2011 Holy Land Study Tour - Day Thirteen

The dome of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.

Day 13 - Mount of Olives, Path of Jesus into Jerusalem, Stations of the Cross, Church of the Holy Sepulcher 

Not to us, Lord, not to us

But to your name give glory

Because of your faithfulness and love

(Ps 115)

Israelis have a tradition—a very loud tradition—of whooping and clapping whenever an international plane touches down in their homeland. Yesterday at the border crossing between Jordan and Israel, I had the same experience: you cannot help but rejoice when returning to Israel.

Last night and today, and until the end of our pilgrimage, we are in Jerusalem, staying in the Benedictine guesthouse at Dormition Abbey. We began the day at the summit of the Mount of Olives, visiting the place where Jesus taught the “Our Father” to the disciples; where he ascended into heaven (resurrected bodies are heavy: he left behind a footprint in solid stone); the garden (Latin and Armenian), and the cave (where Jesus camped out before the Passover) at Gethsemane; the place where Jesus wept for Jerusalem. Coming down the Mount of Olives and heading into the city, we visited the Greek church of the Dormition, the Latin Church of the Flagellation, Ecce Homo (run by the Sisters of Sion), St. Anne’s, and finally the Holy Sepulcher.

I’m sure you all want to hear about the Holy Sepulcher, but I’ll leave that to another blogger. Today, my heart and soul is all caught up at Gethsemane.

Yet another Barluzzi creation, the Latin Church of Gethsemane is truly a place of darkness, doubt, and struggle. The windows are made from slim-cut alabaster, so the light inside is eerie, opaque, and weak. Beautiful but dark mosaics of twisting olive branches and wild animals cover the domes on the ceiling, as if when inside you walk through the hollows of a dark wood. In the apse and on either side are mosaics done in midnight tones and dusky gold: the disciples asleep, Jesus crying tears of blood, Jesus speaking to his disciples, his friends.

The tympanum above the entrance (a door of that same alabaster decorated in twining bronze branches) bears the words:

SUSTINETE HIC ET VIGILATE MECUM

Or, “Stay here and watch with me.” It is an order. It is one of the saddest phrases I have ever read.

We all, hundreds of tourists, pilgrims, monks, nuns, friars, fathers, believers and non-believers, pass under these words to enter into Gethsemane. They are not an accusation or a request. They are an order.

This past Passion Sunday, I lead a Bible Study where we read the passion account, and my students simply could not understand why the Peter, James, and John, ordered to stay awake with Jesus, fell asleep. They boldly claimed that they would never sleep if Jesus bid them not to, but the truth is they would, we all would.

Stay here and watch with me. These words, over the entrance to the church, are an order not only for Peter, James, and John, but for all people the world over, that’s why we all pass beneath them, whether we wish to obey Christ or not. Like the disciples, we often fail miserably, sleeping when we should be awake, sinning when we should be doing good works.

But the words are not an accusation. God knows we will fail. God has already forgiven our failure, but they are still an order, not a request; required, not bonus. Stepping into the Church at Gethsemane, with all that twisting, frightening darkness around you, you know the struggle in Christ’s heart. You know the struggle in your own. Christ made that one perfect, salvific decision when the rest of us were dozing in the corner, so frightened we could not bear to keep awake, to keep praying, keep doing good.

Stay here and watch with me. I will try.

Siobhan

2011 Holy Land Study Tour - Day Twelve

Day 12 - Jerrash and into Jerusalem:

Short entry today, as it was basically a transition day.  We started out the day with a tour of the ancient Roman ruins of Jerrash, and then it was back into Israel.  This one took a bit longer than last time around because there was a bit of confusion regarding border taxes being paid or not.  The process with both border crossings (out of Jordan and into Israel) took around 2.5 hours.

