I saw a sign saying Manger Square as the coach parked inside it. The group and I made your way over to the Church entrance. The entrance to the church was very small indeed. It looked as though in the past the edges had been filled in to make it smaller.
As me and the group entered we were told that the part to the right of the high altar belonged to the Greek Orthodox Church and the part to the left belonged to the Armenian Church. Joined onto the building is a church belonging to Franciscan monks; it is known as the Church of St. Catherine. So you see that this important place of pilgrimage is actually owned and looked after by different groups of Christians. The Greek Orthodox priests all had beards and were dressed in long black robes; the Armenian priests had purple and cream coloured robes and the Franciscans wore simple brown habits. It was interesting to see the three different branches of the church each keeping to their own part of the building, and each worshipping in their own particular way.
One part I came across a shrine which represented a manger and in it there was what looked like a doll representing the figure of the baby Jesus; above it was a picture of Mary, the mother of Jesus. I have to say that this shrine itself did not impress me very much, but what did impress me was the sight of pilgrims kneeling before it in prayer. It was obvious to us that their devotion was very real and that it meant a great deal to them to be praying quietly in this place.
To the left of the High Altar there is an area known as the Chapel of the Kings. This chapel is to commemorate the coming of the three kings, the so-called Magi, who, according to the story in Matthew's Gospel, came to visit the newborn child. As I stood there, I thought about that story and the gifts the kings were said to have brought gold, frankincense and myrrh. I compared our comfortable journey by plane and coach, with their much harder journey, presumably by camel. They brought their gifts: what had I brought? In my heart I told myself that I must live better a life as my gift to him.
I left the Chapel of the Kings and made my way down a flight of steps into the Grotto of the Nativity. Here I found myself in a cave, and it was not too difficult to imagine this as a stable behind the inn. The floor has been covered with white marble and in a corner is set a Silver Star with 14 points. Engraved on it are the words in Latin, Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est -'Here Jesus Christ was born to the Virgin Mary'. Close by, on the north side of the cave, is what is believed to be the manger where the baby Jesus was laid.
Whether or not this was the true birthplace did not really matter to me. I was much more concerned about the important event which this place made me think about. Some pilgrims were clearly very moved indeed; some of them knelt down to kiss the star, others stood looking at it and we could see from the expressions on their faces that they were praying. My own thoughts were of the Christian belief about the event commemorated here: that God cared so much about the world that he came, as a child born in such humble circumstances, sharing completely our kind of life. The word 'Incarnation' came to mind God come among us in human flesh.
Of course the exact spot where the shepherds had their vision is not known, but tradition points to two sites, both to the east of Bethlehem. One is where a Greek Orthodox Church is built inside a cave and it has been there since the fifth century CE. The other is not far from here and has a church belonging to the Franciscans built on it. For me, the best way of recollecting the vision of the shepherds was simply to stand on the edge of Bethlehem and look eastwards to the grassy slopes. It was not difficult to imagine shepherds sitting around a little f ire, suddenly startled by a glorious vision of angels chanting 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased!' As I stood there, I gave thanks to God for the coming of Jesus with his message of love and peace.
Jerusalem
The other place of great importance to Christian pilgrims visiting the Holy Land is, of course, Jerusalem. Jesus must have known Jerusalem as a child; certainly I know he was in the city when he was 12 years old (see Luke: chapter 2, verses 41-51). After he began his preaching and teaching, he visited Jerusalem on a number of occasions, especially when a Jewish festival was being celebrated. The real importance of Jerusalem for the Christian, however, is that it was here that Jesus died and it was here that he rose from the dead, according to Christian belief.
The Story of Jerusalem
Jesus spent most of the three years of his ‘public ministry’ in Galilee, to the north of Israel. There came a day, however, when he set out for Jerusalem with his disciples. They, and many others, warned him against going because it was believed that his enemies in Jerusalem wanted to destroy him. Yet Jesus knew that he must go. When he reached Bethany, which is just outside the city, he borrowed a donkey and rode down the slopes of the Mount of Olives towards the city. Crowds gathered and shouted their welcome. Clearly the feeling in the crowd was that this was the Messiah, the one they believed God was sending to lead them into a new age of peace and prosperity.
He stopped on the slopes of the Mount and gazed over at the city; as he did so, he wept, saying, 'Would that even today, you knew the things that make for peace.' Somehow, he knew that in spite of the welcoming shouts, he would be rejected in the city.
