Holy Land Tour Day Six

Please note: I do not have a computer with me so these articles are dictated to my phone. As a result there are typos and misspellings. Please ignore them and read for the meaning! 

You know it is a rigorous week when a 6 am wake up call and a 8 am “Be on board the bus” announcement sounds leisurely.

I am very behind in posting to this blog because of both connection problems and time issues. Our days are packed and our evenings spent building friendships and then tumbling into bed, hoping the jet lag middle of the night wakefulness will finally end.

Yesterday, our Wednesday here, we sailed on the sea of Galilee for an hour where I had the opportunity to deliver a short homily on the nature of fear and how it makes it impossible for us to love. Before that, I had sat on the beach where Jesus had spoken to Peter and told him three times to feed his sheep. It was the redemption of the three times denial Peter had done to Jesus the night before the crucifixion.

My tears flowed freely, nearly unstoppable.

I stepped in the chapel built to honor St. Peter, and saw another tour group in there. They were singing in a language unfamiliar to me but with a tune very much familiar, “I surrender all.” Many of my group joined in the chorus as they sang.  Two languages, one heart and deep gratefulness to God.

We made our way to the town of Magdala, home of Mary the Magdelene. For the first time in my life, I sat in a church that was dedicated to honoring the women of the faith. I hated to leave. Women have been so denigrated, so ignored during much of Christian history. And here we are honored.

Our last stop yesterday took us to the Jordan River. For $10, we received a thin towel and white robe. We were directed to dressing facilities where we put on bathing suits and then the robes and proceeded to one of the several baptismal spots lining the river.

For those who did not want to be immersed, we did a sprinkling “remember your baptism” ceremony. Then Don Smith, tour leader and close friend of mine, and I waded into the very cool waters of the Jordan. We walked along the slippery, moss covered bottom until we came to water that was about chest high for both of us. One by one they came to us, white robed fellow pilgrims ready to be immersed, ready to undergo something to remember those moments of grace, ready to live out of the reaffirmation of their baptismal vows.

When we finished and Don and I emerged from the water, one of our fellow pilgrims came up to us and said, “there’s a man here who wishes to be baptized. Can you help him?”

We spoke with this man and discovered that he is from Africa, and has been appointed as a missionary to the Golan Heights area, a very troubled part of Israel.

He said that he was terrified to go in the water, and asked to be sprinkled. Don and I agreed to do so, and so I did give him a remember his baptism ceremony. We were all in tears at the end of it.

We returned to the dressing areas to change back into street clothes. No private spaces were available at that point for us to change, so several of us went into the common room, threw modesty to the winds and stripped off our robes and bathing suits. We decided to describe it as “female bonding at its best” and laughed off the inconvenience.

Shortly before we changed, one of the women who has an internal defibrillator had it go off. It probably was set off by going into the cold water. I had noticed when she came out of the water that she was she appeared to be in a bit of a state of shock. Two of us stayed with her while she experienced the kick that comes with this. Several times we have need to stop to help her through some particularly difficult climbs up the many steep stairs.  She’s an amazing woman, full of life and joy and hope. It is a pleasure to wait on her, to help her breathe through her difficult moments  and to be her companion.

Speaking of difficult climbs, two days ago we had been in Jericho. There we visited one of the many historical sites which is being excavated slowly and painstakingly. We were invited to take 120 step down into a tunnel that it been built to secure the water supply to the city under a time of siege. Stairs don’t bother me, so I happily agreed. What I didn’t expect is that the stairs would be the kind made of open metal work that showed undefinable depths below.

I suffer from vertigo, and when I saw them I almost became paralyzed. Every muscle in my body tensed and it took all the courage I had to make my way down. Since then I have been suffering spasms in my thigh muscles. Each step down I take has been quite painful. Today has been a light walking day, only about 5000 steps. But Jerusalem is built on hills and we are going into buildings that are built on top of crumbled buildings. So about 2000 of those 5000 steps have been excruciatingly painful today. But worth it.

One descent was especially powerful. We visited the palace of Caiaphas, the place were Jesus’ trial before the Sanhedrin took place and where Peter denied him three times in the courtyard.

We descended to the deep dungeon. Our tour guide told us that prisoners would be dropped in there, held by a rope. It would have been dark, smelly and probably full of the bones of others who had died there. When someone was to be called before the high court, the jailers would simply haul him up by the rope. We listened as Psalm 88 was read to us there. Check it out. It is one of the saddest psalms in the Bible and speaks of being in the pit. We stood in the pit.

Before this, we visited the place that commemorated the spot where the Last Supper took place. We went to the roof and there I had the privilege of celebrating the service of holy Communion with the other pilgrims. I doubt that any of us will forget that anytime soon.

It is now Thursday evening here in Jerusalem. After arriving our hotel and getting settled, several of us found an outside patio off the stairwell and joined there to share a glass of wine or a beer. The combination of the solemnity of the day, the general sense of deep tiredness, and the type of bonding that is taking place among us lead to a couple of hours of laughter and delight.

A kosher meal followed. Pumpkin soup, a modest salad buffet, fish and chicken and potatoes and vegetables. Filling but hardly extravagant.

Tomorrow, Good Friday here, we leave early to walk the Via Dolorousa and will observe 14 stations of the cross. It will be a solemn time.