But all that was forgotten when we got to Jerusalem and our home for the final leg of the trip, Dormition Abbey, just outside the walls of the Old City.  The monks here are all German, and Brother Joseph, our main contact, was as welcoming as could be to us. We then had time to take a quick walking tour to get our bearings in the Old City, going very briefly to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the Christian Quarter, as well as the Western Wall (Kotel) in the Jewish Quarter.  Obviously much more extensive time at both locations will be spent later in the week, with far greater detail addressed about the history and the significance of these and other locations in the holiest city in the world. (Oh, and by the way, Fr. Michael also showed us the location of a rather notorious showdown from the tour two years ago that involved a member of the group getting fleeced by a rug shop owner—got the police involved, somewhat ugly situation but brought somewhat under control and makes for a humorous story to tell later on).  We ended the night with a group conversation and visit up on the amazing roof deck of the guesthouse looking out across the entire city of Jerusalem, and marveled at being there as we debriefed on our time in Jordan. Topics covered here included observations from our women of how acutely aware of their gender travel in a place like Jordan makes them, although it came with an understanding that as far as this region of the world is concerned, Jordan is probably one of the better nations in that regard, despite its still rather rigid culture.   We retired early tonight (much to my chagrin, of course) and anticipate tomorrow’s walk of Jesus’s path from Mount of Olives (later the site of his ascension into Heaven) and into Jerusalem culminating with more time at the Holy Sepulchre.   Night all—keep following our adventures this last week…….

Alex

2011 Holy Land Study Tour - Day Eleven

Mount Nebo

Day Eleven - Shoback Castle, Madaba, Mount Nebo:

Hello again from Alex the blogmaster--j/k, but since I am formally “in charge” of delegating the blogging duties, I reserve the right to assign it to myself when I’m practically going crazy to share an experience with all who will listen, because it was about the most powerful feeling I have ever experienced, at least in a very long time.  Today, our last full day in Jordan, we did indeed visit Shoback Castle, a structure dating to the crusades, as well as a Greek Orthodox church in the town of Madaba, but neither of these warrant anything more than a mention of what they are—not when today was the day we also went to Mount Nebo. For anyone not familiar with this location, you must read the last two chapters of Deuteronomy dealing with the death of Moses. It is the location to which Moses was ordered by God to ascend when his days were numbered.  There was discussion in our group today of what the reasoning may have been for Moses, after all he had done for the people of Israel, being barred from actually entering the Promised Land. I had personally heard several possible explanations, any combination thereof all adding up to Moses’s possibly unjust punishment (but who are we to make such a statement anyway?)  One says that it even goes as far back as Moses killing the taskmaster in Egypt, even though it seemed to be the only way to save the life of the slave who was being beaten.  Another theory is more fatalistic, saying that God simply decided Moses had done all he was meant to do and it was time for a new leader—Joshua—to take over. The last, and most often cited, refers to Moses’s apparent, if momentary, loss of trust in God—so vital to someone already having to contend with a people so prone to losing it, as the Golden Calf episode shows us—in his doubting of the ability to bring water from the rock, even with the help of a God who had led the children of Israel out of Egypt and fed them with manna in the desert for all those years.  The incident in question is, of course, often known as the rock striking, in which he struck a rock for water rather than trust God’s word that all he had to do was to ask the rock to bring forth water.  The striking, of course, did bring water, but also along with it, Moses’s punishment.  

