Friday when we were leaving for the airport I put my things on the bus and ran into the hotel to go to the restroom. As I walked out of the hotel to get on the bus I saw the bus driving down the street! There I was standing at the hotel door in shock. Luckily, Elias and his brother were just about to pull away and had me hop in the car. Elias called John, the bus driver, who quickly stopped the bus so that I could get on. I could not believe they left without me!
I was really upset about this. I was only alone for a few minutes; however, I was so sad that I was not missed on the bus. I spent 10 days touring, praying, eating, and drinking, and laughing with this group.
Then I began to think about what was going on in the bus. Everyone was preoccupied and excited, thinking about heading home. I thought about our everyday life and how we are so busy getting through our own days we sometimes do not take the time to think about others. This made me wonder if our Palestinian friends feel this way. Forgotten. I only felt this way for a few minutes. It makes me realize how important it is to care for and remember what our neighbors are going through not only locally but also globally. It is easy to get caught up in our own busyness and not realize the problems others are experiencing. It was a good lesson for me to remember the needs of others around me. No one should feel invisible. We need to remember who our neighbor is just as Jesus taught us.
Like a smooth stone one tucks away into a pocket to casually hold or rub throughout the day, the memories of this trip to the Holy Land have turned over and over and over in my mind since I returned to the States. It might take the rest of my life to process my experiences there and how it has affected me, but I'm ok with that. I hope to always be able to return to the space of sacredness I feel deep inside now that I have walked where Jesus walked, stood where He stood, heard the winds and the waves that whispered and roared in His ears, and have met the people He loved. My image of my God is not the same as it was before I went to His holy land. It has been shaken and broadened and stretched to new heights and new depths.
If I could hope for one thing for all Christians, it would be that all have a chance to go to the land of the birth of our faith. Certainly God blesses those who have not seen and yet have believed, but there is something so profound about meeting His people and seeing what He saw. God the man is so much more tangible to me now, and His realness is much more comprehensible. Sometimes it almost seems I can see Him take form beside me, and I can almost feel the lure of the love of which He spoke--how that must have captivated the humble folk from which He came.
There is something here--something that I don't believe I will ever find quite the same anywhere else--and I think it stems from the fact that out of all the cultures that have ever existed, of all the epochs of the ages which have passed, of all the great lives that have been lived, God chose this tiny space of land to manifest Himself to us all. He chose the humblest, most faithful of people--people who were able to believe that God might be something other than wealthy or angry or violent or worldly powerful--to first reveal His love. We who claim to follow Him, we who are brothers and sisters of each other through the faith of Abraham, we who so often fail to treat others with compassion and to listen with open minds and hearts, we are the ones who still don't understand how to live as Jesus taught us here in the most holy of lands. But one thing that I carry forward from this trip of a lifetime is the hope that it is not too late for us to learn again what we must do.
Dear Friends, Family Member, Parishioner, or even total stranger who entrusted your deepest prayer requests to me to take to the Holy Land,
First of all, I want everyone to know what a privilege it was for me to be entrusted with your deepest prayer intentions. It was very important for me to offer up these intentions in personal prayer each day of my pilgrimage in the Holy Land. Each day I sensed that God was piling on grace after grace, and blessing after blessing. My prayer the whole time was that God would count these graces and blessings toward the prayer intentions that had been entrusted to me.
During our pilgrimage we celebrated Mass at some of the holiest sites on earth, places made holy not because of the stone and dirt beneath our feet, or even the beautiful buildings that covered our heads. They were holy because He who is Holy walked there, taught there, cured there, loved there, even died there. As we celebrated Mass at each of these sites and offered your prayer requests up, my prayer always reflected the place where we stood.
I humbly offer you my reflections for each Mass that we celebrated. At the very least it will show you how genuine my prayer for all of you and your intentions were for me.
Mt. Nebo, Jordan: Mt. Nebo is the mountain in which the Israelites first viewed the Promised Land after 40 years of wandering in the wilderness. For Moses, who was not allowed to enter the Holy Land, it was his first and final view before he died. On the surface this seems like a great tragedy! Moses was so faithful, and now he would be denied enjoying the fulfillment of God’s promise to His people. But what would death mean for Moses? It would mean entrance into the true Promised Land, a place prepared for him that far surpassed the land he only could see from afar. God does keep his promises, and sometimes the way he does it far surpasses anything we could ever ask or imagine.
The Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem: This is the place where the Incarnate God makes his humble yet grand entrance into human history. The Incarnation: What a love story! This same God who would humble himself and become man is just as present to us today. Mary held the Son of God in her arms in this place. We hold this same God in our hearts. Surely this is a God who listens intently to all of our prayers.
Our Lady, Queen of Peace Parish, Birzeit: We celebrated Mass with local Palestinian Christians at their parish. All the way across the world, and in a language we could not understand, we celebrated Eucharist with brothers and sisters we had never met and probably will never see again, yet we are eternally connected in the same Body of Christ. What a gift from God to be connected to others in such an intimate way. My prayers are joined and lifted up by a community of believers that spans the globe, reaches across the centuries, even to the saints in heaven. Where I am weak, we are strong.
Church of St. Joseph, Nazareth: They say that Mary left the women in Nazareth a gift, making them the most beautiful in all the Holy Land. Mary is truly generous in her love and concern for us. It was in Nazareth that Mary gave her “yes” that allowed for the Incarnation. Did she know that this consent to be the Mother of God would also mean her being given by her Son to be my mother as well? This same mother who nursed and nurtured her son in the hills of this small back country town has the same care and concern for me and my needs. Thank you Jesus for the great gift of your Mother.
