A story never to be told?

I love nature and could watch it endlessly.  Last weekend while I was at home I heard a huge  commotion.  A great squawking and screeching.  Looking out of the window I saw  two magpies embroiled in a fight watched on by a third.  It looked brutal.  The third bird even joined in at times,their sharp beaks plunging at each other.

Then from all around came other magpies. The noise level grew even more but these ones stayed on the roof tops like a baying mob and observed the fight from a distance. I counted seven in all - hence the title of this post!

Nature is brutal though but we have become removed an remote from that reality.  We were reminded in church on Wednesday evening that the beautiful spring lambs that gambol in the fields across our land will eventually become cutlets!  That is the harsh reality and is why many in good conscience choose to be vegetarian.  We have lost that connection with the roots of our food.

Maybe that is a story that should be told...

As for the magpies? They were disturbed by a passing car and flew off to continue their fight elsewhere.

I can resist anything but temptation !

Well, a couple of days into Lent and its not going too badly!  I managed lots of exercise and minimal alcohol for the last two days because we had friends visiting from Austria.  London is such a vibrant city to show off. We only scratched the surface really though we didn't rest for long.  The weather certainly delivered with warm spring sunshine making the whole city sparkle!

I realise that I'm pretty poor at self-discipline, hence the title of this post. Its one of my all time favourite quotes!  However, if I can manage a couple of days there is hope!

The Lent book is a fertile source of things to ponder. It doesn't contain any new ideas or novel theology but its written in different styles and language which combined make for a provoking read!  It also has ways to surprise. For example I'd worked out that God is not into punishment on Thursday only to read that thought the following morning in the daily reflection.

Life is rarely about a new discovery. Its all about being reminded.  We joke about the attention span of  a goldfish when the truth is that we're not much better at times!  Unless its something we are carrying a grudge or a desire that we know we shouldn't...

Six weeks to rescue my life?!

Its Lent! Last night we had a super sermon from Fr Philip North which has had me thinking all night!  Lent is all about setting aside time to reflect and ponder.  Yes, some folk abstain from something they enjoy and others add something into their lives for the season. But the real focus should be on self-examination. Where we are with God. How healthy our faith life is. A sort of spiritual MOT!

So what exactly am I going to do? The obvious one is to give up alcohol - I know I enjoy it too much... but I could just take something on...  I want to spend more quality time reflecting on the Word and I shall be using our own Lenten booklet to do that.  I also want to record what thoughts the daily text has prompted. So far, so good!

www.standrewholborn.org.uk

As  I read the first day's offering I decided that an alarm clock was just what I needed!  I realised that I take my physical health too much for granted, not enough exercise, too much food, not enough sleep, too much booze!  Not all the time admittedly but more than is good.

This all comes over rather "heavy" but the truth is, as I pondered abstinence I got a strong sense that this is NOT about punishment. God loves us. He wants us to have abundant life - but maybe not quite so abundant as at  present!! So, the deal has been agreed - its about learning to love and care for myself as God would have me do...

So its less or better food and a single glass of wine combined with more sleep and exercise.  I know I'll feel so much better for it... So,why is it so hard?!

It's all around!

I find silence in the most unusual places!! I reflected on that over the weekend because it struck me on my journey home on Friday night that the two hour train ride is an oasis of silence for me! OK it is punctuated by emails - if I choose to open them - and the chatter all around me but generally speaking I can block that all out and find real solitude and refreshment.

I've known I cherish the weekly commute for a while now. I use it to write. I use it to just stare out of the window and drink in the enormity of the created order and its subtle changes. I use it to ground myself in the comfort of the changing seasons. The first signs of spring are now beginning to show. Catkins hang from slender twigs, their fluffy bright yellow beauty standing out against the drabness of their surroundings. They catch the eye and warm the heart.

I also found silence in my garden on Saturday - though the noise of my neighbourhood was a constant. I was unaware of the hustle and bustle of transport and families going about their business. Instead I was absorbed by the wonder of nature unfolding all around me. Determined spear-like shoots pushing through the sodden, caked ground. Buds on branches fattening and some even beginning to burst. The optimism of spring shrouded me.

Silence is a source of refreshment for me in so many ways...

It can be scary

Silence that is!  I sort of touched on that yesterday as well, but before I go any further I meant to put the link to the whole series into yesterday's post so here it is:

http://www.standrewholborn.org.uk/church-life/lent-book-2013

I awoke in the middle of the night last night - its not unusual for me so I wasn't anxious or worried but I didn't go back to sleep immediately.  My mind had been pondering on the the reflection and the link that is sometimes made between silence and death.  The silence can be quite deafening in the middle of the night.  Somehow it gets compounded by the darkness and has the potential to become menacing.  Illnesses always seem worse during the dark hours and I am sure I read somewhere that death 'snatches' people away in the wee small hours more than it does in the bright light of day.  Our bodies rhythms are at their low ebb and we feel/are vulnerable.

