Strange, but all of us who went on the Holy Land pilgrimage, say the same thing! We cannot get it out of our heads! It was so ‘special’ and, of course, like anything special it is difficult to describe, and no one outside those present can really understand the ‘special’ nature, because it was a unique experience. We have been back five days already, and many in the parish have said to me: “Fr. Jonathan, you seem more alive, more energized since you came back from there”. I have described it as a “Paradise” surrounded by “The Crown of Thorns” because, in Paradise, you will simply not want to remember other things that fade into nothingness, compared to the joy of being in God. That was how many of us felt – it was so special; and the thorns? They correspond to the dreadful sufferings and divisions we experienced there, among the good people of the Holy Land, together with the burdens and sufferings each pilgrim carried with them, from their own circumstances, and from the whole world in which we live.

Since my last blog, I have not yet revealed that, on the final days of our pilgrimage, we went to the Holy Sites in Jerusalem to visit the places where Jesus was, and still is, so very special. One must use one’s imagination to make it real, because in the present day, it is so completely ‘built up’; the approach streets are commercialised and the scenery of Jesus’ time, composed of olive groves, tracks, prickles, hedges, and open browny green spaces are now houses, shops, buildings and highways or roads of all shapes and sizes. Yet the sky, the contours of the hills, and the air are essentially the same. Some little spots have been preserved or “re-created” and this helps – like the Shepherds’ Fields, close to Bethlehem, and the Garden of Olives.

One little personal story, I must relate. I was fortunate to be able to visit the Holy Sepulchre, twice – the tomb where Jesus died and rose again – it’s all very close and ‘covered’ by one Church. The waiting was tedious and slow, a crush of people all trying to enter the small cave (now like a small chapel, within a small chapel), where Jesus rose from the dead. It took one hour, standing in a crush of people, that appeared not to move save at a slow shuffle, until at last we got in for just 30 seconds, five people at a time – and well worth it! But, I thought to myself: “I meet Jesus in Leyland; one doesn’t have to come here where some behaviour may be thought rather “unsavoury”. Then it was ‘upstairs’ to the site of the Crucifixion. Again there was a queue, but faster moving. At my first visit, I knelt under the altar and kissed the spot where the cross had been placed. The second time, I was with just one other friend and there was less of a queue than before, at the crucifixion site. This second time, I thought: “I am not just going to kiss the site of the cross; I want to put my arm into the hole.” As I waited for others just in front to clear, some spending a longish time unburdening themselves before the sacred place, I saw they were doing what I wanted to do. My turn came, eventually, and my arm went in to the “hole in the rock” up to the elbow.  An empty space! It felt empty, void, nothing! Isn’t that what Jesus must have felt, himself, on the Cross? “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” There, too, I often feel a “frustrated nothing”, and with the divine person who made himself “nothing” for my sake – healed me – took away my sins – gave me the grace to be united with God, with each other person and with the whole cosmos – it all makes sense, deep down inside. There are two of us, and one is Jesus.  And in Him, there are all the others who understand this way of looking at things, and who are able to see it as the source of greatest joy because, from that “void of nothing” is created a springboard to go and live, with love, everyone we meet, and every situation of every day.

I would wish to conclude this ‘Blog’ by quoting some of the reflections that received from fellow pilgrims:

The experience for me was ourselves, as a group of pilgrims, gathered at the Baptism site on the Jordan. There, most of us having enjoyed a rather ‘giggly’ paddle in the water then came together in the dusk to renew our Baptismal Promises. Anglican, Roman Catholic, URC, Methodist, Salvation Army, we truly confessed ‘one Baptism for the remission of sins’. On our first day, Lazarus, our Christian guide, had explained to us that the name ‘Nazareth’ derived from a word meaning ‘a shoot of a plant’; he pointed out that olive trees are virtually indestructible and always new shoots grow from the buried roots. In Gethsemane garden, someone pointed out to me one of the very ancient trees whose trunk was divided from the ground up into several thick, distorted but living parts. At the Jordan I felt certain that I shared my roots with all of you and found, in the tree, the metaphor for how we are now.”

“It was so good to have you all to walk with me in this journey. The unity of all, and Jesus in the midst – within us – as The Risen Christ, is exactly what I felt in this trip; even my husband (an unbeliever), has shown various signs of ‘loving our neighbour’ and accepting love from you all.”

“My overriding impression is that, at the very core of everything, was a beating heart of astonishing simplicity. The Church of the Annunciation was huge and very beautiful, yet the important part of it was a tiny cave-house where Mary lived. We came across this again and again – a massive structure surrounding a small and simple truth – like a shell protecting its pearl. Even the wall around Bethlehem – separating the Palestinian territories and Israel – was like this, physically cutting off the people inside it, but unable to affect the truth of their faith. This has made me realise that the core of what we believe is actually small and simple, too – that Christ was born, lived and died for us. Everything else that flows from this is like the churches, beautiful and impressive but nothing without the reason for their creation.