In any event, Moses is told by God to climb Mount Nebo across from Jericho, where he will be able to SEE the land into which his people will soon be crossing, but will not make this final step of the journey with them, as he will die on the mountain after seeing the land. And that is where we stood today. We saw the final view taken in by Moses before he died.  Obviously, again, we cannot know the exact spot, but we can at least know the direction, as there is only one way from which one can see Jericho, Jerusalem, and other places in Israel, from Mount Nebo, so the sensation in knowing the significance of where we were standing simply cannot be put in words.  The group asked me to read the final chapter of Deuteronomy, detailing exactly what happened there so many eons ago, all of us understanding the significance of the line paraphrased as “Never again has there been another prophet like Moses, whom God knew face to face.”  I just stood there transfixed at the sight—it was through a bit of a haze today, so I was not seeing as clearly, perhaps, as Moses, but no matter.  I was taking in Moses’s final look at the world—there is simply nothing else that can be said.  I remembered the presence on my iPod (fitting how technology works its way into everything these days, isn’t it?) of a song written by a wonderful artist whom I know personally, written from the perspective of Moses as he stares out with an almost haunting serenity at the land he has brought his people within reach of but cannot be there with them as they take that final step.  I stood there listening to my recording of the composer himself singing the song, and singing quietly, half to myself, along with him. (A young woman came up to me and asked me what the singing was about—I think she originally thought I was a bit crazy, but I explained what it was and why I was doing so, and she understood its significance).  Again, you’ll have to try to imagine the power of that moment for yourself, but I’ll leave you with the words to that song, written by Danny Maseng, and see what you feel just reading it or saying it, and then picture yourself hearing it and saying it and singing it, while looking out at the very expanse in which the actual words (or at least the ideas conveyed in those words) could have been spoken:

On this rock I stand

And see the Promised Land.

Isn’t it pure, isn’t it sweet as honey?

Flowing with milk, rivers of silk and wine.

I led you by the hand

Into the Promised Land

Out of the past, out of the night

Your souls were drawn to the light

Calling you near, you’ve nothing to fear

No more to roam, your home is here.

And keep on walking to the Promised Land

And cross that glowing river hand in hand

All the chosen, the children, the promise of tomorrow.

Tomorrow’s at your command

Through these weary eyes

I see how close it lies.

I reach out my hand, now I can almost touch it

Land of my dreams, star of my hopes

Within my sight

Through the desert sand

To the Promised Land

Follow the lead, follow the sign,

Your fate is no longer mine,

Now I can see, there’s nothing for me

Leave me to die, don’t cry, you’re finally free

Alex

2011 Holy Land Study Tour - Day Ten

Ancient structures in Petra.

Day Ten - Petra:  My name is Ashley and I am part of the St. John’s School of Theology - Seminary trip to the Holy Land.  Today I am going to fill you in on our hike through what is now considered one of the Seven Wonders of the World: Petra.  This ancient Nabataen settlement is about 125 km from the port city of Aqaba on the Red Sea. 

After getting off our tour bus, we passed through the first gates of Petra into what is called the holy route.  I have many highlights of this pass including the beautiful rock formations, red and black cliffs, ingenious water channels, and lastly, my favorite, the site of announcement for marriage.  It was two holes chiseled out of the rock for the man and woman to stand and face the god of the Nabataens, Dushares. 

After the holy route comes to an end, the most amazing site comes before you.  I think everyone’s initial reaction was, “Wow, Incredible” or my word, “Whoa.” (You could also have taken a picture of the dumbfounded look on my face, which would have probably been a little funny.)  This magnificent building is called the Treasury.  It is a massive sight with 13-meter high giant pillars that hold two rooms above them.  Underneath this building one can find the tombs of King Aretas IV and his wife (the most popular king during the time of the Nabataens).  I couldn’t help but think that the work it would take to hammer and chisel this outstanding structure is unreal.  The treasury, along with other buildings in Petra, contain Roman, Egyptian and Greek architectural influence.  This is special only to the Nabataens.

The Treasury, Petra.

There were many special things to see in Petra.  The tombs, church, mosaics, theatre, but my favorite is always the one that is so rewarding.  This would be our 860-step climb to the monastery.  Starting this arduous journey, I seemed to be doing ok until about step 300.  Then things started to get dusty, tiring, and HOT.  The donkeys to the top were looking more and more tempting, but I knew that I had to do it.  (Especially after 70 year-old men and women were doing it, I couldn’t be the 20 year old taking the easy way up.  That would be embarrassing.)  Eventually after a 40-minute hike on one canteen of water I made it to the top with the group.  The monastery was another enormous structure that you could climb in and take a look around.  Also, there were different trails to other structures or if you preferred, a trail to “The Best View in Petra.”  I settled for some of the other trails and I thought they were just as amazing.  The cliffs were enchanting with the black, red, purple, and orange colors being reflected from the sunlight.  A light breeze kept it cool and quiet.  It was definitely another surreal, “pinch me” moment.

