UPDATE — Pilgrimage to Understanding
JUNE 15—I spent a little time today re-arranging the blog so it now reads from beginning to end, rather than newest post first. If all goes well, within a week or two I will rework and reformat many of the posts and make this record of our journey available in pdf. Shalom, dk
Pilgrimage to Understanding
I'm leaving home for the month of May. It's a bad month to be away, but I didn't set the schedule when Charles Nienkirchen organized a Journey to Two Holy Lands. When I first heard about it last summer, I knew I had to go.
The first Holy Land we'll be traveling to is Ethiopia. I know that most of the people on this journey think of Ethiopia as the uttermost part of the earth, but to me this visit will be a homecoming of sorts. I was born and raised in that beautiful country, where my parents served as missionaries. I left a long time ago, 35 years ago to be more precise. I'm eager to see it again. We'll spend 10 days meeting people while exploring the country's religious heritage.
Our May trip then takes us to the more traditional Holy Lands in the Middle East, where we'll spend nearly three weeks seeing holy sites and learning from a wonderful assortment of knowledgeable instructors. We seek greater understanding of the places familiar from the Bible and the peoples who live there now.
I said it was a bad month to be away. That's because I'm leaving a ton of unfinished projects to my colleagues in the office. And I'm abandoning my wife, Margaret, for her both her birthday and Mother's Day. And May is when we usually move the yard work ahead. And, and, and ....
I'm grateful to my co-workers and family for supporting me on this pilgrimage to understanding. I'll be listening as carefully as I can, learning as much as I can absorb, discerning to the best of my ability and sharing the stories I discover on the way.
I'll be posting to this blog as frequently as two conditions are met. First, I'll need Internet access (not always a given). Second, I'll need something to say. Readers will be the judge of that.
The first Holy Land we'll be traveling to is Ethiopia. I know that most of the people on this journey think of Ethiopia as the uttermost part of the earth, but to me this visit will be a homecoming of sorts. I was born and raised in that beautiful country, where my parents served as missionaries. I left a long time ago, 35 years ago to be more precise. I'm eager to see it again. We'll spend 10 days meeting people while exploring the country's religious heritage.
Our May trip then takes us to the more traditional Holy Lands in the Middle East, where we'll spend nearly three weeks seeing holy sites and learning from a wonderful assortment of knowledgeable instructors. We seek greater understanding of the places familiar from the Bible and the peoples who live there now.
I said it was a bad month to be away. That's because I'm leaving a ton of unfinished projects to my colleagues in the office. And I'm abandoning my wife, Margaret, for her both her birthday and Mother's Day. And May is when we usually move the yard work ahead. And, and, and ....
I'm grateful to my co-workers and family for supporting me on this pilgrimage to understanding. I'll be listening as carefully as I can, learning as much as I can absorb, discerning to the best of my ability and sharing the stories I discover on the way.
I'll be posting to this blog as frequently as two conditions are met. First, I'll need Internet access (not always a given). Second, I'll need something to say. Readers will be the judge of that.
A will for the way
I'm still in Canada, but flight time is drawing near. Getting ready for a major journey has kindled action on some neglected tasks, including the update of our wills. It's funny to think about now, but the first time I got a will was back in 1985 when my young family was getting ready to go to Kenya. We never needed it. Our will lay unread in the dark recesses of a bank vault.
Still, travel abroad is a great catalyst to get things done. I don't really expect an updated will to be needed anytime soon, but a sense of prudence kicks in as I prepare to fly away. A desire to ensure that affairs are in order rises to the surface. Just in case scenarios come to the fore. Protection and care of those near and dear becomes an active priority. Travel of any sort carries certain risks. Travels in countries like Ethiopia add a degree of hazard. Travel in places like Israel and Jordan, especially at a time of heightened celebration (Israel turns 60 on May 15) introduces new layers of complexity.
So we do the prudent thing and make sure the will makes sense, even if it stays out of sight for decades. In just more than a month I'll be back home, hanging out with family and friends and getting reacquainted with my office. Soon enough it will be like I never went away.
Opportunities that suit a person like this journey fits me don't present themselves everyday. Then it takes a lot to make them actually happen. It has taken a lot. However, I've heard it said that where there's a will, there's a way. Maybe that's why.
Still, travel abroad is a great catalyst to get things done. I don't really expect an updated will to be needed anytime soon, but a sense of prudence kicks in as I prepare to fly away. A desire to ensure that affairs are in order rises to the surface. Just in case scenarios come to the fore. Protection and care of those near and dear becomes an active priority. Travel of any sort carries certain risks. Travels in countries like Ethiopia add a degree of hazard. Travel in places like Israel and Jordan, especially at a time of heightened celebration (Israel turns 60 on May 15) introduces new layers of complexity.
So we do the prudent thing and make sure the will makes sense, even if it stays out of sight for decades. In just more than a month I'll be back home, hanging out with family and friends and getting reacquainted with my office. Soon enough it will be like I never went away.
Opportunities that suit a person like this journey fits me don't present themselves everyday. Then it takes a lot to make them actually happen. It has taken a lot. However, I've heard it said that where there's a will, there's a way. Maybe that's why.
When is it?
MAY 1—We were bleary. Yep, that’s the best word to describe the group that landed in Addis Ababa in the wee hours of the morning May 1. What passes for “sleep” on an airliner is more like a geriatric fox trying to relax in its den—resting, yes, but with a wary ear attune to interruptions and a cranky hip that can’t quite get comfortable. Our first foray after getting visas and baggage (a fairly lengthy process) was for a bed to stretch out on and a pillow to lay our heads.
Jet lag and ordinary travel disorientation are more than enough to make us lose track of time. But even in our more alert moments, dates and times in this country are an enigma of their own. Ethiopia follows the Julian calendar, which means it runs seven years behind what most of the world observes. Ethiopians celebrated the millennium last September.
The Ethiopian month also features 13 months, not 12. One of them is very short.
Ethiopian time telling makes considerable good sense, except once again it’s different from the global 24-hour standard that begins the count at midnight. The Ethiopian day starts at dawn — what we call 6 a.m. That make it’s 6 o’clock at what we call noon, and the sun goes down around 12 o’clock (Ethiopian time that is).
None of these differences are too hard to figure out. The confusion comes when you’re not sure which system is being used.
Jet lag and ordinary travel disorientation are more than enough to make us lose track of time. But even in our more alert moments, dates and times in this country are an enigma of their own. Ethiopia follows the Julian calendar, which means it runs seven years behind what most of the world observes. Ethiopians celebrated the millennium last September.
The Ethiopian month also features 13 months, not 12. One of them is very short.
Ethiopian time telling makes considerable good sense, except once again it’s different from the global 24-hour standard that begins the count at midnight. The Ethiopian day starts at dawn — what we call 6 a.m. That make it’s 6 o’clock at what we call noon, and the sun goes down around 12 o’clock (Ethiopian time that is).
None of these differences are too hard to figure out. The confusion comes when you’re not sure which system is being used.
A few reasons for this long journey
This post comes from Heathrow Airport in London. One long leg of the flight from Calgary to Addis Ababa is behind us. An even longer leg lies ahead for this group of 25 tiring but still eager travelers. Why are we doing this? The reasons are many. Here are just a few.
1) Ethiopia is “the oldest Christian empire in the world.” We will walk some early pathways of Christian faith in Africa.
2) Ethiopia is a travelers delight. We will see magnificent mountains and great gorges, get to know some of the most beautiful people in the world and eat incredibly tasty dishes. We will drink bottled water only.
3) Ethiopia is the source of the Blue Nile River. We will sail on the vast inland lake that sends highland waters to Egypt, and visit a few of its 34 island monasteries.
4) We will experience some uncomfortable situations as we get a glimpse into the workings of a very poor country.
5) Our timing is wonderful. We arrive in Israel on Pentecost Sunday in time to worship at a holy site at the heart of the holy land.
6) More good timing. Our visit coincides with the 60th anniversary of the birth of the state of Israel. Certain to be interesting.
7) Our location is good too. The place we’ll be staying in Israel is in Jerusalem, on the road to Bethlehem. Here we will learn from many instructors representing a wide variety of opinions and experiences of contemporary life in the land where Jesus walked.
8) Other site visits too numerous to mention. Check back. There’s much to learn, and no doubt there will be many stories to tell.