When I was a child the house we lived in had a strip of wood in front of it and half the road had a HUGE, dense holly hedge along the path.  It did seem huge to a child but in reality it was probably only 8ft tall.  I got used to walking down the road on my own and then when I went to high school the shortest route home was through another piece of woodland (I suspect they were once all one). I loved the sense of being at one with that piece of wood as I walked through it on dull evenings and dark nights.  I was a strange child!  But it never felt silent - there was my footfall for a start, the rustle of leaves on the ground and the sighing of the twigs and branches above me.

maybe its because I'm an eternal optimist... but silence always seems pregnant to me.  Full of possibilities.  Redolent with potential abundance... as the reflection highlighted the silent death of winter hides the plentiful promise of spring.

Silence doesn't have to be scary...

Silence - and listening to it!

No, I haven't gone mad, though I do know there is a whole record that is devoted to silence, the concept of "hearing" silence is quite a bizarre one! 

My London church has a tradition (well its been doing this for about 7 years now) of writing its own Lent booklet and this year our theme is "Listening to..."   Yesterday was Ash Wednesday (or the day after Pancake Day as I suspect many may now refer to it as) so we started our Lenten journey with the theme for these next few days being Listening to Silence.

Its odd how little things happen during the day that suddenly all add up by the time you're in bed and about to go to sleep!  I started the day VERY early (I'm looking for accolades here!  Not!) I went to Mass at St Mary's Willesden at 6.30am with my friend Sarah.  The little sermon (aka homily) was great, the priest talked about the silence of the Judean desert and his own experience of that on a pilgrimage.  He also talked about how difficult it was to find silence in our lives but how that was less tricky than carve out some solitude.

Turn the clock forward just over 12 hours and I was back in church - at St Andrew's Holborn, where I am to be found most Wednesday evenings - listening to more pearls of wisdom from our Guild Vicar, Lyle. He was, of course, speaking directly to the theme of silence and how hard it is to still our minds and eradicate any stray thoughts so that the sounds of silence can creep into our consciousness (I'm now interpreting his words in my own way!).  He went on to expand that to illustrate how important it can be to listen to our inner self, one of the sounds that is often drowned out by our busy world and crowded minds.

Then in the pub afterwards, a friend reminded me that I wasn't always able to clear my mind and just 'be'...  There was a time in my life when the demands of young family and all the other paraphernalia I had in my life at the time stopped me clearing my thoughts; actively prevented me from listening to silence.  It was also a time when, had I stopped to actually clear my mind and allow the silence to 'get to me' that I might have crumpled and not been able to carry on.  The thought of confronting some of the things I was burying deep down was too scary.

Silence is a gift and a balm but only when we are strong enough to cope with all that we will hear...

On the cusp of a new year

This is sunset over Point Loma from Coronado Beach... a stunning display almost pyrotechnic in its splendour and depth of colour.  We have been experiencing the festive season on the west coast of America. Its rather strange in some ways - scenes of snowmen and lights in the shape of snowflakes adorn many front gardens and houses - and yet the nearest snow is a short plane ride or long car journey away.  Most days are sunny and balmy - high 60's - low 70's sort of weather - but the nights are quite chilly and refreshingly so. 

We have both our 80+ year old mothers with us so that they too can see where their granddaughter calls home.  Both will have a birthday whilst away and we reflected as the first passed that when she was born the thought that this new baby girl would spend a birthday in her 80's watching the sun go down over the Pacific would have seemed impossible for her parents to imagine let alone comprehend.

But time passes and society 'advances' - though I use that phrase to imply that our understanding of technology and the scientific wisdom that underpins it is what moves on. In reality our basic instincts remain the same.  The world is still scarred by misuse of power and injustice, diminished by poverty and greed.  We still witness the destructive forces of war and watch on as innocent masses are displaced or, worse, injured as a consequence.  We watch on impotently as the pain of centuries are perpetuated into the present day.

With each sunset there is the promise of a fresh new day.  With the passing of the year is the hope of a bright new dawn for our world.  Yet we rarely seem to learn the lessons of the past and step out bravely into the future with resolve to improve...

May 2013 be a year of joy and blessing for you and yours

An Open Letter to the church I love

There is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him. For, ‘Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’  (Romans 10. 12)

Since I woke this morning, I have felt compelled to write this letter.  I sat through the whole debate on Tuesday but not once did I feel moved to speak and offer a chance to engage in debate.  I never had a sense that I could reveal a fresh aspect to the struggle in which we remain engaged.  However, I now feel completely different and am convinced that in my own journey and personal struggle there maybe something that all those who share my love for this our church could recognise. 

The verse above has just ‘popped’ into my email inbox – it is our Patronal festival next week and those will be the first words I read at our Mass to celebrate the occasion.  The timing and their inclusivity leapt out at me and, with that in mind, let me share my journey with you… I hope you will be able to stick with it through to the end.

I had a shock when I turned up my first hustings as a naive candidate in the autumn of 1990, everyone was only interested in one thing – how would I vote on the issue of the ordination of women to the priesthood?  (And why hadn’t I referred to it in my election address!)  For me, personally, women’s ministry has never been anything other than obvious.  I am not a feminist and I don’t particularly like inclusive language; I’m happy to be called a son of God.  I was fortunate enough to spend my formative faith years in an open evangelical setting where our Vicar encouraged me to take an active role in leading worship and the decision-making process that is the PCC.  I was standing for General Synod because God had called me to that role and I was testing it.  My address spoke of the numerous issues that motivated me – principally how to spread the gospel to our nation. It was a BIG shock!