Finally, the last highlight of the day would have been my trip back to the bus.  A few very interesting things happened.  First, I took a horse back from the holy route to the visitor center and my guide whose horse I was riding gave me his card and told me to call him later for a beer.  Oh, and I had the most beautiful smile and eyes.  Awwwwww!  So sweet.  Second, when I made it to the visitor center and shops, I wanted to go in and buy a hijab.  (The one I eventually picked out was silk and camel hair.)  The man that was selling me it said that he would marry me for 1000 camels.  Is that a compliment or a good salesman?  Who knows!  All I know is that today will be one of those days our tour guide says we will remember forever.

Asley

2011 Holy Land Study Tour - Day Nine

Day Nine - Wadi Rum: Greetings, Y’all!

View along Wadi Rum

This is Siobhan again, live to you from the city of Petra. Today’s big news is that my companions have discovered (and mocked) my constant use of the word “y’all” to denote you (pl).

But in all seriousness, today we slept in deliciously, rolling out of bed around 7:30 to set sail (drive?) by 8:30 after feasting on a proper English breakfast at our very Europeanized hotel (bread pudding, stewed tomatoes, chewy little donuts…oh, and some cucumber-parsley-mint salad [typical to Jordan] got in there).

A short drive took us to the sweepingly majestic Wadi Rum. Remember, folks, a “wadi” is a dried river valley, a bit like the Grand Canyon if we took the Colorado out. Despite all the wadis we have seen, this is the most magnificent. A geological jewel of the world, Wadi Rum has recently (2007) been declared one of the Natural Wonders of the World and remains a huge nature preserve here by Order Of The King.

To view the Wadi, we took a “Jeep” ride—that is, we hopped in the bed of a Toyota half-bed fitted with wooden benches, a couple cushions, and shaded by a tight-stretched goat hair blanket—out into the desert. This Wadi was formed over 150,000 years ago by a now long-deceased ocean, the only remnants a flat country of very soft red sand and peculiarly sculpted igneous and sandstone mountains rising suddenly from the earth. The closest equivalent from the Western Hemisphere I can think of is the Oklahoma desert.

Our first stop brought us close to a low-slung Bedouin tent and a high-towering mountain. Our Jordanian guide (Hasam) ushered us over to a flat-faced rock to show us the oldest inscription found in Jordan—older than Nabateans and Thumadites, older than Armaic and Hebrew—an untranslatable series of hieroglyphs with a scattered few symbols *I* could recognize: #, ^, ~

Then we turned around to face a rock at our back where the ancient Thumadites had quite clearly carved 3 camels and 2 horses, “this is they are painting their lifestyle,” Hasam explained.

We saw all this while an unhappy camel lowed in the background. Have you ever heard a camel lo? It’s an interesting sound, a bit like singing, throaty like a cow’s moo but varied like a bird’s tweet. This particular camel, it seemed, was not a big fan of getting brushed by the Bedouin boy intent on unmatting its fur.

Skirting around the camel, we ducked our heads to enter the Bedouin tent for tea.

A word about tea. I love tea. I drink about a pot a day when at home, though here in the Middle East it seems Westerners are not offered tea. Tea is sold on the streets, it is part of business negotiations and hospitality, it is a way to cool off on a hot day (thank you, God, for inventing vasodialation so human beings could invent tea), but it is not something you give to foreigners at breakfast. But the Bedouin have the hospitality thing down, and we were guests.

