Just a few weeks ago there occurred the centenary of the sinking of the ‘Titanic’; now that the media ‘hype’ has died down a little, perhaps it may be appropriate to re-visit the tragedy. A hundred years ago, the RMS Titanic, then the largest luxury liner in the world, left Southampton on her maiden voyage, bound for New York.  She called at the French port of Cherbourg, also at Queenstown, County Cork, Eire, and it was then full steam ahead for the United States, with around 2,250 men, women and children aboard.  At 11.40 pm (ship’s time) on 14 April 1912, still on course, she came into collision with an iceberg.  The collision ripped apart the steel plates of her hull, on the starboard side, opening up five of her sixteen watertight compartments, and the ship began to take in water, rapidly.  Less than three hours later, close to 2.20 am, this enormous vessel sank bow-first into the North Atlantic Ocean, some 375 miles south of Newfoundland, with over 1,000 people still on board.  A few hours later, over 700 survivors were taken on board the nearest ship, the RMS Carpathia, from the Titanic’s lifeboats, but the total death toll came to over 1,500, in what was described as being one the deadliest maritime disasters in history.

The Opulence of the Grand Staircase

The ’Titanic’ was constructed to the highest standards of ship-building, at that time. It seems no expense was spared, especially in relation to the first class accommodation, with its opulent dining rooms, dance halls, staircases, gymnasia – the list goes on and on.  Second and third class rooms were well appointed though not nearly so ‘posh’ as those for the ‘gentry’ – an arrangement that largely reflected the class-structures and divisions of that era, in the United Kingdom, most of Europe and, to some extent, that of the United States.  Hundreds of men, women and children sailed in what was called steerage, meaning in compartments to the rear of the ship – in cramped conditions below the water-line. The class divisions were then much more rigid than appertains today, and these resulted in those well-known feelings of the ‘haves’ and the ‘have-nots’.  On board, and under the normal circumstances of the first part of the voyage, people ‘knew’ their places in society, and social interchange was mostly discouraged.  All this was to change when the ship hit the floating mountain of ice, and within hours, people were to change, from one of distance to one another, to that much happier state of people helping each other, when in dire need.  There are many accounts of heroic actions on the parts of people of all classes, helping others to escape the sinking vessel – of people giving their lives to help others, and the ‘policy’ that was followed of ‘Women and Children First’, followed ‘religiously’, resulted in a disproportionate number of men losing their lives to drowning. 

In calling to mind this disaster of a hundred years ago, it is not my intention to simply regurgitate the facts and figures surrounding the sinking of the ‘Titanic’, as these can be garnered from the many and varied media articles telling the stories of what occurred; as regards these, there has been much renewed interest in the newspapers, magazines and on television – and understandably so on the occasion of the centennial anniversary.  Additionally, many films have been made, telling the stories from many different points of view. 

Getting away from the facts of the case, I think there are lessons to be learned from all that took place in April 1912, and I would now like to concentrate attention on some aspects of these. 

I remember, many years ago, asking my dad about the ‘Titanic’. His immediate response was: “That’s the ship they said could not be sunk.” Like myself, I suspect the reader will often have heard accounts describing the vessel as ‘unsinkable’, and in this regard, the statement is most often attributed to the builders / owners of the ship.  Should that have been the case, then I cannot conceive of how, even in 1912, such responsible and intelligent men, could ever have been so full of pride as to make such a crass, and distinctly incorrect, impossible statement.  To have made any such statement, surely, would have been inviting disaster.  However, the people responsible, owners ‘The White Star Line’ and builders, ‘Harland and Wolf’, of the Belfast Shipyard, refuted the making of any such statement; they maintained that they had only ever claimed that the ‘Titanic’ was virtually unsinkable, and to this end they pointed to the advanced safety features such as watertight compartments and remotely operated watertight doors.  The press of those days were said to have been the parties responsible for claiming that the vessel was ‘unsinkable’.  How wrong could they have been? 

Wherever the truth lay in those far-off days, it seems to me that pride was playing a major role – and in a number of ways.  Though more than complying, legally, with maritime requirements, as to the provision, and number of lifeboats, in proportion to the numbers of passengers and crew, the vessel was not equipped with enough lifeboats to carry all the people on board; the maximum lifeboat capacity was given as 1,178 individuals.  This fact alone says, clearly, that an assumption was made that there was nothing – no danger – that could threaten the safety of the vessel. The ship was equipped with advanced wireless telegraph, and during her voyage across the Atlantic Ocean, she received warnings of icebergs ahead.  It seems that such warnings were largely discounted, as it was then thought that floating ice was not a danger to ships as large as the ‘Titanic’.  The Captain, himself, had declared that he could not “… imagine any condition which would cause a ship to founder, as modern shipbuilding has gone beyond that.”  The sinking of the ‘Titanic’ led to an international review of all the safety precautions for ocean liners and the safety of their passengers and crews; these included the provision of lifeboats, sufficient to carry all those on board, new regulations regarding ice patrols, the use of red distress flares, round-the-clock radio watches, all of which changes are still in force today. 

I can only think it the greatest of follies to be so proud as to assume that human kind has thought of everything – in this case, regarding the construction of a very large luxury liner with all the modern safety features.  We are human, after all is said and done, and liable to make mistakes; mistakes on this scale, as we learn to our cost, can be very expensive, and tragic in terms of human life.  I have often heard it said, from hindsight in the news – and other sources – that such and such a precaution “…. has now been taken, and therefore, this type of tragedy can never happen again”.  Invariably, I cringe whenever I hear such madness.  On this question, concerning human pride, and the position in which we put God, I think we would always be wise to give God his foremost place; our actions, even when we do our best to achieve great things, should always be put into their proper perspective, and we would do well to remember that we only achieve greatness with God’s help. 

We know only too well that there are inclinations towards egotism in all of us.  I cannot be sure whether or not we are ‘made’ this way, or whether it may be that this is something we all learn from an early age.  If the latter be the case, then, most surely, we learn it from those around us.  Whatever, this aspect of our human nature causes us to tend, in many instances, to put ourselves before God and our neighbours.  We relegate those we should put first, into second place, and this, we learn, is the main cause of our sinfulness. This attitude stands in the way of keeping God’s Commandments – God’s Law – and is the prime reason why we lose our friendship with God.  God still loves us – he never stops – but, egotistically, we turn our backs on his love, in our inward-looking, self-seeking and self-centered ways; we would do well to remember that, whenever we put pride in ourselves first, there is always a price to be paid.  

The origins of this, amongst the greatest of maritime disasters, lie in human actions of this sort and over 1,500 men, women and children lost their lives.  Many have tried to imagine, and portray, what it must have been like for the passengers and crew as this great ship foundered and sank – so quickly – and I have often tried to do the same.  The feelings of fear, and panic, must have been uppermost in most peoples’ minds, that April evening 100 years ago, but then tragedies involving large losses of human life were happening before this event; they continue to occur, periodically, all down the years, to our present time – tragedies involving trains and boats and planes – as the human population becomes much more mobile.  When presented with such fearsome events, all I can say is: please, God help us all – especially those who travel – and all those who have charge of our travel arrangements.

Socius

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I look back now, with joy and thanksgiving, for those few days in the Holy Land – the land Jesus trod, the paths he took that we took, the same landscapes we saw; we made the same journeys, we saw the same flowers and trees, but in profoundly different circumstances. As I reflect on our pilgrimage, I realise just how our time there was totally absorbing. This was where, 2,000 years ago, our redemption had taken place, and where we were now benefitting, by sharing in its fruits, together.

 Jesus almost certainly trod these steps from the Last Supper to the Garden of Gethsemane.  Later he came back the same way a prisoner of the soldiers to face his trial.

Jesus on the way to the Garden of Gethsemane on those same steps

 Jesus on the way back from the Garden of Gethsemane on those steps

As the first reflection pointed out, our pilgrimage experience was only heightened, by being part of a closely-knit group that grew in unity with each coming day; hour by hour, it was a joy to meet with each person, with all their differences and unique personalities; we tried to have Love, (or God), among us, for: “Where there is Love and Charity, there is God”, as we sing on Maundy Thursday, at the Mass of the Last Supper. The world of home, in Britain, was far away, not forgotten, but not impinging on us. Always, there was that ‘melting-pot’ of different religions, with the manifestly evident tensions between them, and these, coupled with the sights of powerful soldiers wielding their earthly authority, and many other factors, reminded me of the times of Jesus, those many years ago. I felt we had entered into that same experience, in our own way, and in our own time; it was a ‘life-giving’ experience yielding feelings that remain, even to this day, when I look back.

