PILGRIMAGE PONDERINGS PART 2

Saturday December 5 – Day 4 – “Hump Day”

One of the recurring moments of conversation is truly how much we enjoy on another on this trip – and people are already starting to talk about doing another one, either back to Israel or on to somewhere else, Ireland being the country that come sup most frequently. The title for today’s journey has less to do than being in the middle of the trek than it does with a small camel that Maura purchased at St Peter’s church late in the day and a whole host of one-liners and comments it produced, most centering around some play on words, usually involving the camel’s most distinguishing feature – and I’m not talking cloven hoof here.

Bob had to stay and work today so our small group was one little bit smaller – and I’ll get fewer photographs, he’s been very good About taking pictures. I tried to download his pictures last night but he has a 4 gig chip in his camera and I only have a notebook with me and it couldn’t handle that much in a go.

Off into the Sabbath Day and as expected, virtually no traffic – except for tour buses. An occasional car, but the whole place very much has the feeling of holiday – day off. Small parks filled up later in the day – families on picnics, out walking – but if you suddenly appeared and were told you were in Jerusalem, you could very quickly figure out this was the Sabbath. Unlike New York, where the difference in terms of traffic and population and activity between Sunday and any other day is negligible.

First stop – the church commemorating the birth of John the Baptist. Along one wall ceramic plaques, similar to the ones we saw at Pater Noster, although here the text was Zachariah’s prophetic prayer after his tongue had been loosed in Luke’s telling of the birth. We spent a little time in the courtyard and then went in for Mass. We celebrated at the main altar – the cave commemorating the birth is off to one side and down a small flight of stairs, so people were moving through as Mass went on. At one point a group of Africans came in – turned out to be a group from Ghana – and many of them came forward for communion, but (a loaves and fishes moment) there were enough hosts for everyone. I confess, at one moment during the Mass I find myself thinking there would not be any good pictures of this celebration, since Bob was not with us. (He has been extraordinary at taking pictures at times and places I would never have thought of. I have yet to see the finished products but his instincts are first rate – and he has the photographer’s gift of moving in quickly, taking the picture and disappearing.)

After Mass we browsed the church for a little, and then off to the museum that houses the Dead Sea Scrolls and the large model of Second Temple Jerusalem. The model is fascinating, but Moshe talking us through it was what made it really valuable. I had wondered why we hadn’t started with the model, but it was very good to have seen places and then be able to associate them, rather than the other way around. There are a couple of concessions to modernity – a couple of different sections have different colored roofs, to make areas easier to identify, and at the point on the Western Wall that is still accessible, where people go to pray today, there is a red arrow. (I say accessible because there are huge sections of the wall still standing, but houses and other buildings have been built over them, so there are not accessible.)

The bulk of the museum area is closed for a major renovation, but there is a separate building for the scrolls – they only exhibits scraps and some other archaeological materials – and the place has more the feel of a shrine than a museum – but very interesting. I had taken a seminar on the scrolls when I was doing theology (and could still read Hebrew) so I did have a sense of the work and what it meant – but to see real sections, rather than photographs or computer simulations was moving. And that the Arrepo Codex was there was a wonderful treat. The codex is an 11th century text  that includes both vocalization (the vowels, that are not usually written in Hebrew) and cantillation (the marks in the text that indicate how the text should be sung).

Lunch – since it was Sabbath not much was open so we hit a tourist place with a lovely buffet and since I was the group leader I got a free lunch. Let’s hear it for the occasional perks. St. Peter in Gallicantu – the house of Caiphas where Peter heard the crowing as he denied Christ three times, and the place Christ would have have been taken and Paul – there is one walkway from the Mount of Olives area to this place, and you can see the walk Christ would have taken, and the cell in the basement where he would have been held. The place also has a great view of the valley, across Jerusalem to the Mounta of Olives. We then went to the Chapel of the Upper Room (which no one suggests was the real place where the Last Supper took place) and the Dormitian Abbey, with  statue of the Blessed Virgin in repose before her being assumed into heaven. And a delightful older man who fussed over the tourists and shooed people away so they wouldn’t be in the pictures others were taking of the Blessed Mother. (You may remember we also went to another church of the tomb of the Virgin – but that was an Orthdox chapel and this Roman Catholic – sort of like having two sites for the tomb of Christ.) You know, with all the walking and looking and listening and seeing and experiencing – at the end of the day I am tired – I can’t speak for the others but the lack of a “night life” dimension on this trip does not bother me at all. Maybe I’m getting old, but after dinner, as the group splits up, I am grateful for a little quiet and peace and a chance to reflect and pray.

Sunday, December 6 – Remembrance Day

Woke with a serious headache – eating helped but only a bit. They are back working construction, so after breakfast and seeing off the Masada people (those who opted to take a tour of Masada and the Dead Sea) I went down to the lobby to do some work. Met the Levi’s from Savannah Georgia and after a bit went with Emily and Annie to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Remembrance Museum.

