I wrote of this
pilgrimage before (see March 2013), a kind of synopsis of the “Holy Land”
experience.
This account is an elaboration; the subject is worthy of a revisit to me.
This account is an elaboration; the subject is worthy of a revisit to me.
It took me a time to warm up to an Israel journey.
My wife had been ready for a long time, but for some reason
I dragged my heels.
What eventually gave me the needed motivation was the
reading of a book, Blood Brothers by
Elias Chacour.
For that to make sense I need to tell you a little about
that book.
It’s the story of a young Palestinian boy growing up in a
small village in Galilee, not far from Nazareth. It was a happy childhood. For generations, his family had owned fig and
grape orchards and enjoyed a simple life, with the Melkite Christian church at
the center of their existence. Home,
church, and school nurtured his soul. He
came to love Jesus.
But one day, in 1947, his idyllic life and innocence were
swept away when Jewish militias came to take their home, their orchards, their
village, everything. Tens of thousands
of Palestinians were killed and nearly one million forced into refugee camps.
Somehow Elias, blessed by a brilliant mind and sterling
character, gained an education, first in Israel, then in Europe where he
graduated from seminary, after which he became the first Palestinian to receive
a degree from the Hebrew University in Jerusalem.
But what had happened to him and his family and thousands of
other families left a permanent mark on his soul, and a struggle to reconcile
the wounds that had been inflicted with the promises of God.
The story stirred me with the injustice of it all.
But what really moved me was what happened next.
For his first assignment as an ordained priest Elias Chacour
was sent in 1965 to a dying church in the remote and contentious Arab village
of Ibillin where no pastor lasted longer than a few months.
The church, St. George Melkite Catholic Church, close to
falling apart, had few attending members, and even those were often at odds
with each other.
At times, Chacour was close to despair and giving up.
But he did not leave after a few months, as he had planned.
He stayed for 41 years.
And in that time Chacour became God’s agent of reconciliation among his
church members, among the Jews and Palestinians of the town, among the
Christians and the Muslems.
And he built a school on an empty hillside now known as the
Mount of Light. It started small, at
first a kindergarten in 1968, housed in his humble office and bedroom while he
slept in his Volkswagen Beetle.
But Chacour didn’t stop there.
Today the co-educational Mar Elias Educational Institutions enroll
nearly 4000 students from age three through university, including Muslims,
Christians, and Druze; even some Jewish.
When I discovered this story of Father Chacour, there was no
hesitation left about going to Israel. I wanted to see what this man had
wrought.
This would be a pilgrimage to a land where Jesus walked and
taught and modeled what this extraordinary priest was trying to practice.
A pilgrimage to a land where the children of Abraham had
lived for centuries and where Arabs and Jews, though blood brothers, were at
war with each other.
I became eager to go and learn and grow in understanding and
faith.
So off we went, some 35 pilgrims from all over the country
with Bill and Lyn Vanden Bosch as our expert leaders.
Our tour of Israel was packed full from 7 o’clock in the
morning (or earlier) till 9 o’clock at night (or later) with bus rides, hikes
and climbs (we walked about 5 miles a day), lectures and descriptions,
devotions and testimonies.
I want to highlight those experiences that continue strong
in my memory, and that continue to bless and agitate me.
Our first two nights we stayed near Haifa in a Carmelite
Monastery, built over the cave of Elijah on Mt. Carmel on the Mediterranean – a
beautiful and peaceful spot.
Our first full day in Israel included the visit I had
eagerly anticipated. The bus wound its
way through untraveled country roads to the city of Ibillin, not shown on most
maps because, I’m told, it’s an Arab city.
Ibillin is in the Galilee region, near Nazareth, where
Christians and Muslims have lived together peacefully for hundreds of years.
The residents are an agglomeration of what remained from
four different villages which were among the 460 towns that were completely
destroyed or deleted or emptied for the arrival of the Jews, the same as what
happened to Chacour’s family.
Those who fled the deportation and hid later agglomerated
themselves in this village which then grew to 8500 inhabitants.
The Palestinians who lost everything – have no right of
return or compensation, or even recognition.
All the Arab villages in the Galilee are surrounded by
Jewish posts of observation, from which they are closely monitored.
Learning about such injustice began to weigh on us as our
pilgrimage crisscrossed through the Promised Land.