1) Ethiopia is “the oldest Christian empire in the world.” We will walk some early pathways of Christian faith in Africa.
2) Ethiopia is a travelers delight. We will see magnificent mountains and great gorges, get to know some of the most beautiful people in the world and eat incredibly tasty dishes. We will drink bottled water only.
3) Ethiopia is the source of the Blue Nile River. We will sail on the vast inland lake that sends highland waters to Egypt, and visit a few of its 34 island monasteries.
4) We will experience some uncomfortable situations as we get a glimpse into the workings of a very poor country.
5) Our timing is wonderful. We arrive in Israel on Pentecost Sunday in time to worship at a holy site at the heart of the holy land.
6) More good timing. Our visit coincides with the 60th anniversary of the birth of the state of Israel. Certain to be interesting.
7) Our location is good too. The place we’ll be staying in Israel is in Jerusalem, on the road to Bethlehem. Here we will learn from many instructors representing a wide variety of opinions and experiences of contemporary life in the land where Jesus walked.
8) Other site visits too numerous to mention. Check back. There’s much to learn, and no doubt there will be many stories to tell.
Welcome to Bahir Dahr
MAY 2—Morning came early; very early. Everyone made it to breakfast at 5, and in the air on the way from Addis Ababa to Bahir Dahr shortly after 7. An hour later we stepped into a warmer climate and a buzz of weaverbirds building nests in an acacia tree. Bahir Dahr is on the shores of Lake Tana, the source of the Blue Nile River.
The Ethiopians call the river Abaya. It flows from the southern end of the lake for several miles. Then it spills over a spectacular waterfall and becomes a raging, untamable river that’s carved a deep gorge through the highlands. It doesn’t gentle until it reaches the Sudan border.
Two buses transported our group of 31 through a bustling city filled with tuk-tuks, buses, donkeys and people. On our drive to see the falls led down a rocky gravel road. We stopped on the way to watch a woman bake injera (the “bread” used to eat the Ethiopian national food). Crowds of children came to pose, smile and beg. People are poor.
We walked from our bus to the banks of the Blue Nile, were ferried across on small launch, and then walked a leisurely half hour (with plenty of children along the way) to overlook the waterfalls. A hydroelectric dam on the river has reduced the breadth of the falls. Previously, at the height of the rainy season, they stretched nearly 400 yards across. Our view was more modest but magnificent nonetheless.
The water gushing over these falls is the lifeblood of Egypt. Some 85 per cent of the water in the Nile originates in the highlands of Ethiopia. And it isn’t just the water that’s valuable. The soil carried in the runoff from Ethiopian fields yields a fertile deposit in Egypt.
Funny stories from a veteran tour guide
MAY 2—Firew is an experienced tour guide. A geographer by training, he is a very informative and much-in-demand host. He regales us with tidbits of cultural and historical interest, displaying broad general knowledge and a lively sense of humour.
Firew laughed as he told me how some members of a group of American tourists picked up the flat (crepe-like) injera and laid it on their laps as a napkin, not realizing it was their bread.
He also recalled a British tourist who neglected to close his bathroom door when he stepped into the shower. The water cut out while he was all soaped up. The poor fellow got soap in his eye and couldn’t see. He groped his naked way along until he got to what he thought was the bathroom door, but which took him into the corridor instead. Then, like a scene out of Mr. Bean, the door shut and he was locked in the hallway. Fortunately, it was Firew who found and rescued him.
Understanding what?
MAY 2—I’ve called this blog a pilgrimage to understanding. It’s a simple way of communicating a little bit of what we see and experience each day. But what are we trying to understand?
There is no short answer. We each have our personal agendas to process coupled with a student’s desire to know and understand more. I guess we think more knowledge and more experience may one day add up to more wisdom. May it be so.
I’m not the only one seeking to understand. I hear others talking. “What are you thinking?” one asks. “My thoughts are just kind of floating,” comes the reply. And what most of us are mostly thinking about is that we are very rich and privileged compared with the people we see. And we don’t know what to do about it.
We see a lot of enterprising spirit and many smiles. But we see great sadness too. We see rags and disease, bad shoes and bare feet, heavy loads and skinny cattle, squalid houses, dirty streets — living situations we could never countenance for ourselves. “Why do people shit where they work?”
We know that our small gifts and the best intentions of our kind hearts make scant difference in a place that needs so much more. This understanding thing is elusive, and the path of discovery very hard. Not trying to understand is worse.
There is no short answer. We each have our personal agendas to process coupled with a student’s desire to know and understand more. I guess we think more knowledge and more experience may one day add up to more wisdom. May it be so.
I’m not the only one seeking to understand. I hear others talking. “What are you thinking?” one asks. “My thoughts are just kind of floating,” comes the reply. And what most of us are mostly thinking about is that we are very rich and privileged compared with the people we see. And we don’t know what to do about it.
We see a lot of enterprising spirit and many smiles. But we see great sadness too. We see rags and disease, bad shoes and bare feet, heavy loads and skinny cattle, squalid houses, dirty streets — living situations we could never countenance for ourselves. “Why do people shit where they work?”
We know that our small gifts and the best intentions of our kind hearts make scant difference in a place that needs so much more. This understanding thing is elusive, and the path of discovery very hard. Not trying to understand is worse.
Turn your stomach
MAY 3—Several in the group are at war with their bodies. Or vice versa. Immodium is increasingly popular. Everyone carries his or her own small supply of toilet paper.
We are cautioned not to drink any unbottled water — “not even to brush your teeth!” We heed this warning. We are told not to eat any raw vegetables or too much of anything. We pay attention. We take precautions.
But these days we are strangers paying a visit to a different biosphere. Our stomachs are typically comfortable with what they know and uncomfortable with strange stuff. They have minds of their own and Africa has thousands of “bugs” our bodies don’t know what to do with. So they decide to expel the foreign bodies and are quite adept at keeping both ends busy. The process is unpleasant and horribly inconvenient.
It’s small comfort to know that this is “normal,” and that most people get over it fairly quickly and can enjoy the itinerary more fully again. Charles reminded us that our prayer for “daily bread” is also a prayer for strength — for everything that is necessary for us to live abundantly. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayers.
* Personal PS to my wife. I’m fine. No problems so far.
We are cautioned not to drink any unbottled water — “not even to brush your teeth!” We heed this warning. We are told not to eat any raw vegetables or too much of anything. We pay attention. We take precautions.
But these days we are strangers paying a visit to a different biosphere. Our stomachs are typically comfortable with what they know and uncomfortable with strange stuff. They have minds of their own and Africa has thousands of “bugs” our bodies don’t know what to do with. So they decide to expel the foreign bodies and are quite adept at keeping both ends busy. The process is unpleasant and horribly inconvenient.
It’s small comfort to know that this is “normal,” and that most people get over it fairly quickly and can enjoy the itinerary more fully again. Charles reminded us that our prayer for “daily bread” is also a prayer for strength — for everything that is necessary for us to live abundantly. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayers.
* Personal PS to my wife. I’m fine. No problems so far.
A day on Lake Tana
MAY 3—We boarded a boat on Lake Tana and chugged pleasantly to the end of long peninsula to visit a 16th century monastery dedicated to Saint Mary. The walk from the dock up the hill to the major compound was a little bit muddy and a lot rocky.
For me, personally, it evoked powerful memories of my own childhood experiences trekking in various places in Ethiopia. There are places where footpaths matter so much more than highways.
Which is altogether fitting for the “down ancient paths” journey we are traveling. We are in a place where it seems time stood still. The monks lean on their prayer sticks. The children beg.
We enter the monastery compound and prepare to enter the circular church (see next entry about etiquette). The church comprises three concentric circles. The smallest circle the holy of holies, where none but the priests can enter. The doors to the centre are immense and made of hard juniper wood and covered with paintings.
Indeed, virtually the entire outer wall is filled with iconic paintings depicting stories from the Bible and other sources recognized in the Ethiopian Orthodox tradition. This particular monastery once served as a school of painting. That began at the end of the 16th century, when an Ethiopian queen invited some Italians to teach new methods to the local artists.
These paintings were the primary means of teaching the Christian story in an illiterate society. They are greatly venerated; they are not worshiped.