This will be a short day because even I do not have the words to deal with the impact of acres of remembrance. Through sheer dumb luck, we did the Hall of Remembrance first – a large room with an eternal flame and the names of the camps in the floor. We then went to the art gallery, pictures done by camp survivors or about camp topics. From there we explored a little of the facility and then on to the main section. Which is a history of the rise of anti-semitism and the growth of the Nazi government and the ghettos and the camps and there is SO much information and pictures and text and sorrow and pain and just awful remembrances – I was done about 2/3 of the way through it. Overload. Pain and just not able to process any more.

We did stop at the gift shop on the way out and ran into Jane and Eileen and the friend that Jane had gone to visit last night. We did a little shopping (there is something about being a tourist that takes an otherwise economical and sensible traveller and turns him into a buying machine.)

Some quiet time back at the hotel and an evening Mass in my room. A light supper and off to sit in the lobby and wait for my friend Barbara, who came with her husband and we had a lovely visit in the lounge, with a very good pianist. In different circumstances I might have wandered up and done a little quiet singing, but the area was serving a particular purpose. The lounge in the hotel is a public area where young people who are entering into pre-arranged marriages have a chance to meet each other and see if they like each other. It was rather like a Dating Game floor show – some couples seemed to be enjoying each other. There was one where the young man was quite sure he was being charming – my reading of the young lady, however, was that she was less impressed. One rather zauftig young man had ordered fries, and was munching happily away. They were in the center of the table but she was not eating. Not a good sign.

December 7 – Monday – Camels and Schwarmas and Rain, oh my.

Moving day – packing is the primary activity of the morning, so the suitcase can be left outside the door when I went down to breakfast. Checked out and had breakfast, finished putting the last items into the computer bag and off. The bags were all brought down and we had to identify each as it went onto the bus. And we’re off!

On to the Dead Sea – not to stop but it’s on the way, the lowest spot on the earth. As we went, the scenery changed from green to brown, Bedouins and their animals along the way (did you know that real Bedouins don’t wear white robes, a la Lawrence of Arabia, but rather black? I didn’t. I knew the tents were black but the robes too.) We stopped at a gas station where several of us rode a camel. Yes, us – we had told the camel driver that Maura was my wife, so nothing would do but that I should join her on the camel. She had already been around once, but we went again – certainly the most intimate I have been with a woman for a long time.

After that entertaining break, on to the Jordan River, where we stopped near the place where John had been baptizing. Near was as close as we could get, because the actual site is on the Jordan side – the Jordan River is the border between Jordan and Israel. A man and a woman were being baptized when we were there – there are steps and a system of pools where full immersion can take place. You can rent a white gown, and there are changing rooms and showers. And the ever-present gift shop. Several people loaded up bottles to take water back with them.

From there more driving, up to Cana, a stop for lunch (one of our group declared the best schwarma he had ever  eaten) and on to Nazareth. Fascinating church - the Church of the Annunciation – as is often the case, a modern church built over a crusader church built over something else. The chapel where we celebrated Mass is at one level – the center area is open all the way up to the high ceiling. There is a second floor, with a very large church and depictions of Mary from many different countries. That church opens onto a courtyard, and through that courtyard it is a short walk to St. Joseph’s Church, the site of the workshop where Joseph and Jesus worked. While we were in At Mass, it had darkened and started raining but more a heavy mist than even a light rain.

Nigerian groups from Rivers and Delta State were keeping pace with us, and an Italian group that stops and sings at every site. From there we went on to the wedding church in Cana, the site where Jesus turned water into wine. A small chapel, at which you can renew your marriage vows, and an underground section with an example of the kind of stone water jar that was involved. (Stone, because a potter jar would be contaminated if impure water or an impure person touched it. Natural material like stone can’t become impure.)

Through the rain and the darkening sky, on to the hotel. A hotel at a kibbutz – and delightful. I have a room in a separate building from the rest of the group – because I am the group leader? Or maybe they don’t like me. My room is newly reconditioned, has a balcony and overlooks the Sea of Galilee. Gorgeous. Internet (at a charge - $8 an hour) and tv and all the necessary amenities. Giants football was on tv and  

Dr inks before dinner – great fun with the whole group coming together and then a terrific dinner – we stayed so long they asked us to leave. A group of priests from Togo came in – Emily and I went down to the lounge, she had some things she wanted to talk about, and we closed that place too. When I walked back to my building the sidewalk was filled with frogs (and the Ray Milland movie had been on in Jerusalem just a couple of days before) I turned on the tv And the Packers game was on. All the amenities. Read for a little and bed.

Tuesday, December 8 – Feast of the Immaculate Conception

Best sleep I’ve had so far on this trip. Not great but not bad. Watched the sun come up over the lake – great flocks of birds flying inland from the water. Pot in the room means I can have a cup of coffee moments after awakening. Showered and dressed and went for a walk down to the shore – they have a pool and a beach and a long boardwalk. Birds singing, sun gently illuminating the lake – lovely way to start the day. Up for breakfast – Maura was there and we chatted for a while and others started to come in and suddenly it was 8:15. Bob had to work so we were 11 for the day and off we went.