But now, the bus chugged its way up a steep hill, and then
we suddenly had our first glimpse of Chacour’s realized dream, the Mar Elias
Educational Institutions.
We were welcomed by a throng of smiling school children.
To me it was inspiring to wander through the hallways of this beautiful educational institution to which students come from all over the Galilee because of its high quality reputation.
The principal of the school treated us to an impassioned
talk about the mission of this place.
It includes Mar Elias College, the largest college in the
Arab community in Israel with 384 students and 59 faculty members and which has
earned a reputation for excellence.
Then there is the recently founded Mar Elias University, the
first Arab university in Israel, operating as a branch of the University of
Indianapolis. Mar Elias University at the time had some 200 undergraduate
students and 60 faculty members.
Students learn in Arabic, English and Hebrew.
And what became of that ramshackle, forsaken little church
that Chacour came to in 1965?
It’s become a place of beauty for worship and faithfulness in outreach.
The steps to the entrance emphasize the profound impact the
Sermon on the Mount had on Chacour and on the mission he embraced.
And inside there are many reminders of the biblical events
that continue to inform Chacour’s mission.
What excited me about this pilgrimage after reading Blood Brothers and online information about Ibillin was not only the inclusion of this place in our itinerary but also and especially the opportunity to spend an hour with Archbishop Elias Chacour in person.
Chacour was the first Israeli citizen to be appointed a
Catholic bishop.
And this three-time Nobel Peace Prize nominee, in 2006 was
elevated to the office of
Archbishop of the Melkite Catholic Church for Haifa,
Nazareth, and all Galilee.
We would have the honor of a private audience with the
Archbishop in his quarters in Haifa.
Abuna (as he’s affectionately called by his parishioners,
students, and friends) sat with us for at least an hour. Let me mention some
bits and pieces of what he said.
He said he’s “a walking contradiction” – a
Palestinian-Arab-Christian-Israeli, and told us about the challenges that
causes in his mission to break down stereotypes.
He said: “Tell your friends that I was born in a village, a
very beautiful village. When we heard the Jews were coming, we prepared a
banquet for them. We gave them our beds to use, and only ten days later they
deported us, and we are still deportees, while our homes and land were turned
into wasteland.
“This is a people here who have a history of over 3000
years. And now it is no longer a fight of one nation against another nation
because of their convictions, but because both claim the land to be theirs, and
none is willing to share it with the others.
“The majority of Jews understand that the big land of Israel
can no more belong to the Jews alone. But their heart is in love with all the
land, and they don't know how to make the separation.
“Palestinians as well, especially Palestinian Muslims, say
this is our ancestral land. And they know, with their intellect, that it is no
more their land alone. But from their emotion, they cannot agree with the
reality.
“What we have here is a majority of Jewish people, a
minority of Palestinians living in Israel, and three or four million living in
the West Bank. What can we do to improve the situation so we can live together.
“Palestinians do not ask for compensation. They ask just for
the return of the occupied territories to have a viable independent state, side
by side with Israel. Without that, there will never be peace or security.
Unless the Palestinians, by divine power, decide: ‘We accept to be the slaves.
We accept to be the Jews of the Jews. We accept to be the eternal
deportees/refugees, no human rights observers.’ If that would happen, that
would be a solution.
“There are 3000 Israeli settlers around the city of Gaza,
surrounding 1,200,000 Arabs. And the 3000 settlers, to my knowledge, have the
right to 85% of the water of Gaza, while the 1.2 million have only 15% of the
water, which is hardly enough. They have water once or twice a week. These
things are not right.”
Chacour, who “has
devoted his life to advocating non-violence and reconciliation between Israelis
and Palestinians” challenged us to be
peacemakers, and that sometimes means raising issues on injustice loud and
persistently.
For me, and I think for all of us, it was not only
informative but transformative: we brought much more thought and understanding
and a prayerful spirit to the rest of our pilgrimage. Our eyes, our minds, and our hearts were
opened to the complexity and agony of the ongoing conflict in the land where
Jesus as the Prince of Peace, teaching the Sermon on the Mount, lived the life
of a servant, and sacrificed himself for others.
Elias Chacour is retired now. He is living again in Ibillin,
having time to read, write, pray, and continue meeting pilgrim groups to share
his story of “Building Peace on Desktops.”
