Heidi Weik

Image by Christopher Chan via Flickr

Saturday of Pentecost 6

Dear Pilgrim,

The drive from Jerusalem to Bethlehem is a very short one, but at the time of our journey, one must cross the border between the West Bank and the East Bank where Bethlehem currently lies.  Once inside Bethlehem, we have a brief walk and arrive in front of the Church of the Nativity, where Christian pilgrims have been flocking since 333.   In Bethlehem, I understand, one must hire an official tour guide in order to enter the site, so we wait patiently for our turn and our guide soon finds us.  Having been to the site a year prior, I am glad to learn that our guide has a somewhat different perspective on the site, and I am soon seeing things in a new way.  He is able to permit us entry into the grotto immediately, a fact which astounds me, as I understand the wait can often be hours.  But our tour is rushed.  We view the grotto commemorating his birth hurriedly, for the priests need to enter before they can make Mass.  We exit the cave and briefly view the Greek Orthodox Basilica and the Roman Catholic Church, and then we proceed down a narrow stairway to view what I had not seen before.  Underneath the floors of the compound, are a series of caves dating back to at least the fourth century.  The most well know is the Cave of St. Jerome, who we are told spent over 30 years here translating the Scriptures from Hebrew and Greek into Latin.  Other caves below the church may have been places of escape and refuge during the reign of Herod.  I felt a much stronger connection here than in the chapels above.  These were the dwelling places of real people who were fighting to survive persecution during these turbulent times.

After some time spent contemplating this place, we climb back up into the church then outdoors into the bright sunshine.  Our guide has one more stop that he insists we must see, the Milk Grotto.  Having never heard of this place I am intrigured, but quickly grow cynical.  What sounds like a fairy tale emerges from the guide's lips.  Here, he says, is the stone which, when Mary was nursing Jesus, turned from black to white when a drop of her milk was spilt upon it.  I am rolling my eyes when our professor reminds us that what is important here is that this reminds us that Jesus was human.  He was born as all children are born, more humbly probably than most, and he suckled at his mother's breast, as all children might.  He was human.  He was born where I am standing, he walked and spoke and wept in the places where I have walked, spoken and wept this week.  This is the culmination for me of all I have witnessed and felt, physically, emotionally and spiritually on this journey.  And I know for certain he is real.

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Friday of Pentecost 6

Dear Pilgrim,

At the foot of the Mount of Olives is The Sanctuary of Gethsemane.  It is here, we believe, that Jesus was betrayed and arrested.  On this site, we find The Basilica of the Agony, and are reminded of Luke 22:44,  "And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. The Byzantine Basilica was in use from 380-614, followed by a Crusader Basilica from the twelfth century up until the new Basilica was constructed in 1919.  In the garden stand 8 olive trees, which I am told, are meant to represent the silent witnesses  of his betrayal in The Gospels. 

There seem to me to be multiple layers of theological signicance in visiting the Sanctuary at Gethsemane.  On the one hand, we know that even though we, like Judas, have at times betrayed Him, still he saves us.  I also feel that people come to this spot to feel closer to Jesus.  It is at Gethsemane where we can truly see that he is human.  He feels anguish, doubt and fear, just as we all at times do.  And yet he accomplished what he set out to do.  The importance of the site to me is Faith, Hope and Strength in even the most troubling of times.

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Friday of Pentecost 6

Dear Pilgrim,

Descending again the Mount of Olives, we approach a sanctuary, hidden by a high stone wall.  Our guide tells us this is Dominus Flevit, which is Latin for 'The Lord Wept'.  We also learn that unlike many of the sites we have visited today, its placement  is somewhat miraculous.  Apparently, Christian pilgrims did not even start commemorating the site of Jesus' weeping until the Crusades, and at that time a small chapel was built at the site.  Many centuries later after the Crusader church had been destroyed, the Franciscans attempted to purchase the ruins but could not, so built a church on a piece of land nearby.  And during a subsequent building project the discovered the land was on the grounds of, among other things, a Byzantine Monastery.  After discovering a Byzantine chapel, a new church was constructed atop its ruins, and this is the church we see today.  Oriented slightly differently than the Byzantine chapel, the current church is small and simple, yet beautiful.  In the apse is a large window with a wrought iron design but no glass, which looks out over the city of Jerusalem.  In the courtyard you can hear the call to prayer and I wonder if Jesus heard it before entering into the city.  The Call to Prayer, if you have not heard it before, is at the same time eerie and beautiful.  I imagine it would have sounded somewhat different in Jesus' day, but the effect would be the same.  A sense of indescribable awe overcomes you.