First stop, not far from the kibbutz, was the church of the loaves and the fishes. Interesting old mosaics on the floor, and a mixture of local and Egyptian motifs. The next stop was about a 3-minute drive away, the church of Peter where he was named as rock of the church. Lovely gardens, and a lovely statue overlooking the sea, but the real attraction was being able to go down to the shore and wade in or at least be right next to the Sea of Galilee. We wandered down there for a bit, and back up the tree-lined walkway and off to the next stop, which was also about a 3-minute drive away. That was Capernaum, with the synagogue where Jesus preached and the house of Peter (where Jesus healed Peter’s mother in law) with a first century and a 4^th century and a more modern church each built over the site of the house. Lovely location – small chapel like areas on the shore under trees, so there could be a number of different prayer services or Masses. And a tree filled with bees that sang. And cats – everywhere you looked, and hungry (or friendly – I can’t tell the difference.) This is one of those sites that is sure – this is the location of the synagogue, and the tradition for Peter’s house goes way back in time.

Time was running out so we hustled on to the mount of the Beattitudes, where I gathered the Mass kit from the nun, dressed and went up the hill to say Mass. Two old men joined us – one put a $100 bill in the plate and afterwards said he was very grateful for the homily. He was on day 30 of a 35 day  pilgrimage and said my homily had answered several questions he had been wrestling with. (II wonder what I said.) Nice Mass and a gorgeous location. Mimi and Dick starting a hymn at the end of the service, which was also a lovely way to end the service. On to lunch, at a restaurant right at the edge of the lake. Because of the less than terrific tour of Masada, the company was treating us to a lunch of St. Peter’s fish, and the whole lunch was lovely, including a cold local beer. From there we boarded an old wooden boat and had an enchanting cruise on the Sea of Galilee. No lecturing, just beautiful scenery and good people enjoying themselves.

When we got back to shore we headed up to the Golan Heights. The sky was darkening, and the scenery was given an extra dimension with the oncoming weather. Moshe did a truly masterful job of leading us through the assorted wars and conflicts of the late 20^th century, and at one point we stopped to visit a bunker in the area where Shimon had been a soldier in the 1973 war, parachuting in to help man a bunker and stop the Syrian advance. After going through the Golan heights, we adjourned to a winery, where we had a tasting and several people bought wine. A quick stop at a supermarket – a couple of people wanted to see what an Israeli supermarket was like – and back to the hotel.

I called a friend of mine in Tel Aviv, unloaded my camera, did a little writing, and it was time to go over for drinks and dinner. A large group of orientals was checking in and the lobby was filled. Dinner was nice – a little writing – And bed for my last night in Israel. I want to get up early tomorrow to do the packing thing and enjoy the sunrise again.

Wednesday, December 9 - Last full day in Israel. Up early to catch the sunrise and found a deep fog and mist over the lake. Old adage – Want to make God laugh?  Tell Him your plans. Over early for breakfast and visited with Bob, who had been up even earlier to get some work done. Others drifted in but we had our bags down at the bus and we were on our way close to schedule. We made a quick stop at a museum on the kibbutz – during a drought, a couple of fishermen, brothers, were walking by the lake and found a boat submerged in the mud. Fortunately they were amateur archaeologists and quickly realized that this was an old boat – really old – and called in experts. They determined it was around 2,000 years old and with a lot of work they figured out a way to preserve it and move it and save it and it is now on exhibit. This was exactly the kind of boat Jesus would have used to cross the lake. This precise boat? No way of knowing. But a dramatic look into life of that time.

Tiberias?

On to Mount Carmel – Mass in the chapel with the little Carmelite who spoke Italian with me and liked talking about Father Arrupe. Gave Maura a special blessing at the end of Mass, since she is going to be going on to Jordan on her own and not returning with the group. We went around the corner from the church and saw the gardens of Bahai, the 11^th century faith that settled in Israel. (Yes, another major religion has its center in Israel, although at Carmel, not in Jerusalem.) And a lunch stop and another stop at the Carmel overlooking the Armageddon Valley, where I bought some stone necklaces from an old Druze man.  Actually I bought one ($2) and he gave me one – I think he thought I would be able to influence the members of our group to buy more things from him. On to Caesarea, major port, with the largest amphitheatre in the Roman Empire, if one of the guide books is to be believed. A breath-takingly beautiful site, and of course, Father John had to sing in the amphitheatre. When I finished another group entered the arena, and asked me to sing again. Yes, they had heard me outside the arena. I sang two songs in Italian, one in Gaelic and one in Hebrew. To great applause. And no one passed a hat!

By this time it was getting dark and chilly and we need to start the 45 minute drive to the hotel. We checked in – people had a chance to change clothes, take a shower if they wanted, finish the final packing for the airport – I left my door open and people brought in items to be blessed. Nice dinner together – I made a little speech and gave Moshe an envelope from all of us and on the bus, after taking “the last” picture, another speech and a gift to Shimon. Maura stayed at the hotel – she has a friend in Tel Aviv and will be there for a couple of days before moving on to Jordan. She won’t get back until the 21^st and then goes right out to Hershey to spend Christmas with her parents.