The Church of the Beatitudes, Mt. of Beatitudes, Galilee: On this serene hill overlooking the Sea of Galilee, I felt like I was in paradise. It was on this hill that Jesus taught us who would see this Kingdom: the poor, the meek, the peacemakers, those who mourn, those who are persecuted. For all of the intentions I offered up, I heard Jesus’ response. “Blessed are you…”
Insula Sacra, Capernaum, Galilee. As we celebrated Mass in the church built directly on top of St. Peter’s mother-in-law's house, we listened to the Gospel story of the paralytic who was lowered through the roof of this house so that Jesus could heal him; soul and body. I was struck that during the whole Mass I had the same view as the paralytic. Just as the friends of the paralytics lowered their friend to Jesus, I too lowered our prayers to feet of Christ trusting in his power to forgive and to heal.
Church of the Holy Sepulcher, Jerusalem: This was the holy site where we decided to leave our gathered prayer intentions. We could think of no better place. After celebrating mass right next to the very spot that Jesus was crucified, we walked down to a small chapel that is located directly under the crucifixion site. This chapel is dedicated to Adam. Legend says that Adam is buried directly underneath the spot Jesus was crucified. The “New Adam,” Jesus Christ, redeems the old. “O death where is your sting?” I think this was a fitting place to lay down our intentions; our prayers for redemption in its many forms. It is here that we receive the ultimate answer to each and every intention that you and I have. In Christ, through his sacrifice on the Cross, they have already been answered. Halleluiah!
It’s hard to put into words my how important today will be for the rest of my life. We had the privilege to walk the Via Dolorosa and pray the Stations of the Cross, we celebrated Mass in the Holy Sepulcher right next to where Jesus was crucified, I placed my hand on Golgotha as I bowed before the spot that the cross of my Savior once stood, I saw the rock in which the lifeless body of the Son of God was laid out and prepared for burial, I walked in the tomb where death was destroyed, a tomb that is still empty.
Whenever I prepared Catechumens for Baptism at the Easter Vigil, I tell them to soak it all in, to remember the words, the sights, the smells, the feeling and thoughts of the celebration. We all know that something miraculous will happen and that it will take a long time to break it open. Their experience, their memories, will serve as markers to return to the event and discover in an ever deeper way the great mystery, the amazing grace, the salvation received during those moments.
I feel like today was very similar for me. This whole pilgrimage, in fact, will require extended prayer and reflection to break it open and discover the great graces I have received. I know that today was one of the most important days of my life, I know deep down that I have been changed, renewed, saved. I felt the presence of God today. I don’t know what it means. This tells me that it was a profound experience. It is too much to discover in the moment, too much to wrap my mind around in a few hours. I think it will take the rest of my life to let this sink in. For that I am grateful.
Today we spent time in the places Jesus spent most of his time during his years of ministry. We began with Mass on the Mt. of Beatitudes overlooking the Sea of Galilee. We descended to the shores of the Sea of Galilee to a Church marking the spot where Jesus multiplied the loaves and fishes. We then went for a boat ride across the Sea of Galilee, remembering how Jesus calmed those waters, even walked on them. From there we went to the top of Mt. Tabor the place of the Transfiguration. We ended in the place in which Jesus began his ministry, in the town of Cana where Jesus turned water into wine.
These places were Jesus’ stomping grounds. The places where he taught the crowds, where he called his disciples, where he healed and cast out devils. At the same time, I have come to realize that my life has been Jesus’ stomping grounds as just as much as this beautiful place. I have learned from him, been called by him, healed and forgiven by him, fed by him. That may be why this place seems so familiar to me.
The Temple Mount. A place that connotes holiness for millions of people world wide, yet for me, Sue, Karen, and Judy, it leaves a sour taste in our mouths. All of us made it without problem through two checkpoints, but almost immediately upon entering the sacred area of the Temple Mount, a place especially holy to both Jews and Muslims, we were found wanting. Sue and I entered first, and a guard pulled us aside and told us we must follow him to buy a scarf to cover our legs because apparently knee length is too short. Surprised and confused, Sue and I followed the irate fellow over to a man who sold scarves for $15 dollars a piece. Considering we could have purchased the same scarves for $2.50 at the hotel, it was obviously price gouging. As I had left my money on the bus, Sue graciously came to my rescue. The vendor helped us wrap our scarves around, and as we began walking back to our group, we looked up to see Judy and Karen heading our way, too. Apparently their necklines were too revealing. All four of us now wrapped in scarves, we paused to have Fr. Jim snap a photo of the newly dubbed "4 H" Club (4 harlots). In my typical "let's make a joke of this awkward moment" attitude, I pulled my scarf-skirt up to my knees and stuck my leg out. Out of nowhere, the irate man reappeared in my face, shaking with fury, and screaming, "Have you no respect for holy places? You are doing a strip tease in front of everyone!"
I attempted to apologize and explain that I didn't mean it like that, but he would not listen to me. Angrily, he shouted, "You need to leave now. Get out."
Shocked, I didn't know what to do but leave, so I headed out the arched doorway where the man had gestured I go. As I hurried along in confusion and fear, the scarf vendor asked me why I was back again; did I need another scarf? No, I replied. That man told me I had to leave. Then Fr. Jim came charging up on his white steed, punched the irate man in his face, and galloped through the archway to rescue me from the scarf vendor and the circles of other men that stood on the far side of the courtyard where I had been. (That is a slight exaggeration for the benefit of Fr. Jim:) He did actually insist that I return to the group because I couldn't stay where I was. I had thought I would have to wait on the other side of the archway until the rest of the group returned. As it turned out, that would not have worked since we were not returning to that area at all, but I was so shaken that I did not want to challenge the irate man again.