A Mosaic in the Apse of the Benedictine Church of the Dormition showing Mary and Jesus

On Wednesday, 21^st March, we visited the Benedictine monastery of the Dormition, where a tradition has it that Mary, the Mother of Jesus, ‘went to sleep’ and rose, body and soul, into paradise. It is a lovely reserve of Benedictine life, in the middle of the Holy City. 

Nearby, is the traditional site of the ‘Upper Room’, also called the ‘Cenacle’; that room is at the heart of our Christian faith, because the greatest events of Jesus’ life took place nearby the present ‘upper room’. Here is where the Institution of the Eucharist and of the Priesthood took place; it was here that Jesus washed the feet of his Apostles, and later, Jesus was to appear to them on that first Easter evening, spreading forth his peace, to all those present and beyond.

A stained glass window from the time this Upper Room was a mosque.

The present upper room is a 14th century ancient hall, rebuilt by the Franciscans, after previous basilicas and churches had been lost, in the ‘ups and downs’ of the violent history of the region. This very space was later used as a mosque, and there is a niche in the wall, indicating the direction of Mecca, the direction Muslims always face when they pray.

Site of the Upper Room as built by the Franciscans and modified by the Moslems

After visiting the tomb of King David, below the site of the Upper Room, we returned to Bethlehem where we had our own simple Mass in the Chapel of the Franciscan house, where we were staying, followed by our own ‘last supper’ in the Holy Land.

 Our Last meal together was in Haifa in a very busy Palestinian Restaurant.

Our final day was spent at ‘one of the sites’ of Emmaus. The true location of the ‘original’ Emmaus of Jesus’ day remains a ‘burning’ question, but again, does it really matter? On the two visits to the Holy Land that I have enjoyed, we went to two different places for Emmaus. Both of them are special, and on both occasions, we felt the presence of the Risen Lord, in the ‘Breaking of bread’.

On this occasion, Mass was in the ancient ruins of a Byzantine Church, on which a Crusader Church was also built. It was in the open air, under a canopy, and on this occasion, we took turns to share our impressions of what the few days together had meant to us.

Mass at Emmaus on the Last Day – Sharing with each other

Many beautiful things were said, most of which I cannot remember. One saying I remember well: it came from an older person of our group, who pointed out, as you get older you think about the impending meeting with the good Lord, and it is often a sobering, and even fearful thought. But, she continued, coming on this journey ‘in the footsteps of Jesus’, she had seen what He had done, and what she had drawn from the experience, she had enjoyed; it was helping her to come to terms with what would happen to her, one day. 

In St. Luke’s account about Emmaus, Cleopas and his companion recognised Jesus, when he took the bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them: 

“Then their eyes were opened and they recognised him and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening up the scriptures to us?’” 

In 1964, Chiara Lubich wrote something that is very appropriate, and perhaps, echoes the experience we all enjoyed: 

“The presence of Jesus in our midst brings light, warmth, decision, strength, which all come when we have him among us. This is the burning (expressed in human terms) of our heart within us, it’s the supernatural that burns within us.”

NOTE: We hope to have a gathering of those interested, to see some more slides of our Holy Land visit of March 2012, on Friday 29 June 2012, at 7.30pm, in Leyland at our Priory Parish Centre.  All the pilgrims are welcome, as well as any parishioners, or friends who would like to attend. We will have some refreshments available, and a chance to comment and to share impressions, from those who went on the pilgrimage “In the Footsteps of Jesus”.

“He is Risen, He is not here”. He is with you, wherever you are, when you live his ‘Words of Life’.

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One of my fellow ‘pilgrims’ from our recent visit to the Holy Land rang to contact me, expressing the hope that, as a group, we could have another “Mass” together, back here in England. He felt that those occasions when Holy Mass was celebrated, in different locations, were some of the highlights of our time together, and indeed they were. They were simple – yet very meaningful – and people felt engaged, and somehow taken ‘outside’ themselves.

Mass, Monday 19 March, beneath the Basilica at Bethlehem, (St. Jerome might have prayed and celebrated Mass here.)

Those on our pilgrimage, who were not really engaged with ‘Churchy’ things, came to all the Masses, and this fact makes me reflect on the question that the Mass is many things to many people, with many different layers and meanings:

•  Perfect union with God through Jesus Christ who died and rose again for us.
• A chance to pray, be quiet, and be in union with God, as best as I may, with all my troubles.
• Something that cannot really be understood, or explained, because it is just the ‘right thing to do’ in certain circumstances – such as a pilgrimage ‘in the Footsteps of Jesus’.
• Being together, with a group of pilgrims, who have been guided, and led, through all the ‘ups’ and ‘downs’ of life, as we face things every day of our lives, and in the light of Jesus’ example in facing things that happened to him, in the places where they took place.
• A social activity with friends but with that important religious overtone.

Of course, in Bethlehem, we visited the spot where Jesus was born. You have to go down stairs, in this ancient Basilica of the Nativity, uniquely not destroyed by the Persian invaders in 641 AD, and now a bigger Church. There is an altar, with a big star underneath it: traditionally, that is where Jesus was born.

(May I add a rider here that, in the Holy Land, it is not really important whether the spot is the exact place where an event took place; the important thing is that it certainly did happen, and in that area! This question arises again and again in the Holy Land, for many different biblical events; the lack of importance regarding the exactitude question is also a common and refreshing feature).  

Traditionally, the Place Where Jesus Was Born

Where Jesus Lay in the Manger.  (Three people on their knees – one, a nun, praying earnestly)

Prayer should surround, and penetrate, our lives; the Mass is essential, but not sufficient. In the Gospel, Jesus says “pray always”, (Luke 21: 36), and, in the letter to the Ephesians, one finds the same idea “Pray in the spirit at all times”, (Eph 6: 18). This cannot mean praying, in the usual sense of the word, with hands joined, heads down, eyes shut – in total communion with God, for when we drive the car, we can pray; similarly, when we cook, go shopping, read a book, have a conversation, or do any normal thing, we can pray at the same time. Who was it that prayed at all times? Jesus, himself, as he was in communion with God, and his will, at all times. The aim of our Christian life is to ‘put on Christ’ (Gal 3: 27), and we can participate in the behaviour of Christ, in the way we do ordinary things, if He is alive in us. In that sense, IN HIM, everything we do becomes a prayer. There is a great need for Christ to grow in people, for prayer to become constant, and the ‘present state’ of the Holy Land highlights these needs. When Christ Jesus is present in people, and among them, one feels peace. In the Holy Land there is an obvious lack of it.

 Close up of the Wall Surrounding much of the West Bank – The Section in Bethlehem

Israeli Soldiers at the Main Bethlehem Check Point

One of the Most Famous Graffiti on the Wall in Bethlehem – The Dove of Peace in Mortal Danger.

All pilgrims are affected by these sights, and by the tensions in the air. Most certainly, our group was – and because of this many feel the desire to pray. The Wailing Wall, which we visited, is a place of heartfelt prayer – a Jewish place of prayer, – and a place of prayer for all peoples. It is the outer retaining wall of the West of the Temple Mount that dates back to the Temple of Solomon, and the later, Herodian Temple of Jesus’ time. It remained standing after the Destruction of the Temple, by the Romans, in 70 AD; it is, therefore, a very holy site for Jews, and for all who are sons and daughters of Abraham – Jews, Muslims and Christians. Christians who are non-Semitic are children of Abraham spiritually, as we share the same faith as Abraham.

 Panorama of the Wailing Wall – Men’s Section; (Women’s Section is to the Right)

A Christian Praying at the Wailing Wall

We visited – at great length – the place where St. Peter betrayed Jesus.  The knowledge that the great Saint Peter could behave in this way, can be greatly encouraging for us.  In the spot where Peter was warming himself, by the fire outside the High Priest’s Palace, there is a series of expressive statues that catches the moment so well. Peter, who had so strongly told Jesus that he could never deny him, is here shown at his third time of denial, of any knowledge of who Jesus was; vehemently, stating he had never associated with Jesus. Peter’s behaviour was so like that of almost all of us, from time to time. Later on Peter would ‘begin again’ and be fully reconciled to the Lord, by the power of the Cross, that we had already seen the day before.

Peter Denies Jesus for the Third Time

Of course, we visited the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and also walked the Way of the Cross, past the traditional Stations where Jesus carried his Cross, was helped by Simon of Cyrene, met his mother Mary, allowed Veronica to wipe his face with her towel, Fell Three Times, met the Women of Jerusalem; finally, where he was Stripped of his Garments, was Crucified and Died for our sins. Also, we saw the place of his Resurrection from the Dead. It was quite a feat, fitting all this in in the time available, and all that, apart from the crowded alley-ways that lead up to the famous Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The time problem led us to face the reality of a lack of peace, even in the holiest place in the world, where Jesus was crucified.