Sometime later that day we stood on Mt
Precipice, overlooking the city of Nazareth, where Jesus spent most of his
short life.
Next we had a good look from Mt. Arbel at the Sea of Galilee, including a distant view of Capernaum, Korazin, and Bethsaida where Jesus did much of his ministry.
The last stop of the day was at a very recent archeological site in Magdala, the home of Mary Magdalene, a spot where almost certainly Jesus walked.
Our pilgrimage included a long hike to the ruins of Gamla, a place where Jesus almost surely preached in the synagogue; it’s in the Golan Heights near the border of Syria.
And we reflected in the nearby pastoral site of Kursi where Jesus healed the demoniac.
That healing started a Christian movement in the area which
many years later provided a delegate to the Council of Nicea. Now when we recite the creed in our Sunday
morning worship we remember doing that together as pilgrims in that historic
location.
Then we returned to the Sea of Galilee. We remembered the words of Jesus: “Come follow me.”
Of course we had to take a boat ride.
And we heard how on that lake, surrounded by low mountains,
sudden storms can sweep down and endanger the lives of fishermen.
No such storm arose during our sail.
Nearby is Capernaum and the ruins of the synagogue where
Jesus taught.
We ended that day on the slope of a promontory above the Sea of Galilee where some say Jesus delivered the Sermon on the Mount. It was one of the most moving experiences of the trip when Pastor Bill recited the sermon from memory. The words touched our lives as perhaps they never had before.
Close to where we gathered, there was a sculpture of the
face of Jesus, hidden inside the bush.
To me that hidden presence
gave the words of the Sermon on the Mount even more import.
Next we stopped at Beth-Shan, where the bodies of King Saul and his sons were brought after their deaths.
The Assyrians destroyed the city in 730 BC, and it was left
in ruins for centuries.
It was rebuilt a number of times and was a major city in
Roman times, considered a Gateway to Paradise.
It was destroyed by a major earthquake in 749.
We viewed the ruins of that meticulously designed and built
city from high above, and then walked down the marble and stone thoroughfares
to take a closer look.
They even thought of latrines.
These weary pilgrims are making grateful use of this public
restroom!
Jericho was our next destination.
Jesus walked the Jericho Road on the way to Jerusalem and the cross.
The road leads through a forsaken wilderness, emblematic of the spiritual wilderness Jesus came to redeem.
No one goes on a Holy Land pilgrimage without visiting Masada where Herod built a summer palace and fortress, and where, more famously, over 900 Jewish zealots made a heroic stand against a powerful Roman army.
It has become Israel’s most visited national park.
The replica gives an idea of the engineering challenge and accomplishment.
A full-fledged city operated on top of the huge rock, 1500
ft above the level of the Dead Sea, with sophisticated water systems and
baths.
It was a long and strenuous climb to reach the oasis of
En-Gedi; this is where David found refuge from king Saul.
The place became more memorable for us when we sang David’s words “As the deer panteth for the waters, so my soul longeth after you.”
We went on to Qumran, the legendary home of the Essenes and the location where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found.
And not to be missed, of course, was the chance to float in
the Dead Sea.
As we continued to drive through the West Bank area, we became more aware of the inequality of the land use for Israelis and Palestinians, which is of course the case throughout the country.
And we’d see signs like this:
Just outside of Bethlehem is the site of the Herodium Palace and fortress complex where he won a victory over the Jews and Parthians in 40 BC. It is highlighted by a hill that he made into a mountain fortress.
Herod’s complex included a large swimming pool and parade
ground, a theater, and the recently discovered Herod’s tomb. In the theater is the just uncovered royal
box where Josephus tells us Herod entertained Agrippa, son-in-law of the
Emperor Augustus.
Not far from this site one enters Bethlehem. It was painful to see the dividing wall built by the Israeli; in many places it’s marked by angry graffiti but sometimes also by expressions of hope and reconciliation, like this:
Bethlehem District is home to more than 170,000
Palestinians, concentrated mostly in the town of Bethlehem and two nearby towns. The
wall surrounding the Bethlehem district is a 15-kilometer shackle that
segregates a huge area of agricultural land, mainly olive trees.
The wall around Bethlehem serves to isolate and annex the
religious areas.