I was successful and joined Synod in November 1990 and have been a member continuously since the.  I was there in 1992 on the day when we approved the Measure to allow women to become priests.  I wrote a report for my deaneries after that was titled “No Joy” simply because for me there was none.  How can you rejoice when anxiety is etched on the face of your neighbour? 

As I approached this week, echoes of that day twenty years ago crowded my mind.  I tried to recall whether it had been as dull and miserable on that day too.  I walked into Church House and the tension was palpable. There were moments of great beauty on Tuesday – starting with our worship.

It is hard not to play “compare and contrast” when I’ve had the privilege of being present for both those debates and I now see that in that very exercise I may discover the potential of finding a little kernel of truth that might unlock the gate to a way forward.

In 1992 there was a real sense in which the debate grew during the day.  The speeches were traded across the floor in a respectful manner, of course, but the arguments were developed and built on.  A true debate ensued and by the end of the afternoon when we all agreed the time had come tens of people sat down and there was a sense of grace and generosity in the room.  Some brave people changed their minds that day and their response to the movement of the Spirit through our midst meant that we managed just to attain the two thirds needed in each House.  Though there was no electronic voting, and therefore no public access to how everyone voted, we each walked through a door in full view of our colleagues and friends.  I knew two of those who ‘moved’ in the House of Laity, both were women and both came into that chamber that morning thinking they would vote against the Measure.  The price of their listening was costly.

Fast forward twenty years and I have to admit that I was impressed by the level of speeches that we heard in the morning and again very early after lunch.  However, as the afternoon wore on the speakers become more robust and I detected a sense of entrenchment.  By late afternoon there was something that almost verged on ‘competitive applause’!  The atmosphere “hardened” perceptibly, which was illustrated by the fact that several people, a dozen or more, felt unable to sit down and tried to say something lucid and fresh within a thirty second speech limit.  I failed to pick up that grace and generosity I had sensed all those years ago.  It felt more like the battle lines had been drawn and my heart felt heavy.  The inevitability that we would not pass this Measure hung in the air as the debate drew to a close.  I should mention here though that in many ways we failed to debate the Measure as people stood and gave prepared speeches; there was none of the frission of the verbal sparring we’d experienced before.

So, we are where we are.  As a Synod we are divided; that is the reality.  As a Church we are, at best confused and puzzled.  How could the will of the Dioceses be countermanded?  As a nation we are perplexed, angry and increasingly distanced.  How can gender cause such a furore?  What next?  Where next?  How can we begin to pick up the shattered pieces of the church I love?  Of the church that we ALL love?  And therein lies the kernel of the problem…

We are where we are because we all love this church.  This crazy, broad, colourful, frustrating, annoying, inspirational, national church.  It’s in our blood. It’s formed our lives.  It’s shared our special moments – celebrating our joy and mourning our sadness.  We are all here because we want to be.

To all ordained women and those whose vocation has been tested and are in training I want to say that I share your anger and frustration, your deep pain and shock. It’s only human to feel all those raw emotions and much more.  I want to thank you for the new perspective you have given to our church, your ministry has been a breath of fresh air.  But equally, I want to urge you not to vent your disappointment in a way that fails to acknowledge the cornerstone of our Christian faith – to love our neighbour as ourselves.  Hold fast to the truth that our church, your church, wants to see some of you in the servant role of bishop.  That is undoubted and has been passed with a great majority.  I know many who voted against the Measure who long to see you take your rightful place alongside your brother bishops.  The biggest challenge I face in my life is genuinely to show Christ’s love to those I find instinctively unlovely.  To search through the haze of distaste and see God reflected in their eyes.

To all those who voted against the Measure this week I want to say you can trust our church, your church.  I know you feel marginalised and under threat, unwanted and misunderstood.  But, I heard the reassurance I needed to in the debate from those who lead us.  Their promise to continue to welcome, nourish and cherish your ministries was clear to me but obviously not to you.  I don’t want to be part of a church that loses its inclusivity.  I recognise that you have actively chosen to stay within our church, not to deliberately thwart women’s ministry out of spite but because this is your church too.  It formed you as it formed me as it formed our ordained sisters.  I completely recognise that in many cases it would be easier to walk away (as some have done) but I want to thank you for staying,  It’s the harder road to take but it does mean we have a chance of retaining our distinctive rainbow church that is the envy of many.  I believe that you have listened but I want to urge you to engage with those you currently can’t trust; to revisit the theological issues that are proving a stumbling block for some and to work through why the law of the land feels more secure than the word of your father’s in God.

To the House of Laity not just in General Synod but for all those who faithfully sit in our pews I want to say that I know we all feel perplexed, possibly even embarrassed.  I hear people all around me asking ”how did it come to this?”.  Recent history has shown that our House has always been on a knife edge when it comes to all the ‘big issues’ so this should come as no surprise.  What I would say to everyone in our parishes and deaneries is that we must learn to value and use our votes carefully when it comes round to the next election in three years time.  Take an active interest, challenge the views of those who stand.  We need  a robust House of Laity.  What we must not do is rush into anything precipitate or look for a scapegoat.  We must start to listen to and engage with one another in a different way.