 The Via Dolorosa when we were there

 The Site of the Crucifixion – (note the concern on the face of the Orthodox monk, and the encouragement for our group to be quick and leave before the procession began)

In the picture above, beneath the altar, is the site of the Crucifixion of Jesus. Looking closely, one can see a person kneeling under the altar to feel, with his hand, the socket where the Crucifix upright was placed. This could be called the holiest place in the world – the place where our redemption took place. It should be a place of peace and concord, but, for us, it was a place of challenge and disquiet.  For one thing, we had to queue for a long time to enter, first the place of Jesus’ burial, and from where he rose from the dead. The place of the burial, and Resurrection of Jesus, was in a brand-new burial place that belonged to Joseph of Arimathea: “Now there was a garden in the place where he was crucified, and in the garden there was a new tomb in which no one had ever been laid. And so, because it was the Jewish day of preparation, and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.” (John 19: 41-42). He was crucified on Golgotha, which is above the ‘garden’, as the place where his tomb is located, is named. People say the best way to describe it, is like a quarry: above is the crucifixion site.  Below, in the quarry base, and hewn into the rock, is the burial chamber. The entire site, in two levels, is now covered by the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

The Building Surrounding the Tomb of Jesus – (Only five people can enter at a time and there is always a long queue to enter – it was the first place we visited in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

The other thing was that we were finding ourselves in a very tight time-frame. We had arrived at about 2.45pm, in the Shrine of the Holy Sepulchre, and a Catholic Procession and Devotions were scheduled for 4.00 pm. By the time all members of our group had visited the places of Burial and Resurrection, it was around 3.50 pm, and some were still to venerate the Site of the Crucifixion. However, the Sepulchre was getting ready for the Catholic procession and vespers. We heard bells ringing, and, suddenly, a ‘shouting match’ was to disturb the peace. Our entire group was allowed to pass through. The ‘hullabaloo’ was because, one Christian pilgrim, in particular, also wanted to be allowed up the steps, to venerate the Crucifixion, but the Franciscan authorities had decided the entry point must close, after our group. Two Christians – one a good and consecrated Franciscan, to boot, all but came to blows. They raised their voices, very loudly, in a moment of intense anger and conflict. Yet, on this very spot, a great event had taken place – an event intended to be the focus for peace and reconciliation, for the whole world. It provided every one of us, with food for thought.

Daily Catholic Procession, 4.00 pm Tuesday 20^th March 2012,

It was precisely this disunity, disharmony, and self-will, for which Jesus lovingly gave his life, allowing himself to be, utterly, cut off from God, emptying himself from his own desires, for the good of all. We were grateful that events had let us to complete this important part of the pilgrimage, and we could pray for the Peace of Jerusalem, in that difficult moment where there was a distinct of lack of peace. This included praying for the frustrated, and very vocal pilgrim, who, for all we knew, may never be able to return to this holy spot again; he had not been able, when it came to the moment, to venerate his Lord and Master’s place of Crucifixion. I wondered what I would have done, in his situation, and realised that, in different circumstances, I might easily have been so insistent in trying to get what I wanted. I could have behaved in a similar way. It should be noted that, in order to keep good order the young and burly Franciscan had to stop him doing what he wanted. 

To pray for the peace of Jerusalem means, at the end of the day, to pray that I am always at peace, and I suppose, it must mean that Jesus, in his love and wisdom, humility and goodness, has come to live in me, for his glory, and the good of all. There is so much healing needed in our world; this obvious need is because of the lack of peace, the anger, the self-centredness, in us human beings. The many wars, conflicts, broken personal relationships, and all the divisions we experience, have their origins in the lack of peace and harmony, both within individuals, and among them. The only remedy lies in Love, growing in each person, and among people – the challenge of life! Love is God, the Word of God, who dwells in, and among us, as we put on Christ, more and more, thus removing our own ego. God does work the miracle; certainly, he did for us, during those days in the Holy Land.

The final photograph shows our group bar one, just before entry into the Holy Sepulchre Church, getting ready for an official photo of all, on some steps just outside the entrance.

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 Our pilgrimage to the Holy Land was a ‘Transfiguration Time’, in which people – many of us – were taken out of our own personal preoccupations, to be given a glimpse of something else: the beyond, the presence of Love, the support of, and caring of others. Someone who wrote to me last week spelt it out like this: “Like you, the week just glows in my mind, whenever I think back.”  If you read the Transfiguration accounts in the New Testament, you find in Luke (9: 31) that Moses and Elijah spoke of Jesus’ departure from his friends, “… that he would soon fulfil God’s purpose by dying in Jerusalem”. Matthew and Mark explain, straight after their Transfiguration accounts, “… that Jesus would suffer many things and be treated with contempt.” (Mt 17: 12 and Mk 9:12). 

We pilgrims, too, ‘in the footsteps of Jesus’ were surrounded by tensions and sufferings, and these became evident in many different ways.  In Nazareth, there is a mosque right next to the Basilica of the Annunciation, and the mosque carried the following large sign –with its spelling mistake – not to be missed by pilgrims approaching the Basilica.

If Islam was truly lived as it was meant to be, and, similarly, if Christianity was truly lived as it was meant to be, we would all discover, deep in the true spiritual roots of both, not conflict, but solidarity. After all, both religions have the ‘Golden Rule’ within their teachings: “Do unto others, as you would have others do unto you”; it is the same for every major religion in the world. Then such a sign would be perfectly acceptable, as the losers would be those who did not do unto others as they would have others do to them, one of the teachings of the Gospel and the Koran. 

This poster, it would seem, was not displayed with the Golden Rule in mind! Also, it becomes apparent that, wherever there is a Christian Church, the Muslims love to put a mosque on its doorstep, and, from the minaret, comes a very loud call to prayer, just before dawn. It is something one gets used to, but it can be a little disconcerting to be woken up at about 3.30 am, as in both Nazareth and Bethlehem,  or to have Mass interrupted by the very loud speakers, as the Muslim call to prayer is made; this happened in Jericho, where we had Mass at noon, in the Catholic Church.  Once again, the ‘Golden Rule’ comes to mind. Tensions again were apparent on the fourth day of our pilgrimage, as we left Nazareth. We were to stay in Bethlehem which is near Jerusalem. On the way, we had our first stop at the recently opened clearway in the Israeli military zone, as we drove through a minefield, on a road cleared of mines.

When we arrived at the River Jordan, at “Bethany beyond the Jordan” (Jn 1:28), we were at a point on the border between the Kingdom of Jordan, and the State of Israel, the border being marked out by the river. The Jordanian side was ‘empty’ when we visited it; a Christian Church stands on that side of the border. On “our” side, so to speak, two Israeli soldiers scrutinised every person; they carried automatic weapons ready to shoot at any person who might want to cross to the other side.  As for we pilgrims, the hot sun was beating down, and we simply stood in awe, at the great event that had taken place here, and we did something momentous: we renewed our baptismal vows, and it was very meaningful, followed by gestures such as seen in the photo below.

Somebody gave me an empty water bottle, and this we filled with water from the Jordan; it is now being used for baptisms in the Parish. Probably all of us should grow in our appreciation of the gift of Baptism, and, having this ‘Jordan water’ is a good reminder of our insertion into Christ through what happened to most of us as babies – our baptism. The muddy water took a long time to settle and become clear, but now it has – a simple reminder of how long it takes truly to appreciate personal baptism. 

Jericho is an oasis in a surrounding desert area. Close by, are the hills that lead to Jerusalem, and the Dead Sea is nearby. Here we experienced, once again, how the Holy Land is a land flowing with milk and honey, with pomegranates, figs and all manner of good things; in Jericho, we visited a restaurant where one could eat as much as one wanted, of simply delicious food. Also, there was a shop, where, at very good prices, one could buy dates and nuts, fruit and delicacies, as well as shawls, trinkets, and all the usual tourist attractions, at very good prices. No Jew ever enters Jericho; it is a part of the West Bank, where the Palestinians live, and Jews would enter only at the risk of their lives! Here, one could not miss seeing a famous sycamore tree, like the one climbed by Zacchaeus (Lk 19: 4).

Of course, being tourists as well as pilgrims, we did all the ‘touristy’ things, like visiting Qumran, of the famous ‘Dead Sea Scrolls’, and swimming in the Dead Sea; those who wished, could have themselves covered with the therapeutic mud of that Sea, which just happens to be the lowest point of the earth.

