Day 7
Today we woke up early and headed into the old City of Jerusalem for a once in a lifetime treat. We got to celebrate our Mass today in the actual Church of the Holy Sepulchre! That’s right. You heard me correctly.
But even better than that, our guide, Mourad the self styled “Tall Shepherd”, somehow managed to pull some strings and our little pilgrim group celebrated Mass this morning inside the holiest site for Christians in the world. The Anastasis, (the actual tomb where Jesus was buried).
I don’t know anyone who has had that kind of opportunity. Man that Mourad sure knows how to make things happen. It’s like he’s the Godfather of Israel. We are hoping he can come to Rome with us on Saturday, cause he’d probably be able to get us an invite to dinner and a movie with Pope Francis.
Words cannot describe what it was like. All of us were completely overwhelmed. It really was a mixed bag of beautiful emotion, especially when we arrived and went to pay our respects and give thanks at the site of the Crucifixion.
That was moving enough. Then to go from there into the tomb by ourselves and celebrate the most intimate Mass I am ever likely to attend was just incredible.
There was a moment afterwards when I thought Don Mourad had really outdone himself and pulled off the big one and arranged for the “Second Coming” to happen just outside the Anastasis. But it was just this guy who likes to play dress up, and hang out in the alcoves near the Holy site hoping to convince naïve tourists that the rapture is imminent.
From there we did a tour of the rest of the Church before making our way through the old city to the Church of St. Anne, which is just a stone’s throw from the Lions’ Gate where St. Stephen was killed, (pardon the pun).
For those of you who don’t know, every year during Lent on Wednesdays and Fridays, and at the beginning of Easter on Good Friday, we Catholics undertake a devotion that commemorates Jesus Christ's last day on Earth as a man (which traditionally we observe as Good Friday). We call this devotion the “Stations of the Cross” of which there are fourteen, (each one focuses on a specific event of Jesus’ last day), beginning with his condemnation by Pontius Pilate, and ending with his burial in the tomb (where we celebrated our amazing Mass this morning). The Stations of the Cross are a sort of mini pilgrimage you usually do at your parish church. You move from station to station, (every Catholic Church in the world has a series of 14 small icons or images placed at different spots either around the walls, windows or outside in the church gardens), recalling and meditating on each specific event from Christ's last day until all 14 are complete. Now snaking it’s way through the old city is the actual path that Jesus walked on that last day and it is called the “Via Dolorosa”, and for us Catholics, it is the ultimate “Stations of the Cross”.
It was thought for a long time that the Church of St. Anne was the site of the first Station of the Cross, (where Pontius Pilate condemned Jesus). However, according to that dispeller of myths, Don Mourad the Tall Shepherd, Pontius Pilate condemned Jesus next door at the Islamic Al Omariyeh school. But the church is built on the site of the Pools of Bethesda (where Jesus cured the man who had been crippled for 38 years) and another of the houses where Mary was born, (which makes three so far if you include the one in the grotto at the Church of the Annunciation in Nazareth and the curious small bush near the ruins of Sepphoris (see day four’s post). The current church's acoustics are particularly suited to exercising the old vocal cords, so lots of singers, whether soloists or choirs, good or particularly nasty are drawn to the place like moths to a flame. So naturally Father Wim shoved us into the limelight for an impromptu rendition of that song with the chorus “AVE, (pronounced ar-vay) AVE, AVE MARIA”. However he was the only one with the lyrics at hand so during the verses he became the soloist while some of us sang a barely audible “rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb” and others merely lip synced (comically opening and closing their mouths like fish) before coming together as one to belt out a rousing chorus. We then quickly made our exit running pell-mell for the Via Dolorosa.
By the time we had got to about the sixth or seventh Station, we had lunch at Ravi Shawarma and Falaf Phil’s Takeaway. Traditionally, pilgrims move along the Via Dolorosa in procession carrying a large wooden cross and during lunch, some bright spark in our group thought it would be a great idea to carry our own cross to each station along the way. I personally wasn’t a fan as our cross is extremely heavy and difficult to bare. So I was relieved when it was decided to put it on a golf cart and send it on ahead of us.
One of our number, (who has been here before), has pretty bad hips and the walk through the old city was starting to take its toll. It took some persuading from Father Wim, (she didn’t want to miss out on anything she hadn’t experienced previously), to get her onto the golf cart as well and meet us at the bus.
At the end of our walk, Don Mourad did it again and organised for a special intimate audience with Archbishop Theodosios the Greek Orthodox Patriarch of Jerusalem! So in true homage to Fawlty Towers, and cognisant of his promise to the pilgrim already waiting for us at the bus, Father Wim instructed everyone to keep shtoom and “don’t mention the Greek”.
We made our way up to “Temple Mount” which is where you can see the iconic Muslim Mosque (the one with the giant gold dome) called “The Dome of the Rock”.
It occupies the site where the binding of Isaac by Abraham took place. It is built on the spot where the Temple of Jerusalem once stood and it is also the place where the prophet Muhammad was taken up to heaven. It was really peaceful walking round the grounds and lovely just to be there.
Then we went to the “Wailing Wall”.
When we got there, Don Mourad instructed us to wear our hats as it is offensive for your head not to be covered when you are at the wall. I had left my hat on the bus so on my way down there I asked one of the Jewish scholars where I could get one of the little hats they wear and he directed me to a structure in the middle of the walkway. I thanked him, went over and tentatively picked out a white cap that kinda looked like a really big coffee filter. I looked at him and said, “one of these?” He nodded and said, “yes, it’s a keeper.” So I donned the cap, went down to the wall, did what I needed to do and walked back up to the group. Father Wim noticed what I was wearing and asked, “you didn’t buy that did you?” “No” I said, “the guy down there told me it was a keeper.” Father Wim looked at me, shook his head and walked away saying, “he said Kippah!”
There is so much to see and do in this place that your senses literally go into overdrive. So it’s a good idea to find a quiet place and take some time out to reset. While waiting for the bus, I managed to do just that and smell the…well not roses…as I unfortunately chose to meditate at the aptly named “Dung Gate”, which fills the nostrils with an aroma that can be best described as, kind of funky.
Anyway, while I was sitting there Don Mourad pointed to a man rifling through a rubbish bin and told me that the poor fellow was once the richest man in Jerusalem. When I asked what happened to him? Don Mourad replied that he made a really bad business decision and opened the only car wash and panel beaters in Jerusalem.
When we got back to the hotel we headed straight to the bar for “Re-cappy Hour”, where we relaxed, enjoyed a drink together and reflected on the most unbelievable of days.
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