080 - Chapter 80

(Illustration: One of three large stone hearts on the beach at Church of the Primacy of Saint Peter, Tabgha)

In December 2013, on my birthday, as we gathered together as a family in our front room, Bob presented me with a special gift, in a sealed envelope. In it I found ‘itinerary details’ for the Holy Land. One or two members of our family, particularly my mam, were rather shocked at the thought of us both flying off on holiday to a ‘risky’ place; there was an uneasy peace there at the time, but I was elated! 

To actually go where Jesus walked, taught, lived and died, was the chance of a lifetime, one that wouldn't come our way again. It turned out that that holiday was the most blessed and most memorable holiday ever, and brim full of wonderful memories. 

The year before, we’d had a more relaxed holiday, cruising on the Rhine; the kind of holiday I would describe as a ‘how to put on weight’ holiday, as there were so many delicious meals on offer, and we passengers got so little exercise! But this holiday for me at least, was off the scale as far as excitement and adventure goes.

The flight itself was uneventful, but before we were allowed to enter the country at passport control, we were questioned off to one side, by Israeli security officials who wanted to check out our name because it sounded Arabic. ‘Hamil’. I didn’t realise so many Arabic names began with ‘Hami’: such as Hamid, Hamidi, Hammad, Hammoud! We assured the officers that this was an Irish name, and I think just by looking at us two golden oldies, they could tell we posed no threat to their aircraft or fellow passengers!

On that first morning when we arrived, we left our hotel in Tel Aviv, to travel to Caesarea Maritima. There we were shown the first ‘archaeological find’ of some note; in 1961 a stone column had been discovered in the ruins of a Roman amphitheatre, bearing the name of Pontius Pilate, the Roman who had sent Jesus to be crucified. It had been thought at ne time that Pilate was not a real historical character, but he was indeed and here was his name carved in stone.

Apart from the amphitheatre there, we saw a hippodrome, and Herod’s palace. We had an English guide with us, who gave us a basic historical outline of the area, but it was only in eavesdropping on information being given by other guides to other parties, that I realised that the place where we were actually standing was the exact place where St Paul at his trial, said to Festus in Acts 25.10, ‘I appeal to Caesar’ We hadn’t been told about this by our guide. You see we had booked holiday for tourists, not one organised by a theological college, and I wondered what other information I was missing out on! I couldn’t help providing our group with more and more information as the holiday wore on.

Writers of ancient history had once noted that the palace and harbour were huge in King Herod’s time. It wasn’t until this century when divers explored beneath the waters, that they found so much more of the original lay-out and saw for themselves how the harbour was built.

We also visited Acre, a once bustling Arab port in the sixteenth century, there we saw the citadel and parts of the old walled city. Then we passed through the centre of Nazareth, and later Cana, which was a featureless, but very busy town, which had a surplus of wine shops. Adverts outside each one reminded tourists that this was where Jesus had turned water into wine. It was exciting to see the word Nazareth and Cana on sign posts though, it was all rather surreal.

We visited the church of the Annunciation in Nazareth, the place where Mary had been visited by the angel who announced she would bear a son, and also the chapel of St Joseph, which had been constructed on the remains of a crusader church that was believed to have been the home and workshop of Joseph.

We stayed at a Kibbutz on the second night, and we were given a lecture and shown around. I don’t know what I’d imagined a Kibbutz to be like, but after hearing one or two stories about people working together in community, reclaiming common land and developing villages, I imagined it to be a Spartan kind of dwelling place in land reclaimed by the desert. But when we got there, we found a very pleasant country estate comprising many houses all of uniform shape and size, all shaded, set well into geometrically designed leafy lanes with gardens filled with beautiful shrubs. Each house had been built with the skilful hands of neighbours who had helped each other get settled into their new homes. It was also part of a secure gated community comprising not only homes, but also shops, a school, a community building and a synagogue all set out in perfect order. It encapsulated a ‘cooperative’ vision, with collective production and sharing, and the pooling of income, which ensured that all inhabitants were equal, and could share together a common dream and purpose. There was no house that was better than anyone else’s, no sign of a division between rich and poor, it was to these Israelis their ‘Utopia’, and impressive.

I could see men in the distance though, practising martial arts, in regimented groups, honing up their defence skills. I could imagine villagers walking around in relative safety at night.

On waking that next day, we made our way to the Sea of Galilee and also Capernaum where much of Jesus' early ministry took place. Of all the places of interest in the Holy Land this is where I wanted to be most of all. I was longing to see the sea where Jesus taught from a boat, where he calmed the storm which swept down between the hill of the Golan Heights, and where he walked on water.