The monastery and church function as an engine of community. They must be self-sustaining and they serve others. This one now grows coffee and has its own elementary school. The tourist industry is the next frontier. Souvenir stands are popping up and a big Coca Cola sign offers a welcome.
We returned to the boat to continue our trip across the large lake. Pelicans abound. A couple hours of cruising brought us to Narga Island, which features a church built in the 16th century. The construction is heavily influenced by the Portuguese, who at various time is history have been welcome (and unwelcome) in Ethiopia. It is surrounded by fortress walls and built with stone and mortar, rather than wood and mud plaster.
Narga Selassie is one of 34 monasteries found on 20 of Lake Tana’s 37 islands. It is the Church of the Trinity, although some of the iconography on its walls would be unwelcome in most Christian traditions because they depict the Holy Trinity as three identical and equal persons.
The priests were very hospitable. After we toured the church they showed us some precious treasures. First they displayed a couple of large ceremonial crosses finely rendered in silver and gold. Then they showed us a lectionary manuscript from the late 16th century, written with charcoal ink on goatskin with bright illuminations of select passages.
I’m writing this on Saturday, May 3, on the rear deck of the launch as we work our way across Lake Tana. (I have no idea when I’ll find a proper Internet connection to post it. Hopefully this evening.) We have another 90 minutes on the lake and then another 90 minutes (65 kilometres in a bus) to Gondar.
House rules
MAY 3—It’s always important to mind your manners, especially when you are a visitor in someone else’s culture. Today we got a lesson in this and no doubt can expect a few more along the way.
Hats came off when we came into the church compound at Kidane Mariam. We removed our shoes before entering the church. These were the house rules, and we understand they are there for a reason. We needed to in some small way prepare our bodies to be on holy ground. Inside we were asked not to chew gum or candy, or even to sip from our drinking bottles. The church is a place for spiritual feeding. Other needs are distractions.
Community standards of etiquette are stringently enforced in many cultures. Western societies allow individuals a lot more latitude. We also have a tendency to assume others think as we do (or, at least, they ought to). Some of the rules we encounter in other cultures make little or no sense to us.
That doesn’t really matter, at least not at the introductory stage. Anytime we desire to establish a positive relationship, it’s important to be sensitive to the rules of the house and behave accordingly. If we are truly seeking to understand, we must for a time put away our own inclinations and begin to enter the world of the other.
Hats came off when we came into the church compound at Kidane Mariam. We removed our shoes before entering the church. These were the house rules, and we understand they are there for a reason. We needed to in some small way prepare our bodies to be on holy ground. Inside we were asked not to chew gum or candy, or even to sip from our drinking bottles. The church is a place for spiritual feeding. Other needs are distractions.
Community standards of etiquette are stringently enforced in many cultures. Western societies allow individuals a lot more latitude. We also have a tendency to assume others think as we do (or, at least, they ought to). Some of the rules we encounter in other cultures make little or no sense to us.
That doesn’t really matter, at least not at the introductory stage. Anytime we desire to establish a positive relationship, it’s important to be sensitive to the rules of the house and behave accordingly. If we are truly seeking to understand, we must for a time put away our own inclinations and begin to enter the world of the other.
A personal aside
MAY 4—It rained hard last night, loud and long. Snuggled in my warm bed the sound was strangely comforting. It blended with the resonating prayers of Ethiopian Orthodox priests chanting through the night. This too was warm and comforting. The outside morning air was thick with the pungent smell of damp earth and wood smoke. It’s been 35 years since I last experienced these sounds and smells. They were still deeply familiar. My body still knows what my mind hasn’t bothered to recollect.
Still on the nostalgia tour, I cannot overlook the donkeys. How sweet it is to see streets filled with donkeys both laden and free. These beasts of burden are a huge boon to the poor farmers of Ethiopia. Apparently there are eight million in the country. Only China has more.
Still on the nostalgia tour, I cannot overlook the donkeys. How sweet it is to see streets filled with donkeys both laden and free. These beasts of burden are a huge boon to the poor farmers of Ethiopia. Apparently there are eight million in the country. Only China has more.
Medieval palaces
MAY 4—Imagine the ruins of fantastic medieval castles in the highlands of northern Ethiopia. Better yet, visit them. We did. Built 500 years ago, the architectural style is a unique blend of Portuguese, Egyptian and Indian influences. It was the height of luxurious living in 16th century Ethiopia.King Faisal built the original palace. He chose Gondar as his capital after Ethiopian control was restored in a region previously overrun by Muslim armies. His father had invited the Portuguese to help oust the Muslim invaders. The Portuguese contingent came from Goa in India, bringing Indians along with them. Christopher da Gama, Vasco da Gama’s brother, was killed in one of the battles, but the Muslims were ultimately defeated.
This Christian success, however, created another crisis. Next on the Portuguese agenda was to convert the Ethiopian Orthodox to Roman Catholicism. The local populace fiercely resisted this. Eventually, Faisal assumed the reins of power, kicked out the foreigners and established his kingdom on a hill.
Succeeding kings built more palaces within the same compound, allowing the extended family of the previous king to stay in their homes. Today the palaces lie in ruins, but they remain magnificent.
Angels on the ceiling
MAY 4—The faces of a thousand angels peer from the ceiling of the Debre Birhan Selassie church. As we meditated inside the sanctuary of the oldest church in Ethiopia, we sensed the eyes of the heavens upon our souls. We felt the nearness of the spiritual world that the activities of daily living so often obscure. In this place, the presence of both God and devil — good and evil — were deeply evident.
The church itself is fascinating. It’s a rectangular stone construction modeled after ancient King Solomon’s temple and originally conceived as a resting place for the Ark of the Covenant (long story). Stone walls surround the church. The inner one features 12 towers representing the apostles, and a main gate honouring Jesus Christ.
Impure people (see the Old Testament book of Leviticus for a good idea of what impure means) are welcome only in the outer area. A separate building on the compound is for infant baptism. A woman who gives childbirth is still impure until the baby is baptized.
The interior of the church is filled with paintings depicting both biblical and extra-biblical scenes. One currently controversial painting tucked quietly in a dark corner would likely provoke a hate crimes trial in North America. It shows the prophet Mohammed on a camel being led by the devil.
There may be angels on the ceiling, but the devil is in the details.
Falasha village
MAY 4—Judaism has a long history in Ethiopia. It reaches far back as the time of King Solomon in Israel, who was famously visited by none other than the Queen of Sheba. Their child was named Menelik. The former monarchy of Ethiopia traced their lineage all the way back to him.
Early traders also introduced Jewish practices into the country, and in the early Middle Ages a Judaistic tribe led by Queen Yodit, the “fire lady,” took political control of the country. They remained a significant factor for centuries, although their influence declined.
In recent centuries the “Falasha” were considered outcast. Still, they continued to observe an ancient form of Judaism, which took on a great deal of local character as well. They are not Jewish by blood or DNA; they were early converts and faithful practitioners.
In the 1980s Israel recognized the persecuted Falasha of Ethiopia as Jews and mounted Operation Moses, bringing thousands to live in Israel. Today there are virtually none left in the country. But their arts and crafts survive, manufactured and peddled to tourists like us by their nearest former neighbours.
Flight to Lalibela
May 5—Early breakfast and another bus ride through crowded Gondar to the airport where we eventually passed through several levels of security and boarded a turbo-prop airplane for a 35-minute flight to Lalibela. We should be grateful we didn’t have to drive through the rugged mountains and deep valleys.
The bus ride from the airport to town is memorable on its own. The road climbs steeply through small villages and rocky plots of land. Farmers use the rocks that seem to sprout like weeds in the fields to terrace the hillside. It seems like a lot of work with rather discouraging results. But this is toward the end of the dry season.
And then we reach Lalibela. Rough roads wind through the villages that turn into a town, twisting up and down the slopes until we reach a new section with a paving stone road leading to hotels and tourist stores. We find our hotel and take a break for lunch, a brief rest to prepare for an afternoon of sightseeing.
The bus ride from the airport to town is memorable on its own. The road climbs steeply through small villages and rocky plots of land. Farmers use the rocks that seem to sprout like weeds in the fields to terrace the hillside. It seems like a lot of work with rather discouraging results. But this is toward the end of the dry season.
And then we reach Lalibela. Rough roads wind through the villages that turn into a town, twisting up and down the slopes until we reach a new section with a paving stone road leading to hotels and tourist stores. We find our hotel and take a break for lunch, a brief rest to prepare for an afternoon of sightseeing.