Glass cups, less breakable than porcelain and ceramic, important in the desert wilds, a large brass pot heated directly on the coals. Black tea steeped in sage and a wee bit of cinnamon, served steaming on long, low cushions arranged about semi-open camel saddles so the guests could both recline and sit up, in two comfortable rows with the sweet, aromatic tea hot on the lips and cool in the belly. The tent, a breathable goat-hair fabric, shaded us from the piping sun and stood open to a cool breeze. An American woman, one of the Bedouin told us (possibly eyeing the blonde-haired blue-eyed Ashley or the petite, clever-eyed and broad-smiling Jane [I’ve gone dark, and probably look like the locals, so no one was looking at me]) decided to stay with them about 20 years ago. She fell so in love with the Bedouin life style that she simply didn’t leave. Now she owns herds of camels and goats.

At any rate, after tea we hopped back in the Jeep, a few of us climbed to the top of a beautiful red sand dune hot with the sun and looked out at the stunning landscape. I hope Alex is able to upload a picture for you,  because words do not explain, and pictures will only provide a glimpse of what it was to be there.

We spent the afternoon in Petra, swimming in our hotel pool and laughing together. Now it is almost 10:30 at night (still early in the day for you at home) and it is time for me to go to bed.

Sweet dreams from the Holy Land,

Siobhan

2011 Holy Land Study Tour - Day Seven

Day Seven - Bethlehem: Church of the Nativity, Shepherd's Fields, and Herodian

The star in the crypt

Hello, it's Alex again.  So yesterday we only got into the Church of the Nativity briefly, enough to see the crypt with the star commemorating the location venerated as the birthplace of Jesus, as well as off to the side, where he was said to be wrapped in swaddling clothes in the manger narrative.

So today we began the day with a mass in one of the side chapels of the church and then proceeded to tour the complex, getting a much more complete look than we were able to have yesterday.  The term "Church of the Nativity" actually only refers to the Greek Orthodox section of the church, while the Catholic section is St. Catherine's. (Though both use the same crypt.)  This is keeping with a tradition that we've seen in several locations before, including Capernaum and would be repeated later today with the Shepherd's Fields in that often the two traditions venerate two different sites as the commemoration locations for various notable events in Christian history.  This raises interesting questions again about how veneration is often done, but it does for some take away from some of the impact of the locations since, unlike later sites such as the Holy Sepulchre and the Cavalry, we don't have as strong of archeological evidence for these being the exact sites.  Fr. Michael emphasizes to us, though, that some of the holiness of these locales comes not from the question of exact historical accuracy of the spot, but of the long history of many before us coming to these same locations on pilgrimages of their own.

Church of Nativity

 At the Church of the Nativity side, Fr. Michael told us about the unsettling circumstances about ten years ago during the Second Intifada where it was the site of a long stand-off between Palestinian fighters and the Israeli army and there was concern that things could get very ugly in any number of ways.  A number of sources intervened including the Vatican and a crisis was averted, but not before a stark reminder was given about the realities of the area.  On the whole, though, Bethlehem seems rather peaceful, comparatively speaking anyway.  Some of us were a bit surprised at this--the abject poverty many hear about in the Palestinian territories was not staring us in the face here, though Andy and Brother Michael-Leonard commented on the fact that sometimes people do their best to keep up appearances when this is, in fact, all they can do. They saw this in their work in Newark, NJ, and it cannot be discounted that this may be the case here. The city is concerned about a steady decrease in the Christian population. Christians once comprised 70% of Bethlehem's population, but as a result of the continuing strife and lack of a lasting peace, that number has dwindled to around 7%, the rest being Muslim.  (We would hear the Muslim call to prayer five times each day we've been here--a new experience for almost all of us as most have not been to a predominantly Muslim area before.)