When he reached the city, he went to the temple and caused a great stir by chasing out those who were selling animals for sacrifice. He told them that the temple was supposed to be a house of prayer, but they had made it a den of robbers!
All this happened at the beginning of the week. On the Thursday, since it was the Passover festival, Jesus met with his disciples to celebrate the Passover meal. Afterwards, they went out to the Garden of Gethsemane, at the foot of the Mount of Olives and there Jesus prayed that, if it was possible, he might be spared the suffering which lay ahead, for he knew that his enemies were about to act against him. Sure enough, while he was at prayer, they came to arrest him. He was taken before the Sanhedrin, the Chief Priest's court, and accused of speaking against God - the court called it 'blasphemy'. It was decided that he should die, but they would bring him before the Roman Governor, for he alone could order such an execution. The next morning, Pontius Pilate, the Governor, against his better judgement, agreed to the death sentence. Jesus was led away at about 9 o'clock on that Friday morning, to the place of execution, where he was nailed to a wooden cross and left to die.
By about 3 o'clock, it was all over; his body was taken down and laid in a tomb, with a stone rolled across the entrance. Early on Sunday morning, three women who went to the tomb found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. Later they reported to the disciples that they had a vision in which they were told that Jesus had risen from the dead. Some time after, Jesus appeared to a number of his friends and gradually they were all convinced that he really had conquered death. He made various appearances to them over a period of about 40 days, then, on the Mount of Olives, he told them he must return to his Father, God; so he ascended to Heaven and left his followers to carry on all that he had begun.
What I did in Jerusalem
I made my way up to where the little village of Bethany had been and pictured the excited crowds when Jesus borrowed a donkey and began his ride to the city. It was not difficult to imagine the shouts, 'Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!'
I walked along to the summit of the Mount of Olives, with its magnificent view of the old city. As I wended my way down the hillside I came to a beautiful little church called The Church of Dominus Fievit; 'dominus llevit'is Latin, meaning 'the Lord wept'. As I sat in this church, I could see, through the window behind the altar, the old city. I thought of Jesus weeping for the city in his time and I with fellow pilgrims the words of a prayer:
Lord Jesus Christ,
Today we share your tears for the cities of the world;
Still we have not loved the things that make for peace.
We weep for the divided cities:
Where brother fights with brother,
Where anger feeds on hatred,
Where prejudice blinds the eyes of compassion.
We weep for our cities and for ourselves;
We have not learned the things that make for peace.
Lord, turn tears to love,
And love to work.
Turn work to justice,
And all that makes for peace.
I carried on past the Garden of Gethsemane to which I would return later, across the narrow Kidron Valley and up into the city, through St. Stephen's Gate. Jesus probably would have entered by the Golden Gate, but it has been bricked up since the time of the Crusades. I made my way onto the Temple Mount, which is now a holy place for Muslims, with the magnificent Mosque of Omar 'the Dome of the Rock'. In Jesus' time, of course, the Jewish Temple, long since destroyed, stood here. My thoughts here were of Jesus striding into the temple courtyard after his triumphant ride to the city. Blazing with anger he showed his passion for justice as he chased out those who were exploiting the pilgrims who had come to worship.
At this point in the journey I thought it was necessary to have a prayer. This was the prayer I choose:
'Lord, give me the courage to stand out against evil when I see it rather than taking the easy way of looking in the other direction.'
I move now to the Thursday, the day of the Last Supper. No one is sure where exactly this took place but inevitably, earlier Christians wanted somewhere to commemorate this important event. This place is known as the Cenacle; it is a large upper room, reached by a steep, narrow light of stairs. It is just a large, empty room, with the roof supported by ornate pillars and certainly is -no older than the fourteenth century CE.
For me the event remembered there was more important than the place itself.
Certainly, this seemed much too grand a place: I imagined the upper room of the Last Supper as a much smaller place probably the upstairs room in a very humble home. Nevertheless, standing in this place one could picture a long table, with Jesus and the 12 disciples reclining around it, as was the custom. I could imagine the puzzled expressions on the disciples' faces as he talked about the bread being his body broken for them, and the wine as his blood shed for them; at this stage, they could not really understand what he meant.