At the airport – Peter was there, the older man who had met us on Day One. And of course, serious security. As head of the group I was asked a lot of questions, but they also pulled one of the group at random for more question – Jane, of course. We answered ok since they did let us go through. All checked bags had to be screened and several were pulled off the line for more thorough checking. Here I understood why Peter was there – he’s a fixer. He moved us to the head of the security queue, went with the people who had to have their bags checked, moved us to the head of lines for check in and explained (for the third time) the procedure for getting a VAT refund for those who needed one. I felt we had probably overtipped him when we came in – he remembered us and took good care of us and got a nice tip for getting us out. Let’s have a nice round of applause for the Fixer.

Looooong lines for the individual screening before immigration and passport control – and note to TSA – we did NOT have to take off our shoes. There was free wireless internet at the airport, so I caught up and read and they started boarding. First class and people needing help – and then everyone else. So much for boarding by rows, stampede time. There had been a big fuss about NOT taking any liquid on board – the whole inspection consisted of a young lady asking as we boarded if we had brought any liquids on board. Sigh.

Long flight. About 250 miles out, there was screaming and yelling, a man was in some kind of distress. Stroke or heart or some kind of nausea I never figured out. It was the first time I actually heard the announcement – Is there a doctor on board? There was a doctor on board and we did not turn around, and at Newark he walked out (with the assistance of the medics) so they got it worked out. Note to travelers on Continental- bring a sandwich. Food was worse than the trip over. Truly awful. With my usual sense of irony I watched Julie and Julie while having “dinner” – a movie about great cooks while eating this insult to the palate. Many people zonked out – several of the group got together and bought me a duty free present, a nice bottle of Chevas. Rough moments during the night, I spent most of the night working, writing script for the upcoming concert and notes from the pilgrimage. It was a very cold plane – guess they’re saving on heat?

The arrival at Newark was easy – saying goodbye was hard – Emily and Annie were going on to California and the rest of us went our ways. There was a man with a sign “Sheehan” and our car dropped off Bob and the sisters and then I got to the house around 6. Had something to eat and went to bed, sleeping for several hours on the new sheets I had put on the bed just before leaving. And so endeth the pilgrimage.

Ponderings from the Pilgrimage

One of the things I learned – and perhaps more correctly had reinforced – when I was living overseas, was to be suspicious of people who appeared for two or three days, became experts, and then returned “home” to make pronouncements about the state of the country. When I was living in Nigeria, Jesse Jackson made a visit – I think he was there for three days – and then returned to make pronouncements to the American media that Nigeria was in danger of civil war. Which was, of course, nonsense, since at that point there was only one group capable of conducting any kind of war and that was the government.

So I will be making no pronouncements about the political situation in Israel, or the state of things with the Palestinians (although in the spirit of full and open disclosure I might note that my own sympathies are more with Israel than Palestine. Neither side, to my way of thinking is pure and without blame, and both are caught in historical currents out of which I cannot imagine a realistic road. But aside from their historical precedence, I do think that over the years Israel has made more realistic effort at finding a solution rather than arbitrarily sticking to a single unmovable position. I know, Israel has non-negotiables on the list but overall, my sympathies lie more with Israel. End of political discussion and I do not think I will be drawn into anything further.) One additional note - check back, because I will be adding photos from time to time to spice up the text.

First Day – unusual, in that I got most of the packing and preparation done the night before and did not, as is my usual custom, spend most of the night before departure awake and working. I had recently gotten brand new sheets and new pillows and I put those on the bed and got a reasonable sleep. I even had a chance to read the newspapers and relax before taking off.

The Supershuttle came spot on time, with a phone call to warn me they were 5 minutes away, so I was outside (on a GORGEOUS day) waiting for them. Of course, in true Super Shuttle fashion we wandered through Manhattan as far north as 187^th street collecting people – but we were still at Newark Airport within an hour of my having been picked up. Slight delay at Terminal B as a woman passenger (whose ultimate destination was Terminal C) disappeared into Terminal B in search of a rest room. No, apparently she could not wait and if things were that desperate, no one in our van figured a couple of minutes were going to make a huge difference.

Unloaded and onto the great adventure. Aha – a sign indicating “International Flights” so I follow the arrows and more signs and find myself at the 4^th floor – where I am informed by a surly Continental employee (I will not say that is a redundant phrase, because not all the Continental employees were surly, just the ones who have to deal with customers.) So down I go – and all I find are signs indicating “International Flights” and I KNOW those aren’t telling the truth. Finally I see a sign with several international cities on them – and arrows pointing away from the desk. I try to follow the arrows but they lead me to closed position stations, so I go back and sure enough, that is where we are supposed to be.

I ask the lady at the counter if there are any exit row seats available – she lies (I later learn) and tells me no. I then ask how many air miles it would be to upgrade, and she tells me (and disdainfully is the word that comes to mind) that I have to call the office and I should do that two days before I travel. I ask if she can at least tell me how many miles it would be and of course, she can’t. I had forgotten why I don’t usually fly Continental – aside from their being expensive – but I am rapidly remembering.