Next on our agenda, we drove up into the mountains, stopping in the desert for an unforgettable 20 minutes, at which point it was easy to contemplate the conditions – the kind of terrain – in which Jesus spent those 40 days and 40 nights. It was so cold, so unforgivingly barren, that it was really good to take a short stroll away, into this environment, and let the reality of it sink in. It says in the New Testament – after his baptism – that: “The Spirit immediately drove Jesus into the wilderness. And he was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts” (Mk 1:12-13).

Eventually, we arrived in Bethlehem; translated, the name means ‘house of bread’.  We did not have to negotiate our way through the (in)famous ‘wall’ as our route took us through back streets, up and down some hills and dales, with busy narrow Palestinian streets, full of life and friendly people. However, as this account is making reference to the difficulties of life, in the Holy Land, as a ‘back drop’ to the ‘Transfiguration’ experience that our pilgrimage undoubtedly was, it is good to have a picture of this famous Israeli construction, a ‘snip’ at 470 miles in length.

It would be rather unfair to say that the Palestinians ‘live in a prison’, but it is true to say, that the majority cannot leave the West Bank, and come back again; they cannot visit Jerusalem, just next door to their town. They cannot enjoy the excellent medical facilities available to those who live in Jerusalem. Palestinians, in the West Bank, behind check points at the wall, and internal check points in their territory, feel oppressed and humiliated, by the treatment that they receive. Furthermore, they have few chances to develop their own potential, within their territories; many are unemployed, even those with excellent qualifications, like the architect, we met, who is without work. He had his offices destroyed, in the second ‘Infatada’. Particularly badly hit’ are the Palestinian Christians’ who are leaving the Holy Land’ and the whole Middle East’ because of the political and social conditions surrounding them. 

At the same time, there are almost no bombs in Jerusalem since the wall was built, and the Israelis do not feel oppressed; rather they feel uneasy and afraid. They know that world opinion is against them, and they know that the Muslim world, in general, is very hostile towards them. On the whole, the Israeli Jew has no contact with the Palestinians, and of course, extremists, on both sides, take up positions that are simply incompatible with dialogue. 

It was a great joy for all of us, one cold night, to visit a Palestinian family, in Bethlehem, and have our evening meal with them. Not only did we eat very well, kebabs and all the Palestinian trimmings, but we also shared with them a little of what life was like. They strive to live the Gospel to the full, and one of the precepts of Jesus, that is hard for everyone, is found in Matthew 5:

“You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” But I say to you, do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; … Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you”. (Mt. 5:38-44).

They declared quite openly that “loving their enemy” is one of the hardest things they have to do. They gave examples; one was that, at Christmas and Easter time, they apply for visas to visit Jerusalem, see their relatives and friends there, and visit the Christian sites. Usually, and randomly, they will receive a visa for Mum or Dad, and often the children, but not both adults together. So nobody goes at all, as they cannot leave the children with one parent.  It is very hard, but this is what they do “loving those who impose such rules”, as Jesus taught. They also have very little security, just like all their fellow Palestinians.

In truth, it was an eye-opener to see the joy and peace in these good peoples’ eyes and hearts.  As somebody wrote: 

“We met a Christian Palestinian family and were moved by their story of life in Bethlehem. It put my troubles into perspective. My suffering was not influenced and made worse by someone else – there would be an end to my grieving process. They lived every day not knowing when their suffering would end, but they lived in hope and with the love of God in their lives.” 

Here we see the Palestinian father and mother who were an inspiration.

To show how their joy spread to us all, here are some pictures of one or two of our pilgrims on that evening:

Hope springs eternal, and there is usually a way ‘round’ obstacles, to give at least peace of mind! This saying was reinforced by meeting, two or three days later, with a young Israeli girl, in Jerusalem, who spent 22 years of her life in London, but has immigrated, with her family, to Israel.  She told us how hard it was to engage in inter-faith dialogue, in Israel, compared with London – objections coming most often from fellow Jews – and how she was dedicated to the cause of promoting unity, as a strong, and devout Jewish believer.  She had found that it was often her own fellow Jews, in Israel, not just the Palestinians, who found a ‘blockage’ relating to her, in her activities, and in her very presence. She told us about days of dialogue with Jews, Christians and Muslims, together, that are developing in the spirit of unity of the Focolare. It was very hard at the beginning, but friendship and mutual understanding, are growing. She was a lovely breath of ‘fresh air’ for us all, and we were all impressed by her testimony, her joyful freshness and her point of view, describing  what it is really like to live in the Holy Land, as a believing, caring young Jewish girl.

All these things make me want to pray for the peace of Jerusalem, and, God willing, that will be the theme of next week’s reflection.

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(Continuing the reflections and story of the pilgrimage to the Holy Land, it should be clear that what is written is something personal and may not be shared by other pilgrims in the same way. Also, if you come upon this blog for the first time, it may be wise to look at the introduction in last week’s blog, explaining why, for me, this pilgrimage, “In the Footsteps of Jesus”, 15-22 March 2012, was so special.)

When one is actually there, in the Holy Land, it is easy to start musing on the ‘Word’ who became ‘Flesh’ in Jesus, in unexpected ways. For example, what did Jesus look like? The question becomes much more pressing when in his homeland.  On our pilgrimage, we were mostly pale-faced Anglo Saxons, and rather than our western European image, Jesus must have resembled the native Palestinians, in facial appearance. The image that many have of Jesus, me included, comes from the face on the Holy Shroud. There are Semitic people, whose faces look a little like the face on the Shroud, as one sees them, ‘up close’ in the Holy Land; however, I must say that the face on the Holy Shroud also has a familiar ‘European look’, to my eyes.

The Face on the Holy Shroud

On the other hand, here is a picture of a young Palestinian lad whom we met, and perhaps, Jesus looked more like him? I can imagine Matthew, the tax collector, looking like this young man.  The question, however, is never very far from the surface of one’s mind, haunting away, and as you see the faces of more and more of the people, still the question remains: “Did Jesus look like one of these people?”

(1)    The Young Palestinion Lad

(2)    The Two Palestinian Girls from the Focolare 

Similarly, one might ask what Mary’s appearance was like, as well. Above are two Palestinian girls, both from Haifa, and who are involved with the Focolare in the Holy Land. Do they give one an idea? Maybe this is an image of one of the other women in the gospels, if not Mary?  Then, again, St. Joseph might have looked like the picture of this Palestinian craftsman working in his shop.

 Palestinian craftsman in his workshop

Jesus spoke much, and performed many miracles, especially in a triangle of land around Capernaum – all in very close proximity. On our third day, our group went first to the Mount of the Beatitudes, where we celebrated Mass. The area is cared for by Franciscan Sisters, and when Laszlo, our young Hungarian guide, (see last week’s blog), and I, went to the sacristy, this loving, bustling, rather squat English speaking nun, spoke to us in Italian, and said: “No, your pilgrimage has been cancelled”, and sure enough, for the “Shepherd’s Tours”, there was a line through the booking. “Never mind”, she continued, “I will find a beautiful place for you”, and she was as good as her word. She led us to an altar in the open air, (as they all are, in that spot), where, despite the other pilgrims, we felt quite secluded, and there, in that ‘special’ place, we could meditate on the meaning of the ‘Beatitudes’.

Mass at the Mount of the Beatitudes

Whilst there, we had the first of a number of shared sermons, and what people said was designed to ‘fit’ the place. In a kind of reflection, I found myself writing about this event: 

“This time the mood of the moment hit me more strongly: yes, somewhere near here Jesus had spoken those amazing and revolutionary words; that people who are poor, meek, humble, those who weep, hunger and thirst for justice, or are persecuted, those who are suffering, in other words, are blessed. I wonder if that includes sinners. Sometimes I feel a bit of a failure, or a sinner, and indeed I am. Also, when others criticise me, or I criticise myself, either for failing to do what I should, or for acting in a way that Jesus would not, I also feel guilt. Blessed are those who mourn, they shall be comforted. 

I love the fact, that the one who lived the Beatitudes best of all, was Mary, Mother of Jesus, the perfect disciple. The small Church is octagonal, and is quite beautiful; each side, around the altar, corresponds to a beatitude, and they are written in the windows above each octagonal wall. It is a spot with a wonderful view of the lake, and a place of peace, despite the bustling crowds of people, who eagerly go there, to see for themselves, and catch the spirit of it.”

