Easter in Jerusalem

A friend of mine, Fr T, is currently out in Jerusalem. He sent some of us this email today, describing his experiences.

Dear all,
In the absence of photos, I decided to send around a bit of circular letter here to let people know what things are like in Israel at Easter. Two of my friends, after their visit to the Holy Land in September 2005, said that the great challenge would be to not talk about it too much. So, here goes the challenge.

Easter here begins with Palm Sunday and all the Christian (i.e. Catholic) groups in the city gather in Bethphage. The geography of the city is basically that the Old City is up on the hill and next to it, facing the old Temple Mount (now the Dome of the Rock mosque) is the Kedron Valley (Jn 18:1 Remember that all hills, by definition, need valleys). Across the Kedron valley is the Mount of Olives and at the top of the Mount of Olives, just over the top of the hill is Bethphage (Mt 21:1).

The procession begins just in front of the Franciscan parish church. The Franciscans, custodians of the Catholic Holy Places in Israel, do a superb job and one thing they have done is construct apartments on the grounds of their church in Bethphage to try and encourage the dwindling Christian population to stay here, despite the difficulties of life between their Muslim neighbours and Jewish state. One of the great things about Palm Sunday is that it gives the native Christians here a day out to show off their identity with pride. Some of them come down from Galilee and some from Egypt for the day.

Exactly as for the entrance of Jesus nearly 2000 years ago, the Palm Sunday procession is still politically charged. Still, each group has brought their music and their guitars and there is a great procession of music and dancing and the biggest palms I ever did see, all the way up again to the top of the Mount of Olives and then down the route that Jesus would have taken the other side, with the Holy City facing you. The Muslims even stood by the roadside, not joining in but enjoying the party atmosphere. Then up in through the Lion Gate to the church of St. Anne, built by the Crusaders next to the "sheep pool" where Jesus cured the cripple in Jn 5. There the Patriarch, Michael Sabbah, gave the address in Arabic and English, appealing to the Palestinian Christians to love their enemies and challenge the oppressor precisely by responding with love. In the context of life here it was quite a powerful speech. Then there was a bit more dancing and then we took off to the Christian Quarter of the Old City (knocking down a dress hanging outside a shop on the way with my palm branch) to see the parade in through the city gate, with the big banner of "Jesus is Alive" or something like that on it. Scouts of French inspiration, playing Scottish bagpipes: very Palestinian!

On Holy Thursday morning a few of us went over to the Upper Room and spent a bit of silent time there reading the account of what was to take place there that evening; after the Mass of the Holy Supper here in the Dominicans, we headed down to Gethsemane, at the foot of the Mount of Olives, and sat in the garden there for a bit of silent prayer while the basilica was packed with people listening to the Passion being read in five or six different languages. Then, about 10.30, we made our way along the path from there that Jesus would have been taken after his arrest, up the Kedron Valley and then up the hill into the city, to the church of St. Peter in Gallicantu (the traditional site of the High Priest's palace, though archaeologists are quite sure now where the real site was, about 200 yards up the hill from it). The path is the same as it would have been for Jesus, but the paving stones are about 200 years after. The top of the path was lit with candles: really beautiful. Of course, it was full of people from all over who had come to meditate on what took place there that Thursday night when Jesus was arrested and hauled up those steps.

On Good Friday morning the smart people got up early and did the Via Crucis at 6 O'clock. Sorry folks, i was too tired after the night before (getting old), so joined a group at 9.30. Unfortunately, so did every other pilgrim. We got to the 2nd station and then had to turn around because of the crowd and invent our own "Via Crucis". For all that, we ended up some 40 metres from Golgotha by 11.30: right place, right time, wrong year. It can make you dizzy to come face to face with the time and place of the crucifixion of the Lord in a way like that. As my friend said, the danger is to speak too much.

Good Friday evening had the most beautiful ceremony, in my opinion. We went to the Holy Sepulchre basilica, which covers both the place of Golgotha and the tomb. The place where Jesus was crucified was originally a quarry, just outside the city walls, disused about 100 years before the crucifixion. A quarry is useful waste ground for digging tobs in the rock: hence Jesus was buried in the same place as he died, almost (Jn 19:41). Of course, having been disused for 100 years it was somewhat overgrown also, hence its desciption as a garden (Jn 21:15). The 4th century basilica of the Holy Sepulchre covers both sites: truly a wonderful place. There was a procession with psalms and antiphons from the Franciscans' sacristy to Golgotha with a crucifix. On Golgotha they remove the nails and crown of thorns from the statue of Christ. Well, I thought it was just an ordinary statue, but when they removed the nails the arms drooped down by his side and they lowered "him" down just as they would have taken someone off the cross. Essentially it was a dramatic re-enaction of the taking down from the cross. I must say, I was struck to the bone by it. Then they took Jesus down the stairs to the anointing stone and anointed the "body" with perfume and spices and then, placing him in a linen shorud, processed on to the tomb and laid him there.Then they distributed the remained of the perfume and spices. It was a really moving ceremony to see it.

On the way home I visited the fifth station on the Via Crucis to thank God on behalf of a German friend who had wanted a prayer said for all the "Simon of Cyrene"s who had helped her in her life. That was a nice prayer to say.

On Saturday the Easter Vigil takes place in the morning: because the timetable between the different Christian denominations (i.e. Greeks, Latins (us) and Armenians) was set in the 1700s it couldn't be changed after the Easter Vigil was moved from morning to night in the 1950s. But...I didn't go. One vigil is enough. Instead I made an attempt to get to the Greek ceremony of the "Sacred Fire" where the Greek Patriarch goes into the tomb of Christ and emerges with fire out of "nowhere" which is then taken around Israel and even to Greece. However, the crowds were unpassable and we were rammed by a group of Russian priests (I joke you not). Then we ended up on the roof of the Holy Sepulchre, which was useless for anything, so off we went home.

In the evening we had the vigil here in St. Stephen's (St. Stephen was buried in the Dominican church until the first Muslim takeover, when his remains were brought to Rome for safety). The fire was the highlight, caught by big winds it was blown a metre in every direction, swinging around as people tried to light the candle from it: a great symbol of the Holy Spirit.

When the Vigil was ended we went off to the Holy Sepulchre again to celebrate with the Lord, reading the Gospel there and singing our Alleluias up and down the street. On Easter Sunday morning we went to the Franciscan church right next to the Upper Room (the Upper Room isn't a church anymore, so can't say Mass there) for a wonderful Easter Mass and then called into the Benedictines to hear the Gregorian chant hymn "Resurrexi" : I am risen and am with you again, Alleluia. You placed your hand on me, Alleluia. How wonderful is this knowledge of you, Alleluia.

It was really easy to feel the delight of the Lord in Jerusalem that day. Last week we went off to Galilee for an archaeological tour. Well, the Lord really chose a beautiful part of the world for his homeland, for sure. Even today it is full of forests and fields and animals and flowers. Our house, owned by the Emmanuel Community, was overlooking the lake, so you could spend a few minutes every morning just taking it all in. We also had tours all over, including to Caesarea Philippi (Mt 16:18), Nazareth, Magdala, Tabgha (the traditional site of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes and now with a wonderful Benedictine abbey), etc. The Holy Land is really a place of great grace, coming face to face with the reality of the Lord. It's a real sign of the basic truth of our faith: it's all about Him, and He's what counts. Speaking of which, I'd better run off to say my prayers.