I had gotten a phone call while I was on the bus from two of our merry band, and ran into two more who were coming in to check in as I was leaving. I didn’t wait for them but went upstairs for security check in, since Newark is notorious for their long lines and slow service. I did get into a special line (not sure why but I just went where they pointed) and got through that little piece of TSA theatre with no delay. I wandered down the concourse and found the gate – and there was a special area for the gate and another really imperious (rude is such a harsh word) Continental employee shooing people out of the area. Sigh. Another of our group showed up and we chatted, and I overhead some women talking and sure enough, three more members. Others showed up and they opened the secure area – and at this point we were treated to a serious security process. Each bag was thoroughly inspected and each passenger was individually and carefully wanded. And not one shoe had to come off. (I spent a lot of my life in theatre and I know theatre when I see it – bad and good – and most of the TSA security procedures at airports are theatre, designed to make passengers feel safe.) Then we lined up and checked in – again – showing our passport and boarding pass – again. A very pleasant Continental employee (must be new) told me there WAS an exit row seat available, but it was in the middle of a 3-seat configuration, so I thought I’d stay with my aisle seat – and with the others in the group. Others showed up and we introduced ourselves and by the time we started boarding, only two people (one couple) were missing.

The waiting area was fun – a great mixture of American tourists, a group speaking Russian and lots of Orthodox Jews. At 3 PM there was movement of men with beards and hats and tassels, all lining up to pray against the wall behind the check in counter. Added a sense of other-worldliness to the whole afternoon

Our missing couple showed up and weren’t they sitting next to me on the plane. So there we were. It’s a fun and interesting group and we’re only just starting to get to know each other. The plane ride was in the neighborhood of ten hours – crew was nice, food was dreadful, high tech entertainment system with over 300 movies and lots of music and if one enjoys sitting in a cockpit with not enough room to raise your arms – not bad. I tried to sleep without success, so I suspect my first night in Israel will be a major zonk out. I later discovered in conversation that of our group of 12, only two had actually managed to get any sleep. Several times there was a general movement of bearded men toward the rear of the plane, or into corners with walls, for praying and davening. I prayed the breviary but sitting quietly in my seat.

At 45 minutes out from our destination, the announcement was made, and from that point on, no one could leave their seat for any reason. We had been warned about this shortly after we left Newark, but there was still a last-minute rush for the toilets.

After landing, the process at immigration was easy and customs was a breeze. The carousel for luggage was the fastest moving I have ever seen. Ben Gurion Airport is only about six years old, and is very modern, very efficient, and beautiful to look at. There was a man named Pete  (an old traditional Hebrew name) holding a sign who directed us to the carousel, got us all together and shepherded us to the bus. That’s all he does – he directs the travelers to the bus. Moshe, who will be with us for the rest of the week, was at the bus to greet us, introduce us to Shimon, our driver, and get us on our way. He’s been a tour guide for 17 years, speaks English quite well (although, I am told by the women, with an “enchanting” accent) and weaves together the topography, history, Biblical stories and current events without exposing a seam or skipping a beat.

About ten minutes from the airport is Neot Kedumim, a biblical plant and animal garden of about 620 acres. Ya’ir was our guide, and he’s been doing this about two years. Before this he was a high-powered computer tech supervisor. He is very good too, knows his material wonderfully and does a first-rate presentation. I certainly got several homily ideas and managed to learn some new things about the relationship between moments in Scripture and nature or history. (I have had a good education and often enough I hear things in lectures that I have forgotten, but they’re not new. Today I heard things I had never heard before – and I suspect it won’t be the last time.) The wind was powerful and added to the excitement, but made it harder to hear. The idea behind the place is that it is filled with the plants mentioned in the Bible, and replicates the growing and harvesting done in the way it would have been done then.

We stayed a little over two hours, and then moved on to the hotel, a Ramada Inn, very modern and comfortable and everyone is most pleasant and accommodating. The bag was delivered to the room, and moments afterwards, a supervisor knocked to see if everything was all right. A couple of minutes later, another knock, and a young man brought a very fancy box of chocolates and bottled water. I have a moderately sized room, with a separate sitting room area – sofa, chairs, additional tv set. The only down side to all of this was that the option of a nap was removed because of the construction work (including drilling and hammering on the floor directly above me).

So I signed on for one day of moderately expensive internet, checked mail and did some writing, unpacked and had a shower, and at 6:30 joined the rest of our merry band for supper. Buffet – large and wonderful salad bar, hot buffet with rice and potatoes and fish and chicken and beef (like a pot roast, tender and delicious) and corn and I don’t remember what all else. Because the table is kosher, the ice cream is actually a frozen and flavored oil. (Apparently the Hebrew translation is “ediblei oil.” Yum.) Mea had a migraine and decided to try and sleep it out but everyone else showed up and we had a delightful dinner. (Well I certainly had a delightful dinner and I think the others did too.) Wide-ranging and entertaining conversation, finding out about each other and telling stories, we stayed at table talking long after we had finished eating. Up to the room for a piece of my gift candy and a eagerly anticipated bed.

And thus endeth the first day. Checked the weather report just before going to bed and there is – at the moment – no sign of rain during our stay. Beautiful full moon lighting up the sky over Jerusalem.

December 3 – 2^nd Day – “Damn You, Evelyn White”

I fell asleep quickly and hard but woke around 1:30 and it took a while to get back to sleep. I mention this intimate detail only because when comparing notes in the morning, almost everyone had the same story. Variations on jet lag, I guess.