To the House of Bishop’s I would beg you to remain firm, continue to show leadership and model acceptance of one another’s difference in love.  I think the Measure is a hair’s breadth away from being acceptable.  I would urge you to think about how we can bring it back in the life of this Synod, we must finish what we have started because we hold the collective memory of what has already been said; we have the responsibility to see it through.  I firmly believe we have time.

I want to end on a personal note because in the act of penning this letter I have been rather presumptive in assuming that I have anything distinctive to say to you all.  However, I feel that I personally encapsulate this struggle.  I’ve already shared my place of birth and formation as being from the very evangelical wing of our beloved church.  But, I’ve been on a journey, especially in the last fourteen years when my job moved me to London to live and work through the week.  My instinctive reaction was to find a church that I could join, that would be a locus in the week and provide me with a group of like minded people to meet.  God led me to a wonderfully eccentric church that has expanded my experience of being church and allowed my faith to deepen; even blossom.  This year, having been an active member for eleven years, the annual meeting agreed that I should shadow the current wardens with a view to potentially becoming a fully-fledged one next spring.  I know it has no legal meaning but I feel proud to be their ‘deputy’ warden, maybe even their warden ‘designate’.  That church is very much from the Anglo-Catholic tradition but in it I have found my spiritual home.  To say we are an eclectic bunch would be a big understatement but we share a deep love for our God and a profound love of our church, the Church of England.  It was to that church I went on Wednesday evening feeling drained and deflated.  It was there I sat next to my dearest friend who had voted against the Measure.  There, together united in our pain, we sought the balm of the sacraments and the comfort of hug of peace.  I love and cherish my fellow pilgrims who gather in that place.

I do not want to be part of a church that does not cherish those fellow pilgrims; it would be a paler reflection of God’s immeasurable diversity.  I truly believe that “there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him”.  I urge each and everyone of us to call on His generous love that we might begin to see one another as He sees us and learn to humbly live out that love to those we find unlovely.

Going back!

Its now just over a week since we arrived in Jerusalem after a full on day that took in farewell to Galilee, the Jordan River, Masada, the Dead Sea and Jericho!

The next morning - Wednesday, a week today - we set out to 'do' Holy Week and I've already blogged about some of it but not all... 

As I told you, we started early, in fact we so early we were the very first group into Pater Noster church. I loved the way Khalil described as being like a French embassy - the land belongs to France so the flag flies there.

Khalil is full of pearls of wisdom and little sayings that capture the essence of something. This morning's gem was - Jerusalem is a mosaic of peoples. The more you experience the city the more it becomes patently true. From there we took our palm crosses and started our journey following Christ's last week in a day. From adulation to agony and beyond pain. It was hot and the path very steep - so not an easy route to take. We had Mass under the olive trees in Gethsemane... Another privilege.

The way of the cross or Via Dolorosa was not as crowded and bustling as it had been last time but still you could get an impression of what it must've been like carrying the cross. Through the heat and heckling, being jostled and jeered. To 'escape' that and find yourself on the top of Calvary (in the shape of the Orthodox Ethiopian church) is in many ways a relief. You know journey is nearly over...

We ended up (as usual) on the roof of the church of the Holy Sepulchre and in the Ethiopian part of the church. When our devotions were over, and the obligatory group photo had been taken, two of us stayed on to attend Vespers in the Ethiopian church. Its rather hard to explain the wonderful deep tonal chanting in a way that will do it justice but observing the ritual was a truly uplifting experience. They lean on their wonderful wooden 'crutches' that tuck neatly under their arms, occasionally stopping to have a little conflab about who will do the next bit... or so it seemed - though i could be wrong.  it was simple but beautiful.  Now great choir or musical accompaniment but just delightful worship.

The Ethiopian church is clearly not as affluent as its close neighbours. There is also someone on each of the three levels - the roof, the upstairs chapel and the ground level one. All three 'guards' - because that is how they appear - sit there silently or quietly reading the Scriptures all day every day. I know that their vows drive them but I suspect there is also a need to protect property... and to try and ensure that their building isn't used as a thoroughfare at the most inappropriate times. Its a shortcut to the church of the Holy Sepulchre that sadly gets rather abused as people rush to see the 'main show'!

I was happy to just 'be' there

unpacking!

Its fascinating hearing myself reply to the variations of "how was your holiday"?

For a start it didn't feel like a holiday at the time and even more so now on my return.  It was draining but then I expected it to be.  However, I still feel like I want to grumpily refute the contention that it was a holiday.  Yes - I got on a plane.  Yes - I stayed in lovely hotels in great locations.  Yes - I visited a lot of special sites, some more tourist-y than others. But I never once saw it as a holiday, nor did it feel like one.

The other popular question is did you enjoy it more than last time?  The answer to that is quite simple... there is no way that I can compare the two.  One was virtually all new and fresh.  The other was mostly familiar.  The two groups I travelled with were similar, with some common pilgrims but even so the dynamics were different.

So it was a pilgrimage, definitely not a holiday, and it was not comparable with the previous trip.

