Footsteps of Jesus Pilgrimage Day 10 - Walking the Way of the Cross and Resurrection

Day ten. The last day of this amazing experience was upon us far too quickly.

It began early, and this time in silence, carrying a cross. We walked down through Herod’s Gate to the Lions Gate and the beginning of the Via Dolorosa. We were asked not the speak, not to take photos, but to just be in this quiet time. We began at the site of the Antonio, the Roman fortress built on the end of the temple complex where tradition says Jesus was condemned to death. From there we walked and prayed the traditional route of the Stations of the Cross, stopping and hearing the readings and prayers at each Station, until we arrived at the Ethiopian roof huts and the entrance to Holy Sepulchre where we heard the last readings of prayers around Jesus’ crucifixion and death. The Ethiopians were holding a service, so we had to go around to enter Holy Sepulchre, where we had time in the growing crowd to be in this story.

I have done the via dolorosa – stations of the cross once before, when I was there in 2005. My last day was a big day tracing Jesus’ route(ish) beginning at the site of the Last Supper, and a nearby café for coffee and muffin (last supper). While in Mary’s church in Gethsemane I realised I had timed my pilgrimage perfectly if I wanted to join the weekly Friday Walk. So, I did. The city was heaving, and it was a struggle to keep up with the group. I couldn’t hear a lot, and it was very Catholic. I didn’t know the songs many of the other pilgrims sang as we walked. It was an odd experience, but one that I was glad I did.

This time the city was quiet. I could hear. I took my turn carrying the cross as Simon took his turn. I was with people I knew and had spent the last 10 days with. This time I finished sitting in Golgotha simply saying the Jesus prayer.

Then we boarded a bus to where Emmaus might have been. That biblical place was lost to history, but with archaeological work, and tradition, a site has been named. Here we gathered for our last eucharist as a group. We listened to the story of the two devasted and grieving disciples walking home, (were they a couple?)  their hopes in shreds, meeting the resurrected Jesus on the road and recognising him in their sharing of hospitality and his breaking of bread. We listened in this church built to commemorate this story, gathered around a eucharistic table where bread was broken in our midst for the last time. We were asked where we have experienced the crucified and risen Jesus breaking bread? And we were reminded that these two disciples were invited to go, to leave their home again. Their encounter with Jesus meant they could no longer stay home. So too we, as we concluded our time were invited to go: go home, go on, continuing our pilgrimage allowing the gospel to keep working at us from our time in this land. Like them we cannot simply go home to how things were before we came. The formal part in the Holy Land was coming to an end, but our pilgrimage was just beginning.

That afternoon Bonnie and I paid to walk the old Ottoman walls, from the Jaffa Gate, through David’s Tower, and down to the Dung Gate. That was enough. There was a lot of climbing up and down as we walked these ramparts. It is well set out with the stories of those who have occupied, ruled, fought over and brought peace. That story continues today. And we saw West Jerusalem, the Jewish part of the city, modern, green, well resourced. Such a different world from the one were had lived in for the last 10 days. It was a shock to be honest. The Palestinians of East Jerusalem have no say in the local government for Jerusalem because they are not Israeli citizens – they are holding out for East Jerusalem to be part of and capital of the Palestinian State. And it shows in the way the two parts of the city are resourced.

That night we had drinks and dinner, and our last time together. At that dinner I talked to Dean Richard about the chaplain’s role. I was, and still am, interested in offering. But things need to settle down in that part of the world, and for me first.

After dinner we gathered for the last time. We were given a chance to share last thoughts and to say goodbye. We were all presented in certificates and the College tiles. Mine is on the wall of my office, reminding me of this time.

So, what stood out for me. In my journal that I wrote a couple of weeks later my standouts included: being confronted by “white Jesus”, I still am; the regular call to prayer inviting me to stop and pray; visiting the refugee camp and listening to the two speakers from Musalaha – which is even more poignant now after 18 months of Israeli brutality and any foundations for peace eroding by the day – especially with the Orange One unleashing his brand of chaos around the world; and walking the geography which allows those stories to come to life. My big regret is that I was just too tired to journal each day. Bonnie did and I am sure her reflections were rich and profound. But I have so enjoyed taking this time to work out what I photographed, to remember what we did and remind myself of what I did write – all of which has invited me into deeper reflections.

This feels like an end. And it was. But our time in the holy land was not done. There were four more days to go, this time in Jordan