Other memories that came to me were that Judas left the Last Supper to betray Jesus to his enemies, and that Jesus told Peter that before the cock crowed three times, he would deny knowing him. Remembering these incidents, I prayed, 'Lord, as I try to follow you, give me the courage never to betray or deny you, but to be your faithful followers, all our days. 'It would have been a great experience for me if I could have celebrated Holy Communion in this place, but I was told that no such services were allowed. As I left to go across to the Garden of Gethsemane I was very conscious of how Jesus must have felt as he made his way there, knowing that before the evening was over, he would be arrested.
By the garden there is a fine church it is called the Church of the Agony, because here Jesus agonised in prayer, asking God to spare the ordeal which lay ahead. The church is also referred to as the Church of All Nations because when it was built in 1924, many nations contributed to the cost. I prefer to remember it as the Church of the Agony, because of what happened here. This church, of course, is built over a much earlier one and the altar stands behind a large square of rough rock, believed to be where Jesus prayed. While I was there, a service for pilgrims was in progress. It became for me then a Church of All Nations, because so many nationalities were present that day; a group of German pilgrims burst into a song of praise to Christ and I found it all very moving indeed.
Out in the garden I came across two simple but very memorable sculptures: one portrays Jesus at prayer, the other shows him being arrested and led away by his enemies. I stood in front of each of these for some time, quietly thinking of what happened at this holy place-Jesus feeling so desperately alone, as he thought of what lay ahead, the tired disciples dozing off to sleep and Jesus saying to them, 'Could you not stay awake with me one hour? 'I found myself condemning them -how could they sleep at such a time? Then I was reminded of part of a meditation we had read before coming on this pilgrimage:
'Lord, the sleep of the disciples falls on our unwilling eyes too;
We often sleep while you agonise over the hungry of the world.
We sleep while you long for your suffering children to be
helped and comforted.'
And so I prayed, 'Lord, keep me awake and alive to your needs which I can help to meet in today's world.'
The Via Dolorosa (the way of the cross)
As I made my way once more across the narrow Kidron Valley and up into the old city, I tried to imagine myself as part of that sad procession as Jesus was led to the house of the High Priest.
Once I was in the narrow streets of the old city I followed the 'way of the Cross', the Via Dolorosa, which has been followed by Christian pilgrims for centuries. It is marked by 14 so-called the Stations of the Cross, i.e. places which mark events involving Jesus on his way to the place of crucifixion.
As I walked round the 14 Stations of the Cross I thought to myself ‘some of these stations are not mentioned in the bible’. I asked another member of the group and they said “Five of them do not, but depend rather on traditions, which have been passed down; these are the third, fourth, sixth, seventh and ninth”. This person was an real orthodox Christian and he told me something’s I never knew.
But let me tell you briefly about each of the stations. The first is the traditional place where the Roman fortress stood and it is thought that here Jesus was brought before Pontius Pilate and condemned. Now it is the playground of a Palestinian school! The second is under an arch on the Via Dolorosa, known as the Ecce Homo Arch. Here pilgrims remember Jesus being given the cross to carry.
The third station is outside a small chapel and marks the spot where tradition says Jesus fell for the first time under the weight of the cross.
The fourth station is by another little chapel and here the tradition is that Jesus met his mother as he carried the cross. The fifth is to remind pilgrims of the place where the soldiers forced a man, Simon from Cyrene, to carry the cross for Jesus.
The sixth is at a simple chapel where a woman, Veronica, is said to have wiped the sweat from the face of Jesus; the story continues that the handkerchief was permanently imprinted with the true image of his face.
The seventh is marked by a pillar which recalls Jesus' second fall as he stumbled on his way to crucifixion.
The eighth station is marked by a small cross engraved on the wall, with words in Greek which mean, 'Jesus Christ is the Victor'. This is to commemorate Jesus telling the women of Jerusalem, as they followed the sad procession that they should not weep for him.
The ninth is at the entrance to a church looked after by Ethiopian monks. This keeps alive the tradition that, once again, Jesus fell.
The rest of the stations are at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This is, for many Christians, the most holy place to which they can ever come. It is divided between six different Christian communities, so there are many different kinds of chapels inside.
The tenth station is observed either in the square outside the church, or just inside the door; this reminds pilgrims of Jesus being stripped of his garments before being Put on the cross.
The eleventh is reached by climbing stairs inside the church to where there are two little chapels. The first is known as the Latin Chapel of Calvary. Here pilgrims think of Jesus being nailed to the cross. There is a mosaic on the wall, which depicts that scene. Adjoining is the Greek Orthodox Chapel of Calvary, which marks the twelfth station: here is the traditional scene of the crucifixion.