Rock-hewn churches
May 5—The rock-hewn churches of Lalibela are a true marvel of the ancient world. They were not “constructed,” they were “excavated”—carved laboriously into the mountainside. King Lalibela commissioned them in the 12th century, about the same time St. Francis of Assisi was active in Italy. The churches bear the marks of chisels, but most details about the planning and excavation methods remain a mystery. It took 24 years to complete them.
Before becoming king, Lalibela lived in Israel for 12 years. Then when he returned to power in Ethiopia he wanted to create a New Jerusalem, which is why names like Bethlehem, Jordan River and Sinai (and many more) mark places in the Lalibela area. He developed a pilgrimage site to represent Jerusalem in Ethiopia. Even now the churches remain functional and active. Many pilgrims visit annually and hermits abound in the area.
This blog cannot begin to recount the details of the six churches we visited this afternoon. Inside these ancient stones with cross-carved windows, priests displayed their treasures—800-year-old gold crosses, some with interesting stories of their own. Only a few of the churches had paintings. One, Golgotha, is the burial place of King Lalibela.
The jewel in the crown, separated a short distance from the others in this overall grouping of six, is Bet Giorgis, a church dedicated to St. George. It was the last one built. The entire “excavation” is in the shape of a cross, literally cut down into the hard rock of the mountain. Today its walls bear yellow hues of lichen. Inside is King Lalibela’s treasure chest.
One of the students in our group approached the priest in Bet Giorgis to ask how long he had served in this place. The man spoke no English; the student spoke no Amharic. An Ethiopian visitor stepped in to interpret. “Thirty-one years, 16 as head priest” the priest eventually replied. “It feels like two days,” he added, as a wide smile spread across his face.
The churches of Lalibela really must be seen to be believed. Handmade in Ethiopia, eh? Eight hundred years ago? More and more people are seeing and believing. The tourism industry in Ethiopia got a big boost when Lalibela was featured on The Amazing Race television program.
Beyond and above
May 6—Lalibela is remote. Balbila, a bustling village 30 rugged mountain kilometres north, is even more remote. And we kept going, winding through tortuous mountain trails, climbing steep hillsides, pushing deeper and deeper into the heart of the high country. The scenery was absolutely breathtaking. The place looked uninhabitable.
And yet, people by the thousands live on these slopes, eking out a precarious living as farmers. Who could imagine they could stand on that incline, let alone till the soil with oxen. Throughout the countryside the crack of the farmers’ whips resounded as pairs of oxen pulled single furrow ploughs up and down, back and forth, leaving a heaping hint of opportunity for a crop ahead.
We were on our way to visit an ancient church (Yimrahana Kristos) and palace built in a cave. We parked at a small village and hiked 15 steep uphill minutes in the thin highland air before arriving at a large cave sheltered by ancient junipers. A wall encased the entrance.
We removed our shoes to enter through the narrow gateway. Inside the floor is covered with hay. Three stone and wood buildings stand in the gloom of the cave compound—a “palace,” a storehouse and a church. Behind the church in a special enclosure is the tomb of King Yimrahana who made the construction in 1180 A.D. He is one of three Ethiopian kings who have been sainted; each left a legacy of church-building.
The walk to the church and back again is lined with people begging, each seemingly more desperate than the last. On the way up I determined that I would choose one to give to on the way back down. It seems a rational strategy. I gave a few birr (Ethiopian dollars) to a worn out woman and a small child. She is grateful.
Closer down to the village, a two-year-old girl ran forward, grabbed the little finger on my right hand and walked with me. Labourers working on a sidewalk laughed at her effrontery, but she stuck with me. I released her with a blessing and walked along. She came running around to the other side, took my left pinkie and walked further with me. I felt blessed. The workers were greatly amused. Eventually, I asked for a photo. She obliged. Her mother came and picked her up. She cried over her mother’s shoulder as they continued on their way.
More rock churches
May 6—In the afternoon we visited a second group of five churches in the town of Lalibela. Once again we walked through trenches cut into hard rock and encountered a variety of worship sits chiseled from the living stone. My own thoughts resonate with the conclusions of 16th century Portuguese traveler Francesco Alvares.
He wrote: “I am weary of writing more about these buildings, because it seems to me that I shall not be believed if I write more, and because regarding what I have already written they may blame me for untruth, therefore I swear by God, in Whose power I am, that all that is written is the truth, and there is much more than what I have written, and I have left it that they may not tax me with falsehood.”
Ancient Axum
May 7—The Simien mountains in northern Ethiopia are high and rugged. In these mountains Ethiopian armies soundly defeated Italian colonial troops in the historic Battle of Adua. That was in 1896. That victory solidified Ethiopia’s prestigious status as the only African country never to be the colony of a European power.
The drive through the mountains is magnificent, but too time-consuming for most contemporary travelers, including us. We flew over them and landed at a modern airport in the ancient highland town of Axum, the historic centre of Ethiopian civilization. Today it is a bustling town with a rapidly expanding tourist trade.
It is best known for a park full of great steles (obelisks), which mark the graves of kings who ruled before the time of Christ. The tallest of these monoliths (carved from single pieces of hard rock) once stood more than 100 feet high, much larger than any Egyptian obelisk. Today it lies broken on the ground. Another, about 80 feet high, was looted by invading Italians in 1937. They bowed to pressure and returned it in 2004. It is being re-erected. The tallest obelisk rises majestically 75 feet into the air amidst a grove of lesser steles.
Beginning in 270 AD, the ancient Axumites began producing coin currency. After Christianity arrived in the region about 340, Axum imprinted coins with a cross, the first official currency ever to feature the Christian symbol.
The hills around Axum are rife with rocks. Stone walls mark the borders between properties; farmers plough stony fields and build rock houses. The rock foundations of an ancient palace (purported to belong to the Queen Sheba) demonstrate the reality of an advanced civilization in the area hundreds of years before Christ. According to various sources, including the Bible, the Queen of Sheba visited Solomon. Ethiopian traditions maintain that the first king of Ethiopia, Menelik I, is their son. And that he brought the Ark of the Covenant from Jerusalem to Axum.
Indeed, Ethiopian Orthodox believe that the Ark of the Covenant is still here, in a vault below the Church of St. Mary of Tsion. Only the guardian of the ark is permitted ever to see it. It is his life calling. We visited the church and read Scripture about the construction of the ark. We did not see the guardian; we did not see the ark.
Ethiopia is full of surprises. A new museum on church properties showcases antique monarchial robes and crowns, magnificent priestly vestments, well-rendered icons, immense processional crosses of gold and silver, old liturgical manuscripts and much more. Ethiopia is full of treasures.
A lesson in religious devotion
MAY 9—A pilgrimage to understanding takes people out of their comfort zones and demands them to experience the situation of another. This can be very difficult for religious people who deeply believe that the ways we know are the only ones worth following. Not many Canadian Christians have attended a religious celebration to commemorate the birth of St. Mary. Even fewer have participated in the liturgies of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church on that day. We did. The venue was Lideta Mariam, a large church in Addis Ababa. Not only were we welcome to be there; we were treated like VIPs. We worked our way through large crowds to reserve seating in the front row.
And what did we see? Lots of colour and lots of religious devotion. We saw great numbers of people seeking the solace of the church. They came to confess sins and give praise to God. They came to be inspired and encouraged. They came to pray and to celebrate. They came to give tithes, and to seek blessing. They came to worship.
A highlight of the ceremony occurred when priests came out of the church carrying Tabot under brightly colored cloths. The Tabot are replicas of the tablets on which Moses presented the 10 Commandments. Every Ethiopian Orthodox Church keeps a set in the Holy of Holies, only bringing them out on special days. They are to Ethiopians what the Ark of the Covenant became to the Children of Israel — a representation of the glory and presence of God.
Amidst music and chanting, people surged forward to follow the Tabot. The crowd swelled as the procession continued. When it completed three trips around the church, a group of young religious students stepped forward to dance with great energy. With their prayer sticks they symbolically represented the Passion of Christ, and with their songs gave thanks to Mary for being the God-bearer.
Pentecost Sunday in Jerusalem
May 11—The cab driver was not happy with the way things are happening in the Middle East. “This is the holy land," he said. "The land and the rocks and the trees are holy. But the people," he continued, “are not holy.”