The next question is invariably "what was best"?  Now that one has caused me to chew it over even more.  All sorts of ideas came to mind but only one stuck there.  The best part of the last few days were the "A" team.  Our driver, Riyadh, and our guide Khalil.  They both made our journey so special and so illuminating.  Yet both were - are - Muslims... however, there was not one person on our journey who didn't agree with that evaluation.

Pilgrimages are about journeys and the companions we find along the way.  Often it is those people, those friends who make or break the journey.  The "A" team made it and were undoubtedly were the best feature!

By the way - the physical unpacking of clothes and other sundry bits - still has to be attacked but that will eventually get done once I get back home - to Norwich...

Inappropriate clothing!

One of the things that you're constantly aware of in the Holy Land is making sure you're wearing the right clothes.  Knees should be covered - for men and women, I've seen some rather fascinating innovations in terms of sarongs on men.  Shoulders should also be covered and sleeves should really reach your elbows - or at least approach them.  In some cases heads have to covered with hats - that's mainly aimed at women though.

Yesterday when we visited Temple Mount I was very aware of all that and wore full length light linen trousers, a long sleeved knee length shift and a beautiful hand-embroidered shawl I'd bought the evening before at the hotel over my head.  I sort of felt I looked the part - rather Middle Eastern!

However, the title of this post refers to my dress today!!  We landed safely at five minutes to midnight last night and I'd booked into a hotel at Luton airport.  I eventually turned the light off at 1.30 am but was wide awake at 6.30 so got up and came into work. 

The problem was what to wear!  I had to attend a meeting with the Minister this morning so nothing too 'casual' would do.  But all I had in my case was attire suited to hot weather and its the monsoon season in the UK at present.  I got some funny looks from people in boots and winter coats as we waited for the train on a blustery Luton station.  They clearly queried my sanity as I stood there in summer clothes, a thin cardigan and sandals!!

I am truly the most inappropriately dressed person in London today!

Beginning the long journey home!

The alarm went off at a reasonably sane time this morning - 07:30 hrs.  If anyone asks me how my 'holiday' was I may get a little grumpy!  Pilgrimage is hard work - though the 'partying ' is optional the early starts and exacting schedules to ensure you get the most out of the precious time here means you need stamina in bucket loads!

Today will be a long one, we land just before midnight UK time which will be 02:00 hrs in our current time zone and for many its work and school tomorrow morning! I am staying at the airport over night and going straight to the office - luggage and all!  It will be a very stark contrast!

Last night we continued our engagement with people who live here.  On Wednesday night my friend Alice and her boyfriend Moritz told me/us about their work for UNRA (I hope I've got the acronym right!) and the Holocaust Museum respectively.  Moritz is sponsored by the German Roman Catholic Church to work in the museum - pretty powerful stuff there.  Alice works with schools in Gaza.

Then Friday night Donald McIntyre (spelling? hope that's right too) the Independent's Jerusalem correspondent came to share his own views of this complex land having lived here for eight years.  Fascinating insights from a journalistic point of view.

Saturday night Abigail a young Israeli woman originally from London came to share her own experience having moved here recently.  She lives in Jerusalem but lectures at the university in Haifa where her students are both Israeli and Palestinian.  Her fresh insights were fascinating.

So plenty to chew on there then!!!

Must sign off - church beckons... and so begins the long journey home... or is home where we have been?

Behind the wall...

Today we have spent the whole day in Palestine, visiting the Shepherds Fields and the church of the Nativity in Bethlehem and then finally, a trip to Aida refugee camp.  Quite a varied programme and one that will continue to resonate in me for a while yet.  We spoke of living stones at the end of the afternoon as we were driving away from the checkpoint... The stones are we have seen and experienced have been both hewn from the ground and also human stones.  We've learnt so much about the rich fabric that it the Holy Land. Its cultures, its peoples, its history, its theology.  We have one more person to meet tonight, Abigail a friend of Fr Brian's who is an Orthodox Jew.  Then tomorrow we prepare to come home but not until we've been to Mass at St George's and then visited the Western Wall and the Temple Mount.

Apparently we're a 'lucky' group.  It certainly seemed so today as we arrived early for our Mass 'slot' at Shepherds Fields and were able to start straight away and then after lunch we virtually walked straight into the cave where the place that mark's Christ's birth is to be found.  Shepherds Fields was the most emotional moment to date for me.  We sang a modern version of O Little Town of Bethlehem - I wasn't the only one struggling to sing as the tears welled in my eyes.  We looked out and saw how much had been built in the valley since we were there two years ago.  The settlements advance inexorably. However, we learnt that the Palestrina's have taken to building new dwellings on their land, especially that land on the border, though that might not always work.  We heard yesterday about the demolition of homes at little or no notice.

We spent a lot of time and almost as much money (between us) in the Bethlehem Co-operative - they hand make beautiful goods and they are a group of Christian families who are desperately trying to make sufficient to stay in the Holy Land.  It is clear that there are fewer tourists.  This could be for a number of reasons - its getting hot, too hot for many Europeans.  The impact of the economic collapse cannot be ruled out either.  Finally, some may be put off by what is happening close by in Syria.