Hundreds of people are
isolated between two walls, further strengthening Israeli control of historic,
religious, and deeply significant places and strangling the city economically.
Close to 90% of the route of the fence/wall is on
Palestinian land inside the West Bank, encircling Palestinian towns and
villages and cutting off communities and families from each other, separating
farmers from their land and Palestinians from their places of work and
education and health care facilities and other essential services.
No gate in the wall allows residents access to their lands.
As a result they must travel long distances to get to their land. The main
roads are often reserved for soldiers and settlers, and so Palestinians are
forced to take even longer routes, often on foot, and cannot bring equipment to
harvest their crops. The walls in effect deny them the ability to earn a living
from their land.
The fence/wall encompasses more than 50 Israeli civilian
settlements in the Occupied Territories, in which the majority of Israeli
settlers live and which are illegal under international law.
The construction of the fence/wall inside the Occupied
Territories, projected to be about 450 miles in length, in its present
configuration violates Israel's obligations under international humanitarian
law.
But within the grimness of that divided Bethlehem, we found
a place of compassion and love: the
Al-Basma Center for young Palestinians with disabilities, where smiles and hope
abound.
Its founder, Abdullah Awwad, fled Libya to come home to
Bethlehem where he felt called to lead Al-Basma.
The young people trained and cared for here were the
outcasts of society. Here they learn
love and respect, joy and purpose and
our hearts were filled just being part of their lives nd this place for an
hour.
But Bethlehem is the birthplace of Jesus. Instead of visiting the Church of the Nativity, which is built over a particular cave believed to be the Birthplace itself, we went to a much more peaceful place, a shepherd’s cave in a corner of the city, the kind of cave and manger (not a wooden box) in which Mary and Joseph welcomed the Son of God.
And that leaves Jerusalem.
Bethlehem is what we remember especially during Advent and
Christmas.
Jerusalem, a short distance from Bethlehem, is our focus in
Lent, and the difference between Advent and Lent is the difference between life
and death, joy and sorrow.
Except to this pilgrim there is more sorrow than joy in the
land today, and that is true of Bethlehem as well as Jerusalem.
When we looked down on the city from the 2500 feet height of
the Mt of Olives area, I couldn’t help but think of Christ grieving over
Jerusalem, when he said: “…how often I have longed to gather your children
together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not
willing.”
There was much to pray for at the Western Wall.
The Western Wall is the holiest site in Judaism.
I stood at that wall, joining others from many places,
praying with one voice, I hoped, for peace and justice.
We spent time at Yad Vashem, the official Holocaust Museum of Israel, an experience that penetrated our emotions to the core.
Such unspeakable suffering in the history of the Jews!
We spent a time of reflection afterward in the Grove of the
“Trees of Righteousness.” Nearby a tree
had been planted to honor Cornelia Blaauw of the Netherlands for her wartime
courage on behalf of the Jews.
And then there’s the Temple Mount, and the majestic Dome of the Rock visible from all over, the Islamic holy place built on the site of the old Jewish temple.
This is a hot religious collision spot for Arab and Jew.
In the Old City part of Jerusalem are four holy sites of the
three major monotheistic religions: the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the Via
Dolorosa, the Western Wall, and the Temple Mount with the al-Aqsa Mosque and
the Dome of the Rock, an Islamic shrine.
Only Muslims are allowed to pray there. Jews and Christians
can visit, but they may not enter the Mosque.
For Jews the Temple Mount "is where Abraham almost
sacrificed Isaac, and where God gathered the dust that created Adam. It’s
there, the Bible says, that King Solomon built the First Temple, circa 1000
B.C., where Herod refurbished the Second Temple, and where Titus tore it down
in 70 A.D. Its inner sanctuary is known as the Holy of Holies—a place where no
one but the High Priest was allowed to tread.
The Temple Mount and Jerusalem have often been rocked by
violent riots, terror attacks that claim lives, and attempted assassination.
On our last day of the pilgrimage, we went early to the Mt
of Olives.
From the Mount you look down on the Jewish cemetery, where
one can buy a grave site for around $25,000. It’s been a burial site for about 3000 years
and is still in demand.
Many Jews believe that when the Messiah comes to Earth
riding on a white donkey, the dead will rise from their graves and walk to the
holy Temple Mount in Jerusalem’s Old City.
From the Mount you also look down on nearby Bethany, the
home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus…dear friends of Jesus.