But many of them try very hard. Our group had the good fortune to arrive in Jerusalem on Pentecost Sunday. And we had the further good fortune to come to the small chapel in Old Jerusalem where Jesus’ early followers gathered to wait and pray after He ascended into heaven; where in the upper room the Holy Spirit fell upon them with power and they rushed into the streets speaking in many languages. And many were saved.
The chapel where this is said to have happened is often open to pilgrims, but services are conducted there only three times a year. The smaller “fire chamber” just upstairs is only infrequently open. We were able to be there to participate in one of the services and to pray in the upper room.
The service was conducted in Latin and led by Franciscans. We sang many Alleluias and prayed along with the monks and priests. It was crowded with many devout worshipers from all over the world. Several were pulled at random to read a prayer out loud, each in their own language. An Ambrose University student, Daniel, was selected to read the English portion.
After the service we went into the upper room to meditate and pray. We did not rush into the streets with new language abilities, but we came away deeply enriched by yet another touching experience with yet another part of the Body of Christ. People all over the world seek authentic encounter with God and yearn for holiness.
Oh, Jerusalem
MAY 12—Today was an orientation day. In addition to a lecture on Islam from a Muslim scholar, we travelled as a group to three sites in Jerusalem. Father Michael McGarry of the Tantur Ecumenical Institute provided expert historical and cultural commentary as he pointed out salient features of the cityscape.
We learned, among many other things, that Jerusalem now has a population of 750,000. About one third of them are Arab, and they live predominantly in East Jerusalem. The remaining two-thirds of the people living in the city are Jewish.
We gazed at the old city of Jerusalem from our vantage on the Mount of Olives, looking down to the spot where Jesus wept for the city of Jerusalem. A group of Orthodox Jews mourned at a gravesite.
We also visited Bethany (Arabic: al-Azariyya), read the story of the death of Lazarus from the Bible and descended into the tomb from which Jesus called him forth. A lovely chapel on the site commemorates the place where Jesus liked to spend time with friends. Although this is very close to the Mount of Olives, the drive was long because a security barrier separates the Arabs from the Jews. Oh Jerusalem.
Layers upon layers
MAY 13—We rose for breakfast at 5:30 in order to be at the entrance to the Western Wall Tunnels by 7:00. This is the nearest that Jewish worshippers can get to the “Foundation Stone,” the traditional site from which the world was created. It became the site of the Holy of Holies, the centre of Jewish pilgrimage and worship until the Romans destroyed the temple in 70 A.D.
Recent excavations have created a tunnel that runs the 488-metre length of the Western Wall of the “Temple Mount,” the special platform built by King Herod to level out the top of the mountain and erect the temple. Today, the Muslim Dome of the Rock mosque stands in the place where the temple once stood. Without a doubt, this is the most hotly disputed piece of real estate in the world.
The tunnel runs under Arab homes just outside the Western Wall; it does not go under the Temple Mount. And what a world exists down there. Succeeding generations have built and modified homes and worship centres. Invader after invader has destroyed, occupied and re-constructed. Layer after layer of old city and ancient quarrel are gradually being revealed.
In one section we were able to walk on paving stones set by King Herod, which means that these are indeed the very stones that the people of Jesus time set foot upon. “To walk where Jesus walked,” as the old refrain puts it, is not as simple as it seems. Many of the places Jesus really did walk are several layers down.
The tunnel exits near the Franciscan Convent of the Flagellation. Two beautiful chapels in a lovely courtyard were built many years ago to remember the condemnation of Jesus by Pilate and the scourging he received. It is the beginning of the Via Dolorosa, the road (with 14 memorable stations) that Jesus followed bearing His cross to His death.
We visited several of the stations on the way, seeing and praying in exquisite little chapels, each with a story of its own.
The way ends at Golgotha, today covered by the sprawling Church of the Holy Sepulcher (or Church of the Resurrection). According to various traditions, within this very space Jesus was crucified, prepared for burial and laid to rest. Half a dozen Christian orders (Catholics, Orthodox, Coptic) have been squabbling over jurisdiction of the holy site for centuries. There methods of accommodation are both ingenious and comical, and much too elaborate to detail here.
Pilgrims crowd through the rooms, chapels and spaces. Many stop to kiss the “Stone of Anointment,” a stone slab where Jesus body was prepared for burial. The holiest site is the tomb itself. However, the lineup was much too long to allow our group to enter that place. And, it must be said, later in the itinerary we will visit the Garden Tomb, which is the place most evangelical Protestants consider the burial place of Jesus Christ. Both, we're told, are empty.
Nothing in Jerusalem is easy.
Food, miracles and faith
MAY 13—When we piled of the bus to begin a long day of touring, we each grabbed a sack lunch out of a picnic cooler and hurried off to follow the guide. We had places to go and things to see. A few hours later I was eagerly looking forward to our lunch break. A long morning of walking, standing, listening and learning can certainly build up an appetite.
At the appointed hour we scattered into small groups and dispersed into a warren of shops and churches. I joined a few friends at a coffee shop, ordered a big mug and watched the others unpack their bags of pita with cheese and ham, a hardboiled egg, cucumber and fruit. Looking great.
But when I opened my bag, disappointment set in. It was full of little packets of mustard, which obviously should have been distributed among the group. Mustard. Only mustard. It’s a great condiment, but a lousy meal.
We laughed at the situation, and then the miracle began to happen. One friend shared her pita and cucumber. Another couple, who had ordered some food from the coffee shop, unexpectedly received two plates of fries and gave one to me. When two other members of our group wandered by, I happily offered them mustard. They accepted. And, by chance, one of them was carrying an extra lunch no one had claimed from the cooler. My lunch, I guess.
As I returned to my table and shared the most recent episode in the case of the multiplying food, someone asked me to share the secret of this miracle. “It’s simple,” I replied. “It just takes faith … faith like a grain of mustard seed.
At the appointed hour we scattered into small groups and dispersed into a warren of shops and churches. I joined a few friends at a coffee shop, ordered a big mug and watched the others unpack their bags of pita with cheese and ham, a hardboiled egg, cucumber and fruit. Looking great.
But when I opened my bag, disappointment set in. It was full of little packets of mustard, which obviously should have been distributed among the group. Mustard. Only mustard. It’s a great condiment, but a lousy meal.
We laughed at the situation, and then the miracle began to happen. One friend shared her pita and cucumber. Another couple, who had ordered some food from the coffee shop, unexpectedly received two plates of fries and gave one to me. When two other members of our group wandered by, I happily offered them mustard. They accepted. And, by chance, one of them was carrying an extra lunch no one had claimed from the cooler. My lunch, I guess.
As I returned to my table and shared the most recent episode in the case of the multiplying food, someone asked me to share the secret of this miracle. “It’s simple,” I replied. “It just takes faith … faith like a grain of mustard seed.
A little time with Father Tom
MAY 13—Father Thomas F. Stransky is a Paulist priest who has worked very hard for a long time to build unity among Christians. He is a former rector of the Tantur Ecumenical Institute (1987-1999) and a long time resident of the Middle East. Tom is also very articulate and amiable—just the kind of man you’d like to spend an evening with. Lucky us. We got to.
Tom helped us to understand why life in this part of the world is particularly complicated and volatile. He compared it to a magnifying glass that concentrates the sun’s rays with enough intensity to start a fire. The Middle East has long had that kind of impact on world affairs.
“We’re dealing with long histories here,” he began. “When people refer to Iraq, they still talk about Persians as if Darius were about to appear on the horizon.” There are more than 3,000 years of history to deal with.
“The past is always present and it inhibits imagination for the future,” he explained. “We have piled up the past.” Long histories of strife are rarely forgotten. Whenever people begin to set aside the past and build creatively and cooperatively for the future, someone will say: “But remember.”
If history is a problem, so is space. The place is simply too small for all the peoples who lay claim to it. Things are built on top of one another. Encroachment is a way of life. Huge controversies erupt over orchards, property lines, water rights and a host of other space-oriented issues.
A third complicating factor is power. Power in this area is rarely exercised for what is actually in this place. Rather, it is to protect something somewhere else. The British, for example, wanted Palestine in order to protect the Suez Canal. Nebuchadnezzar was interested in the area as a staging point to attack Egypt and a buffer against it.