Later Rami apologized for the events, even though he certainly had no control over them, and explained that he had never seen that happen as our clothes were generally considered acceptable since our shoulders were covered and our skirts went to our knees. And apparently in the past, scarves were loaned to people whose clothes did not meet standards.
After that event, I did not really care for being there, and I wanted to leave. Eventually we traveled up to Galilee and to Jesus' home of Nazareth (the land of the beautiful women) where we stopped by the Church of the Annunciation. That might be the most beautiful church I have seen. It certainly had the most phenomenal mosaics of Mary ever. While there, Mark had us take a group photo in front of a statue of Mary. Immediately following, another group of male tourists approached the statue, and one appeared to be holding his camera out to me. I asked if he wanted me to take a photo of him and his friends, but he shook his head no. "Come be in the photo with us," he said. Startled, I looked over at my companions. They just laughed at me, so I handed Judy my purse and stood in the far right side of the men. "No, no. In the middle," they said. "By Mary." Umm, ok, I thought. I guess that'll be ok. One of the weirdest days I have had.
Today we visited to most Holy space on Earth for Jews and close to the holiest place for Muslims; the Temple Mount. The Wailing Wall is the only remaining wall left of the temple, a retaining wall that managed not to be completely destroyed during the destruction of the 2nd Temple in 70 AD. The Jews believe that the very presence of God resides in this wall. On the temple mount is the Dome of the Rock, built over the rock that Abraham almost sacrificed Isaac. For Muslims, under this rock is the entrance to the afterlife. The Temple Mount will be the place that God judges the world at the end of time. For Jews, they will not enter the Temple Mount based on their own decree. They do not know where the Holy of Holies was exactly located so they do not step foot there for fear that they may tread upon it.
There is a sense of reverence or “Fear of the Lord” at both the Temple Mount and the Wailing Wall. God is present in this place and He deserves honor, respect and worship. I was moved by the genuineness of the Jews worshiping at the Wailing Wall. They were full of emotion, joy, and devotion. This place is the closest a Jew can get to the very presence of God. This is a place to take in the grandeur, the awesomeness, the inapproachability of the Infinite God of the Universe.
From the Temple Mount we visited the St. Ann’s Church, the house that Mary was born in, a stone’s throw from the Temple, right next to the Pools of Bethesda, pools that gave water to the Temple to wash the sacrifices being made, the place the Jesus healed the paralytic of 38 years.
As we left Old Jerusalem, we traveled to Galilee by way of the Via Maris. We passed through the Valley of Megiddo and entered into Bethlehem, the home town of Jesus. We visited the Church of the Annunciation, built over the home of the Holy Family, the place where the Annunciation took place.
What a striking difference between this humble cave of a home, and the grandeur and power of the Temple Mount and the Wailing Wall. Here a humble teenage girl was overshadowed by the power of the Holy Spirit and conceived Emmanuel, “God with us.”
Today I was struck by the miracle if the Incarnation. The greatness of God that is honored and worshiped at the Temple Mount and the Wailing Wall is well deserved. This is the Creator of the Universe. It is right and good to fear His presence. But the great miracle is that this Great God humbled himself, became flesh, and dwelt among us. In this little backwater town in Galilee the Son of God walked among us, talked with us, taught us, loved us.
Now the Great God, because of His great love, lives inside of me, not in a wall or on a Mount – I am a temple of the Holy Spirit. Here in Nazareth, the Gospel message of God’s great love for us has taken root for me. I will forever by struck by the Temple Mount, and the Wailing Wall, but in the town of Nazareth, I have found a gift greater than those, a gift I have carried with me since my Baptism and will not stay in this town; Jesus Christ, the Word of God made flesh, conceived in my soul by the power of the Holy Spirit.
It has been one week since I left the tradition of Cincinnati, the comfort of my husband’s arms, the love of my children, the laughter of my sisters, the wisdom of my Dad, the smiles of my grandsons, and …Grippos barbecue potato chips. These are all blessings in my daily life.
Words and pictures will never be able to fully describe this week, but I can truly say that it has been a journey of contrasts.
Upon our arrival Tuesday in Jordan, I experienced both fear while going through customs and joy of beginning my first pilgrimage.
Wednesday, I felt the scorching heat of the sun at the Jordan River, and I tasted the coolness of my first Taybeh beer.
Thursday, I had to repeatedly say, “No, thank you” to overzealous vendors at the sycamore tree that Zaccheaus climbed in Jericho, and I heard the prayerful songs of Christmas at the Church of the Nativitiy.
On Friday, I saw the exuberant smiles of the faces of two Polish nuns during our visit to Gethsemane, a place where Jesus experienced great sorrow.
While visiting the Milk Grotto on Saturday, I remembered just how grateful I am to be the mother of Michelle, Kevin, and Kyle, and during the dancing that night at the Arabic restaurant, I temporarily forgot all my worldly concerns.
Yesterday, I cried during Mass at Our Lady Queen of Peace – Quadalupe, and later I tasted the joyful tears as I kissed the cheeks of the women at the Birzeit Senior Citizens Center.
Today, I was told to cover my “inappropriate” shirt at Temple Mount, but then I was asked to read at Mass at the Church of St. Joseph, my Dad’s patron saint.
It has been a week since I arrived in the Holy Land. I’ve experienced the unique culture of Bethlehem, the “discomfort” of a life so very different from mine, the love of the Palestinian people, the laughter of Sharon, my roommate, the wisdom of Fr. Jim, the smiles of my fellow Pilgrims, and …mashed potatoes for breakfast. They all have been blessings to me this week.