I did get to see the sea briefly as we boarded the small boat, and I was invited to read a Bible story by our guide, but  as I sat down, a lady sitting next to me quickly declared herself an atheist, so I spent much of the journey having an in-depth chat to her about the Christian faith, as the beautiful scenery and lake passed by.

Quite naturally, Bob was rather annoyed with me, “This place was one of the reasons why you wanted to come here, and you’ve spent the whole time talking!” he said. He was right, but I think Jesus would have been pleased with me though!

It was here in Capernaum and around the Sea of Galilee, that Jesus ministered to people, healed the sick and recruited the first of his disciples. We visited a small museum which housed a first century fishing bat, which had been discovered in mud. What if that had been THE boat that belonged to Peter and Andrew? Perhaps not, but it was so good to see the workmanship of the period, and the variety of woods used in its construction.

In Capernaum, our Israeli guide pointed out many carvings of grape vines, a symbol of Israel, and we went into the ruins of the synagogue there; but very little mention was made about Jesus' early ministry there, and the house where Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law.

We then visited the site of the miracle of the loaves and fishes at Tabgha, as well as Peter’s house, and the Mount of Beatitudes, where Jesus preached his sermon on the mount.

At Tabgha, in the outdoor worship area of The Church of the Supremacy of St Peter, I led a service of Holy Communion on the beach near the lake. 

We had been going to do this at one of the seated areas provided for priests with groups, but our Israeli guide hadn’t booked one, which is why we were asked to vacate the space, just as we began. I had wondered at the time, if the reason had really been because a ‘woman’, (myself) had been leading the worship? Perhaps I was wrong to ask myself this? But because this negative question was in my mind, I looked out at the waters of Galilee, before joining the others on our bus, after the beach communion, and said a little prayer.

 “Oh Lord, did you really intend me to be a woman priest, after all some people are still so against women’s ministry? I hope you did indeed call me to serve you, and wasn’t just my own imagination?”

There was no thunderclap in reply, but when I turned to head for the coach, I nearly fell over a huge heart of stone set into the sand. (see the illustration) I saw another and again one more! Three altogether representing the risen Jesus' call to  Peter to serve him, by asking three times, “ Do you love me?” 

Perhaps this was Jesus' reply to me.

“If YOU truly love me, feed my lambs, feed my sheep!”

My heart was strangely warmed.

I had my answer.

SONG: Feed my lambs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pauFZadgN8g&list=PLnUh_ZGnZNfUlV8HEyppRIv8FLBtyEY65&index=47

That same afternoon, we travelled to a fine hotel overlooking the Dead Sea, and because of the heat, we couldn’t wait to get into our swimming costumes and go swimming. Once in the water we began to float, bobbing up and down like corks. This is where all swimmers should learn to swim, because you can’t sink!

Next morning was free, but after lunch we travelled into the desert to an isolated mountain top fortress called Masada, once fortified by Herod the Great in 43 BC. It is famous because a Roman siege lasted here for two years, where just less than one thousand Jews committed mass suicide rather than submit to the Romans when they breached their walls around AD 73. From the top, you could see where the Romans, 10,000 of them, had pitched their base camps, in order to build a massive earthen ramp up the mountainside. The soldiers surrounded the mountain so no-one could escape. It was a tragic story according to Josephus, for each man was responsible for ending the lives of their own family, before the men helped one another to die!

Ugh!

The one good thing that day was that we didn’t have to climb the mountain or climb any rampart in the almost unbearable heat, we went up the easy route by cable car and stayed in the shade!

According to our Israeli guide, she told us that the Romans had been determined to put an end to Jewish claims about the coming of their Messiah.

So I spoke up and said that that’s what the Christians were claiming too, that the risen Jesus would return and rule as King, as they thought that was imminent too.

“No,” she replied, “I don’t think so,” then once she thought about it, she said, “Yes I suppose that is in the right time frame.”

I kept chipping in with ‘Bible’ information on our tour, and hoped our tourists didn’t mind. I couldn’t stop myself; especially when we took the road up to Jerusalem, past the ancient city of Jericho. Neither our English guide, nor the Israeli guide, made any announcement on their microphones about where we were. So I asked to take the microphone, and told our fellow passengers about Zacchaeus and the healings that took place in Jericho, and I also told the story of the Good Samaritan, about a man attacked on that rise. You could see from the story how easily robbers could have hidden on this lonely uphill route to the city. Those on board seemed to welcome the information. I so much wanted others to know what happened, where and when. Near the top we saw a shepherd who was leading his sheep, and they were following him; a far different cry from today’s British shepherds who send their sheepdogs out to round up the sheep, yelling and whistling at them, whilst speeding along behind on their ATV’s. Seeing this particular shepherd brought home to me Jesus' description of the Good Shepherd whose sheep knew him, and followed him.

