It's hard to believe that nearly two months have passed since we boarded the plane for the Middle East, and set foot in that hallowed place where Our Lord once walked! A lot has come and gone since then, including a whole slew of final exams and papers to finish up the fall semester of Theology III. All went well, thanks be to God, and I am very grateful for your prayers! After the exams were finished, I was able to take a 9-day trip to Austria, Germany, and Liechtenstein with two classmates from the College. We hopped around a bit in those countries, but, for the most part, took advantage of the free time to sleep, pray, read some non-academic stuff, and just generally rest. The time was much-needed, and also much-appreciated!
But regardless of how beautiful we found the mountains of Austria, it remains to me to finish the story of the greatest trip I have ever taken, and perhaps ever will take: the Holy Land pilgrimage. After our five glorious days on the shores of the Sea of Galilee which we spent climbing around on the hills, praying in the caves, and skipping rocks into the peaceful lake, the time came to make the very journey which Our Lord made: from Galilee to Jerusalem. It was time for us to say goodbye to the quiet landscapes and the serene hillside towns, and to continue our pilgrimage in a place which, for all intents and purposes, sounded a lot like Rome! After all, this was going to be a big city, full of tourists, cars, shops, and all the sights, sounds and smells which had been so wonderfully absent from the peaceful lakeside resort along the Sea.
As you might be able to guess, I was not all that enthused with the idea of making this trade-off! Galilee had been such a special place, and I had only just begun to get settled in at the various holy sites around the area. And yet now it was time to leave? Well, I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I???
But Fr. Hurley, our pilgrimage leader, was all too familiar with this sentiment. After all, he had led somewhere between 8 and 12 of these tours over the course of his priesthood...Yes, he knew that going to Jerusalem after having spent 5 beautiful days in Galilee was not going to be the typical seminarian's cup of tea.
So, on the night before we were to load up the bus and be on our way, Father addressed us as a group - as he did every night - to discuss logistics for the following day and to offer some points for prayer and reflection that we could take with us during the day's travels. That evening's meeting was one of the most powerful ones of the entire trip! Father set the stage for us by telling us that Our Lord's journey from Galilee to Jerusalem wasn't the most delightful trip either! And it certainly didn't seem to make sense, from an evangelization standpoint. After all, Christ had built up a great following in Galilee...he was popular, sought after, and influential, considering the great crowds who followed him and sought to be near him. He could have, in theory, continued ministering in Galilee for months - even years! - if he had chosen to do so. He could have preached the Good News there for as long as would seem necessary to help the people really grasp the truths of his message. He could have healed the sick and cast out demons until all the suffering in the surrounding region was gone. And yet, at a certain point in his ministry, Jesus turns his face to Jerusalem, showing "his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised" (Matt. 16:21). This turn to Jerusalem was a decisive moment in Jesus' life, because he knew that it meant the fulfillment of his Father's will, and the carrying out of the purpose of his Incarnation, namely, to die for you and me.
And so, as we read about Our Lord's journey to Jerusalem, we too made such a journey. Certainly, our 3-hour bus ride was much more pleasant and perhaps much less eventful than Our Lord's several-day journey to the city! But before long, we were greeting by the so many of the sights and smells which he too would have known: the hustle and bustle of people moving to and fro, the yelling of merchants and shoppers, the narrow streets of the old city closely packed from wall to wall with all sorts of people...Yes, Jerusalem is, as it always has been, a place of great importance in our world, as adherents of the three major monotheistic religions - Christianity, Judaism, and Islam - all come together - and somehow coexist! - in very noisy, chaotic city.
But despite my own reservations about travelling to this hectic place, it became abundantly clear from the get-go that the peace of the Lord's presence could - and did - permeate every inch of the holy city. It was something surreal to walk through the gate into the premises of the old city and to immediately see signs which pointed to "the Church of the Holy Sepulchre"!!! Like, the place where Our Lord died and was buried. Yeah, we weren't in Kansas anymore. Heck, we weren't even in Rome anymore! This was truly the place where our salvation had been won and where death had conquered. And no amount of noisy streets or heckling vendors could distract us from that!