In one of his final communications, Pope John Paul II greeted pilgrims with these words:
“Today, I tell you – continue unflaggingly on the journey on which you have set out in order to be witnesses everywhere of the glorious Cross of Christ. Do not be afraid! May the joy of the Lord, crucified and risen, be your strength, and may Mary, Most Holy, always be beside you.”
Together, let us journey on…
I woke up this morning without a voice. The rumor amongst the group was that I snuck out to keep smoking hookah after we returned from the Arabic restaurant last night – but it’s just a rumor.
We visited the Church of the Annunciation and prayed the Magnificat at the very place it was first proclaimed!
My soul magnifies the Lord, And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…And His mercy is on those who fear Him from generation to generation...and exalted those of low degree. He has filled the hungry with good things; and the rich He has sent empty away. He has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of His mercy; As He spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to His posterity forever.
We then walked down to the place where John the Baptist was born and prayed the Canticle of Zechariah.
…In the tender compassion of our Lord
The dawn from on high shall break upon us,
to shine on those who dwell in darkness
And the shadow of death,
And to guide our feet into the way of peace.
As we prayed these two prayers that I have prayed a million times, I imagined the scene. Elizabeth and Zechariah “proclaimed” the Good News with poetry and song. Such a message needs to be proclaimed. It was ironic that I could not do much speaking, let alone “proclaiming.”
On the way back to our hotel in the afternoon, we stopped to get a good look at the wall dividing Bethlehem and the whole West Bank from Israel. Today I lost my voice.
I cannot put words to the feelings of this experience. It is a little frustrating to not be able to coherently describe the impact the wall had on me. Maybe I was experiencing in a small way the Palestinians who feel like they have no voice.
We prayed deeply together at the wall. We prayed “Thy Kingdom Come, Thy Will be done.” We prayed "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." "Deliver us from evil." Lord, make me an instrument of your peace." This is Good News indeed! His mercy is on those who fear Him and He exalts those of low degree. In His compassion, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness.
The Gospel message is more real here, in the face of a seemingly insurmountable problem so strikingly represented by the wall. This is a message that needed to be proclaimed. Peace cannot be possible until both sides are understood. I admit, I feel a little powerless. With my limited view I can see no end to this conflict, can imagine no real solution, but I think I might be getting my voice back.
Today we visited the separation wall. We saw many words and phrases such as: Imagine -- Where is the USA -- Call for humanity -- The Holy Land is within you -- Standing with our brothers in solidarity -- You say shalom-now make shalom -- Freedom -- Proud to be a Palestinian -- I love Palestine. Seeing the wall brought tears to my eyes. Why are people so afraid of each other? From this experience, meeting the Palestinian people, I see they are a proud and joyful people. They just want the freedom to move about to work and take care of their families. We are all part of the human race and love our families no matter what part of the world we are in. Loving and caring for our families is universal. Palestinians are beautiful people with much to offer our world. We must find a way to help them be free to share the gifts God has given them. We have so much to learn from these joyful people.
As I readied myself for this trip, I couldn't imagine what it would be like. I knew that there would be many things that would be different: the food, the language, the culture. I wondered how I would be able to connect with the teachers here when we have so many differences. I began to question why I thought that I could do this. After all, I am just a wife, a mother of three, one of 5 children, a teacher of American children. All I could think was how different our lives would be from each other.
So, what have I found here in this "foreign Holy Land"? I have discovered that we are all the same! I knew from our experience with Mary, Issa,Tamar, Raniem, and Tamara that Palestinian children are much like ours. They like texting and hanging out with friends when they can. The girls like fashion and going shopping. They are no different than our children.
What I have discovered while meeting with the teachers yesterday is that they are just like us! I had the privilege of meeting and spending time with a primary math teacher named Iman. Iman's eyes lit up when she spoke of her "children". She got excited when she talked about the things she gets to teach them. Iman's passion for her mission was evident in so many ways. Iman likes to spend time with her friends, she likes to watch tv, she likes to read, she wants to be closer to God. There's no difference between her heart and mine.
Today we celebrated Mass at a parish in Birzeit. The spoken language was different, but the parishioners were much like my fellow parishioners at St. Andrew. Some came early to pray and chat, some came on time, and some snuck in late. There were babies making noises, teenagers trying to remember what to do and when, parents, grandparents... They sang with beautiful voices that filled the church, they prayed, and they welcomed visitors. There are no apparent differences between the people of Birzeit and the people of St. Andrew.
So, what is the difference between Palestinians and Americans? There are several that struck me. They are unhappy with their current situation, but they are JOYFUL people. I have not heard one complaint about the check points where they are detained or about having no water to brush their teeth or bathe. I did not hear complaints about the times they were under "curfew". There is sadness that they cannot visit the holy sites like we can, but no complaints. The biggest difference that I have experienced is "The Wall". This wall has been built to keep Israel "safe", but it keeps the Palestinians imprisoned. Their movements are restricted. They do not have access to the conveniences that we so often take for granted, but they do not let it impact their joy, their faith, their hope.
It has made me take a deeper look at how I view things. There are many "inconveniences" that pop up in my life that often tend to derail me. In the grand scheme of things, they really don't matter, they don't define who I am or what I believe, so it's time to let them go. I have realized too that something needs to be done to help change things for all of God's people. But what can one person do to change this situation? That is something that I know all of us here right now are struggling with. We will continue to pray, and we will keep in touch with our new Palestinian partners in education. We will look deeper into the news reports that we so often just believe. We will share their stories and look for ways to tear down the walls that have caused so much pain, anger and suffering. We will remember that no matter where someone is from, what language they speak, or what they believe, we are all brothers and sisters of the same God who want the same things. Freedom is the only difference between us and them.