This thought helps me understand the importance of commemorating Jesus' weeping for Jerusalem.  What awe must Jesus have felt as he descended the Mount of Olives into Jerusalem?  Was he weeping because he could foresee the inevitable destruction that lay ahead, for his sacred Jerusalem?  This is what The Gospel of Luke tells  us, but we can not for certain.  But I do know for certain that as I stand looking over Jerusalem, with the teardrop shaped church behind me, that Jesus was here.

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Friday of Pentecost 6

Dear Pilgrim,

Even further up the Mount of Olives lies the site of the Church of the Ascension.  We walk up to the place where, according to the Gospels, Jesus ascended into heaven.  It is the Byzantines, I am told,  who actually located the site of the ascension on the Mount of Olives, and built a church there.  It was originally commemorated by an orthoganal church which was destroyed during the Persian invasion in 614, and a second church was built which apparently also was destroyed.  Upon entering through the gate, one can see remnants of the but all that is standing now over the site it a small stone aedicule surrounding the Ascension rock.  The rock, at floor level, is said to contain the actual footprints of Jesus as he was lifted into heaven.

We visited the site so briefly, and because it is so small, much is left to the imagination.  I do not know how other pilgrims feel about this site, but they have been visiting this site since Egeria traveled here in the late fourth century.  It is hard to imagine that this is the actual spot where Jesus stood before he ascended into heaven.  But some things are difficult to believe because they are simply more difficult to understand.  The significance of this for me as a pilgrim, is that of faith.  To believe that this even happened right here, or at all, is to believe that even though we die, through Christ we have eternal life. 

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Friday of Pentecost 6

Dear Pilgrim,

After spending the morning touring the archaeological sites in the Old City and the City of David, we being our pilgrimage to the Mount of Olives.  Some of us arrive by taxi, most on foot, weary but happy for having been able to walk in the footsteps of Jesus.  Our destination, The Eleona Church, requires further walking up a steep incline, but I hear nobody complain.  Also known as The Church of Pater Noster, the site is a partially reconstructed 4^th century Byzantine church that commemorates the teaching of The Lord's Prayer by Jesus.  After entering, one can walk around the courtyard where you quickly see that the Lord's Prayer is written out on tiled plaques, in every language.  EVERY language. 

Underneath the reconstructed church, there is a cave.  The 3rd-century Acts of John mentions the existence of a cave on the Mount of Olives that was associated with the teachings of Jesus, and Eusebius confirms that Constantine built a church over such a cave.  It was here also, that Egeria heard this Gospel passage read on Tuesday of Holy Week.

The significance of this simple cave is clear.  God is father for all.  For all nations, for everyone.  OUR Father.

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Thursday of Pentecost 6

Dear Pilgrim,

After a tiring journey from the Galilee to Jerusalem, our group took a guided walking tour of the Old City.  Early in the evening we wandered through dark, narrow alleyways filled with shops when we suddenly came to a great opening; the stairs leading down to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.  Originally known as the Church of the Resurrection, this  is the site where Christian pilgrims have commemorated Jesus' crucifixion, burial and resurrection since the early fourth century.  Custody of the church is currently shared by the Greek Orthodox, Armenian Apostolic and Roman Catholic churches, as well as the smaller divisions of Coptic, Ethiopian and Syrian Orthodox.  Because so many groups share the sacred space, and because of its obvious importance to Christians, entering the church can be a very overwhelming experience.  There are so many sights, sounds and smell to take in, the experience is almost overpowering at times.