Each of these dynamics contributes to the complexity of life in Israel and its neighbourhood these days. And we can easily add a fourth: religion. It is the birthplace of the three Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam) and a holy land for all. This adds tremendous passion to an already combustible blend.
Father Tom had us look over the small valley to the town of Bethlehem, standing stoic behind a concrete barrier—a tall wall—just a short distance away. It has a long history. No one disputes the fact that this town has existed for 3,000 years.
And, Tom observed, “it’s the only place in the world with an uninterrupted Christian presence since the time of Christ.” Not even Jerusalem can make that claim. The Church of the Nativity in the heart of Bethlehem is the oldest Christian church in the world. And it’s not a relic. It is still a worshipping congregation—“a living church,” he said.
Tom helped us to understand why life in this part of the world is particularly complicated and volatile. He compared it to a magnifying glass that concentrates the sun’s rays with enough intensity to start a fire. The Middle East has long had that kind of impact on world affairs.
“We’re dealing with long histories here,” he began. “When people refer to Iraq, they still talk about Persians as if Darius were about to appear on the horizon.” There are more than 3,000 years of history to deal with.
“The past is always present and it inhibits imagination for the future,” he explained. “We have piled up the past.” Long histories of strife are rarely forgotten. Whenever people begin to set aside the past and build creatively and cooperatively for the future, someone will say: “But remember.”
If history is a problem, so is space. The place is simply too small for all the peoples who lay claim to it. Things are built on top of one another. Encroachment is a way of life. Huge controversies erupt over orchards, property lines, water rights and a host of other space-oriented issues.
A third complicating factor is power. Power in this area is rarely exercised for what is actually in this place. Rather, it is to protect something somewhere else. The British, for example, wanted Palestine in order to protect the Suez Canal. Nebuchadnezzar was interested in the area as a staging point to attack Egypt and a buffer against it.
Each of these dynamics contributes to the complexity of life in Israel and its neighbourhood these days. And we can easily add a fourth: religion. It is the birthplace of the three Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam) and a holy land for all. This adds tremendous passion to an already combustible blend.
Father Tom had us look over the small valley to the town of Bethlehem, standing stoic behind a concrete barrier—a tall wall—just a short distance away. It has a long history. No one disputes the fact that this town has existed for 3,000 years.
And, Tom observed, “it’s the only place in the world with an uninterrupted Christian presence since the time of Christ.” Not even Jerusalem can make that claim. The Church of the Nativity in the heart of Bethlehem is the oldest Christian church in the world. And it’s not a relic. It is still a worshipping congregation—“a living church,” he said.
City of David
MAY 14—After the death of Saul, David became king of Israel. The politics of power in his time were as tortured as they are today. So when it came time to establish his capital city, he made a very astute move when he chose Jerusalem. At that time, the city was home to the Jebusites, not to any of the 12 tribes. So David avoided potential charges of favoritism.
At the time, the city was not built at the top of the hill where the temple later stood and where so much brouhaha continues to this day. It was down a little way, right near a spring. As always, water is an enormous factor in living choices, especially in such a dry and thirsty land.
We were able to see remains and ruins of a several generations of cities on the spot. Here was a Jebusite tower built to cover and guard the water source and a tunnel cut through bedrock to allow access to the spring. There a remainder of the wall built by Nehemiah. Here the possibility of a palace room. There a circular stone with a hole: the oldest toilet in Jerusalem.
Later generations of Israelite kings made improvements to the fortifications of the city and protection of its water source. A long tunnel channeling water from the spring to the city was built during the reign of King Hezekiah in 701 B.C. It winds its constricted way through nearly 600 metres of bedrock, emerging in pool well inside the old city walls.
It’s a must experience for visitors to Jerusalem. We walked through the narrow, unlit passage in water above our knees. At times the ceiling was very low; towards the end it soared quite high. With flashlights off, the darkness is complete. Singing resounds beautifully through the thin corridor. Anyone with claustrophobia is well-advised to take a pass on this 25-minute underground adventure.
At the time, the city was not built at the top of the hill where the temple later stood and where so much brouhaha continues to this day. It was down a little way, right near a spring. As always, water is an enormous factor in living choices, especially in such a dry and thirsty land.
We were able to see remains and ruins of a several generations of cities on the spot. Here was a Jebusite tower built to cover and guard the water source and a tunnel cut through bedrock to allow access to the spring. There a remainder of the wall built by Nehemiah. Here the possibility of a palace room. There a circular stone with a hole: the oldest toilet in Jerusalem.
Later generations of Israelite kings made improvements to the fortifications of the city and protection of its water source. A long tunnel channeling water from the spring to the city was built during the reign of King Hezekiah in 701 B.C. It winds its constricted way through nearly 600 metres of bedrock, emerging in pool well inside the old city walls.
It’s a must experience for visitors to Jerusalem. We walked through the narrow, unlit passage in water above our knees. At times the ceiling was very low; towards the end it soared quite high. With flashlights off, the darkness is complete. Singing resounds beautifully through the thin corridor. Anyone with claustrophobia is well-advised to take a pass on this 25-minute underground adventure.
At the base of the Temple Mount
MAY 14—An archaeological museum at the western and southern base of the Temple Mount provides physical evidence of countless conflicts that have wracked this region of millennia.
Of special interest is a pile of huge rocks left in a jumble after the Romans destroyed the temple and the city in 70 A.D. It was a scene Jesus had predicted. “When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, he said ‘As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down’” (Luke 21:5,6).
A little further up the mountain along the western wall is an open plaza where Jews from all over the world come to gather and to pray. Signs advise visitors that this is a place “where the divine presence always rests.” It is certainly a place of great devotion, where prayer is fervent and Scripture reading sincere. Minute cracks in the walls are stuffed with papers detailing the petitions of those who seek the presence and power of God Almighty.
"There was a man sent from God ..."
May 15—This morning we immersed ourselves in the world of John the Baptist. He is a fascinating figure, the forerunner of the Messiah, and a much more prominent person in his lifetime than Jesus Christ. We visited two churches in Ein Kerem where he is especially remembered.
One is built on a site that many believe was the home of Zechariah and Elizabeth (his parents). A small grotto in the lower part may even have been his birthplace. Certainly it is remembered as such.
A short ways away is the Church of the Visitation, where a delightful statue of Mary and Elizabeth together graces the courtyard. One wall is covered with ceramic tiles bearing the words of the Magnificat in 42 languages.
Not far away, a very recent archeological excavation on a kibbutz uncovered the “Cave of John the Baptist.”
Down the Mount of Olives
MAY 16—The Mount of Olives is a real place that is mentioned frequently in the Bible. Many references in the New Testament indicate that Jesus often came to the place. It seems to be a favorite, and no wonder. It commands a wonderful view of where the temple stood in Jerusalem. It’s very close to the action, yet somehow creates a bit of distance. It’s just the sort of place where Jesus liked to be.But he didn’t hang around there forever. In fact, we began our time on the Mount of Olives at the top—and at the end. This is the place, according to Scripture, where Jesus ascended into heaven, leaving his baffled yet strangely comforted followers below. We entered a mosque, which centuries ago was the cupola of a church, to see an ancient rock with an indentation. Tradition maintains that this is the footprint left by Jesus when he disappeared into the heavens.
A short way down the hill is gorgeous church run by Carmelite sisters called the Pater Noster. It marks the site where, according to long tradition, Jesus taught his disciples to pray. The Lord’s Prayer is displayed in mosaic forms in many different languages from throughout the world. It appears over and over again in a beautiful garden, along graceful corridors and within the sanctuary. And while site is commemorative, it is also a living church—a place of continuous prayer.
A little further down the hill is a beautiful chapel called Dominus Flavet—The Lord Wept. The church is constructed to resemble a teardrop, and it is said to be the place where Jesus wept for his beloved Jerusalem (Luke 19:41-44). A fine mosaic on the altar pictures a mother hen protecting her chicks, the wonderful image that Jesus used to describe his love for the holy city (Matthew 23:37-39).
Further down the slope toward the Valley of Kidron we found the Garden of Gethsemane. Another beautiful church with alabaster windows creates a sanctuary on the spot amidst a grove of ancient olive trees. Again, beautiful sculptures and mosaics help to communicate something of the deep agony Jesus experienced on the night he was betrayed.