Yes, seconds! Today we met our Palestinian partner teachers. Kerry, Jerry and I were partnered with two high school teachers, Nadia and George. Nadia is a young mother of two. She teaches high school English. George, a grandfather, is a semi-retired English high school teacher. (He's my new boyfriend!) We spent a few minutes on introductions, had lunch and spent a little less than two hours sharing teaching ideas and experiences. It's hard to find words to describe what it's like to be half way around the world, sitting in a classroom with Palestinian teachers and finding we have a lot more in common in our classrooms than differences! It's surreal! This whole week has been surreal!
Tonight we got to experience the Palestinian culture at a dinner for us and the Palestinian teachers hosted by HCEF. The food was delicious! There was a lot of laughter! We also spent time in deep conversation with our new friends, and learned so much about their daily life and daily suffering. We enjoyed watching dancers doing traditional Arabic dances and many joined in the dancing with our Palestinian friends. (What happens in the Holy Land...stays in the Holy Land! LOL!)
The night moved too quickly and before long it was time to leave. There were hugs and tears as we parted. Thanks to the Internet we will always be connected to our new friends!
I'm sure many of us will someday return to the Holy Land. One can't help but fall in love with the Palestinian people. They are so beautiful, inside and out!
All glory and thanks to our God!
Blessings+
JOAnne
On our Itinerary, today was titled “Day of Solidarity.” Solidarity is an important part of our Catholic Social teaching. Solidarity is the sense of not feeling a vague compassion or shallow distress at the misfortunes of others. It is a firm and persevering determination to commit oneself to the common good. Solidarity flows from faith.
Today we met Palestinian teachers through the Holy Land Christian Ecumenical Foundation (HCEF) through project HOPE. I was pulled aside to give an interview about my experience with HCEF and the importance of mission work. I told them that I had always understood the concept of Solidarity, and that it was an important aspect of my faith. Practically, though, solidarity seemed an overwhelming task with all of the suffering in the world. To be educated and connected beyond vague compassion is an impossible task for all of the nations, peoples, and individuals in the world who are suffering. I always felt, and even encouraged others, to allow God to give you one cause to really give your life to. God does not need you to save the world. He wants you to be a person of solidarity, someone who is willing to love enough to help them carry their cross. Today God has given me this gift.
Meeting with the Palestinian teachers, hearing their stories, witnessing their faith, made a deep impression on me. If that is all that happened to me today, than I think it would have been enough. But God is all about abundance for me on this pilgrimage.
Today I met a Palestinian Muslim named Selah. Selah is a teacher at a Latin Patriarchate (Catholic) school in Palestine. This school accepts and respects Christian and Muslim teachers and students. This is not a story we hear about in the States. It is a living example that peace is possible with the power of Christian compassion.
After our workshop wrapped up for the day Selah insisted that I come to his home. To be honest, I was a little leery about doing so. Sometimes God needs to break down barriers to build you up again. This is a Muslim Palestinian living in the West bank. I had just met him, and he was asking me to drive off with him alone. You can imagine the images that flashed through my mind of the common perception of such a man. I tried to make up a few excuses, but in the end I decided to go with him. It was a life-changing decision. God used it to crumble my barriers. God used it to grant me the gift of solidarity.
Selah took me on a tour of the West Bank, which includes Bethlehem and the surrounding neighborhoods. He took me through the winding, dirty streets of the Palestinian refugee camp, he pointed out the dividing wall, the settlements. As he turned down the road to his home, I saw that it ran parallel to an Israeli road that he was not allowed to use. The Israeli road was in perfect condition. His road, a few yards away way, was falling apart. They were not allowed to repair it.
You might expect such conditions to produce a bitter home life. What I found though, was a modern family that received me with more hospitality than I had ever received from an American family in which I was walking into their home as a stranger. I was told that it was an Arabic tradition to welcome any stranger. For 3 days this stranger may eat, sleep, and drink, do whatever they want in their home. They will not ask anything of you – not even your name or age – until after 3 days.
After sharing a wonderful meal with this family, and hearing all of their stories of struggle, too many stories to go into here – stories that would make me a very bitter and angry person, the older son asked me. “What do you think of Palestinians now? Are you for us?” I said “Yes, I am for you.” This is solidarity.
Since I didn't write yesterday, I no longer recall the order of the day's events, but Sean's entry should help with that. I did just basically want to share some of more powerful moments of the day.
When I was maybe in 8th or 9th grade, I received a picture of Jesus with His arms stretched out and these words: "'How much do you love me, Lord?' I asked. 'This much,' He said. Then He stretched out His arms and died."
Those words have stayed with me for over a decade now, and Fr. Jim's homily at the little cave church in the Garden of Gethsemane reminded me so much of that picture. He kept talking about his own wrestling with the fact that Jesus had died for him even though He didn't have to. Then Fr. Jim told a story about a little girl whose grandmother kept asking the girl, "How much do you love me?" And the little girl kept stretching her arms out wider and wider till at last her grandmother could hug her. Fr. Jim said we are called to do that: to keep stretching and opening up till we, too, can be as Jesus, ready to make a sacrifice for love. He is far more eloquent than this short recap, but that was the message I took away.
