I didn't visit Israel as a pilgrim. But still - I grew up on Bible stories, so I wanted to visit the most holy places of pilgrimage - the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. I came with no particular expectations of being moved or delighted, but with an interest in how I would feel and whether what I saw would make sense in the context of those childhood stories.
Of course it didn't- why would it? Over two thousand years have passed; Bethlehem is a bustling city, and Jerusalem has been knocked down and rebuilt several times. The accuracy of the locations of the birthplace of Jesus and the site of his crucifixion are suspect. But as the Pope said about the Turin shroud "It's not whether it's true or not, it's how it makes you feel that counts" - well words to that effect anyway.
Sadly these most sacred places left me cold. Mainly because when we visited they were packed with tourists and pilgrims so that there was little opportunity to be still or contemplate. My rational self dominated; sitting in judgement on the people kissing the Star in the Grotto of the Nativity, or flinging themselves (sometimes in tears) on the Stone of Unction in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and then piling their plastic bags of souvenirs on top of it so that some of the holiness would be absorbed into them.
Walking the Stations of the Cross, particularly those located in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, was rather like trying to locate an artwork in a rugby scrum. The only moment that resonated with me was when we found the 7th station. This is located where there was a gate out of the city in the 1st century, and therefore supports the claim that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is the genuine location of Golgotha. That felt more real than any of the rest.
But I wasn't unmoved by all the expressions of devotion we encountered. When we visited the Church of St Anne in Jerusalem these pilgrims singing Ave Maria stopped me in my tracks.
Of course it didn't- why would it? Over two thousand years have passed; Bethlehem is a bustling city, and Jerusalem has been knocked down and rebuilt several times. The accuracy of the locations of the birthplace of Jesus and the site of his crucifixion are suspect. But as the Pope said about the Turin shroud "It's not whether it's true or not, it's how it makes you feel that counts" - well words to that effect anyway.
Sadly these most sacred places left me cold. Mainly because when we visited they were packed with tourists and pilgrims so that there was little opportunity to be still or contemplate. My rational self dominated; sitting in judgement on the people kissing the Star in the Grotto of the Nativity, or flinging themselves (sometimes in tears) on the Stone of Unction in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and then piling their plastic bags of souvenirs on top of it so that some of the holiness would be absorbed into them.
Walking the Stations of the Cross, particularly those located in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, was rather like trying to locate an artwork in a rugby scrum. The only moment that resonated with me was when we found the 7th station. This is located where there was a gate out of the city in the 1st century, and therefore supports the claim that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is the genuine location of Golgotha. That felt more real than any of the rest.
But I wasn't unmoved by all the expressions of devotion we encountered. When we visited the Church of St Anne in Jerusalem these pilgrims singing Ave Maria stopped me in my tracks.
Religious music, it seems, can overcome my rational self, especially, as I discovered when I visited Malawi, when the words are in a language I don't understand!
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