After the Church of the Nativity, we continued a few blocks to the Milk Grotto--a cave-like site also impossible to venerate precisely, but the source is from a biblical text that refers to the mule hitting a bump during the Holy Family's passage into Egypt, at which time a rock became coated in breast milk, as Mary was said to have been breast-feeding at the time (hence the name).  The site has become the source of reported miraculous powers dealing with fertility, and Fr. Michael related a story about a past group in which a woman had a family member who had been having difficulty conceiving. She observed the tradition of scraping some chalk from the stone cave walls and putting it in water and saying a prayer.  The idea was to drink the concoction, and from whatever source it may have happened, the family member in question became pregnant soon after.  I guess God, in whatever form one believes, can work in some plenty mysterious ways, but it's pretty hard to argue with a story like that.

We had some time for a bit of souvenir shopping after this, and though I had resolved to for the most part follow the "take only pictures, leave only footprints" motto here, I felt I needed to get something for a couple of individuals.  Fr. Michael gave me the idea to touch what I got to all the holy sites we visited for the rest of the trip, so the gift itself will be holy when presented to the recipient, and I immediately fell in love with the idea, sucker for symbolism that I am.

We visited the two traditions' different Shepherd's fields after (another) delicious falafel lunch (the stand we went to yesterday was closed, but a nearly identical one provided us with a fine meal, likely operated by a family member of the first stand, given the similarities of the two places). The fields are meant to symbolize possible locations for the receiving of the news of Jesus's birth. Again, imprecise, but still a feeling of awe knowing it happened somewhere around where we were. Our final stop of the day was Herodin, the remains of the fortress of Herod the "Great" (more like Herod the Terrible--vicious butcher that he was, killing multiple wives and step-children, among other horrors we learned about and I won't even repeat on here). But the architecture was certainly plenty impressive, indeed Fr. Michael explained that the "great" in his title mostly refers to the structures of which he oversaw the construction.  Guess they had a lot lower standards for "greatness" in those days, huh?

These are our last major sites in Israel and the Palestinian territories before heading into Jordan tomorrow, but our day wasn't over. I needed to take a walk back down to the crypt to sanctify my items to be gifted, and Siobhan wanted to get another look too, so we walked over there together, being approached along the way by multiple shopkeepers trying to get us to check out their wares. We were the last ones let into the crypt for the day, and as we were waiting for a large group from India to finish (their leader seemed to be rushing them quite a bit, insisting they go in two at a time--not exactly making for a highly spiritual experience--one of them came up to us and though we must be proper young British lads for how patiently we were waiting--somewhat closer to appropriate for Siobhan I suppose, as she is of Irish descent, but in my case a bit humorous. As I was the one holding holy items in my hands, to be made holier by touching them to the site, they also appeared to assume me to be a quite pious and devout Christian, which, those who know me will know how ironic this is.......

After our visit to the crypt we went into another souvenir shop where the owner was showing us some decorative cloth items, at which time Siobhan's and my eyes fell simultaneously on a swastika in the middle. (Granted it was not tilted as the Nazi one was, but straight up and down, so it was likely the original design which came from India and was a generic symbol of power before the Nazis stole it, adapted it, and forever tainted it, but still quite jarring for us to see.)  Siobhan thought quickly and sharply, however, and critiqued the stitching as somewhat defective. Whether the gentleman caught the drift, I'll never be certain, but he gave what looked like a knowing smile and said that perhaps he should send it back.   Over dinner we had some quite enlightening conversations, as several of the lay people in our group wanted to know more about the monastic life, and some of the very negative ways in which it can be regarded.  The consensus seemed to be that what people fall in "love" with, so to speak can be very mysterious, as can the reasons behind it, and this can be hard for outsiders to understand.  It impressed me, though, the openness with which both groups (monks and lay people) discussed this highly personal matter in a group in which most of us have only known each other for a few days.

