Holy Land Tour Part 4

(For the next several months this blog will contain memories,  reports, journals of international tours I have led or workshops I have conducted. They will include The Holy Land,  China, Finland et al. Each blog will contain a portion of the original reports.)

Holy Land Tour Part 4 

The Sea of Galilee

Now this was a surprise. We are all together in the boat. The Sea of Galilee is calm. We are about to leave the seashore at Tiberius. The boat crew hoists a flag: Old Glory. The recorded music blares out “The Star Spangled banner”. What can you say? I stood at attention, full of pride - and hopeful of peace

But the highlight came when we stopped in the middle of the Sea of Galilee. Ruth (as always - decked out in just the right attire) opened the Bible and with deep reverence and just the right intonation read the account of Jesus walking on the water and of Peter’s not completely successful effort to do the same.

My mind was flooded with reflections. Suppose it was I whom Jesus invited to take that walk. I decided Peter was a better man than I.

Outside Bethlehem

Angels We Have Heard On High

It was hard, very hard to really feel the presence of Christ or to recreate his walk along the Via de la Rosa - midst the shops, the noise and the solemn cross-bearing pilgrims. It got really tough to feel reverent at the Tomb of the Holy Sepulcher as warring denominations argue over who controls what portion of the floor, or door, or even tomb - while ornate brass lanterns give the whole scene and almost bazaar atmosphere.

But when we walked out of that cave on the hills of Bethlehem, when we sang, “Gloria in Excelsis”, I got it. I could see that angel and then the heavenly host. I could feel the rustle of angel wings. I could hear the announcement, I could get the impulse and say the words, “Come, let us go to Bethlehem to see this thing which the Lord has made known to us.” I was ready to go with haste - to the manger.

The Wailing Wall, The Holocaust, The Holocaust Children’s Museum

I combine these three for they all speak to me of a profound spiritual mystery: The Silence of God.

The Wailing Wall is a magnet. It draws to it Jewish people of all subgroups from the ultra-orthodox to the secular. It speaks of past glory, of great mourning for the temple which was destroyed, deep anger because of the Islamic Dome of the Rock now sitting above, of great hope for the restoration of hope for the ancient chosen people of God.

Access to the Wailing Wall, especially also for non-Jews, is not guaranteed. Some recent travelers had told me they had not been allowed to approach it. Issues regarding where non-Jews or inappropriately dressed people, or women kept surfacing.

So I was grateful when I knew we were going, men and women, just as long as men’s heads were covered and we stepped away from the wall before turning our backs to it.

 For obvious reasons security and access were carefully controlled. I fully understood why we went through the metal detectors, etc. The men and the women went to different sections, although we were in sight of each other.

I had expected more people, even though the entire area was crowded by an eclectic mass of people: Hassidic Jews, pilgrims from all over the world, Sri Lanka, Poland, Rwanda, Canada, Thailand, Russia and USA. About 20 feet from the wall scholars sat with their texts. Nearer the wall many bar mitzvahs were being celebrated by ecstatic young men with their fathers and male friends while mother and females “cheered them on” from beyond the barrier which separated men from women.

I wrote my simple prayer, approached the wall, placed my hands and head in reverent attention and placed my prayer between the cracks. I added a few more petitions, just reflected a few moments and then stepped back.

On one level it was only a ritual. On another level it was much more. (See below.)

I am glad we had time on our last day (and paid the extra $15.00 fee) to go to the Holocaust Museum. Nothing really new there. We all know the tragic history so well. But the presentation was so exquisitely well done, just the right tone, the architecture moving us along from the early stirrings of German patriotism to extreme nationalism, super-race belief, blind followers of clever politicians. Then came the prejudices, the faultfinding, the exclusion of “the other” and on to  (as we all know - and so movingly narrated by survivors) the pogroms, the Star of David, the trip to the concentration camps, to the ovens.

Who can possibly have this experience without deep moments of reflection, repentance, and resolution! And the realization that instead of “Never Again” we humans repeat the tragedy again and again: Mao Tze Tung, Cambodia, Rwanda, Darfur, Myanmar.

The Holocaust Children’s Museum overwhelms with its stark simplicity. Almost total darkness. Just illuminated with candles, one for each child victim. And a reading of the names and ages of the killed children, solemnly and slowly read - one, by one, by one...

In it all I experience the Silence of God. Where is God when the temple is destroyed and mad men throw children into ovens? My heart screams, “My God, my God, why has Thou forsaken us?” It is in these often deep periods of reflection that I find God; and God is not absent, but just beside me, and then I notice that God too is weeping. God’s tears mingle with mine and the many. God made the decision way before time began to give to human beings freedom of the will. They were not to be automats programmed to do only good. God gave us choice. So often we have chosen very, very poorly - and God weeps.

And sends a Redeemer to forgive, to point to better possibilities, to kindle more pious plans, to relight the candle of hope in the darkness - and finally, the darkness does not overcome it.