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We brought greetings to countless people, 'Belonging to the World Church' commemorative plates to some, rain to the Dead Sea and perhaps even a little hope to those who fear their suffering is forgotten. It was a crowded 10 days.....
David Lawrence, Editor of Reform Magazine, reflects on Pilgrim 2000, which saw a party chosen to represent the diversity of the Church, on a 10-day visit to 'The Land of the Holy One'
We
had come, 100 of us URC pilgrims, in response to an invitation from the
Anglican Bishop of Jerusalem, Bishop Riah, calling on Christians from
around the world to come to the Land of the Holy One and to meet with
‘the Living Stones’: the remnants of the Palestinian Christian
community which has kept the flame of the faith alive down two millennia
in the land of its birth.
What
follows can only possibly be one person’s brief impressions of ten
frantic days between the 22nd of February and the 2nd of March, days
filled with inspiration, laughter, some tears and not a little shame. Oh
yes, and hope – hope inspired by the Living Stones, who still live and
glorify God and have far more to give us than we have to give them. Beginning
in Galilee....
We land in Tel Aviv’s concrete and steel airport at a quarter past nine on Tuesday evening and board the coaches for the two and a half hour drive to the ancient town of Tiberias on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. It is past midnight when we disembark wearily from the coaches, half of us to the Church of Scotland’s visitor centre by the lake shore and the others to the unaccustomed luxury of the Holiday Inn, just outside the town. Many pilgrimages use the relative quiet of Galilee as an opportunity to look back on the noise and bustle of Jerusalem. We are travelling in the opposite direction and have only two days in Galilee so, like most pilgrims, we feel the pressure of the timetable.
Tel Aviv Airport by night
Fishing on the Sea of Galilee click for more...
For two packed days we visit the sites of Jesus’ Galilean ministry. We travel in a boat across the lake to Capernaum and see the crowded remains that include Peter’s house, where Jesus stayed. Then on to the traditional sites of the multiplication of the loaves and the fishes and to the top of the Mount of Beatitudes. After lunch, those who feel able wind their way down a remarkably green hillside sparkling with bright red flowers – the lilies of the field – to the shore of the lake, where we celebrate the first of our two communions. The walk is perhaps the only time we are truly away from the crowds and for many it is a high point as they feel themselves at one with the first disciples following in Jesus’ footsteps.
Down from the Mount of the Beatitudes
The
following day there is the noise and traffic of Nazareth and the vast,
cool triumphalism of the Church of the Basilica of the Annunciation. We
pass by the disputed site (not directly next to the church as the reports
all claimed) where a visitor centre was to be built until local Muslims
occupied the site to lay the foundation stone of a mosque. In the
afternoon we visit the village of Ibilin to meet Elias Chacour, an
Orthodox priest, an Arab, born in Palestine, whose Christian family was
driven from their home by Jewish soldiers when he was eight. Against a
background of official reactions varying from indifference to outright
hostility he has succeeded in creating first a school, then a college and
now an university – in next month’s Reform you can read more of his
story but for many of us it is our first contact with a Palestinian
Christian and it leaves us saddened and yet inspired, as he talks without
emnity of the plight of the shrinking Christian community and of the
injustices under which Palestinians labour.
The Basilica of the Annunciation
Elias Chacour signs copies of his books
On
our third morning it is the Mount of Transfiguration – reached either by
walking or by eight-seater white Mercedes taxis which scream up and down
the long twisting road. We drive on across the Jezreel valley to the
ancient site of Samaria, where we view the ruins and take our lunch. After
lunch the children of the nearby houses gather round to laugh and to see
what scraps these rich westerners might leave behind. They are good at
begging but even better at being children and soon the barriers come down
between us for a time of laughter and play. Then it is back into the
coaches and on to Jerusalem. Crowds
and holiness
Our first day in Jerusalem is the Sabbath. East Jerusalem, still predominantly Arab, bustles with commerce and tourism but we begin by the Western Wall, the last remaining wall of the long-destroyed Temple. The area at the base of the wall is a seething mass of worshippers. We are warned not to take photographs, write notes or do anything else which might seem to profane the Sabbath. It is only a short walk from the centre of Jewish worship to the Temple Mount itself now the site of the El Aqsa Mosque and the stunning Dome of the Rock – second only in holiness to Mecca itself among Muslims.