I will post more about the rest of the afternoon later but it was an incredible experience to meet people who are working on what they call "The Beautiful Resistance".

Last day...

Where has the time gone to?  These days in Jerusalem have just flown by!

Yesterday we sang Mass in St Anne's church which has the best acoustic ever!  The echo resonates for approximately 20 seconds or more. Everyone wants to try it out but other groups respected our devotions and didn't sing while we were worshipping.

From there it was up to the City of David. Lots of on-going excavations greeted us and the whole complex has been added since I was last here two years ago but some of us went down the dry tunnel that connects the city with the water supply. The main feature of yesterday was the incredible heat and the seemingly endless steps up and down.

In the afternoon we visited the birthplace of John the Baptist - lots more heats and steep inclines to negotiate. But more of that later as the bus is waiting... to take us to Bethlehem and later a refugee camp!

Too early!

I set the alarm on my mobile phone for 03.10 hrs today.... I haven't reset the time for Jerusalem but even in the right time zone, 05.30 is an early start.  But it was my own choice.  I had agreed to go to the church of the Holy Sepulchre with Jim and Aoife, possibly John. (In the end all four of us made it!)  It was worth it.  Being one of the first people in that amazing place was quite awe inspiring.  Listening to the tonal chanting of the monks as we visited the holy sites was almost other worldly.

Being in the Old City so early was also a revelation as we witnessed the city waking up.  The old women who sell herbs were already setting out their wares.  The odd little cafe was open, religious folk were making their devotions and as we walked back to the hotel people were beginning to pace the pavements on their way to work.

I haven't got time to catch up with Wednesday, let alone begin to do justice to Thursday... but I'm making lots of notes so as not to lose the essence of what we're finding out. 

However, in a nutshell yesterday started to introduce us to some of the peoples of this land in a much more immediate fashion.  We visited the orphanage in Bethany and saw the real improvements that had been made to the place since we last visited two years ago.  We also went to the traditional site of Lazarus' tomb.  Some of our party were literally at the bottom of the cave on their hands and knees crawling into the 'tomb' when the electricity was cut!  Pitch black is quite scary when you don't expect it.  After a delicious lunch in the Armenian Quarter we went on an eye-opening trip guided by a Rabbi for Human Rights.  These people put their necks on the line in the name of justice.  They challenge injustice wherever they see it and try and provide for needs.  We saw a 'temporary' school that they had built for the Bedouin children and the tunnel under the road that allowed them safe passage.  But I'll tell you more about their work when I can find more time...

Must stop - but not before I mention that Jim was chosen to be the Sultan at last night's Sultan's Feast! There was mush merriment and its still resonating this morning at breakfast! Our group really party well!

Home sweet home

I'm writing this early on Thursday morning because Wednesday was just sooo busy!

We started the day at Pater Noster - the very first people in there - gosh! - and ended it at the church of the Holy Sepulchre having down Holy Week in a day... exhausting in every sense of the word, physically, emotionally, spiritually.

However, (hopefully) more of that later. Because the biggest privilege we had yesterday was to visit our guide Khalil's family home.  He took us into the old city and down the usual little 'streets' and then he told us he would show us where the 'most important' person had been born. Of course, it was his family home.  It had been in his family since the 14th century and from the outside was approximately 8feet wide.  It had a single door and through it you could just glimpse the white ceiling daubed with bright coloured spots of paint.  The traditional way to celebrate returning from a Haj.

Khalil told us about the deeds that his ancestors had established and how they are opened up every five years for new names to be added (and I assume others to be removed... on death?).  He told us how he has a room in the house and that others, his uncles, his brothers, his cousins also have rooms there.  He spoke about the work that had been done over the centuries to increase the living space, how a first floor 'yard' area had been developed to add a washroom and how his father had mourned the lost space for sitting together in the afternoon to drink tea.

Then he took us into his home.  That's why it was such a privilege. It was currently 'empty' as they were adding more rooms.  Behind the small exterior the building opened up backwards and upwards into an amazing living area. He showed us the room where he had been born.  He explained that as he now has a wife and four children it is too small for all of them to live there so they live about ten minutes drive away. But due to the checkpoints it takes about an hour and a half to get into the city in the morning.

There is something rather special about showing people your home.  It can define who you are.  It is quite clear that Khalil is unbelievably proud to be born in and a resident of Jerusalem.  He has great pride in the city of his birth.  And we were all the more aware of how close he was born to the centre of the Old City when he took us a very short walk to Ecce Homo where we were to lunch and then afterwards start the stations of the cross...

Oh, and I mustn't forget his introduction to Uncle Moustache who runs the best falafel stall in Jerusalem!

What a wonderful day and an incredible, unexpected experience.

Have to stop!  The bus leaves soon for the orphanage, Lazarus' cave and then an afternoon with a Rabbi for Human Rights! Another 'quiet' day!

Road to Jerusalem - at last!

We left the Dead Sea stopping briefly to take a photo of the magical mirror-like quality of the water. We chased a sighting of an ibex but only found more hyrax! I could understand why the ibex weren't wandering around - it was sooo hot! Any sensible ibex would be in the shade somewhere having a siesta!

Two more stops to take in before our destination. The first was Jericho where we saw the monastery on the Mount of Temptation and then did some shopping in a local co-operative. I got carried away and bought some saffron...

