of the Florida and Cali of this area so the fruits are wonderful. I bought an entire carton of strawberries today and shared them with the bus. It was just $2. The highlight of our time spent in Jericho was definitely attending Sunday Mass with a local parish who welcomed us with open arms and gladly accepted all of the schools supplies we brought for their school. I’ve now assisted at Mass in French, Creole, Italian, Spanish, Latin, and now in Arabic!!! I got a little flustered at the point when I was supposed to dismiss the people and rather than sending them off in English or Arabic, I did it in Latin, “Ite missa est.” Luckily Fr. Charlie and the presiding priest for Jordan saw the humor in this. Yep, Fr. Chris, I can even screw up the liturgy when it’s in Arabic... Anyways, we spent a good time visiting with the people and then many of them joined us for a wonderful lunch of lamb, chicken, cole slaw, and pomme frittes at a great outdoor restaurant. As we made conversation, the mosque in the background began to broadcast prayers in Arabic through their huge array of loudspeakers... it was sort of surreal.

After lunch, we boarded the bus again and drove further North, along the West side of the Sea of Galilee to the Mount Tabor, where Christ is believed to have been transfigured along with Moses and Elijah. There is a sweet Franciscan church on the top of Mount Tabor that is built on the ruins of a much older Byzantine Church (same story, different day). I found some time to spend alone in prayer while looking down into the valley far below, asking God to aid in my own transfiguration someday. My prayer is more peaceful in these places but I think that has much to do with the fact that my iPhone doesn’t work here and that I’m able to just concentrate on the simple plan of thanksgiving for this gift or being present in the Holy Land.

We are now staying at a retreat center for pilgrims on the Sea of Galilee. Words can’t describe how absolutely beautiful it is here. A constant breeze, mid-60’s, bright sun all day long, blue skies, and still the arid climate.

Each evening before I go to bed I listen to Matt Maher’s Overflow CD which he must have made after his own trip to the Holy Land. The last thing I listen to each night is the cut, “The Rivers of Babylon.” Usually about four times does it. I know that this song will always bring be back to Jerusalem in my own anamnesis. Songs do that for me. here is a taste of the lyrics of my current favorite:

“By the rivers of Babylon, I sat and wept as I remembered Zion,
And all the things that rule my heart, I said sing a song for us now,
How could I sing for anyone but You?

By the rivers of the street, I could almost feel the spirit grown in me,
I was deaf, dumb and blind, choking on the dreams of humankind,
How could I dream of anything but You?

So, for glory’s sake, do not forget me, I still believe in the midst of my frailty,
I still believe that I’m dying to my humanity.

By the rivers of the world, we all got drunk on ourselves
in the morning the Son will rise and despite all our sin, save our lives,
How could You die for anyone but you?”

- Matt Maher, “Overflow”

Day 7: The Wailing Wall

It was a weird day. The wailing wall was nothing like I expected it to be in terms of how it looked as you approached it. It’s basically the original foundation of the Temple built by Herod the Great. This same Temple was smashed in 70 A.D. by the Roman Army who sought to put down the Jewish revolt. Sadly, because it is the Sabbath, no photography was allowed in the Wailing wall area and I obeyed their directive out of respect. I had prepared a few scrolls to place in the Wall, one for my family (all of them), one for my parish, and one for the high school. I did one other for a few people I know that are opening themselves up to the idea of the priesthood, diaconate, religious life, and for one other that is struggling with a 3rd order vocation. The last one was for people in great need like my friends in Haiti, for my friend Stan who is in prison, and for the many people that I know that are looking for work and are having financial difficulties.

As you approach the Wall, you must have your head covered. As you walk closer to it, down a long ramp, you pass through hundreds of orthodox Jews who pray out loud and read from scrolls and books containing the Torah. As you get closer, you start to notice the small pieces of paper, thousands and thousands of them, all containing serious petitions from all those who worship the one God of Israel. My first job was to find places to smash my notes in with the rest and this took some time. Afterwards, I did what I saw the others doing and I laid my forehead on the wall and began to pray. As you’d suspect, I prayed for my family first, then in thanksgiving for this opportunity to pray here in this most sacred place where Simeon and Anna greeted Jesus as a baby at His presentation, where He taught the scriptures as a young man, where he drove out the vendors from selling, and where I found myself weeping all of a sudden. There was a massive, deep blue sky overhead with strong winds pushing white clouds by very fast. The air was cold with a strong wind which made my tears cold on my cheeks. I saw no reason to dry them as I began to understand the purpose of praying here. My prayers turned to those in need that I know and strangely to my ancestors and to my children’s grandkids and so on. When you are faced with a place that seem to know so much time, it seemed natural to pray for all of my family, living, dead, and those who are not among us yet. Spending time in Jerusalem, you begin to appreciate how temporary your situation is. It’s easier to see yourself as taking a few breaths and then laying down to sleep in the Lord all in the context of the passage of time. I think I will have gained patience and perspective to some degree on this pilgrimage, which will be good news to my wife and kids.