In the early morning hours, the streets to the Sepulchre were always clear!
Before speaking about any of the many incredible sites which we experienced during our stay in the city, I have to mention that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was one of the most amazing places I have ever visited. And, along with that serene shore along the Sea of Galilee, it may be my favorite place on earth. The Church is huge, dark, mysterious, and divided into a bunch of different segments which are under the care of various Christian groups. So, as you're walking around inside, you're never exactly sure that you're allowed to be there! My general rule was that if someone started yelling at me, I'd get out of dodge...fortunately, that never happened!
But despite the centuries-long political struggle that still marks the Church to this day, the peace of Christ's death and resurrection shine through. Over at the altar which marks Calvary Hill (currently in the custody of the Armenian Christians), I was able to sit in the darkened room beneath the beautiful images of the Crucifix, flanked of course by Our Lady and the Evangelist. Every once in a while, I would sneak up to the altar and kiss the small golden slab which marks the rock itself where Christ's cross would have been lifted, and where his blood ran down on Good Friday. Just across the Church, in the modest Blessed Sacrament chapel kept up by Franciscan friars, is the rock of the Resurrection, believed to be the entrance to the Joseph of Arimathea's tomb, and thus the place where Our Lord would have rolled back the stone.
No pictures allowed inside the church, but here's one from the outside!
One of the great graces of being in Jerusalem was the opportunity to spend an entire night in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, as "guests," of sorts, of the Franciscan friars there. So, on the night of December 30th, 9 of my bros from the NAC and I arrived at the Church as it was about to be closed (at 7 pm). We hopped inside, waiting as the rest of the folks left, and watched as a combined team of Franciscans and Orthodox monks worked to lock the door. All the religious scattered, and there we were: 10 seminarians, locked in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre for 9 hours (the doors reopened at 4 am every day). Boy, was that something!
The coolest part of the "lock-in" was the fact that, unlike during the normal opening hours, there was no line for entrance into the tomb! So, Bible and rosaries in hand, I knelt down at the tomb, and simply remained there for what may have been hours...It was one of those special moments when prayer didn't feel like it was a part of time. All that mattered was that I was in there, and that the Lord was not. Yet in his absence, I was able to think of him, to speak to him, and to thank him for all that he had done for me. Of course, this was one of the most meaningful times for me to offer up my prayer intentions as well. All the wonderful people whom I had known - friends, family, priests, sisters, bishops, and seminarians - everyone whom I could call to mind, I placed there on that slab of rock, offering them to the Lord and thanking him for all the ways he had blessed me!
Outside the Sepulchre, the blessed sites which Jerusalem offered seemed to be endless. I was enthralled by the quiet, but stunning Orthodox Church built over the place of "Mary's tomb." Of course, Our Lady was assumed into heaven when her time on this world was completed, but this Church commemorates the place where she fell asleep, and thus the very place where she would have been lifted up from the disciples before their very eyes.
The place of Our Lady's assumption!
A final place I would like to mention was the Church of Gethsemane, built on the hill outside Jerusalem where Christ would have journeyed with his disciples after the Last Supper, and where he prayed that most profound of all prayers: "My father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will" (Matt. 26:39). We visited this church early on one of our morning tours of the city, but we returned a couple nights later for what would become another one of the most special moments of the pilgrimage: a Holy Hour before the Blessed Sacrament. The Church was dark and beautiful as the 30-something of us crowded around the altar upon which Our Lord was exposed. As we sat there before Him, it truly felt that we were his disciples, so often tempted to doze off and abandon him - and so often truly guilty of that! - but also so deeply loved by him, so much so that he drank of that chalice which his Father gave of him to drink. It was yet another moment of prayer in the Holy Land which I will never forget, and, once again, I brought you all there with me in my intentions!
The Church of Gethsemane
Well, folks, I gotta run. I hope these last few posts have been able to transmit something of the beauty I experienced in all of these places. Know of my prayers for all of you, and know that I am so very grateful for all of yours!
Pax et bonum,
Colin
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