The Sea of Galilee, from the Mount of the Beatitudes

Inside the Church of the Beatitudes 

The ‘ordinary’ moments of life also contributed much to the whole trip. After the Beatitudes, we went to Tabgha, where, traditionally, the site of the ‘Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes’ took place – the feeding of the ‘Five Thousand’. I wanted to visit there, because I had not seen it, on my previous pilgrimage, and also because it is under the care of Benedictine monks – an offshoot of the monastery of the Dormition, in Jerusalem. However, by mistake, I had left our new (and costly) English Missal, back in the sacristy where we had celebrated Mass. To retrieve it, our driver, Sama, and I drove back, just the two of us, in our big coach, while the others visited Tabgha. It was ‘a happy mistake’ to have made, because Sama and I, had a good personal chat, and I began to understand the spirit of this good Moslem, who was so supportive of his Christian pilgrims. He was also so obliging, and friendly, ready to help any one of us, at any time. He told me he had not had much work that winter, but this should improve now that the ‘season’ was starting. Without tourism he would have no income, and nor would many others. Tourism, for him, means mainly Christian pilgrims. This was evident, especially in Bethlehem, and in many other places, too. When we drove through the part of Jerusalem where Sama lived, so many people waved, or greeted him, in his massive coach that negotiated the seemingly impossible, narrowest of gaps. He had to maintain a wife and family, and was so grateful for the work that came his way.

Our driver, Sama 

Luckily, there was just time for a ‘whistle stop’ tour of the Church at Tabgha, where one can see the quite beautiful mosaics illustrating the story of the ‘loaves and fishes’:

Mosaic at Tabgha 

I had bought tiles of that mosaic, framed in wood, as presents for those who work in the Priory House. I was struck by how Jesus, was able to save an impossible situation – the feeding of the multitude, with only two fish, and five loaves of bread. How often each one of us finds oneself in an impossible situation, and yet, somehow we manage to get through it, if we let time pass, let good-will prevail and trust in God. It is a link to the miracle of the multiplication of the fish and the bread; for God nothing is impossible.

Another very inspiring story, from the gospels, is when Jesus – after his Resurrection – met the disciples, by the Lake of Galilee, very near to these two sites. Here, I found myself sitting by the water’s edge, listening to the lapping of water on pebbles, and eventually taking a few photos with my ‘ipad’, as people took in the scene, or paddled in the shallows.

(1)    Fellow pilgrims paddle in the Lake of Galilee

(2)    Fellow Pilgrims at the Lake shore  

It was here that Jesus affirmed Peter; Jesus had asked Peter three times: “Do you love me?” and Peter had assured his Master that he did. Peter was struck dumb by the goodness of Jesus, and the trust Jesus placed in him, despite Peter’s behaviour when he betrayed him three times at his arrest. This is the spot where it happened; it was also here that Jesus brought about the miraculous catch of fish, and there, he ate breakfast with the Apostles – a meal that He, himself, had cooked. 

We all enjoyed a delicious lunch – delicious, as was all the food we ate – and at this, one can readily understand why the Jews had been told, that their land was a land flowing with milk and honey. After our meal, we went out on one of the famous “Jesus” boats, as they are called on the lake.

A ‘Jesus’ Boat 

The crew were a jolly group, who played music for our entertainment; we even had our National Anthem – ‘God Save the Queen’ – and the ‘Union Jack’ on the boat.

An African young girl, Mary in our group, with the Union Jack 

Given the solidarity and feeling of unity that existed already amongst us, someone suggested we joined in an Israeli dance, which almost all of us duly did, gathering in a circle, and doing the simple steps, as we linked hands, and danced around.

 Learning the simple dance steps on the boat

However, the best of all came with the cutting of the engine, then simply sitting in the boat, the quiet sea all around us.  So many thoughts came to mind, as one surveyed the hills, the landscape, picturing for oneself what Jesus, and the Apostles, must have seen. It was as if the two thousand years, between, had just disappeared into thin air. For many pilgrims, the Sea of Galilee is what they like most; truly, it is the most authentic place of all, where the scenery is unchanging – unchanged from the time of Jesus – preserved for us, today. 

At this point, I feel that, for the moment, this is sufficient for this week’s blog. There is much more to share from the experiences of those memorable eight days in the Holy Land, and, relying on your continuing interest, I hope to be able to describe for you the rest of my story….

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Two people have said to me they hoped to have a blog about the visit a few of us made to the Holy Land from 15-22 March. It has been on my mind not only to write about it but also to contact again the 30 others who were part of the pilgrimage.

Some of our group at Qumran, The Dead Sea in the background. Fourth day together.

Only 24 of us journeyed from Britain, but an integral part of our Pilgrimage was our unique guide, the young Hungarian, Laszlo, who resides in Jerusalem; also, were those looking after us, a bit like ‘guardian angels’, especially Annie Brechet– a Belgian – who also lives in Jerusalem. She makes all the arrangements for these visits on behalf of the ‘Focolare’ Movement, and does so superbly. Then, there are her companions from the ‘Focolare’ community in Jerusalem, including Gerard, a Frenchman who lives there, as well as the Palestinians and Jews we met, who are involved in working for unity, like Jessica, Nadal and Rima.

The living stones: Palestinians and others who live in the Holy Land at Nazareth, mainly young people: Laszlo our guide on the left on the second day.

How does one write about something, when simple words are not equal to the task in hand? That has been the challenge. One of our most notable visits was to Mount Tabor, the traditional site of the Transfiguration, and it was here that the Apostles were struck dumb by what they had seen and witnessed and Peter mumbled: “Lord it is good for us to be here….”  I would say the same about our experience. We did not see the Lord with his clothes as white as light, (Mt. 17:6), yet our hearts were burning within us, (Lk24;32), for our eyes had been opened in a way that went beyond expectations. It was good to have been there. 

From the start, Laszlo spoke about our visit being an experience of the ‘fifth gospel’ as the Holy Land is called, (i.e. the fifth way in which the good news (Gospel) comes to people); the fifth way to explain, or experience, what happened, and what is continuously happening as the Word becomes Flesh, spanning across human time and space.

A view of the hills of Galilee from Mount Tabor.

Once here, visiting these special places, one is struck, forcibly by the fields, sky, hills, the distances (very close, sometimes, as at the crucifixion and burial / resurrection sites), by the water, the desert, the River Jordan, and the tension among the people because of the politics; then there is the food, the fruit, the sun, the Sea of Galilee, the sites where monumental things happened.  One cannot help but be moved by the ‘living stones’ of the people who live there, and are trying to live ‘Love’, exemplified in the welcome from the community of Nazareth sisters and helpers in Galilee, the welcome from those running the Franciscan hostel in Bethlehem, and much more besides – all these contribute to that unmistakable sense of Jesus’ presence – i.e. the presence of something ‘beyond’, of God, and of his Spirit, who is ‘Love’. We had another ingredient, however, and that ingredient was the one that, for me, is absolutely necessary for a successful visit to the Holy Land. I have in mind the desire, of many of our group of pilgrims, to live always, wherever they are, with the presence of Jesus among them – all day long in their daily living, for “… where two or three are gathered in my name there am I in the midst of them” (Mt.18:20). And so, with that ingredient, mingled with the ‘fifth gospel’, it was no wonder the experience went beyond words. 

The start was a good omen. We arrived from England, on three different flights into Tel Aviv airport and this, itself, was joyful moment; once the company was all assembled, we set off for Nazareth in our coach, and the services of our friendly, expert driver, and a wonderful welcoming reception. Not only were the local people very friendly, but in each room, every person found a small present specially arranged for them:

First night in our rooms

We were all well aware that the local people, who gave us these presents, were not ‘well off’, but they went out of their way to ‘surround’ us with their love. Those who waited on us, at table, were very welcoming and friendly. On arrival, it was bitterly cold, much colder than the England we had left, yet each person’s room was equipped with a superb heater, which actually made the rooms almost too hot. We visitors really enjoyed our stay in Nazareth, the house situated just some 50 yards from the Basilica of the Annunciation. 

I think it is true to say that all of us were tired on arrival, as the journey from Britain had been a long one and most of us had had early starts, and so forth.  The very next day, we were due to go to Cana, the sit of the famous wedding where Jesus had turned the water into wine. The coach, we were told, was due to leave at 9.00 am.  One of our party, who was unable to hurry, could not make it for that time, yet this did not worry us at all. When this happened I thought, to myself, ‘goodness, how will we manage, if this is what will happen,’ as I had been to the Holy Land before, and knew the importance of being on time? In fact, although it might be difficult for some people to keep to the times of departure, throughout the whole seven days, we managed to do everything on schedule; the fact that a person, not having the same ability as another  to be on time, made no difference. 