Fr. Charlie asked me to preach at Mass today. I spoke mainly about how important it is for us not to have traveled all this way and not continue that journey on the inside. Going to the holy land won’t make you holy any more than putting your car in the garage makes it a garage. So I’ve been trying to find moments to pray on the bus, in the morning, even while eating. Letting silence lead me to that place that the Church Fathers called the 8th day. It is good to pray on the Sabbath. It is good that no cars can operate in the Jewish Quarter right now. It is good to see all the shops closed. It’s a lesson that Walmart could learn from, and that Chik-fil-A already knows. Tonight is our last night in Jerusalem. The bells are ringing out 4:30 p.m. as I type this. The Sabbath will be over at sundown, so I plan to make my way through the narrow streets of the Old City one more time, to walk the Stations again, and settle into silent prayer, quit talking and listen to what God wants to teach me this night. Tomorrow we head to Jericho and into more new discoveries of very ancient truths of God. Shalom...

Day 6: The Desert and the Dead Sea

Today was a welcome change to the hustle and bustle of the Old City. Today, we travelled more distance than any day since we’ve arrived here. Today we went out into the Desert. We first visited Masada, King Herod’s impenetrable fortress hewn out of solid rock overlooking the Dead Sea. The have a cable car that can take about 50 people up at a time so up and down was easy compared to the old days. 930 Jewish lives were lost in a massive siege that ended in suicide for all inside the fortress. As the Roman Army worked for two years to gain access to Masada, they finally had it within reach when everyone inside decided they would rather die than be enslaved by the Romans in 70 A.D. The temp shot up to the mid-80’s today and since we visited no churches today, many wore shorts.

After Masada, we made our way to lunch with the Essenes at Qumran, the ancient center of the sect John the Baptist was believed to be a part of. This is also the site back in 1948 where a shepherd boy discovered the Dead Sea Scrolls while looking for a lost sheep. We got to within 50 yards of the actual cave where they were discovered. This is something that I’d read about in the past and was fascinating to walk through the recreated settlement, thanks to the work of Josephus and a bunch of smart archeologists.

Next, we went to the beach where many of us swam in the Dead Sea, which has about 27% salt content, hence nothing can live in it. The mud is very good for the skin so some of us went for a swim and enjoyed the gooey stuff, smearing it all over. I did not partake as the sun was very high and my Irish/German skin would toast for sure. Instead I sat in the sun and marveled at what lay in front of me. First, it was beautiful. Blue sky meeting haze, and finally resting on the mountains of Jordan, just across the sea. More immediately was the beach scene in front of me. From my spot in the shade under the lifeguard’s shack, I watched people speaking ten languages have fun together. Old men hauled their 4’ tall water pipes down to the beach to smoke with friends, watching their grandchildren play. While there were many languages spoken, everyone seems to know soccer. I counted five informal games and maybe ten more balls in play between a few friends. I watched Muslim women dressed in black from head to toe, holding the shower chains for European women in bikinis trying to wash the mud off their bodies. It was a sea of humanity present as I saw people from Germany, Scotland, America, Canada, Jordan, Jerusalem, etc... There were Christians swimming with Muslims, with everyone enjoying rice with saffron and the wonderful smells of meat cooking over fires. Some boys beat out the rhythm of songs they knew on an empty gallon can and an antifreeze bottle, creating a dancing frenzy. While all entered the water in varying skin colors, they emerged black from head to toe, causing you to wonder who they were and where they were from until they got into the out-door showers. The black mud brought everyone together in a way that I know made God smile today. I will never forget that scene as it played out in front of me. It was as if God was saying to me, look, these are all my children; I care of each one of them the same.

On the way back to Jerusalem, we stopped at an old section of an original Roman road that went from Jericho to Jerusalem, the same road on which the Samaritan outcast rescued the man from the scriptures. We stopped, got off the bus, and climbed a massive incline to a small mountaintop outdoor theater where Fr. Charlie offered Mass. The winds were so strong up there at times I could not hear what he was saying and I was standing right next to him and downwind! Fr. Charlie is a big guy, and twice the wind pushed him so hard he lost his footing. We were joined at our impromptu Mass by a camel, a donkey, two boys about 2 and seven, and three men trying to sell us jewelry and offer camel rides. It was something to see!