Not only did Judas betray Jesus; Peter also denied him. Across the valley on Mount Zion stands Saint Peter in Gallicantu (“the cock crows”). The church complex is filled with colourful mosaics and icons, including one that shows Jesus looking at Peter as the rooster crows, and another showing the resurrected Jesus renewing his trust in Jesus.
Christian memory also associates this place with memories of Jesus imprisonment while waiting to appear before Caiphas and Peter’s penitent tears after his denial of Jesus. Deep pits below the church were used as cisterns and dungeons.
Tourists, students and pilgrims
MAY 18—Casual readers of this blog can easily get the idea that we are a group of tourists. This is partly true. The sheer number of sites we’re visiting is overwhelming. Each day brings a new agenda of places to go and things to see. We meet a few people too, but this itinerary is not oriented toward relationship. Nor is it vacation. It is primarily educational, and partly pilgrimage.
What do I mean by that? The educational component is straightforward. We listen to lectures from resident experts and visit many historic sites. We did a lot of background reading before we came. Many on the trip are students who will receive university course credit (once they satisfactorily complete their papers, of course). There is much to learn. We are being exposed to a considerable amount of information and we trust that our brains are absorbing important facts and ideas.
But this Journey to Two Holy Lands is much more than a study trip. For many of us it’s a journey of the heart as well. It is a religious venture. It is an expedition of personal discovery. It’s an opportunity to be in places where pilgrims go, to worship in various locations in ways that are new to us. We seek greater context for familiar texts. Many of us also aspire to fresh encounters with the living God.
Can we properly embrace this pilgrim spirit in the brief minutes between bus rides and information dumps? Can a few precious moments in the nave of a church or the quiet of a garden satisfy the searching soul? Can the rich resonance of pilgrim prayers pierce beneath the tourist’s veneer and touch the heart with the things of God? Will sacred texts come startlingly alive in the very places they describe?
The answer is “sometimes.” Sometimes in the midst of a busy day in a noisy place the calming Spirit of God touches deep within. Sometimes the words of the Bible explode with new meaning. Sometimes the beauty of the art and the devotion of the caretakers of holy sites impress a sense of deep significance for those with eyes to see and ears to hear.
Tourists, it’s often said, pass quickly through places. But places and peoples pass slowly through pilgrims.
For me this venture is billed a pilgrimage to understanding. I want to learn as much as I reasonably can about the geography, history, politics and culture of these places. But that’s not enough. I also want a greater appreciation of the places and the people, and I nurture an ardent desire to experience more fully the glory and the power of the living God.
What do I mean by that? The educational component is straightforward. We listen to lectures from resident experts and visit many historic sites. We did a lot of background reading before we came. Many on the trip are students who will receive university course credit (once they satisfactorily complete their papers, of course). There is much to learn. We are being exposed to a considerable amount of information and we trust that our brains are absorbing important facts and ideas.
But this Journey to Two Holy Lands is much more than a study trip. For many of us it’s a journey of the heart as well. It is a religious venture. It is an expedition of personal discovery. It’s an opportunity to be in places where pilgrims go, to worship in various locations in ways that are new to us. We seek greater context for familiar texts. Many of us also aspire to fresh encounters with the living God.
Can we properly embrace this pilgrim spirit in the brief minutes between bus rides and information dumps? Can a few precious moments in the nave of a church or the quiet of a garden satisfy the searching soul? Can the rich resonance of pilgrim prayers pierce beneath the tourist’s veneer and touch the heart with the things of God? Will sacred texts come startlingly alive in the very places they describe?
The answer is “sometimes.” Sometimes in the midst of a busy day in a noisy place the calming Spirit of God touches deep within. Sometimes the words of the Bible explode with new meaning. Sometimes the beauty of the art and the devotion of the caretakers of holy sites impress a sense of deep significance for those with eyes to see and ears to hear.
Tourists, it’s often said, pass quickly through places. But places and peoples pass slowly through pilgrims.
For me this venture is billed a pilgrimage to understanding. I want to learn as much as I reasonably can about the geography, history, politics and culture of these places. But that’s not enough. I also want a greater appreciation of the places and the people, and I nurture an ardent desire to experience more fully the glory and the power of the living God.
Church of the Nativity
MAY 19—If there is an “A” list of sites to see in the Holy Land, the birthplace of Jesus is right at the top. Everybody goes there. We paid our visit today.
Manger Square stands at a highpoint in the little town of Bethlehem. “Little” in this case means 30,000-40,000 residents, 70 per cent of whom are Muslim and the remaining 30 per cent Christian. It used to be the other way around; those percentages have flipped in the past few decades. (I’ll write a short piece about the disappearing Christians of the Middle East later on the journey.)
The Church of the Nativity is the focal point of Manger Square. Actually, there are a couple of churches and a convent and a monastery (nothing is simple). The church is administered according to very detailed sets of regulations by the Greek Orthodox, Armenian and Latin (Roman Catholic) churches. (It’s actually more complicated.)
One reaches the presumed birthplace of Jesus through a small door (low lintel to obstruct aggressors), which opens into a large room with a very high ceiling. Ancient Byzantine mosaics are preserved in some areas of the floor. Further ahead a sanctuary strung with crosses and censers. Icons and gilding abound.
Pilgrims (or tour groups) from all over the world crowd through a small doorway and down into a grotto to be at the place where Christ was born. A silver star, much kissed and caressed, marks the spot.
People have different reactions to this place. For some, the experience is overwhelming. They burst into tears, or feel shivers of glory, or …. They want the moment to last forever. Some feel nothing but the press of the crowd and the closeness of the quarters. They want out.
Understanding more (and less)
MAY 19—One of my primary goals for this trip is to cultivate a better understanding of the social, cultural and political circumstances of the Middle East. That certainly is happening. But the key word is “better.” Real understanding requires a lot more than a trip can provide; a lot more than a whole lifetime, for that matter.
Certain phrases are often repeated because they express a particular truth. Some of these overused statements are forever arising in my mind these days. “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing,” for example. Or, “the more you know, the more you realize that you don’t yet know.” True, so true, so frustratingly true.
I’ve heard a few new ones that also describe the Holy Lands today. Today I was told, “If you’re not confused, you don’t understand the situation.” Our guide then shared another: “Stay a week, write a book. Stay a month, write an article. Stay a year, write nothing.”
Well, I’m in the area for a little less than three weeks and halfway through my visit I’ve already produced an avalanche of words. What’s written on this blog is accurate as far as it goes. But it does a very poor job of communicating the stupendous complexity that various races, religions, branches of religions, historical understandings, landscapes, nationalisms, ethnicities and a host of other factors contribute to life in and around Jerusalem.
And I haven’t even begun to talk about politics. I won’t start that conversation in this place just yet, but the political situation here is beyond understanding.
So, what are we coming to understand? We understand better than we did the grip that this land has on the people who inhabit it or simply use it. It’s somehow special. We have a better idea of how power is used by those who currently wield it. This happens at the micro-level in the conduct of priests at shrines and churches; at the large-scale level in the way the West Bank is being settled.
We have more knowledge than we used to about certain Bible characters and the land they lived on. Today we saw the village of Tekoa, once home to a shepherd named Amos, a prophet, whose oracles we read in the Old Testament. Today there is an Arab village of Tekoa, and nearby some new Jewish settlements that bear the same name.
At Shepherds’ Field in Beit Sahour (just west of Bethlehem) I gained a richer understanding of the social status of those who announced the birth of Jesus (despised, impure, illiterate). And it helped to see the lay of the land, to learn how they kept sheep in caves and to survey the hill they had to climb in order to see the baby born in Bethlehem. They’re steep.
Yes, our understanding is improving in myriad miniscule ways like this. But I’m fairly convinced there are no real experts on the Middle East. These lands have baffled the best of minds since the very foundation of the world.
Remembering horror, evil and death
MAY 20—Our senses and spirits were assaulted today. A visit to the Holocaust Museum (Yad Vashem) will do that to you. This spare but unsparing chronicle of the stupendous atrocity against Jews in World War 2 is intended to horrify. It’s an effort to proclaim to the world: “Never again.”Presented unabashedly from Jewish viewpoint, the museum leads visitors through a chronological and thematic record of events from the Nazi rise to power, through the darkest years of the Holocaust and into the brighter promise of a homeland for the Jews.