I had set my alarm for six, even though there was a general wake up call at 7. I did some writing and praying and went down for breakfast. I was the only one from our group but the breakfast buffet was even more elaborate than dinner. Cheeses and yogurts and herring in different styles and fruit and cereal and breads and rolls and eggs of three or four different styles and potatoes and coffee and on and on. A full and most satisfying way to start the day. We all gathered at 8:30, took the first of several ritual group photos and off to start the day.

The first Ritual Group Photo (Actually this is the LAST ritual photo, the night we flew home, but it will hold the space until I get the correct photo in place.)

(Note: I will not spend a lot of time sharing with you the historical and geographic and even political details we were given. You probably know them and you can certainly find them easily and quickly and probably expressed better that I could. I will add things if I was surprised by them but if you are looking for facts and data about Israel, this may not be the place to look. )

Drove past Hebrew University (huge complex) to a scenic spot overlooking Jerusalem,  the top of Mount Scopus. As we pulled up, I looked out the window and what did I see – a large group of Nigerians. Ah memories. The Nigerian government, having underwritten for many years the Muslim hadj, was finally pressured into giving equal treatment to Christians, and so for many years now, large pilgrim groups have been coming to the holy spots in Israel. I introduced myself and learned this group was from Borno State. Old home week.

Moshe did an outstanding job of outlining the history of Jerusalem and pointing out the geography as we looked at the view. When the Second Temple was built, Herod, with an eye to expanding the site and making it accessible to non-Jews (I wonder what the ancient Aramaic or Hebrew was for “tourism”?) built artificial platforms over which he put earth and platforms and extended the top of the mount to include what became the huge temple complex. I knew he had built the Second Temple (actually the 4^th temple, but convention is convention and that’s what everyone calls it) but I had never heard about this particular engineering feat. From that sight we had a good sense of the Mount of Olives and the rest of major sites and how Jerusalem is laid out – made much more sense than the map was able to impart.

Got talking to a young woman as we were leaving, turns out she is from St. Petersburg, there with a group of Russians. Having the beard is really handy – Jews greet me in Hebrew, Russian orthodox greet me in Russian and at a store at the end of the day, several people took pictures of me standing next to a life-size Santa in Bethlehem. The reason she spoke to us was not that she was captivated by my manly physique or trying to get business for the 5-star hotel where she works, but rather she saw the beard and thought I might be religiously related.

On to the top of the Mount of Olives, and the first stop was at the Church of the Ascension, the spot where Jesus rose into heaven after the resurrection. This was the spot where Ignatius of Loyola visited and placed his foot in the footprint and then tried to return because he could not remember which way Christ was facing when He ascended. The chapel had been turned into a mosque (and an inn) in different eras and is very small. There was a Korean group ahead of us who burst into song at the end of their visit. Our guide told me that if at any point we wanted to stop and pray or read the Bible to let him know. I had never thought of reading the Bible or bursting into song –guess that says something about me.

We entered, took the requisite photos and just before we left, I – uncharacteristically – burst into a short song. But at full volume. Most of the group had never heard me sing and were duly impressed. And slightly deafened.

We walked down the Mount of Olives, stopped at another overlook, where a local photographer took a group photo and would catch up with us later – if we liked it we could buy – and moved on down the mountain to the Pater Noster chapel. It’s complex where the Lord’s prayer is displayed throughout the gardens in a variety of different languages. Architecture from the Crusader period, lots of open space and gardens, and enamel plaques containing the different versions of the prayer. I found Igbo, Yoruba and Hausa – a more interesting and compelling spot than I would have thought. It’s the kind of place I would probably have never visited had I been on my own, and it was very nice. I am going to try and collect some money to have a plaque erected with the Lord’s Prayer in Braille – gift of the Xavier Society for the Blind.

This is the photo the local commercial guy took - the walled up gate to the right in the background is the one through which the Messiah is supposed to re-enter Jerusalem. Got to move the cemetery first though - or raise all the dead, so it won't be a cemetery any more. (If you're confused, read the next paragraph below and all will be explained.)

The guy in the front row with the sunglasses is Moshe, our guide. That's Jerusalem in the background - the hold dome is the Temple Mount, the mosque, below it the wall to the city, and the walled up gate. (See below)

More walking – all downhill – to another spot to look at  a Jewish cemetery and the Golden Gate (or Eastern Gate). It was the gate through which Jews from the south would enter Jerusalem, and the legend was that when the Messiah returned, he would enter through that gate. When the Muslims were in charge, they walled up that entrance, and put a cemetery on front of the gate, so the Messiah would not get through, and if he tried, contact with the cemetery would make him impure.

At each stop we found ourselves behind a group of Nigerians – there were two, the Borno group and another I never had the chance to meet. We stopped at the chapel Dominus Flevit – the Lord Cried – the spot where Jesus wept over Jerusalem, soon to be destroyed. The church was built in the shape of a teardrop – and as a bonus, we got a prayer service led by a Nigerian minister. (Turned out to be from Rivers State.)