Going to see some of the holiest sites in Christianity is such a unique experience that I hope never to take for granted, but without reflection on it, even, and perhaps in particular, on the painful parts that account for our salvation, the sites have little meaning. And for me the greatest meaning is so much more than just physically being here. In fact, it still feels surreal that I am actually here. But in sharing in the community we teachers get to have here and in having little masses together in these incredibly sacred places, I do feel a presence of God that is so ALIVE, and that is exactly what I hoped for in coming here.
I also had a little shopping time in the afternoon/early evening before dinner. Fr. Jim took a group of us to a Christian shop in Bethlehem to find some gifts. The family who owned it were the kindest, friendliest people; they were not pushy salemen like many are here. They offered us free drinks and a discount on everything. I found some gifts that make me happy, AND I found this awesome wooden camel that is the process of laying down. You better believe that I bought that sucker;)
The other thing that I am treasuring here is the group of people who came, too. Very few of us knew one another at all before coming. In fact, I wasn't even sure whose face went with whose name on all the emails we received about this trip. I have to say, though, I have had such a FANTASTIC time with these wonderful men and women. We get to laugh together so much. For example, Sharon walked into the men's restroom at the Israeli/Jordanian checkpoint the other day, and then she laughed and very honestly said that certainly wasn't the first time it had happened. A couple of nights ago, several of us shared some tasty Palestinian beer, called Taybeh beer, and laughed around the table for long after the meal ended. Last night, several of us shared a bottle of red wine (my fave), and then I learned that some of my female traveling companions had been plotting ways to get the tour guide (Rami) and me to fall in love. LOL!!!! He is pretty darn attractive, but ummm . . .awkward! So a few people were trying to convince Sean that he should ask Rami if he is married. I'm pretty sure he must be as he mentioned having two little girls, but it is hilarious to hear how Sean figured he would ask directly and how women figured he should subtly work a question into the conversation. I laughed so hard my abs started to burn. I felt like I must be in middle school again.
Later we practiced singing for our mass in the morning. Singing with other people who love to sing and sitting around chatting and laughing for long periods of time are two of my favorite activities ever, and being with people on this once-in-a-lifetime trip who enjoy this, too, make it all the more memorable.
I learned a new word today: Arabenese. Apparently, this is when Arabic-speaking teenagers write Arabic words using English letters. This word is important for me for two reasons. 1) I like new words, and 2) I learned it through a discussion with some Palestinian Christian educators today.
Brief recap of the morning . . .we began by heading to the Milk Grotto. No, wait. I began my journey today having poor Fr. Jim come knock on my door to make sure I was ready to leave. You know, since I have trouble with things like punctuality and all. But I was one of the first people on the bus; I think that should count for something. Anyway, the Milk Grotto is a less famous site in Bethelem. Honestly, at first I wasn't very interested in going. It just sounded like a strange legend to me. If you're unfamiliar as I was with the history behind the Milk Grotto, read this. Basically, Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus lived in a cave as did others 2000 years ago. The legend goes that while in this cave, when Mary was breastfeeding Jesus, some milk sprinkled on the ground. Apparently, the chalky substance which appeared is connected with over 1800 miracles to date, ranging from the birth of babies to previously infertile couples to cures for incurable cancers. I ended up really liking the Grotto; it is full of light, and it focuses on the Virgin Mary, who is so gentle and loving. I felt that gentleness and love there.
After the Grotto, we rushed off to the HCEF Center and finally got to meet some Palestinian teachers: the heart of our journey here. As in any new situation, my first feelings were those of nervousness and discomfort. I'm not at my best in large groups of unfamiliar people. However, it didn't take long for us to break up into groups, and JoAnne, Jerry, and I were paired with George and Nadia, both of whom teach high school English. I didn't know what to expect, and at first I just listened. George is an older gentleman, retired he says, but still teaching. He is definitely the type that likes to make trouble (in a fun way), if you know what I mean. There is a kind twinkle in his eye, and his use of language is phenomenal. Nadia appeared quiet at first, but then I realized she must be a lot like me: tentative in the beginning and then when comfortable, fun and chatty and passionate. She is also quite close in age to me, and based on her conversation, we share many similarities in our teaching styles. She also has great taste in shoes:) Nadia, too, marveled me with her command of English. I think I know two words of Arabic and a smattering of Spanish. I usually think of myself as well-educated and intelligent, but I was humbled to hear their ability in their second language.
I enjoyed our conversation quite a bit. It was probably more fruitful for me to converse with Nadia about teaching; we share more similar views. I did bring some of the Cincinnati diocesan standards for grades K-8 to share with her. Granted, I didn't know ahead of time that she and George teach high school, but that's life. I think one thing that struck me is that their biggest concerns as teachers are quite alike to my own: how to deal with student apathy and too much parent involvement. Another concern of theirs was the curriculum/books from which they have to teach. They both feel that the government-mandated curriculum is too simple for what their students should be learning. During our discussion, I also learned that their schools are structured so that the teacher moves from class to class; the students, even though they are in high school, always stay in the same room. I suppose that's why they feel so dependent on using their students' books alone; it would be too challenging to cart around all the extra things a stationary teacher can supply.
At the end of our meeting, JoAnne and I handed out our gifts. I gave Nadia the picture of the word "salaam" that the Meibers and Siewnys and John XXIII kids helped me with so much. I also gave her the bookmarks. She seemed very touched by them, moved enough to give me a hug. George, too, seemed to really like it, so to all of you who helped make that gift possible, I thank you from the fullness of my heart. I then offered George the contents of my blue duffel bag: the books I earned through volunteering at Scholastic Book Fairs, an assortment of pens, pencils, notebooks, erasers, and a backpack. Again, he seemed so touched. He said, "I think I will be the most popular teacher next year. All of the kids will be earning 90's so that they can earn some of these things."