Cana was special, in its own way, because of course, the story of the Gospel incident is used at many a wedding.  Somebody suggested that those who wished might renew their marriage vows, at this place. This we did, very simply; in fact all those, in vows, did the same. This was a good solid way to begin our time together, as it was spontaneous and ‘out of the blue’, but people much appreciated that moment.  In a way, it was just as much an experience, as of the water changing into wine.

Cana water jars – water into wine in seven of these!

Most of the group outside the Church of Cana in Galilee on the second day

We had more delights that day, with many more to follow on the remaining days of our pilgrimage. These, I hope to be able to describe later, God willing. Already, on this first day of our experiences, we felt a very united group. By the end, we really did feel that we had belonged to each other, in a close way, after having shared so much. One of our final photos was at Haifa, on the day we all caught our three respective planes back to England.

The eighth and last day at Haifa

I thank my readers for their expressed desire to read about in my most recent exploits in the Holy Land.  Truly, it has meant a great deal to me.  There is much still to recount, and relying on your continuing interest, I hope to be able to complete the story in the near future, perhaps in more than one instalment.

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During the Easter Season, Christian communities, everywhere, rejoice in the knowledge that Our Lord, Jesus Christ, overcame death and rose again to glory on Easter Sunday morning. Having been arrested after the Last Supper, an innocent man, he was tried and condemned to death; on Good Friday, he was led out to Calvary and crucified.  Later, when quite dead, he was taken down from the cross and his body placed in a tomb.  I began by using the word ‘rejoice’, and after the great sorrows of the previous days, there is no other word to describe the wonderful feelings of happiness as Jesus, manifest in the ‘Resurrection’, comes back to us alive and well.  Moreover, his Death and Resurrection give us – all of us who believe – that promise of life everlasting, that promise which takes us beyond the grave, beyond corruption, to our own resurrection to eternal life – a life of supreme happiness in heaven.  In my own simple view of life, this is something the whole human race is continually searching for, for without that promise of supernatural life, then the question must be raised as to, what is this life of ours, on earth, all about?

Many very learned, and famous people, have spent their lives asking, and seeking answers, to that very same question.  Among them, most certainly, was the composer Gustav Mahler.

On 6 August last year, I settled down in the evening, to listen to one of the Promenade Concerts, a Television broadcast by the BBC, from the Royal Albert Hall, in London.  This one, I thought would be something special, as there was just one work to be performed, Symphony No. 2 (The Resurrection) by Gustav Mahler. The work was to be performed by the Simon Bolivar Orchestra, conducted by Gustavo Dudamel, with the National Youth Choir of Great Britain, and with two soloists, Miah Persson, (soprano) and Anna Larsson (mezzo-soprano).  In the event, I was not to be disappointed. 

I was no stranger to the work, which lasts for something like 100 minutes – a monumental piece of composing, involving a large symphony orchestra, two singers and a massive choir – as I have several recordings on CD, and have listened to these, over the years, whenever my mood was receptive to such great music.  The symphony was composed by Mahler in spasms of activity over a period of six years, mostly when he was able to relax and concentrate, in peace and tranquillity, at his summer retreat composing hut on the shores of Lake Attersee, at Steinbach am Attersee, Austria.

The Komponierhäuschen (composition hut) in Steinbach am Attersee

The symphony is in five movements, and in the last two, (movements four and five), Mahler combines the artistry of the human voice, (soloists and choir), with the symphony orchestra, in what can only be described as the composer’s search for the meanings that underlie life, death and the hereafter, (Auferstehung, meaning Resurrection). But, the value of listening to such a monumental piece, lies not only in the music created in the mind of the composer, but also in the words that are used by the soloists and choir, singing the verses in parts 4 and 5. 

The words used by the mezzo-soprano in the fourth movement are taken from an old German folk song and poem, ‘Des Knaben Wunderhorn: translated into English, they read: 

O red rose!

Man lies in greatest need!

Man lies in greatest pain!

How I would rather be in heaven.

There came I upon a broad path

when came a little angel and wanted to turn me away.

Ah no! I would not let myself be turned away!

I am from God and shall return to God!

The loving God will grant me a little light,

Which will light me into that eternal blissful life! 

Approximately half way through the fifth movement, the choir chorus enters quietly, and from then on, there is that glorious combination of choir, soloists and orchestra, taking the listener to heights he can only ever dream of – heights beyond this world – and into that of supernatural grace.  The words used here come in the first instance (the first few lines) from the poem, ‘Die Auferstehung’ by Friedrich Gottlieb, but the major part of what follows, beginning with the words, ‘O believe, my heart, O believe:’ were written by Mahler, himself.  Sung by the choir and the two soloists, I think they speak for themselves: 

Rise again, yes, rise again,

Will you My dust,

After a brief rest!

Immortal life! Immortal life

Will He who called you, give you.

To bloom again were you sown!

The Lord of the harvest goes

And gathers in, like sheaves,

Us together, who died.

O believe, my heart, O believe:

Nothing to you is lost!

Yours is, yes yours, is what you desired

Yours, what you have loved

What you have fought for!

O believe,

You were not born for nothing!

Have not for nothing, lived, suffered!

What was created

Must perish,

What perished, rise again!

Cease from trembling!

Prepare yourself to live!

O Pain, You piercer of all things,

From you, I have been wrested!

O Death, You masterer of all things,

Now, are you conquered!

With wings which I have won for myself,

In love’s fierce striving,

I shall soar upwards

To the light which no eye has penetrated!

Its wing that I won is expanded,

and I fly up.

Die shall I in order to live.

Rise again, yes, rise again,

Will you, my heart, in an instant!

That for which you suffered,

To God will it lead you!

Should you ever get the chance – and the right inclination – then take my advice and sit down, quieten yourself, turn up the volume and lose yourself in any great recording of this masterpiece; it will transport you out of this world, cross bridges, to heights only the mind and heart can comprehend. 

But, to return to my opening theme, Easter, the greatest feast of the Church’s year, gives each one of us the greatest promise and joy.  It says, clearly, to each and every one of us: “You can be sure of God’s great love – you can trust his word; God sent his Son to us, to suffer and to die for our sins, and to rise again, and bring us with him into life everlasting.”  That is God’s lasting promise – and he is always true to his word. 

Small wonder then, that great artists have displayed their greatest talents in endeavouring to represent what the Resurrection means to the human race. In this, I think, Gustav Mahler was no exception.

Socius

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In the 1950′s, circumstances took our family to live in a lovely Dorset village called Chideock, situated on the coast road from Bridport to Lyme Regis. Very unusually for the West Country, there is a small Catholic Church in that village, where my brother and I used to serve Mass.

Chideock Catholic Church

I remember one day, cycling as we did from Church to home, possibly a 2 miles journey, and feeling very afraid of God. I had said something silly, about one of the cloths the priest uses at Mass. Knowing that God sees everything, and watches my every move, even my thoughts, and having little idea of God, save as a vengeful God, I was sure that God was very angry with me, and I cried in terror, cycling all the way home.

Cycling in Dorset

In those days, many people would be at Church on Sundays. All over England it was the same, and there would be families with 2, 3 or 4 children, who would sit in the same pews, each Sunday, at Mass. I am pretty sure, that most fairly straight-forward and simple people felt, that if they did not attend Mass on Sundays, God would be angry with them, and they were afraid to go to hell, in a state of mortal sin; that was the common, widely-held idea.

Later on, when I became a monk and a priest, in 1961, I thought to myself that I would love to make a mark, for good in this world, especially to help people know, and love God, within the Church. However, I had little idea of my own limitations, weaknesses and, perhaps, age-related priggishness; yet, although that idea has never gone away, it has always proved too difficult a task. 

One train of thought, however, remained ‘nagging me’ after the Vatican Council – an exciting time to be alive in the 1960′s – that a kind of ‘terror’ of the Lord was what had kept many people quite closely linked to the Church; from that epoch onwards – and I suspect there was a link with the Vatican Council – that ‘terror’ has quickly diminished, until today, 50 years later, it has all but disappeared. Still, in the Scriptures we find, insistently, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom”. What does this excerpt mean? And, if people were not to have this ‘terror’, what might replace it? Surely, something was needed to give people inner motivation to link themselves to God, within the institution of the Church, and that ‘something’ needs to be both simple and effective. What could that ‘something’ be? The answer has always eluded me, at least within the kind of culture in which we live. The Church with its rules and its liturgy, in today’s world, seems largely irrelevant to the majority, and especially the young, as those ‘faithful’ people that do still come to Mass, are, generally, of an older generation. On reflection, there seems little chance of my early dream as a young monk, helping many to know, and love, God in the Church, coming to fruition.