The longest and hardest part is the bruising voyage into the heart of darkness as images, artifacts and survivor testimonies document the brutality and terror of the worst years. Grainy black and white movies show great cruelty in dreadful action—bodies bulldozed into mass graves or corralled into gas chambers. We witness the death industry in high gear.
We see the faces of the desperate, including children. We see skeletal bodies being put through brutal paces and hard work. We walk on a glass floor over a sobering collection of thousands of shoes. Survivors recount stories too horrible to imagine. We hear of the neglect of the rest of the world, which one observer described as “the icy Arctic indifference of nations.”
We also see instances of the kindness of strangers, of non-Jews who helped at great risk to themselves. They are honoured. But they were too few and far between.
Liberation did come—eventually. By then 6,000,000 Jews were dead and those who remained faced insurmountable difficulties. The museum leads visitors inexorably to the conclusion that an independent Jewish nation state is the only way to solve the problem of the Jews. It came to pass. The refining fire helped to forge the national identity that formed the state of Israel 60 years ago.
Moonset and sunrise
MAY 21—Morning came early, at about 4:30 a.m. to be more precise. Why? To satisfy an urge to stand on the Mount of Olives while the sun's early rays light up the Old City of Jerusalem and gleam off the Dome of the Rock on the Temple Mount. Very enlightening.
Temple Mount
MAY 21—The most hotly disputed piece of real estate in the world is in Jerusalem. Suffused with historic and spiritual significance for more than 3,000 years, Mount Moriah is the holiest site in the holiest city in the world.
It is the place where Abraham came to sacrifice his son, Isaac. It’s the place where Muslim prophet Muhammad was transported to heaven in a night vision. It’s the place, many Christians believe, where Jesus Christ will return in his full glory—the Second Coming. Muslims, Christians and Jews all expect the Messiah to make a spectacular entrance to earth on Mount Moriah.
Many years ago, a level plaza was constructed on the summit of this holy mountain in order to build a mighty worship centre, what the prophet Isaiah called a house for all nations. The platform is called the Temple Mount.
Solomon’s temple stood at this place. The Babylonians destroyed this magnificent destination for pilgrims and worshipers in 586 BC. The Jews rebuilt it 70 years later when they returned to the city.
Shortly before the time of Jesus, Herod the Great built a magnificent temple renowned for its splendor. But it too was destroyed, this time by the Romans in 68 AD.
About 700 years later Islam became the dominant religion in the region and the Dome of the Rock has stood on the Temple Mount ever since.
In the holiest of places in the holiest of cities in the holiest of lands, religious passions run very deep. Zealots of all three Abrahamic religions have threatened the peace in this place. Any provocation to the status quo erupts into humungous religious and social unrest. Tread carefully on the Temple Mount. It is at the very heart of the conflicts in the Middle East; it is the key to any solutions.
“Death gives freedom to our souls”
MAY 22—Masada is many things. It is a place, a rugged freestanding mountain near the very bottom of the world. Herod the Great built a winter palace here, a place to stay warm and stay safe in the cool Judean winter. It was a bastion of comfort and security for a paranoid ruler.
Less than 100 years later, it was the last rebel stronghold. In recent generations it has served as a rallying cry to Jewish nation-builders.
Masada’s walls rise steeply from the floor of the ancient Dead Sea, a mountain carved by the powerful floods so it stands alone from the surrounding highlands.
Masada has long been a name on the map. It took the first century historian Josephus to propel it into the popular imagination with his dramatic account of the great battle there (The Jewish Wars). When the Jews revolted against Roman rule in 66 AD, Rome moved to crush them. The Romans utterly destroyed Jerusalem and scattered its peoples throughout the earth.
Some fled to the wilderness. Rome pursued. They retreated to the impregnable Masada. But some 8,000 troops of the Roman 10th Legion, led by Flavius Silva, laid siege to the mountain. They built base camps around the wall and set about the hot and tedious task of building a ramp up the western escarpment in order to bring a battering ram into position to crash a gate.
In the early 1980s, Hollywood produced a blockbuster movie picturing the epic confrontation of a determined zealot leader and an equally determined Roman commander.
The story ends tragically. Roman might inevitably prevails, but before the Legion can finally enter the fortress and finish the job, the Jewish defenders kill their families and themselves. “Death gives freedom to our souls,” said Zealot leader Eleazer Ben Yair. “Better to die, than to live a slave.” All but two women and five children died, according to Josephus.
In the past century Masada has become a strong symbol for Zionism. As Jewish people emerged from the shadow of the Holocaust into the dangers of establishing a nation in the midst of hostile enemies, this story from the past provided potent inspiration to fight to the end. The people of Israel still feel beleaguered and surrounded by enemies who wish to drive them into the sea. Masada speaks powerfully to them.
Just call me Bob
MAY 22—The Dead Sea is a strange and wonderful and terrible place. It’s very hot down in the Dead Sea valley. The water looks very inviting. And it is. But, be careful. Do NOT get any in your eyes. Don’t shave for a day or two before taking a dip. The water is incredibly salty and buoyant. You cannot sink. Anybody can float.
Qumran and the Dead Sea Scrolls
MAY 22—For about two centuries around the time of Christ, a religious community committed to purity and Scripture practiced an austere form of spirituality and created libraries in the barren landscape in the hills near the northwestern shore of the Dead Sea.
They were dispersed in 68 AD after the Romans cracked down on the Great Revolt of the Jews. But they managed to stash many of their scrolls into jars and tucked them away in many of the caves that dot the hills of the Judean desert.
The scrolls, which came to light in the late 1940s and 1950s, were remarkably well preserved in the arid climate. Subsequent scholarship has shown the Dead Sea Scrolls to be a remarkable find, containing books of the Old Testament, the Apocrypha and the sect’s own works.
Weekend in Jordan
MAY 25—This is a short post about a long weekend. I could write about the many miles we traveled in a bus, or about the process of crossing the border from Israel to Jordan (and back again), or about the long and late meals we enjoyed along the way, or about the fine hotel we stayed in Madaba, or …. I could write about a host of things, but I won’t. Instead, I’ll touch on a few highlights.
Highlight number one was Bethany Beyond the Jordan. This is the site where Jesus was baptized with John the Baptist, where the Holy Spirit descended upon him with a voice proclaiming Him to be the beloved Son of God. It’s the place from which He was driven into the wilderness. And wilderness it is—hot and inhospitable, dry, dusty, barren and foreboding.
It’s also the place where Elijah was taken up to heaven in a chariot of fire. Elijah, John and Jesus converge in this place on the banks of the Jordan River. Powerful.
Mount Nebo was next. This is reputed to be the mountain where Moses stood to take in a panoramic view of the Promised Land he would never enter himself. And what a view it is. Below us are the plains of Moab (Jordan Valley). We can see the Dead Sea, the Jordan River and the city of Jericho. Beyond the valley are the mountains rising to Jerusalem. On a clear day the Holy City is visible, perhaps even the Mediterranean beyond.
Nebo is near Madaba, the city of mosaics. A Greek Orthodox Church in the heart of the city contains the oldest known map of the Middle East, a floor mosaic dating back to the 6th century.
Not far away are the remains of another mountaintop fortress built by Herod the Great. This one fell to the Romans a few years before Masada. It too commands a remarkable view of the Dead Sea and Jordan Valley, and was situated to protect the trade route up the historic King’s Highway linking Egypt to Mesopotamia and beyond.
On Saturday we headed north, past the capital city of Amman to the Roman Decapolis city of Jerash. Along the way we crossed the Jabok River, the place where Jacob had a midlife crisis moment, wrestled with an angel and emerged with a new name—Israel—and the fortitude to face his brother, Esau.
Jerash is phenomenal. The large site contains a vast collection of fairly intact ruins from Roman times. Great gates, an amphitheatre, various temples and shopping streets can be walked and observed. Huge columns from a temple to Artemis stand straight and tall in the blistering son. These are sites to be seen.
Our agenda for the day also included a visit to Pella, where early Christians fled persecution and insurrection in Jerusalem. Then it was on to Gadara, another city of the Decapolis and home of the demoniac from whom Jesus cast out multiple demons, who entered a herd of swine who stampeded down a slope into the sea (Mark 5:1-20).
On Sunday we attended parts of a Greek Orthodox worship service in Madaba, where we were staying, and then conducted a city tour of Amman.
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