More walking – past the orthodox church with the golden domes – and on to the Garden of Gethsemane. Lots of the sites in Jerusalem are – well, pious but dubious – but this one is certainly part of the original area. Gethsemane means olive press – those who owned olive trees in the garden would bring their olives to be turned into oil. This was a place where Jesus and his disciples often came, and since olive trees live thousands of years, some of the large trees were definitely from the time of Christ. There is a church built over the spot where Jesus prayed and went through the agony – it’s an enclosed stone in front of the altar. OK – the most important thing for me was still the olive trees. Without a lot of imagination, one can easily get the sense of the time and the moment.

We walked over to the church of the Tomb of the Virgin – an orthodox church. Now there is the church of the Dormitian of the Virgin – where the virgin “slept” and was taken up into heaven – so a neighboring church which displays the tomb of the Virgin is a tad contradictory. One goes down a lot of steps to the courtyard then many more steps into the church. Many, many, many hanging oil lamps of varying degrees of complexity - the usual number of icons. Interesting. I still prefer the olive trees.

And a break for lunch. Seemed a wise move to skip the food, so I had an orange juice. Not that there was anything wrong with the food, but given the size of the breakfast, and my chronic inability to resist temptation, I had visions of having to reserve two seats on the return flight.

On to Bethlehem.

Because of the current political situation, only some natives of Bethlehem are allowed into Israel and no Israelis are allowed into Bethlehem. (Bethlehem is in Palestine, and there is a border and barbed wire and a whole lot of guns and some very unhappy people. As we boarded the second bus – see below – someone asked if the people in the watch towers were Israelis or Palestinians. The answer was – they’re soldiers, not people.) Moshe took us to the checkpoint and introduced to the guide who would take us into Bethlehem, a man with the very Bethlehemic name of George. Not as fluent as Moshe, he was still very knowledgeable – born in Bethlehem – and pretty much everything we saw was in one place, the church of the Nativity.

The original church was built by St Helen, mother of Constantine, in the 4^th century, so working with the local oral tradition, the odds are reasonable that this was, in fact, the site. When excavations to support the columns were being done (in the 60’s?) they found large sections of the original floor of the church. One section of the church belongs to the Orthodox and the Armenians and the Roman Catholics have a separate church. All are over a subterranean series of caves. At the time of Christ, the people would stay in the cave and the animals were kept in another section. When it came time for Mary to give birth, she looked for privacy – they were staying in the section with the other people - but there was no room, ie no private space, so she moved into the warm and private area with the animals, where Christ was born. A wall has since been erected, separating the underground areas but at the time of Christ is was one large area. So from the orthodox area you go down to the site of the birth, and the area where the manger was, where the Holy Family stayed – and then underneath the Catholic church is the grotto where the Holy Family stayed and where Joseph received the warning to take the babe and Mary to escape Herod, and the cave where Jerome wrote the translation of the Bible.

After we had visited the site of the birth (and were present for the daily orthodox procession) we found that we could celebrate Mass early. We were in the chapel of St. Joseph, underneath and a woman from the local community joined us. The Franciscan priest who helped me get ready was from Montreal – and when I asked about the Mass he told me that every Mass celebrated in that church is the Mass of Christmas – either the Vigil, the Mass at Dawn or the Mass of Christmas Day. I did a fast rewrite of my homily in my mind, and we were off.

The altar faces away from the people so I did a little adapting – but it was a lovely experience, and after Communion, we all sang one verse of Silent Night. When we went upstairs there was a tour group in the main Catholic chapel singing Christmas carols. Nice way to end the moment. We walked down to meet the bus, with a lovely view of the Valley of the Shepherds, the place where the shepherds heard the message from the angel. Of course, it is now mostly apartments and buildings.

In the bus we headed for the border, with a stop at a gift shop. In Bethlehem they specialize in olive wood and we had a certain amount of pressure to buy from the Christian gift shop – Christians have shrunk to less than 35% of the total population of Bethlehem. With the restrictions on travel it is increasingly hard to make a living and Christians have been leaving to go to other countries to make a living. High prices but some interesting items. After a bit we headed for the border, fighting our way through the street vendors and postcards sellers (young boys with the persistence of bull dogs). And back to the hotel for dinner and ultimately bed.

You may have noticed that so far, the night life factor has been missing. A day filled with touring and listening and exploring and walking (LOTS of walking) makes us tired at the end of the day. Our group is increasingly getting to know each other, and we are hearing each other’s stories and backgrounds and we find we enjoy each other. There is a lot of laughter. So perhaps it is time to start sharing some of the personal bits. Let me start with a very short introduction to our merry band. I will only use first names, to protect a measure of privacy in a public forum.

In no particular order – Jane is a former actress I know from church, and her sister, Eileen, is along with her. She had problems today with her knee – I see a replacement in her future – but she was very game and is very funny. She also spent a number of years with a large investment company. Mea is someone I knew in grammar school, and we crossed paths a couple of years ago. She is a writer for a newspaper. Richard is a client of the XSB, blind and a lawyer, and his wife Mimi is with him, a thoroughly charming person. Maura I know from church, and she is going on to spend a week in Jordan after this pilgrimage is over. Bob is someone I know from the NY Athletic club- another lawyer, and he has been balancing some unavoidable work with the touring. Annie is from California – a friend of Jane’s, her husband was a fairly well-known actor until his death. She is blind as well and has Emily, a companion, who is full of laughter and energy and herself an actress. Finally – last but not least – Emilia and Norman, who won the trip in our raffle. Norman is Irish, so the lilt adds another dimension to the conversation. And of course, “the priest” – the tour leader – the guy with the beard – the Jesuit in a land of Franciscans – I speak in these humbled terms of mine own self.