My own personal faith in God, and the Church, has grown stronger over the years. I have found the presence of Jesus, within me, and within the community, when ‘two or more are united’ in the name of Jesus. In that presence, there is the full meaning of life, because Jesus is Love, and He said of Himself, without boasting, that He ‘… is the Way, the Truth and the Life’. If a person finds Him, nothing else is needed. That presence of Jesus is not to be taken lightly; it cannot be assumed to be there, just because we come together in liturgy, for a prayer meeting, or for some other ‘churchy’ event. For example, a person may be present who is ‘seething with anger’, against you, and the problem may be still unresolved. Jesus may not be present, even when a group of priests, or religious men or women, are in the same room. His presence does require a proper, conscious relationship, in God, among all present.

St. Hilary of Poitiers 

With all this in mind, what a joy it was, for me, recently, to read at the Office of Readings, from St. Hilary of Poitiers, about the true meaning of ‘fear of the Lord’! Here it is pointed out that we have to ‘learn how to fear the Lord’. Success takes time and effort, and is very much linked with learning the true meaning of ‘Love’. It needs also a living and enlightening experience. ‘Fear of the Lord’ is quite different to ‘terror of the Lord’, or any other kind of terror. Possibly, what I had experienced 60 years ago, in Dorset, was nothing to do with genuine ‘fear of the Lord’, and, precisely, because of that, it must be rejected; many of our contemporaries, today, seem to have rejected ‘terror of the Lord’, but have not found the beginning of ‘Wisdom, genuine fear of the Lord’. I fear therefore they may have not entered into any real relationship with God at all.

Below is what St. Hilary of Poitiers (300-360 AD) wrote:

The meaning of “the fear of the Lord”:

“Blessed are those who fear the Lord, who walk in his ways. Notice that when Scripture speaks of the fear of the Lord it does not leave the phrase in isolation, as if it were a complete summary of faith. No, many things are added to it, or are presupposed by it. From these we may learn its meaning and excellence. In the book of Proverbs, Solomon tells us: If you cry out for wisdom and raise your voice for understanding, if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for treasure, then you will understand the fear of the Lord. We see here the difficult journey we must undertake before we can arrive at the fear of the Lord.

We must begin by crying out for wisdom. We must hand over to our intellect the duty of making every decision. We must look for wisdom and search for it. Then we must understand the fear of the Lord.

“Fear” is not to be taken in the sense that common usage gives it. Fear in this ordinary sense is the trepidation our weak humanity feels when it is afraid of suffering something it does not want to happen. We are afraid, or are made afraid, because of a guilty conscience, the rights of someone more powerful and an attack from one who is stronger, sickness, encountering a wild beast, suffering evil in any form. This kind of fear is not taught: it happens because we are weak. We do not have to learn what we should fear: objects of fear bring their own terror with them.

But of the fear of the Lord this is what is written: Come, my children, listen to me, I shall teach you the fear of the Lord. The fear of the Lord has then to be learned because it can be taught. It does not lie in terror, but in something that can be taught. It does not arise from the fearfulness of our nature; it has to be acquired by obedience to the commandments, by holiness of life and by knowledge of the truth.

For us the fear of God consists wholly in love, and perfect love of God brings our fear of him to its perfection. Our love for God is entrusted with its own responsibility: to observe his counsels, to obey his laws, to trust his promises. Let us hear what Scripture says: And now, Israel, what does the Lord your God ask of you except to fear the Lord your God and walk in all his ways and love him and keep his commandments, with your whole heart and your whole soul, so that it may be well for you?

The ways of the Lord are many, though he is himself the way. When he speaks of himself he calls himself the way and shows us the reason why he called himself the way: No one can come to the Father except through me.

We must ask for these many ways, to find the one that is good. That is, we shall find the one way of eternal life through the guidance of many teachers. These ways are found in the law, in the prophets, in the gospels, in the writings of the apostles, in the different good works by which we fulfill the commandments. Blessed are those who walk these ways in the fear of the Lord.” 

I would have the boldness to add to St. Hilary’s list – though to be fair he does write, ‘the ways of the Lord are many’ – that we need to discover, pray for, and earnestly desire, within the Community of the Church, the Love that is the Lord, and that will satisfy us. The Second Vatican Council, this year, is celebrating its Golden Jubilee of inauguration, in 1962. The teaching of that Council of the Church is directed to, “living the Gospel”, “living in communion with God and others”, “and moving in the direction of Hope and not Fear”. Another way of putting it, would be a discovery of a real, “Family to which we all belong – in God – in the Church”. Having such an experience will give the inner motivation to you and me, to rejoice in the relationship with God so that we will experience, and to find that for which we are searching. Also, to have the ‘right’ ‘fear of the Lord’, expressed in awe and wonder, at the majesty of God. In the end, my longing as a young monk was rather misplaced. The young Brother Jonathan thought he could help people to know, and love God, in the Church. The one that does such things is God, himself, and no other; in peace and tranquility, you and I can leave it to Him.

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“My name is Joseph. I am a carpenter by trade, and I live with my family in the small village of Nazareth, a village of just a few hundred people. We are simple folk here, workers for the most, with not much money, and life is hard. It has been that way for all of my life.

I am now getting on in years and I look back on a long and very eventful life. In fact, not many would be able to recount the experiences I have been fortunate to have, and none would be able to say that they had been partly responsible for the care and upbringing of a lad – carpenter like me and one of God’s own. He will do great things, though I doubt I’ll be around to see them.

I was brought up to be a carpenter, to work with wood all my life and to cut and fashion with plane and saw, the wooden implements, furniture and buildings you see around, everywhere. It has been hard work, but I have been proud to work with wood, one of God’s own living materials, created by his own hand centuries and centuries ago. It is rewarding work, to be able to take a piece of rough-hewn timber and then to cut and shape, to joint and carve into the finished article; I liken it to God’s own handiwork.

Joseph the Carpenter with Jesus (Georges de la Tour)

Apart from this, my interests are few and quite simple. I am a Jew, and go to the Synagogue on the Sabbath. I follow God’s law as best I can, being a God-fearing man, and a man who loves God with my whole life. I get on with my friends and neighbours – trying to help where I can. The main part of my life has to do with my family. As I said before, my life has not been easy. I have had my share of troubles – but they have also been the source of some of my greatest joys in life. And this is where my story gets interesting.

Many years ago, I was engaged to a young Jewish girl called Mary. We were intending to get married, and then the first of my calamities hit me. I found out that she was expecting a baby and this ‘knocked me for six’. I didn’t know what to do; I was very angry, because I knew the baby wasn’t mine – and I had never thought that Mary was ‘that’ kind of girl. Anyway, the only way out of this, for me, was to ‘divorce’ her – to finish the relationship and leave Mary to it. The trouble with this was that, should people find out, and find out they must, then Mary’s life would be in danger. The people don’t take kindly to adultery, and the usual fate of a woman found in Mary’s condition, is to stone her to death. I did not want that to happen, for Mary was, in my view, a ‘good’ girl, and not given to ‘flirting’ around with the young men.

Despite being in two minds, however, there was no way that I could marry her, and take her into my home, and that’s the way it was until, one night I had a dream, and in this dream, God’s messenger told me that May was pregnant because she was expecting God’s son, and he would be great. God had asked Mary about this, and she had agreed. Well to put it mildly, I was shattered when I heard this. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and it gave a whole new slant to the story, and now, I was determined to do the right thing, for Mary and her child. The least I could do was to take her into my home, as my spouse, and to protect her, and the child she was expecting.

Now you might think that, with this decision, my troubles might be over, but you would be wrong. At that time, Israel was occupied by the Roman authorities, and apart from having to obey our own Jewish laws, we also had to abide by what the Romans laid down. Mary was well on in her pregnancy, when we had to leave home and travel to Bethlehem, in order to be registered – a kind of census. We joined a caravan travelling in that direction – it took us some days – and the going was hard, especially for Mary, but worse was to come. When we got to the city, the place was full to the brim with people, all on the same errand. Could we find somewhere to stay? No way! Mary was going into labour, and the only place to ‘camp’ was in a farm outhouse. It was there that she gave birth to her son, and we called him Jesus, because that is what the angel said we should do. From the very first, you could see this child was going to be ‘special’, as some shepherds from the nearby fields came to visit him, and the night was filled with stars, and angels and things. Awesome! Then three kings came to bring him presents. I can honestly say I have never seen anything like this in my life. But, it filled me with great adoration and wonder.