Crowds on the Via Dolorosa
At the Dome of the Rock
Crowds on the Via Dolorosa
At
the foot of the Via Dolorosa we visit the remains of the Pool of Bethesda,
where the angel stirred the healing water and Jesus cured the crippled
man, and the church dedicated to St Anne, the mother of Mary. Then we
fight our way up the heaving Via Dolorosa, following the stations of the
cross, some of them unfamiliar stories to Protestant ears. Finally we
arrive at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. It is a strange, dark and
alien place to Western eyes, where mystery, grandeur, dirt, incense,
chanting, crowds and strange ritual mix. Around each corner there seems to
be a new and unfamiliar form of worship taking place. There is a queue, as
always at this time of the day, outside the strange shed-like structure
held together by wooden scaffolding which is said to be the very tomb from
which Jesus rose. At the end of the queue is the opportunity to kneel
for a few moments before the empty niche cut in the stone. Outside
the sepulchre itself two guards in red fez and brown uniform brusquely
push people aside if they step out of line. This is the mother church of
the world-wide Christian faith and to visit is to realize how very
untypical of that faith is our small band of Western Protestants.
We
all share in the one bread
On
Sunday morning comes the chance to join in worship with the Arab
congregation of St George’s Cathedral – or at least, so the timetable
says. In fact, by the time we arrive, some 15 minutes before the start of
the service, the cathedral – the size of a largish parish church – is
almost completely full of a crowd drawn from every continent. There is
standing room only as we join in a service which is strange mixture of a
parish communion in any English town and the flowing musical tones of
Arabic. With so many accents and skin tones, communion takes on a very
special meaning.
On
the way back to the hotel through the midday rain we notice that a crowd
of Palestinians still mill around the office where work permits for the
day are obtained, though there is scarcely enough time to earn a day’s
pay. Back at the hotel one of the leaders of an Anglican group complains
at the length of the bilingual service and the fact that only a summary of
the sermon was given in English – ‘Surely all these people speak
English?’
For
many of our party, as so often happens, the visit to the Holocaust museum
at Yad Vashem on Sunday afternoon is too much. There is the sound of
crying on the returning coach and people are strangely subdued at dinner.
We may tell ourselves we know about the Holocaust but somehow Yad Vashem
makes liars of us – we don’t really know. In that moment we can
understand the fierce desire of the Jewish people for their own homeland,
for a place where they no longer have to apologize and fit in. But in a
short span of time we are to be brought face to face with the fact here,
of all places, the victims have turned into persecutors. The cynical
injustice and oppression visited on the Palestinians is hard to reconcile
with what we have felt before the memorial to the Holocaust victims.