Before the curtain sets on this second day of touring, a word about the title. Coming back from Bethlehem, the group was talking on the bus, (and I have to say, while I was disappointed that we had not gotten more people for this tour, 12 seems a lovely number. We have a minibus rather than a hug tour bus, so we can more easily move about., The guide does not have to use a loudspeaker,  and we can all sit at one table in a dining room, rather than being split up. One of the women said at dinner that if we had to go home tomorrow, the trip would have been worth it, with what we had already seen and experienced. )

Anyway, at one point Eileen and Jane were teasing each other (remember, they’re sisters) and Jane was saying that each year the nuns would pick the smallest of the First Graders to crown the statue of the Blessed Virgin for the May Crowning. Eileen was the smallest, but so small she couldn’t reach the statue, so the honor went to another girl. Eileen piped up and said “Evelyn White – I’ll never forget her.” Someone noted that this seemed to still be an issue with her, and someone else uttered the great line – might even have been Evelyn herself – “Damn you, Evelyn White.” Wonderful line, and provoked great laughter.

When we got back to the hotel, we made a wonderful discovery – you could order wine with dinner. Not included, but it added yet another layer to an already delightful group. For the second night in a row, ours was the last group in the dining room. Not that we were eating so much (well, that too), but we simply enjoy the conversation. Dinner runs around two hours.

I spent the evening hours downloading photos, and doing some writing. I have to keep reminding myself that I have a concert shortly after I get back and while away I have to finish writing the script and learning songs. And bed.

Day 3 – December 4 – Friday – Jerusalem the Gold

Now with all the walking and eating, you’d think I would sleep like the proverbial babe. Nope – woke in the middle of the night after about three hours, dozed off and on, and then finally gave up around 3 am and did writing and study. So I had an early shower, prayed as the sun rose and was early in the dining room, so I could spend an hour on the internet and try not to let the email get too far ahead of me. (Isn’t it amazing how quickly we adapt? I am praying as the sun rose in Jerusalem! And I threw it off with a casual comment in passing.)

Off to the wall of Old Jerusalem and a day of walking – the old military area where Jesus was scourged and where Pilate passed judgment. A lot of archaeology in Jerusalem is horizontal – not digging down, but because so much of the past has been knocking down earlier buildings and using those materials to build new things, identifying stones and materials is often as useful as digging down to earlier levels. At one of the chapels, they know the stones used were part of the military areas because scratched into the stones was the board for a game soldiers used to play.

We started walking along the walls, noting the arrow slits (these were the walls built by Suleiman?) and one long stretch which is where the garbage is dumped and collected. Reality does tend to intrude from time to time. At the Sheeps Gate – the Lions Gate – has another name which I can’t think of at the moment.

Church of St Ann and the pool of Bethesda where Jesus cured the cripple. And a church with great acoustics where Jane and I each sang.

Down the Via Dolorosa – through the Muslim market and into the church of the Holy Sepulchre – the Crusaders’ chapel – where I celebrated Mass. We visited – I spent a lot of time at the site of the crucifixion – the tomb was the most popular place in this huge complex of chapels and alley ways – but somehow the site of the cross was more compelling for me.

Chilly day – not cold but not warm. We stopped to eat bread and hyssop on the street, through the Muslim market into the Jewish market area – and on to the Western Wall where we prayed and left slips of paper.  The bus collected us and we went on to the market on a late Friday afternoon – they are building a trolley line and the street traffic is a disaster. The market is fun, although not speaking the language limits the ability to bargain. However, as the Shabbat closing time comes closer, bargaining is not so much the issue as not being forced to buy a whole lot of stuff. You go to a stall and you want one little biscuit – the seller has to close in ten minutes so he wants you to buy a kilo of biscuits ( a little over two pounds). Now that’s a lot of biscuit.

At one point I heard a commotion, and in spite of the assurances of Moshe and the Israeli Tourist Board – well, it is Jerusalem and we have all heard the stories. So I cautiously move to one side and look around. Coming down the alleyway I see a Hasidim, complete with fur hat. Following in close order behind him is a clown, with a pastel wig and full clown make up, and another young gentleman blowing a shofar (the ram’s horn) and a whole bunch of young people chanting and shouting something. I have NO idea what is going on, and so I make myself invisible as they pass by. Turns out it is a protest – the Hasidim is reminding the shop keepers that closing time is almost here, and the others are shouting that the shops should be free to stay open. Very dramatic, made all the evening news programs. And entirely safe.

At 4 – or whenever the closing time is – a siren goes off and sounds for a full minute. Note to future pilgrims – watch where you are standing. Underneath the siren speaker is NOT the optimal place to enjoy the Shabbat closing siren. We left the market, back to the hotel – drinks and dinner and talking and laughing and up to the room.

OK - more to come.