Then, no sooner had we returned to Nazareth, than we had to leave again, and this time, in one mad rush. Again God sent a messenger and warned us that Jesus’ life was in danger from King Herod’s soldiers, as they had been sent to kill the child. It seems Herod was a very jealous king and did not like the idea of another ‘king’ in his territory, and so, with donkey and all we could put together in a hurry, we left and made the difficult journey into Egypt. ‘T was a good job we did, for the soldiers came and murdered all the young baby boys – talk about ‘weeping and gnashing of teeth’! Eventually, when God said it was safe to go back home, we returned to Nazareth, Mary and Jesus and I, and we lived the life of a small, simple family.

The Holy Family (Sir John Everett Millais)

Jesus helped me with the carpentry, and I taught him to use the tools of the trade. He was a good lad – and I was proud of him – even though I always knew there was something very different about him. That was proved when we took him to the Temple. He was around 12 years old then, and, surprise, surprise, once inside the Temple, Jesus set about lecturing the elders on all aspects of the Law. It was then that Mary, and I, really came to realise, that here was a young man who would not be a carpenter all his life. He had other more important things on his mind.

And so, this is me now, getting old and knowing that it will not be long before I have to leave Mary and Jesus. As I said before, I have had my share of worries, and life has not been easy. However, I have tried my best to love God and carry out his wishes – certainly so far as Mary and Jesus have been concerned. They have returned my love a hundredfold, and all the work and care I have put into looking after my family, has been well worthwhile. I know, in my heart, that this is not the end of the story. It is most likely that I shall not be alive to see things develop; the life I have known with just the three of us will not go on much longer. I know that God has plans for Jesus, and when those plans materialise, he will leave home, and his trade behind, to take on much more important work – and God only knows where that will end. For my own part, all I can say is thank you to God, to Mary and Jesus. It has been a pleasure to be part of your lives, and to look after you as best I can. I hope you will think well of me, and the part I have tried to play, in looking after you both. I have faith that God will look, with favour, on my life’s work when I die, and so I have no fears in that direction. God be with you, always.”

From authority, not much is known for certain concerning St. Joseph, whose feast day is celebrated, annually by the western Christian Churches, on 19th March (this last Monday). He is regarded as one of the greatest saints of the Church, understandably, since a great part of his life was so closely woven with the lives of Jesus and Mary.

In the Epistles of St. Paul, amongst the earliest of Christian writings, St. Joseph is not mentioned and the earliest of the Gospels, that of St. Mark, gives him no part to play. In the gospels of St. Luke and St. Matthew, we have records concerning the lineage of St. Joseph – traceable back to King David – and we also have narratives concerning the infancy of Jesus, though the two accounts differ in the detail. From Matthew, we have the massacre of the innocents and the flight into Egypt. After the death of King Herod, we know from the same source that the Holy Family moved back to Nazareth. The only later reference we have to St. Joseph – though not by name – is concerned with the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, when he was then 12 years old. There is a reference to this in St. Luke’s Gospel, when Jesus speaks to ‘both his parents’. Moving on from this point, and because it is thought that Joseph was considerably older than Mary, most authorities appear to assume that he was already deceased before Jesus’ public ministry began.

Records of devotions to St. Joseph go back to at least AD 800, and there are references to him as the ‘Guardian of the Lord’ in the 9th Century. Devotions continued to grow in popularity through to the 14th Century. In the 13th Century, St. Thomas Aquinas stressed the importance of St. Joseph as husband of Mary (and guardian of Jesus), given that the Jews would have put Mary to death had she not been married and of his household, and whilst growing up, it was necessary for Jesus to have the care and protection of a ‘foster’ father.

Devotions to St. Joseph were developed further during the 15th Century by the actions of St. Bernadine and others. Later, in 1870, Pope Pius IX proclaimed St. Joseph patron of the Universal Church, especially in the fight against Communism, but St. Joseph is also venerated by those praying for a happy death, by fathers everywhere, by travellers, by immigrants, craftsmen, and workers in general. The lists of his patronages go on and on. In 1889, Pope Leo XIII urged Catholics to pray to St. Joseph as patron of the Church and the challenges it was then facing. Much more recently, Pope John Paul II issued an Encyclical, “Redemptoris Custos” (Guardian of the Redeemer), in which he presented St. Joseph’s most important role in the whole plan of redemption. A great saint, indeed!

St. Joseph, pray for us now and always.

Socius

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This short blog continues a story that began last week. It is well worth reading last week’s episode first, if you have not already done so, and then continuing with this one. Remember you are in the company of some Christians of the very first epoch of Christianity, the first Christians who were, in that sense, our Mother Church, the Mother of all Churches, the Church of the first disciples in the Holy Land……. Father Jonathan.

– Tell us some more about Him,

they started saying after the silence had enchanted them.

 – I have spoken about him many times to you.

 – Tell us again about Him….

 “Simon was the one who first spoke to me about Him. He came into the house like a strong gust of wind, all agitated. He shouted, and then he whispered, whispered and then shouted. “He’s here, it’s Him, He has actually come; the Messiah, so long awaited, He has come; I myself have met Him”. He kissed my daughter and gave me a big hug.

“Is he the anointed one of the Lord?” I asked, after he had calmed down a bit.

 “Yes, He is, He truly is!”

“John the Baptist, the anointed one?”

“No, no, no, not John.”

I was surprised. For days we had been anxiously awaiting Simon to come home. Together with others from Capernaum and the area around he had gone down the length of the Jordan where John was baptizing, attracted by his growing fame. People said he was the Messiah.

“No, he is not the Messiah,” Simon repeated. “He said that, more than once, to the Scribes sent from Jerusalem. ‘I am not the Messiah, nor the Prophet, nor Elijah…’” We were among the first that felt ‘let down’. But we decided to stay there, because we had the feeling something ‘new’, in the air, was about to happen. Something ‘big’ did happen. One day, the Baptist pointed out a young man, one among many others who was there to be baptised. “Look, there is the one we are waiting for”, he said. “He will free us from all our sins.”

Jesus is Baptised by John in the River Jordan 

Andrew, Simon’s brother, was there at that moment, and also heard. He ran, as fast as he could to his brother, full of emotion, and together, they went to meet the one for whom we were waiting. It was Jesus, a Galilean like us, from Nazareth.

“The Messiah, from Nazareth?” I said, smiling at Simon. “Can anything good come from Nazareth?”

“That’s precisely what we said, but you will have to go and see him.”

Simon could not say any more. His eyes were shining, his mouth was open but no words appeared.

“You will have to go and see him,” he kept repeating, as if in a daze.

Then at last he added: “He told me that I am a rock!”

I already knew that he was a rock. When the sea took away my husband, I and my little girl were lost. But the Lord has pity on widows and orphans, and his pity had a name: ‘Simon’. When he took my daughter, as his wife, he also took me into his home, and he quickly became our rock, the rock of his house, where we are now gathered – the house of Peter.

We heard nothing about the ‘Prophet from Nazareth’ for days and days. Simon was so restless. At table, he used to say from time to time: “You should go and see him,” and his gaze was lost in the distance, and he didn’t eat. He had been with Him only a few hours, and he was completely captivated.

In the end, we heard that He had decided to go and visit the villages around here, saying that He had important news to share, and that you needed an open heart, to understand His words.

The next thing: that Sabbath in my house. What a Sabbath that was for Capernaum! In the morning, there was a meeting in the Synagogue with our people, the exorcism, my healing. The afternoon … goodness it was quiet, and such a full afternoon, around the table, listening to His wise words. I listened to Him, like you now are listening to me. He spoke like nobody else has ever spoken. His talking enveloped me, went right inside me, and had the strength and warmth of His hand. Then, in the evening, so many people invaded the house. Everyone wanted to touch Him, speak to Him, and hear His voice. The miracle that happened to me, happened to many others.

Jesus Heals

It got late, like this evening. Silence descended and sleep came over everyone after being intoxicated by that ‘light’. Only I managed to stay awake. How could I have slept when new life was beating in my veins?

It was still dark when I heard Him get up and make for the door.

“Master”, I said, “can I do anything for you?”

“I am going to my Father,” He quietly replied.

On the sea shore He was lost in a heaven of prayer.

As dawn came, He set out again, taking Simon and Andrew with Him. Already, this was his home, and he used to come back here, and go off from here. Until he went away on his last journey, and Simon and my daughter went with Him. But, this is still his home. He is here with us, for ever. This is Peter’s home, and the home of Jesus.”

– Tell us some more about Him,

they started saying after the silence had enchanted them.

– I have spoken about him many times to you.

– Tell us again about Him….

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