A Pilgrim’s Journey

It is impossible to share everything one experiences physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually, while in the Holy Land. But there is a profound Hebrew word that sums it up: Ruach. It means every breath is God’s spirit.
 
As spiritual chaplain, I chose to meet a few weeks before our departure with my fellow pilgrims. I asked them if they would share why they had chosen to make this journey. The responses I heard spoke desire : - learn the Bible from a historical perspective – gain a better understanding of people in the middle-east - reconnect to a lapsed faith - want to walk in the footsteps of Jesus - to share this experience with my three daughters. It was only fair that I share what I wanted: to see, touch, and kiss the land where Jesus was born. I want to connect some more of the dots to where he preached and healed, suffered, died and rose again. With tears welling up as I write these words; I got all that and received a profound outpouring of God’s grace. I have spoken to most of them upon returning; they too pretty much received what they wanted and got more.
 
I obtained a special blessing from connectedness to those I travelled with, those who allowed me to encounter them. A thank you, to Basam too for his humor and local insight (tour guide par excellence) and Mahmoud, your five daughters are in my prayers (No better bus driver in the world). Blessings after all, quite often involve God directing human beings at human beings. By really seeing and perceiving, while staying in the ordinary, I connected to not only what was present to me, but to what was in the past and what lies ahead.
 
In the Wedding Church in Cana, I was reminded how my mother played a powerful role in my life. And when our couples renewed their vows I thought joyfully about my beautiful wife Anne, and how I am hers and she is mine forever in this life – keep dying to yourself Ed!
 
At Mt. Tabor, the site of the Transfiguration, I thought about how human life is leading to human death. Strangely it occurred to me that as soon as the air touches a new born baby’s skin, the living and the dying begin, they are hand in hand. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning … Behold, I make all things new (Rev21:4-5).
 
Nazareth, holds the earliest roots of Jesus, it is here that his fellow Jews rejected him. I was intrigued to find a contradiction to what is portrayed in the west. Muslims and Christians not only live side-by-side in this town, they share friendship and community. Strangely, it was here that I couldn’t help but sense a belonging in Jesus’ native place.
 
Forever more, an image of the Sea of Galilee will conjure up in my mind a memory of this papa dancing with his daughter on deck - hava nagila. And standing on the shoreline, I realized why Jesus chose to speak to crowds from Simon’s boat. And I’m pretty sure Captain Avis’ homebrew is the thickest coffee in the world.
 
As we spent time in the Church of Primacy of St. Peter, I reflected on Jesus’ words: You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church (Mt. 16:18). And then when we stood in the house of St. Peter, I humored myself a bit, thinking to myself, Scripture doesn’t record words or a look, but I can imagine  eyes bulging and what the ___ from Peter, as four men tore his roof apart and lowered their friend (Mk 2:4). Both events happened in Capernaum.
 
It is said that gossip accounts for 55% of men’s conversation time and 67% of women’s. As we stood in the Basilica of the Annunciation I imagined the fifteen year old Mary. How in the world did she muster that yes? Note to self – make more room for God!
 
As one might expect, the Holy Family lived in an extremely humble abode. Not a whole lot of focus on possessions, or trying to dominate one another. As goes the family, so goes the nation, and so goes the world (St. John Paul II).
 
There was a strong and violent wind rending the mountains and crushing the rocks before the Lord – but the Lord was not in the wind (1Kings 19:11). As I stood with Christen at the Windy Point on Mt. Carmel, in Haifa, the wind was just short of a tempest. Right after, we celebrated Mass at Stella Maris Monastery, on Mt. Carmel. I saw my daughter go to a deep spiritual place. I left her alone in God’s good hands. The pinnacle of spirituality is to get to where Elijah got; be faithful in following God’s lead, and know that peace rests in the harmonious heart where God resides.
 
Back in Bethlehem, in a cave in a Shepherds Field, I was touched by something profound. David, the shepherd, came down from this cave to be anointed, by Samuel, to be God’s chosen. Fourteen generations later, right here, angels appear to shepherd’s: For today, in the city of David a savior has been born for you (Luke 2:11). The humble alone can be brought down to encounter the King of Kings. Everything from the beginning of time to the end of time is pointing to Jesus.
 