Then a brief journey to St George's Monastery. Part of it was the old road to Jericho. It was very windy and steep so gave a sense of what the path that features in the Parable of the Good Samaritan would've been like. The landscape was almost unreal, weather smoothed chalk hills with only scant vegetation looked more like a lunar scene.

The extra detour was worth it. Yet again I feel like I'm running out of superlatives. The monastery clung to the side of the valley. It was huge from where we were standing above it looking down. The bottom of the valley was full of palm trees and other plants. It was just mystical. A place of hospitality and peace. A place of welcome and refreshment.

As we got back into the coach I could only describe my feelings as that of utter satiation. How can a day provide more than that...?
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As a postscript to that when we arrived at the hotel McCabe had arranged for Paul and Katie to be greeted by champagne - which meant the rest of us got some too!  What a fantastic end to the day!  We met on the roof garden after supper to share some laughter and enjoy the cool evenings of Jerusalem.

Khalil came out with another profound saying:  as we reached Jerusalam he said "welcome home. We don't live in Jerusalem, Jerusalem lives in us."

Road to Masada

The one stunning fact we learnt on the way to Masada was how far the water level had plummeted. We passed a mark on the rock that was above the height of our bus and the road itself was several feet above the current level of the water. The mark had been made in 1917 by a British soldier in a boat!

We saw sink holes. Huge gashes in the landscape that fill with flood water and eventually that turns salty.

Masada almost defies words. Extremely dry. Unbelievably hot. Just above sea level - so given you start at a couple of hundred feet below it towers way above the surrounding land. Its a feat of architectural and mechanical brilliance and - I suspect - endurance. Josephus Flavius in his book War of the Jews tells the story of the zealots who chose death over being captured by the Romans. Hollywood glamorised it even more to the point that it begins to possibly distort it all. But according to Josephus only two women and five children survived the massacre and told the tale to the Romans.

We saw some intersting 'creative' archeology. Where stones have been added onto the remaining structures to better define them. Yes, they were there so did obviously come from some building but I'm not sure I agree with that much restoration. On the other hand we saw some fantastic frescos, their original colours still strong and vibrant.

Everywhere at Masada there were the most beautiful bird. Black with tan edges to their wings. They had a melodic song and loved to pose for the camera!

From there to lunch at the Lot Hotel and afterwards a float in the Dead Sea. Though I'd been in before I decided to give it a go. The texture of the water is silky smooth, like satin. But its hard to conquer the bouyancy and requires different skills and approaches to normally simple tasks like standing up!

The Road to Jerusalem

The day turned out to be longer than we anticipated but not in a bad way!  The whole itinerary took 12 hours - hence the delay in posting these.  But long bus journeys help!

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The day started early - again! I've left my watch on UK time and seeing it was only 4am didn't help!

However, I ate my last breakfast by the Galilee. If you told me that I'd enjoy eating taramasalata (is that how you spell it?! Will it be in spellcheck?) for breakfast I'd have denied it before my first trip to the Holy Land but somehow it just fits perfectly. Especially with a pile of olives and some delicious soft cheeses! Oh and pitta bread! Then the whole meal is rounded off with a piece of honeycomb and fresh grapefruit. Yummy! I'll start the diet later!

We saw a stunning but very noisy kingfisher as we left Tiberias. Its colouring was just spectacular. Dark turquoise back, bright white chest and vivid red beak. (I have a photo!)

So we've already seen Jordan - that makes it three other countries in the last 24hrs. The proximity of these borders really does give you an idea of the way in which the topography moulds the politics. Never has the expression cheek by jowl seemed more appropriate.

Khalil has just explained about Bet She'an being a pagan, Philistine place where historically the Israelites didn't travel through - as we did. As a result their journey was made longer by the detour. Hearing about the battle near there at Gilboa and how King David cut down Saul's body after it had hung three days and then burnt it seems more real - and in this heat - more putrid. Its easier to imagine the raw brutality.

Make that five countries - we're now in Palestine. The contrast is immediate. Five minutes ago I saw fields being watered - though as a keen gardener I would always water at sunset myself! Here the greenhouses lie abandoned. We're now driving parallel to the border between Palestine and Jordan and the contrast between the two sides of the river. The far side is green and covered with greenhouses - literally thousands of them. This side is yellow and barren. Flocks of goats graze on the dry grass. Of course one is more evocative of the land that Christ knew - though I imagine the banks were always farmed with such a ready water supply.

Apparently there are two camels waiting to be ridden at Jericho - Shoo shoo and Mi shoo! I think I'll give that treat a miss!

I nearly forgot to mention last night! We gathered on the terrace tocollect all the gifts for the orphange and hear about the second half of our pilgrimage. As we started to listen gardually everyone's attention diverted to a huge honey golden moon that was rising over the hills on the other side of the lake. It quickly became clear that all talking should cease! Moon rise is spectacular - not least because you can watch it all without fear of damaging your sight.