Immediately to our right as we enter the church, is the Stairway to Calvary, or Golgotha, which leads to the place we are told Jesus was crucified.  The narrow marble stairs spiral upward in a very steep rise, and not being well lit we make our way very slowly.  Uncertain what to expect, I am still caught off guard by the abundance of sights and sounds that meet my senses.  The first chapel is Franciscan, the second Greek Orthodox.  The elaborateness of the two in such close proximity is consuming and it is difficult to focus on the fact that I am looking at the very Rock of Calvary around which the original church was built.  My head filled with the smell of incense, we make our way back down toward the entrance and pass by The Stone of Annointing, the limestone slab which lies directly in front of the entrance of the church, and commemorates the preparation of Jesus' body for burial.

As we continue on we arrive shortly at the Aedicule of Anastasia, which is the shrine of the resurrection.  Our tour guide does not care for the plain structure, but I personally am comforted by its simplicity and earthiness.  Beneath the dome, we are told, is the very tomb where Jesus was placed after his death.  How can one be anything but overwhelmed?  I am experiencing an emotion I have not felt before, and tears are spilling from my eyes.

And I am left with many questions.  What does this mean for me?  How do we know this is Jesus' tomb?  If it's not, then why do I feel this way?  Does it matter whether or not the actual tomb is there, or is the significance in the act of veneration only?  I personally would like to believe it is there, and that what I experienced was a feeling of love so overwhelming that I can not put it into words. 

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Saturday of Pentecost 5 

Dear Pilgrim,      

Continuing northward around the eastern edge of the Sea of Galilee, we come to Kursi, an early Christian Monastery dated to the late fifth century CE.  It was apparently venerated as the place where the Miracle of the Swine had taken place. Entering the site a peace comes over you and you cannot help but feel calm.  There is a presence here.  The grounds are simple but beautiful.  We gather under a bougainvillea tree and listen to our guide and professor tell us of the history of the Byzantine monastic complex that we know from archaeology and from ancient manuscripts.  We are told that Christian pilgrims have been visiting this site since the end of the fifth century.

As we make our way toward the walls of the complex, the apse of the church immediately comes into view.  It is entered through an atrium with a narthex on the east side.  In the atrium is also a cistern.  Moving toward the front of the church we see that it was an apsidal Basilica with a single apse.  On either side, portions of the original mosaic floors can be seen, while the floor of the apse was originally  marble.  Also off to either side, are chapels and auxiliary rooms.  An inscription in Greek in the Baptistry dates the basilica to 585 CE.

As some of the more ambitious group members make the climb up the hill to view the spot of the miracle, many of us retreat to the benches in the shade of the trees in the garden.  As I sit here in this peaceful place I contemplate the significance of it for past, present and future pilgrims.  What I am beginning to understand is the power and authority Jesus had, even in the eyes of demons.   Jesus has authority through God, and with only a word, his will is done.

Image by Randall Niles via Flickr

Saturday of Pentecost 5

Dear Pilgrim,

Even further to the north on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, lies the ancient village  of Capernaum, inhabited from 150 BCE until 750 CE. One must enter the site from afar and walk the rest of the way on foot.  Entering the site is like entering the village that once stood there.  Upon entering the gate we gathered to listen to our group leader discuss the history of the site as well as the modern construction of the Franciscan Church built over the first century  domus ecclesia.   He refers to it as a monstrosity, and I have to agree.  If one is coming to this place to commemorate the place where Jesus is thought to have taught, I do not understand the significance of building a modern structure on top of the ruins.  I opt to view the octagonal house church from below, along with some of the group.

The house church is the first of three spots I visited on the trip to Capernaum.  The remains of the fifth century orthagonal church are built, we are told, over the remains of the house of Simon Peter.  Although the Gospel of Mark mentions Peter's house in Capernaum, it is doubtful this is the actually place.  It appears to be too ornate to have belonged to a mere fisherman of the first century.  But this does not deter pilgrims from flocking to this spot to see the house where Jesus may have stayed.  Part of the reason for this tradition remaining so strong lies in the fact that this is octagonal in design.  According to experts, this shape indicates that the church was built to commerate a significant event.  This is why so many believe that it is built over the remains of Simon Peter's house.