On our bus ride we received notice from Basam, that there is a change in plans, the magnificent St. Catherine of Alexandria Church has become available for us to celebrate Mass. I’m talking to my co-chaplain, Fr. Dennis Ziomek. WHAT, he joyfully exclaims. His home parish, back in the archdiocese of Chicago is named after her. I’m not sure it’s possible to hear a better homily incorporating St. Catherine as a backdrop.
 
A long bus ride and we arrive at the edge of the Judean Desert, overlooking the Dead Sea. Resting high above us is Masada, the famous mountain fortress of Herod the Great. A walk from bottom to top is barely traversable - we take a tram. I’m intrigued by this remarkable achievement, but the feeling of admiration turns to mournfulness. Respectfully, I listen to a story being told of heroes, men who decided to take the lives of their wives, children, and then themselves, instead of becoming slaves to the Romans. The Gospel of Life is at the heart of Jesus’ message. Whatever opposes human life cannot be classified as heroic.
 
Here is where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found. We are near Qumran, in the desert looking up at caves. I’m fascinated by all the mystery shared. I contemplate the significance of the empirical authentication of the Old Testament. I am also compelled to think about the commitment made to preserving these ancient transcripts and the devotion of the ascetic living in this wilderness. Later, back in Bethlehem, we drive by this incredibly beautiful neighborhood, with houses that would make a Foothills resident take notice. I inquire about who lives here. I’m told, Kahlil Shahen. And the other homes are for his family, his daughters on either side of he, and his wife’s home. So, where did he find his wealth? From the sale of the Dead Sea Scrolls! It seems the Bedouin desert people have more in common with the Lenape Indians from New York then they know. I’m guessing they probably got more than $951.00 worth of beads! Shortly after, I conveniently forget the justice in win/win, as I negotiate a fee of seventeen shekels for a camel ride in Jericho. I guess I’ll write it off to being so close to the Mount of Temptation.
 
Jerusalem shall be called the faithful city … the holy mountain (Zechariah 8:3). I will forever be grateful for all I experienced spiritually here. It started with a misty, pre sunrise stroll on the Via Dolorosa; that became a personal way of the Cross ( I know Lord; your walk was much more stressful) . Touching the Rock of Golgotha was the next passage from one spiritual exercise to the next. And what happened to me in the Holy Sepulcher would provide the apex of the quest. God’s grace is never outdone. This powerfully gifted moment sits on a shelf for me now. When I need reassurance I have a shelf to go to and take down a special spiritual gift.
 
It was inspiring to see the Our Father displayed in sixty languages at the Church of Pater Noster. There are seven petitions in the Our Father, but the whole of it revolves around Jesus’ first  ministry proclamation – The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe in in the Gospel (Mark 1:15)
 
Several years back, I was deeply challenged in Auschwitz, trying to wrap my head around the darkness. But as dark as it was, it’s not the darkest. In the Garden of Gethsemane, visually you see so much that is pleasing to the eye. There is no other place that has had equal suffering and darkness. Yes, there has been incredible inhumanity around the globe. Innocent people have been tormented, humiliated, tortured and killed. It was in this Garden, that suffering unlike any other took place, supernatural suffering, unparalleled - the suffering of a sinless God-man who alone could fathom the depth of God’s righteousness and human sin. All the sin of the world, from the beginning to the end of time was poured into Jesus that night. His agony in the Garden of Gethsemane is both the measurement of sin and the measure of God’s love.
 
It was quite meaningful for this deacon to walk through a gate named after the first deacon; St. Stephen, the first martyr of the church. A deacon hears at his Ordination when handed the Book of the Gospels from the Bishop, Believe what you read! Teach what you believe! Practice what you teach! Help me Lord to know my limits, prepare me to love my enemies, deliver me from evil in my final moments. May sin and evil have run its course and may I love you above all else.
 
As we neared the end of our pilgrimage, we stopped at the Church of St. Ann. Did I mention that my wife’s name is Anne. The acoustics in this church were extraordinary, sound lasts for nearly half a minute. The echo still rings from when our group collectively sang Immaculate Mary . Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart (Luke 2:19). Memories are indeed tucked away.
 
The last night before our morning flight, I stood on the deck of the breathtaking Vatican Hotel, in Jerusalem. I took it all in and reflected on the people, places, and things I encountered. Yes, in a word Ruach, sums it up quite well (Every breath is God’s spirit).