Tears flood my eyes as I type this. I haven't really had time to process it yet as it happened so recently, but I can say that I am so humbled by their gratefulness for such simple items, such small gifts. It just seems wrong somehow that here are these talented, intelligent, passionate people speaking the same language I speak, in fact, knowing far more about language than I do, and having the need for such ordinary items. Inside, my heart whispers, "But you deserve so much more," and I feel ashamed at myself for all the things I "can't" do without. When I meet people such as these, I am again placed face-to-face with my own materialism, and wonder how I came to be this way when others, equal to, if not better than myself, give so much more with so much less.
As we left the school today, George promised to be at the dinner tonight, but Nadia could not be. She needed to be with her little kids. She did say she hoped to keep in touch, and I hope for this too. Her last words as our groups parted ways were, "Love to you!", and in response, I said, "And to you!"
Universalese . . .universal words with English letters.
Today is my birthday. I am 30 years old today. What kind of loving God laid out a path for me to celebrate such a milestone in Bethlehem, the place where Jesus, he who has given me new birth, was born a little child in a meager manger? All day I kept asking God, “Why?” I feel that there should be a deep spiritual meaning, some connection that I should be making; some obvious point God is trying to make with me. In answer, God seemed to impress upon me that this is a pure gift. There needs to be no deep reason for it, just the abundant, overflowing grace of a God who loves me so much has was willing to humble himself to become one of us.
Today was a whirlwind of holy sites. We began in Jericho and remembered the story of Zacheaus the tax collector, we remembered the Temptation of Jesus in the desert. We crossed over the Judean wilderness on our way up to Jerusalem and we caught our first glimpse of Jerusalem on our way to Bethlehem. Bethlehem was much closer to Jerusalem than I had imagined!
In Bethlehem we visited to Church of the Nativity and celebrated Mass in a small chapel. In his homily, Fr. Jim told us that the great miracle of Christmas was the great miracle of Easter, was the great miracle of the Eucharist that we were celebrating at that moment. Christ came to give himself to us. Here in Bethlehem (which means the House of Bread) was born our Savior and placed in a manger (which means ‘to eat’) so that He may become the Bread of Life for all. What a privilege to receive the very Bread of Life, the flesh and blood of my Savior, at the very spot He became flesh. This was a birthday gift I will never forget (beyond the camel ride Fr. Jim paid for).
The other blessing of the day was to begin to meet the wonderful Palestinian Christians in Bethlehem. The stories of Sacred Scripture seem so real for them. For me, they were always imagined stories that took place in a distant land. For these people, it happened in their neighborhood. I am awed by the apparent genuiness of their faith. The Story of Salvation is in their bones, it is a part of who they are. I think I am falling in love with Bethlehem. The place and the people.
At dinner tonight, after a wonderful beginning to our Holy Land Pilgrimage, Fr. Jim invited all of us to voice a prayer for something that touched us this day. The only prayer I could think to say was "I feel so overwhelmed and grateful!"
We began our day as pilgrims for centuries have begun their journey; pondering a mosaic map of Jerusalem on a church floor that is the oldest of its kind. It was laid out to be "Moses view" of the Holy Land, and pointed pilgrims en route through Madaba to the Holy Land taking the same route Moses took with the Israelites -- right to the top of Mt. Nebo and into the Holy Land. We were asked to reflect on those ancient footsteps of those who have gone before us on pilgrimage. What kind of "footsteps" do we want to leave? Their story is our story. I asked myself "What do I add to this great story?" The answer comes so simply, yet requires so much of me. I just want to do the will of God for my life. How overwhelmed and grateful I feel that part of God's plan for me includes this life changing experience.
We then traveled to the top of Mt. Nebo. I remember looking out of the bus window at the stark, dry desert, imagining the Israelites trudging through the rough hills in the heat of the day. I thought to myself, "I will never make fun of the Israelites for all of their grumbling and complaining again!"
As we reached the top of Mt. Nebo the desert gave way to the Promised Land. I had to pinch myself, as I imagined myself standing next to Moses after 40 years in the wilderness, finally witnessing the fulfillment of God's promise. I was overwhelmed and grateful. God keeps his promises - for Moses and the Israelites and for me in my life.
We celebrated Mass on Mt. Nebo. What a place to celebrate Jesus Christ’s sacrifice for us. There is a huge sculpture on Mt. Nebo of a serpent on a staff. This is a reference to the story in the Old Testament in which the Israelites were bitten by vipers. They were saved because God told Moses to put a serpent on a staff, to raise it up, and whoever gazed on the serpent would live. This is a foreshadowing of Christ who was raised up on the cross, those of us who have been bitten by sin need only to gaze up to Him for our salvation. This image was on my mind as Fr. Jim lifted the consecrated host.
From Mt. Nebo we traveled to the River Jordan, and the spot where Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist. My own Baptism was never so real for me. I was so overwhelmed and grateful. Here I was standing at the place Christ instituted the sacrament of Baptism, a sacrament I received 2000 years later. I knelt down by the river and poured the green, warm water over my head 3 times and prayed the words I have prayed a million times before. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." I don't think I will pray these words the same again. Overwhelmed and grateful.
We ended the day with a dip in the Dead Sea. There was nothing really spiritual about it, but it was a heck of a lot of fun! As we dived into the water and popped right up we all burst out laughing. We drew many a stare from the locals, but we didn't care.