The only other thing of significance to report is that I absolutely love pita bread. When it is fresh, I’d rather eat it than what I’m used to. It’s delicious with every meal, especially with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Hmmmmml... good!

Day 5, Jerusalem: Mt. Cavalry and more!

Day 5

Today started out scary for me. First, we got wake up calls at 4:30am (as if that wasn’t scary enough) so that we could celebrate Mass together at the Church of the Holy Seplachure. Thing of it was, I was to preach the homily. So picture walking in the pre-dawn hours through the Old City of Jerusalem to a huge stone church. Upon entry, we walked up a flight of very steep stairs to the site of Mount Cavalry where there is a Roman Catholic altar set just a few feet to the right of the massive stones on which Christ’s blood was poured out. There is no singing of any kind allowed at this particular altar, ever. Seriously, I was way out of my element and used to the more comfortable confines of our temporary parish chapel at Saint Albert the Great or the familiar Holy Trinity Chapel at KCHS. I don’t remember much of what I offered in the message but I remember talking about the scripture from Paul when he says, “to those that are given more, more is expected.” To be standing on the very site of Christ’s death was an incredible gift, similar, I think, to Thomas wanting to stick his hand in the Lord’s side. I have always accepted easily His death on a cross both historically, theologically, sacaramentally, and soteriologically. Now I have this added gift of seeing the actual place, walking the ground, being surrounded 24/7 by devoted pilgrims who all speak the same language of our common faith in Jesus Christ. So I can see things, even part of the oldest walls of Jerusalem that Jesus would have also seen. I have visited now the caves where the Holy Family came to its fullness in the birth of Jesus, in incarnate Word of God. it’s heavy stuff they’re serving up over here in the Middle East.

After we celebrated Mass, the sun slowly rose and drew light across the blue sky as we walked the traditional stations of the cross. As you walk from station to station, you have to dodge people, small narrow, diesel tractors hauling trailers filled with all manner of goods, and garbage everywhere. Some of the stations are clearly marked, as with Veronica’s wiping Jesus’ face, and where he fell the second time, others are marked only by a round steel emblem affixed to the stone walls under which we walk. We all took turns carrying His cross through these narrow steps, climbing always towards the Church of the Holy Seplachure. You should try to come here someday; the things that happen in your heart are surprising, cause great joy, and sudden sadness at times. While we were in the middle of the stations this morning, one woman began to sob, trying to conceal her grief. it was as if a wave came over all of us in that holy place... Many wiped tears away from our faces and even Fr. Charlie’s voice faltered a few times.
Once we completed the stations, we walked back to our accommodations and shared breakfast with a room full of pushy Germans who thought waiting in line was optional. I try to take these cultural differences in stride as I’ve traveled pretty extensively and know what to expect.

I took a nap after breakfast and awoke to catch our bus that took us to the Pools of Bethseda, where Jesus healed the paralytic in John 5:1-15. You sort of stand there, leaning over a steel railing and gaze down upon the ancient ruins of a Byzantine Church, a temple to a pagan God, and then you see this sign in the ground that spells out the site on which he cured a man who had suffered for 38 years. It slowly dawns on you that the scriptures are opening as a massive door, through which you’ve seen light through a crack for your whole life, sitting in the pews. The door swings open more fully as this realization comes to you in waves. You want to pray, you want to cry, you want to sing, you want to kiss the ground on which you stand... And then it’[s time to move with the group to the next spectacular thing, the Church of St. Anne where the Virgin Mary was born. It’s tough to hold it all together when you stand most of each day in front of a huge machine gun firing grace at you from all angles. I am physically weary from walking and climbing hundreds of steps as we move about, but what causes me the greatest fatigue is the work my mind and soul are doing. My horizon is shifting and changing always as I confront one scene after another. Now we descend into under the floor to visit the cave in which mary was born. I pray a quick Hail Mary, shoot a few photos and we move on to the Chapel of the Flaggelation where Jesus was whipped, tied to a pole. A few minutes later, we find ourselves descending again under ground to the actual site of the jail in which he stayed the night before he was crucified. The floor of this jail is covered with huge stones onto which horizontal grooves had been cut by Roman road crews (giving horses beter traction when wet) and mark the site called Gabbatha, where Pilot received Jesus, washed his hands of Him, and finally handed Him over to death. Like I said, it’s all heavy stuff to try to digest.

In the afternoon, we were all cut loose to do what we wanted. I went back, took a nap, and awoke in time for the good light that comes each afternoon and went out and shot for myself. I rarely do this even though I get immense satisfaction from it. I need to shoot for me more and not just for cash... I miss my family something fierce and wish I could talk to them on the phone a couple times a day. When it’s time to go home, I’ll be ready but I feel like I’m taking so much in each day here in Jerusalem.