So we had  been taught about Muslim history at Acre, Jewish history as we journeyed along by the Sea of Galilee, but I felt we needed to hear about Christian history too. We had heard one or two Bible readings in various places to be fair, but once our English guide realised I had biblical knowledge as a priest, he began encouraging me to offer what I knew.

It had been a steady climb from Jericho, but then we went into a long road tunnel, and our guide said to get ready to look out to the left once the bus emerged from the tunnel. He began playing a hymn on the bus' sound system, and his timing was perfect: ‘Last night I lay a-sleeping, I had a dream so fair, I stood in old Jerusalem, beside the temple there . . . ‘.

A few seconds later, as we drove from the darkness of the tunnel into the blazing light of the sun, and heat of the day, that hymn came to a magnificent crescendo, one I’ll never forget, as we saw in the distance our first sight of the holy city so special to three major faiths of the world : Judaism, Christianity and Islam. The muic rang out the chorus:

‘Jeru-salem, Jeru-salem,

 lift up your gates and sing,

Hosanna in the highest, 

hosanna to our king!

Everyone on the bus seemed so excited. The Dome of the Rock in the Muslim quarter dominated the landscape, in i golden splendour, and it brought to mind how the first temple, built by King Solomon, and the second temple built by Herod, must have been venerated too, by all the many pilgrims who visited the city in ancient times, for that spot is where they too, in all their splendour, had stood.

We dropped off our bags and cases in the hotel, had an evening meal and then ventured out into the city, to the most holy Jewish site, the Western Wall, with swallows swooping swiftly high and low around our heads. It was one of those places where you could actually feel a sense of holiness and sense the power of prayer. 

Men made their approach to the left of the wall, ladies off to the right, but we asked our guide, being non-Jews, would we be allowed to stay a while at this wall and pray there too?

We were told that as long as we covered our heads, we could approach, in silence. Bob donned the little ‘cappa’ which was provided for male tourists, and off he went with his new found friends, and I and some of my friends went forward too, to the right, with scarves over our heads. The wall before us was part of the retaining wall, the only surviving part of the Temple Mount and was built by Herod the Great, mentioned in the New Testament gospels.

It is also known as the Wailing Wall, because it was the place where Jews came to lament the fall of the Second Temple, during the Ottoman period.

I touched the wall reverently and prayed, offering to God my concerns, and my requests for those I knew personally who weren’t well at the time, and then I looked up and saw a small bird nestling in a crack above me in the wall, all safe and secure. It looked so cute, and reminded me of words by Corrie Ten Boom who once advised her listeners, 

"Don’t wrestle, just nestle!” Just like that bird really. So in the cool of that evening, this place with its huge warm stones was the perfect place to be and it was the perfect way to end the day. Had we first viewed in bright sunshine, it wouldn’t have been quite the same.

Bob and I were determined to rise early the next morning in order to reach the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, before all the crowds gathered there. At half past five, when we arrived there was nevertheless a queue at the door. It didn't take too long to climb the stairs to the upstairs chapel, and when we got there a mass was being said at an altar off to the right of the chapel. But straight ahead was the place where the cross of Jesus was supposed to have stood, and people were prostrating themselves before it and kissing the stone floor. There was so much hustle and bustle in there, so much chaos, it made me wonder what on earth it would be like later on, once huge crowds were present, quite a squash, and dangerous most likely. Downstairs was the stone on which Jesus was said to have been laid after the crucifixion, but the tomb where Jesus was supposed to have been buried, was closed for renovation.

I don’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t this. This church held no wonder, no awe for me surprisingly, and I was disappointed. Later that afternoon when our entire party visited this church, we could hardly get moved, there was such a lot of people struggling to get in and out of the main door, so we were so pleased we had visited it earlier that morning.

So was this church the actual site of the crucifixion, or was it somewhere else? There is some doubt over where the place of Jesus’ crucifixion really was, after the city and the temple were besieged and raised to the ground by Romans in 70 AD, and many people had died through starvation; many thousands of others, were led off to become slaves. So the entire area lay in ruins.

There was an alternative place however, where the crucifixion of Jesus could have taken place. Bob and I wanted to visit it. This was the ‘Garden Tomb’ which was very near Golgotha, a cliff face, which had the appearance of a skull! In the Bible we read about Jesus being crucified at 'Golgotha' described as the place of ghe skull, and this ‘skull cliff’ at the Garden Tomb was well outside the city walls. I had read a little about it, and we got the chance to go there when we returned from our visit to the Mount of Olives that same day.

SONG: Father into your hands, I commend my spirit (A crucifixion song from The Easter Story)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Ea96ubrKrs