We went through an Israeli checkpoint and saw the most incredible as we headed to the River Jordan. An abandoned church stood in the middle of a minefield but on the Jordanian side of the there were three Orthodox churches, two resplendent with shiny gold domes. We renewed our baptismal vows and had water from the Jordan splashed or crossed onto our heads. We sang a hymn the third verse of which is really pertinent:

We are pilgrims on a journey and companions on the road we are here to help each other walk the mile and bear the load.

Then it was off to stop two on our itinerary today. Qumeran where a shepherd found the Dead Sea Scrolls. Khalil had met the man before he died and he retold the whole story. We walked round the site and I had to shield my eyes from the glare off the white stones abd soil beneath our feet. They are still excavating the site but scholars think that John the Baptist might have been one of the community for a short while. It does make sense in many ways...

Bring on Masada!

Beehives and barbed wire. Mosaics and minefields

Where do you start with such a long list of things to recount?

Maybe with more praise for Khalil! His background is archaeology but he also has an extensive breadth of knowledge that includes geology and theology. Pretty obvious for a guide here I know but its the depth of his insights that we are all enjoying. Today he has also added quite a bit of modern politics to his repertoire. Its a tricky line to take because you must be careful to put over all aspects of the arguments. He managed well though there was one issue about which you could sense the struggle to remain balanced. Water...

But let's start at our first site - Korazim. One of the three villages where Jesus performed miracles and then 'cursed' them because they failed to recognise what was in front of their eyes. The other two were Capernaum (we went on the second day) and our next stop Beth Saida. However, before I leap ahead of myself, Korazim was incredible. Barely anyone else there - it was even the first visit for Fr Brian and he's been a pilgrim 16 times! - the site was remarkable for its synagogue. It had the most beautifully carved "Moses chair" and the remains of lots of traditional family homes. One of the most fascinating revelations was a carving of Medusa that had adorned the temple. The Jews were heavily influenced by Hellenic culture and apparently often carved various Greek mythological creatures and gods in their synagogues. It struck that there really is nothing new in human nature - we still find other cultures attractive.
From there it was a short hop to Beth Saida. Given that it was a fishing village 2000 yrs ago it was blatantly evident how much the Sea has shrunk. It was easy to see how close it was to Korazim which stood on the top of the hill nearby. The stones that were used to construct the villages were local and a wonderful dark charcoal colour - reflecting the volcanic nature of their origin. They were full if holes - as if it had solidified while still rather hot. The excavations at Beth Saida are still in their infancy - though Khalil had worked there over 20 years ago - but it was possible to get a sense of the bustling town with its main street running through it.

Our last stop before heading off towards Syria was Kursi where it is said that Jesus cast out the evils spirits from a man and sent them into a herd of swine that then ran down the hillside and into the Sea of Galilee. Here we were treated to some stunning mosaics. If I sort out my camera I'll add in some shots from there. Symbols everywhere you looked. Fruit, flowers, leaves and baskets to name but a few as well as fabulous intricate patterns that decorated the borders. Breathtaking!

Then into the coach for a 1.5 hour journey to and through the Golan Heights. This is when we were treated to some real gems of interesting info from Khalil. He gave us more insight into the complexity of being a Arab Jewish Palestinian and quoted some famous examples of Israeli leaders who had Palestinian passports. We learnt abort the catastrophic decline in the number of Christians living in the Holy Land - Khalil said that the Holy Land has no meaning without the presence of Christians (and all three great monotheistic faiths.)

I had no idea that its not possible to convert to be a Druz and that they have nine reincarnations. Nor did I realise that there are only 752 Samaritans left and they live in or around Nabblus. They are the only group of people who speak the ancient Hebrew. The one spoken today is a modern construction aimed at bonding the many different groups of Jews who returned there in the mid-late 20th century.

Yesterday evening as we sat by the pool two Apache helicopters went by - I thought of  my son-in-law Colin and his boss George. (They manufacture foam for those aircraft!)  That sort of activity meant that there was likely to be more problems over the border.  We stood on the top of a hill looking out to the border between Syria and Israel.  It was as close as 10 metres from our bus as one point later on.  It seemed impossible to imagine that such a short distance away there is civil unrest and rebellion... Khalil told us more about the Assad regime - it was enlightening to hear his perspective, balanced and moderated as ever.  One of the great things about these sorts of journeys is that you learn far more than you ever anticipated.

The lunch at the Lebanese restaurant was yummy.  Fresh spicy pickled salads with homemade falafel, stuffed vines leaves and shish kebabs... with lashings of hummus of course.  Catherine even tried a red chili pepper - far more daring them us oldies!

After the tranquil pleasures of Baniass - one of the springs of the River Jordan we headed back to the hotel for our last night there.  Halfway through in some ways already though tomorrow is a day of transition.

From the coach I randomly saw all sorts of things that stuck in my mind.  Endless beehives that were only out-numbered by the number of signs about minefields - sadly.  Of course those areas were protected \by barbed wire.  I saw a family of wild hogs running through the tall dry grass. we saw the signs of the previous wars - shelled villages and an old tank and then the fortification at Nimrod. somethings never change...

Forgive the typos and spellings I'll check this when I have more time but I want to capture as much as poss while its still fresh.

Still takes too long to load a photo - not sure why but be warned when it does work there'll be a flood of them!!

I'm off to cool down in the pool!