The plan was for me to think about getting up around 6 a.m. this morning. For the first time in my life, I woke up early- at 3 a.m. I was able to hear the Muslim call to prayer at 4 a.m. before I fell asleep again at 5. Despite the wacky sleep pattern, I found it impossible to resist the excitement of the day; in fact, I think my anticipation of it contributed to my inability to sleep.
We began the day by viewing a mosaic that dates back to the sixth century. It is one of the earliest maps of the known world at that time, and it has over two million pieces. Then we traveled to Mt. Nebo, the place where Moses first looked over into the Promised Land of old. The landscape is overwhelming, powerful, and perhaps had it been not quite so touristy, I would have been able to feel the presence of God more readily. Regardless, it was an impressive sight.
Then, in the intense heat of the day (which reminded me tremendously of the heat of Amarillo in Palo Duro Canyon in the summer-very dry but relentless in intensity), we hiked around sections of the Jordan River, where two thousand years ago, Jesus was baptized. It was much smaller than I would have expected; I suppose my image of it has been very impacted by movies I've seen. It was a moving experience to dip my feet into its yellow green waters and share prayerful moments with everyone else.
Finally escaping the heat, we trailed via bus to the Dead Sea,which was MUCH more resort like than expected. Beautiful. I swirled my feet around in its salty, clear waters and watched others float on its surface.
On our way back to Madaba, we stopped by a mosaic store and learned some of the techniques for creating a picture of tiny stones. Of course, I was suckered into buying something;). We also observed a dog hanging out on the roof. He seemed both friendly and desirous of getting down, but we had no idea how to help him. Poor bugger.
My favorite part of the day had to be towards the end of it when we ventured over to our tour guide's house for tea and conversation. He has a gorgeous family- so generous and friendly-and an awesome dog that didn't bark. I'm definitely a fan of the no barking. Despite seeing the holy sites, which are truly breathtaking, I find what most reveals God's face to me is the people whom we meet, for it is in them that God feels most alive and present to me. I am grateful for the experience of being with people of God.
It's the night before we, the teachers, leave for our adventure. It's a time of checking, rechecking, and triple checking every thing we wrote down on our own lists to make certain that it's all there; it's all ready to tuck into our three or less bags. It's a time of calling or cramming in extra minutes with those we love; even though we'll be gone less than two weeks, it's always hard to bid goodbye for even a short time. It's a time, I think, for contemplating what it is we leave behind here and pondering what it is we'll gain there, and hoping we'll be open to the experience despite the nerves, the butterflies, fluttering around in our stomachs as we face the anticipated unknown. May God bless us and those we shall meet in that most ancient of lands:)
On July 5, 2010, sixteen pilgrims will embark on a mission trip and pilgrimage to the Holy Land. The pilgrimage is an education initiative organized by the Holy Land Christian Ecumenical Foundation (HCEF) and sponsored by the Archdiocese of Cincinnati Education and Mission Office. The coordinator of the pilgrimage is Nancy Hemminger, a long-time volunteer for HCEF and advocate of Holy Land Christians. The group of pilgrims includes a spiritual leader, current and former teachers from the Archdiocese of Cincinnati, a pastoral associate, a lay ecclesial minister for evangelization and catechesis and a photo journalist from the Catholic Telegraph who will document the trip.
Although each pilgrim will be on his or her own personal "journey" through the Holy Land, together they are part of a project called HOPE (HCEF Outreach to Palestinian Educators). Their purpose is to bring hope to the people and especially the children of Palestine by letting them know there are people outside of the walls that surround them who genuinely care for them. The pilgrim teachers will be working with Palestinian teachers, and together they will learn how to help one another by sharing helpful strategies to meet the individual needs of their students.
The HCEF HOPE Resource Room will have the necessary technology for American instructors to maintain online communication to support the Palestinian teachers once they are back in the U.S. The technology and books collected for the resource room were made possible by donations received from schools and families of the Archdiocese of Cincinnati.
Although some provisions have been made for equipping one resource room in the HCEF Ecumenical Center for Research and Development (ECRD), the ECRD is a long term project, still in the primary stages of development, requiring approximately $300,000 to complete. The mission of the ECRD is based on the HCEF mission to help the churches and people of the Holy Land enhance their role as agents for social justice and equity in all spheres of life at the community level and actively engage in local, regional, and international efforts to make the world a better place.
In appreciation for the donors who have been most instrumental in supporting the HOPE Resource Room, the pilgrimage and teacher training projects, a cross engraved with each of their names will be hung in solidarity with the Palestinian and Archdiocesan teachers at the HOPE Resource Room on Saturday, July 10, 2010.
1 Peter 3:14b-15 "Do not fear what they fear; do not be frightened. But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have."
The vision of HOPE (HCEF Outreach to Palestinian Educators) will soon become a reality. Thanks to University of Cincinnati instructors, Steve Kroeger and Stephanie Amsbary, for volunteering to provide the HOPE in-service for our Palestinian brothers and sisters. Another HOPE blessing is Fr. Jim Schutte and HOPE teacher pilgrims, who will join in solidarity with their Palestinian partner teachers as they learn from one another strategies that embrace the different needs of students. Special thanks to Brother Joe Kamis, Mike Gable, Jan Kennedy, Dr. Annie Bauer, and the hundreds of Archdiocese of Cincinnati children, who donated their pennies, nickels and dimes to provide the technology for the HOPE Resource Room. Thanks to the donors who generously believed in and supported HOPE and many thanks to all the pilgrims, who have carried backpacks full of books and materials for four years for the HOPE Resource Room. Most important, thank you to my husband, Dave, children and grandchildren for their loving support.