The Mt of Olives and Gethsemane had only lived in my
imagination, as had many other Biblical sites.
But not many places in Palestine are the way they were in Biblical
times. No compelling pilgrimage
destination stays the same.
Here we also saw the Dome of the Ascension: A small shrine,
now a mosque marking the place where Jesus is believed to have ascended to
heaven.
And there’s a depiction of Jesus leading his disciples after
the Last Supper to the Kidron Valley, or the Garden of Gethsemane.
An ancient staircase leads down towards the Kidron Valley and the Garden of Gethsemane.
This is where Jesus wrestled with his Father in dread of the
days that lay ahead.
There are many memorials, one of which is the Church of All Nations. A somber church at Gethsemane, built over the rock on which Jesus is believed to have prayed in agony the night before he was crucified.
On the façade of this Church, the triangular area over the
great portal displays a much-photographed mosaic.
Christ is depicted as the mediator between God and mankind,
on whose behalf he gives his very heart which an angel is shown receiving into
his hands.
On Christ’s left, a throng of lowly people, in tears, look
to him with confidence. On his right, a group of the powerful and wise
acknowledge the shortcomings of their might and learning.
An atmosphere of sorrowful reverence pervades the Church of
All Nations. The architect wanted to leave the interior in semi-darkness to
evoke the night-time of the Agony.
We spent some time in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Time for silently meditating, praying, reflecting.
More signs reminded us of what followed after the arrest in the Garden.
Then we made our way uphill, through the Lion’s gate, into the Old City and along the Via Dolorosa all the way to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.
And as you see in the background here, you’re never far away from the walls that encircle Jerusalem.
Defensive walls go back to ancient times, of course. Remains
of one ancient wall that goes back to the Bronze Age are located above
Hezekiah’s Tunnel that is still there the same way it was in Hezekiah’s day.
Most of the walls you see today were built between 1535 and
1538, when Jerusalem was part of the Ottoman Empire. They contain 34
watchtowers and 8 gates.
Today they mainly serve as an attraction for tourists since
they ceased to serve as a means of protection for the city.
And what’s the experience today of walking the Via Dolorosa?
The stations and sites along the way reminded us of where we
were.
And though the way of Christ as he stumbled to the final
destination was undoubtedly not exactly the route we followed on that Friday,
we felt more keenly than we ever had before the cosmic irony of our faith: the Son
of God, his flagellated body sagging under a cross to which he would soon be
nailed, staggering through the narrow streets crowded with indifferent
merchants and hawkers and Passover observers from far and near – all this
unspeakable humiliation and agony – to give his life for us, out of love for us.
We stop at the Church of the Flagellation, and we remember
that with his stripes, we are healed.
In the Chapel of Condemnation, we contemplate the statue of
Christ, taking up his cross.
The crowds move steadily toward The Church of the Holy Sepulcher where the walls tell the story.
We took turns going down into a burial vault nearby.
There we felt close to the Passion of the Christ.
Afterward we stood together as a group and professed the Apostle’s Creed together. Here, on this sacred site in Old Jerusalem, we thought deeply about what we were professing.
We ended our pilgrimage in the Garden Tomb.
Some claim this to be the actual site of Calvary and Joseph
of Arimathea’s tomb.
The Garden Tomb is a quiet place intended for worship and
reflection.
There was beauty and peace here.
Our time in the Garden and our pilgrimage ended with a
moving Communion Service.
We were reminded of the places we had walked together as
pilgrims and the significance of each.
Then we sang “He Lives,” “In Christ Alone,” and our daily
pilgrim song, “In the Light of Jesus.”
We had walked where Jesus walked.
We had walked “on ancient stones smoothed by the feet of
millions of pilgrims gone before.”
We had sailed the Sea of Galilee where Jesus walked on water
and Peter sank.
We had been in Bethlehem where God came to dwell among us.
We had stood in the Garden where sweat turned into blood.
We had walked the Via Dolorosa.
We had stood near the place where our Savior was crucified.
And near the place where he emerged from the grave, so that
even Thomas the doubter could say: my Lord, and my God.
Through this pilgrimage, we re-committed ourselves to keep
walking the path of faith, hope, and love—in the steps of Jesus.
And yes, to keep on praying for the peace of Jerusalem.
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