The thirteenth station is found by going down the stairs again, to where there is a slab of marble, decorated with lamps hanging from the canopy above it. Some Christians commemorate the anointing of Jesus' body at this place.
The final station of the Cross-is at the Holy Sepulchre itself; this is like a little stone house in the middle of the church. It covers a tomb which the builders of the church, centuries ago, had carefully preserved from the rock which surrounded it. Here, many believe, is the tomb in which the body of Jesus was laid.
The narrow streets were busy almost like the busyness of Jesus’ time this made it much easier to imagine myself there. As that sad procession passed along, there would have been jostling crowds, the selling of wares, laughing and shouting, just as there was when I followed the route. It was much more than a fascinating walk: it was a spiritual experience, which I will never forget.
What I think about my Pilgrimage
It was the whole experience of walking the Via Dolorosa and reflecting on the last experiences of Jesus as he was led to his death, which made it all such an important pilgrimage. If I was were being completely honest I would have to say that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre did not impress me very much at all: the shrines of Calvary did not really speak to me of the stark scene I had in my mind from reading the Gospel accounts of the crucifixion.
What did impress me, however, was the devotion of fellow pilgrims - it was them and their prayers, which made all this so special. I offered prayers at each of the stations, but the thoughts and the prayer, which I remember most, were at the shrine of Calvary. I thought especially of Jesus' prayer on the cross 'Father, forgive them for they don't know what they are doing'. I read the words of a meditation:
‘Lord, to your disciples, that day at Calvary must have seemed all darkness and defeat: did it seem like that to you? Your hands, carpenter's hands, hands that touched the leper and blessed the child, were twisted and splintered as they drove in the nails. Your body, the temple of God, they stripped and stretched out like a bow. Did you long to protest your innocence? '? To cry out for justice.....?’
My prayer was,
'Jesus, as you could find it in your heart to forgive those who were the cause of your suffering, those who were taking your life from you, help me to forgive others for the wrongs done to me. Forgive me, too, for often I do not know what I do that offends you. May I be reassured that you tell me to go in peace, for my sins have been forgiven.'
And visiting the sepulchre reminded me very forcibly of the resurrection. But there were two other places I visited on my pilgrimage, which made me, reflect even more about the resurrection, and the memories of these places are most vivid in my mind. One of these is the Garden Tomb, which is a lovely spot outside the present walls of the old city. In the garden is a tomb cut out of the rock, with an entrance, which would have, been closed by rolling a large stone across it. This tomb certainly dates back to at least the first century CE. The British General Charles Gordon was in Jerusalem in 1883 when he saw, not far from the Damascus Gate, a little hill, which seemed to him to look like the shape of a skull. He immediately believed he had found the place where Jesus had been crucified, for it was called 'the place of the skull'. Since he also discovered that close to it lay this ancient tomb, he was even more convinced that he had found both the place of execution and the tomb of Jesus.
Someone told me before my visit, 'It is easier to pray at the Garden Tomb than it is at the Holy Sepulchre; I certainly found that to be true as I stood gazing at the empty tomb and thought quietly of Christ's victory over evil and death.
The other place associated with the resurrection of Jesus, which is most memorable to me, is in Galilee. As part of our pilgrimage I visited Galilee, which is in the north of Israel. Here Jesus spent most of the three years when he went around preaching and teaching. Close to the remains of Capernaum, a little town which was most familiar to him, there is a beautiful little church known as the Church of St. Peter, or 'the Chapel of the Primacy'.
It is built on a rock, which juts into the Sea of Galilee. Here, it is thought, the risen Jesus appeared to the disciples, and especially to Peter. As I stood outside this place, with the sound of the water lapping at the edge of the lake, one pilgrim read aloud the words from the Gospel According to St. John, chapter 21 verses 4-17, which tell of the risen Jesus appearing and talking to Peter. Again easier to visualise the scene beside the peaceful lake, and it was certainly easier to pray here.
Now that I am home and look back on my pilgrimage, I find that I am not just left with memories: the experiences of visiting and praying at these holy places have strengthened my faith and made me more determined to be better Christians. Certainly the pilgrimage for me was 'a journey of a lifetime', a truly spiritual experience.
THE END.