We ended the night with a visit from Brother Robert, a friend of Fr. Michael's, originally from Minnesota but now teaching at Bethlehem University, established by the DeLaSalle brothers as a way of catering to Palestinian women. He told us of the success they have had in the past and the different atmosphere of trust and hope the brothers are able to create through their mere ability to stay there steadfastly through thick and thin, as opposed to some of the other universities in the West Bank and Gaza, and how many parents have said they would send their children to no other school.  He also explained difficulties they have in recruiting students from as wide an area as they would like due to the inconvenience and difficulty of travel within and between these territories due to restrictions and checkpoints. I reminded that some would be surprised at the ways in which weapons have been smuggled into Israel and that if they don't maintain stringent security, bombs go off within their borders.  He did say, however, that although he has a hard time trusting politicians in general, he sees some hope for peace within the current generation of students' attitudes and that many of them are tired of war and strife may now truly ready to make peace.  He said this in response to a question I asked regarding their positions keeping pace with the Israelis' in large part supporting an eventual two-state solution, something that concerns me greatly in the wake of such recent developments as the Fatah/Hamas alliance and from a personal level, banners I saw in souvenir shops showing all of the land west of the Jordan River (Israel, the West Bank, and Gaza) under the single label of "Palestine." He assured us that from his vantage point, this is not the greater sentiment he sees, and all the rest of us can only hope and pray that peace will be possible at long last in the very near
future....


Day Seven Slideshow (Pisasa Web Slideshow)

Alexander Adams-Leytes

2011 Holy Land Study Tour - Day Six

Day Six - Bet Shean and Bethlehem: Words from Brother Bradley

What tel is that?

We headed south today, spending the morning at Bet Shean, an ancient tel that became the major Roman city-state Scythopolis in the first to fourth centuries.  The tel is very high, comprising twenty layers of civilization, each building atop its predecessor, going back perhaps six thousand or more years.   King Saul and his sons died in their failed attempt to take this Canaanite stronghold.   In 732 B.C. the Assyrians destroyed what had by then become an Israelite city.   The Byzantines renovated the city, but it was destroyed by earthquake in 749 A.D.  

We learned a bit about Roman and Byzantine hygiene at the excavated and partially reconstructed public bath and latrine.  From the top of the tel, we saw remnants of ancient temples and fortifications along with a great view of the Harod river.  Alex performed for an international audience at the theater, where he received a standing ovation.

A big transition

As we headed south on highway 90, parallel the Jordan river, the land became browner, the hills more sparsely covered with trees.  Only in the valley where the land was irrigated did we see much green vegetation.   The villages in the Palestinian West Bank showed signs of poverty.   In the vicinity of Jericho and on the way up toward Jerusalem, we saw Bedouin villages on a very barren, mountainous landscape.   Our chartered bus worked hard to climb to Jerusalem, a crowded, busy city in great contrast to the desert we had just passed through.  Bethlehem, too, is crowded and busy, but poorer, with narrow streets where pedestrians jostle with cars.   A high wall, built by Israel, separates it from Israeli-occupied territories, and makes life difficult for the Palestinians, who have to pass through checkpoints to get from one city to another.

The birthplace of Jesus

The silver star in the crypt

We went to the Church of the Nativity, where you pass through a very low door to enter a large nave.  I find it uncomfortable to be part of a group of visitors when a liturgy is going on in a church, as was the case in this Orthodox sanctuary.   We were permitted to visit the grotto below the sanctuary, where we venerated the place held by tradition as the birthplace of Jesus and the place where he was laid in the manger.  The houses in Bethlehem at the time of Jesus’ birth were likely built atop caves that served as shelter for the cattle or sheep.  It was a much humbler place that would be Scythopolis.

Entrance to the Milk Grotto

 We emerged from the grotto and moved to the adjoining Catholic Church of St. Catherine, where Fr. Michael celebrated mass in a side chapel.  As he concluded the Eucharistic prayer, the muezzin at a nearby mosque started chanting on a loudspeaker, adding harmony to the great Amen and the Lord’s Prayer.  It simply heightened the sense of contrasts we saw today in geography, climate, wealth and poverty, freedom and restriction on the road from Bet Shean to Bethlehem.  I left prayer requests for some special intentions at the church in a place where life is difficult but the promise of help for difficult problems is offered.

Br. Bradley, OSB