Cyanide gas, as used in the extermination camps ‘Where
have you come from’ asked the gardener of one of our party. ‘From
Jerusalem.’ ‘I wish I could go there but I am imprisoned here in
Gaza.’ So we learn that the Palestinians call Gaza ‘The Prison’ and
we quickly understand why as, the next morning, we file through the long
covered tunnel to the Erez checkpoint – ‘Checkpoint Charlie’ as it
is less than affectionately known locally. The tunnel on the Israeli side
is only a few hundred yards long; on the Palestinian side, where thousands
of workers must queue every morning before being allowed into Israel
proper to work, it seems to go on forever. In summer it must be
unbearable. It is a reminder of the ambiguous status of Gaza, where we are
to spend a day. Part of Israel and yet nominally under the control of the
Palestinian National Authority. Economically autonomous and yet with its
trade entirely dependent on Israeli decisions. As the bus grinds its way
along the one main road, we see orange trees burdened with fruit that will
never be picked because there is no market. Near to be border are the
strawberry farms. Most of the strawberries sold as Israeli actually come
from Gaza, bought by one Israeli company dirt cheap. Gaza has an airport
which could be used to export direct to countries like Britain but they
are not allowed to use it without Israeli permission. Inside
Gaza Gaza
is said to be the most highly populated piece of land on earth. It is a
claustrophobic place, the only space to be found in the diminishing small
areas of agricultural land, around the houses of the powerful – and in
the areas set aside for tourist developments, where abandoned sites give
mute testimony of the devastating effect on the economy of the stalling of
the peace process. But even amidst the gloom there is hope as we learn of
the reconciling work of the Near East Council of Churches and of the
Palestine Agricultural Relief Committees (PARC), an important partner of
the URC through the Commitment for Life programme. More of those visits in
next month’s Reform. On
Tuesday morning we are back on more familiar pilgrimage territory as the
coaches drop us at the top of the Mount of Olives for the steep half-mile
or so walk down to the valley. It is a walk dense with biblical reminders
as we pass the tiny mosque sheltering the place where Jesus ascended, and
the churches marking the sites where the Lord’s prayer was taught, where
Jesus wept over Jerusalem and, finally, where Jesus was betrayed – all
the time keeping our hands firmly on our wallets, for this is a place
notorious for its pickpockets.
In
the afternoon we are taken on a guided tour by friends from Sabeel, the
Palestinian Christian organisation which has done so much to create a new
and living biblical understanding amongst people who had become tired at
hearing the Bible quoted to justify their oppression. Through Palestinian
eyes we saw the spotless settlements and the boxed-in, strangled Arab
villages, refused permission to expand when population grows. Since
Jerusalem was annexed in 1967 2,300 permits for new Arab buildings have
been granted – in the same time 77,000 new homes for settlers have been
built. A building permit for a Palestinian costs £5000 and takes five
years, if you are lucky enough to get one. For those who cannot wait as
their family grows, the only alternative is ‘illegal’ building and the
risk of forced demolition. The new Prime Minister promised a halt to
demolitions but in fact the number increased – at the moment the
impending visit of the Pope has led to a moratorium but no-one knows what
will happen once the international spotlight ceases to shine once again.
As the bus travels back into Jerusalem our guide, a human rights activist
who was imprisoned for many years, points out the fine buildings erected
on land confiscated from Palestinians. His primary school still stands,
but now it is for Jewish children. As
the end of the pilgrimage approaches we face another day of contrasts. We
travel through the wilderness to Jericho, passing the extraordinary oasis
of greenery which is the monastery of St George at Wadi Quelt. Almost
impossibly, the rain which has so often accompanied us follows into one of
the driest areas on earth. In Jericho we visit an organic farm project set
up by PARC and then another refugee camp to see one of the many self-help
‘clubs’ where people learn basic commercial skills. There is no
electricity and the building is patched together but the people are
determined to better themselves – read more of their story next month. From
the poverty-stricken surroundings of the refugee camp we journey alongside
the Dead Sea to the luxury of the Hotel Lot for lunch and an opportunity
to float in the mineral-rich waters. By the time lunch is over the wind
has risen and the sky has darkened. The wilderness fortress of Masada in a
gale is a real experience. As we head for home the rain begins again and
combines with a break in the clouds to create a rainbow over the Dead Sea
– not a sight that many have seen. Thursday
morning is our last and a small miracle. We already know that yesterday
there were huge queues to enter the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem
and we shall be arriving later than anticipated. Those of us who have been
before have visions of the small cave housing the traditional site of the
nativity packed with people being hurried through. We arrive in a
Bethlehem freshened by the rain to find a church virtually empty and an
opportunity to spend time with our thoughts before the ornate silver star
set into the ground to mark the place of Jesus birth. Then, on the site of
the Shepherds’ Fields, in a cave hallowed by centuries of worship, we
celebrate our final communion. David
Lawrence is Editor of Reform More
material will be added to this record of Pilgrim 2000 as it is
received from participants
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Diary
of a Pilgrim