Next our guide walks with us to the area known as the residential insulae, which lies between the church and the synagogue.  The stones of black basalt do not appear to be much more than rubble at first glance, but with a more careful eye one can see the outlines of several small, plain houses.  Perhaps one of them is even the house in which the roof was removed so Jesus could heal the paralytic and forgive his sins.

Finally we go to view the white synagogue, which many claim was the synagogue in which Jesus taught.  As wonderful as this would be, the dating of the synagogue creates a problem with the authenticity of this fact.  Most likely constructed around 200 CE, this synagogue would not have been in existance when Jesus taught in Capernaum.  Nevertheless, it is an awesome structure, and one can get a sense of the magnitude of the events that occurred on the ground on which they are standing.

 Exhausted from the heat, our guide and professor leads us to a shady area under some trees and prepares to read to us.  The reading is from the book of Luke, where Christ heals many.  The significance of the site becomes more now, than just the place where Jesus taught, but also the place where we commemorate the healings that Jesus performed here.  Throughout the synoptic gospels Jesus is healing all of a variety of people.  Jesus heals a man with an unclean spirit, a leper, a paralytic, a servant of a Centurion.  We commemorate this site because it teaches us that Jesus belonged to all people, no matter how poor, sinful or downtrodden.  All were equal in his eyes.

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Saturday of Pentecost 5

Dear Pilgrim,

As we continued along the northwest shore of the Sea of Galilee, we arrived shortly at a site known in Arabic as "Tabgha."  The name, I am told, is a distortion of the ancient name of the place in Greek; "Heptapegon" or "Seven Springs."  Indeed a set of springs emerges in this area, attracting fish and fishermen, but I understand that to date only six springs have actually been located.  The Church of the Multiplication of Loaves at Tabgha, although modern, is one in a succession of churches at this site that date back to the fourth century.  According to scholars, during the fifth century a monastery and church were built here complete with exquisite mosaic floors. Unfortunately, the buildings were destroyed in the seventh century. Today in the restored church, one can see the preserved Byzantine mosaic portraying the miracle and the actual rock beneath it.  Although I understand there is some debate as to the exact location of this miracle, this is the site where pilgrims commemorate the miracle of the multiplication of loaves and fishes.

After disembarking the bus, we proceed on foot to an open area just outside the atrium of the church, and are instructed that silence is strictly observed once inside the church. This greatly pleases me as I was looking forward to having a quiet moment to breathe in the sanctity of this place.  I enter into the colonnaded atrium, a lovely and peaceful setting with a small goldfish pond.  I briefly pause to wonder if these were the same type of fish that were multiplied by Jesus, but the distraction quickly passes from my mind.  Entering on the far right, I stop and look intently at the sulking little angel in the cornice near the door, but am not quite sure what to make of him; perhaps a modern addition.  Once inside I marvel at how the architecture of the restored church feels so remarkably ancient.  Built to the same plan as the 5th century Byzantine church, it has a central nave, flanked by two aisles. The sanctuary is backed by an apse, with a transept on each side.  I feel this is a good spot.  I photograph the arches, the wooden beamed ceiling, the mosaic floor near the chancel.  I admire the way the light comes in through the arched stained glass windows, and I close my eyes and bask in its radiance.

As a large group enters, I seek solitude off to the side of the pews and wonder where  Jesus is  in this place.  Traditionally, this was a special place during the life of Jesus; this is where he walked on the shore and called out to the disciples, asking them to follow him. He called to Andrew, to Peter and to Simon who were busy casting their nets. Christ then called to John and James who were helping their father to fish.  I am contemplating the significance of this place in my life and in the lives of those to whom I write. I wasn't sure I understood, and then while waiting for a friend I saw the following, "Love is like loaves and fishes.  It seems like there isn't enough until you start giving it away."  And I understand.  God, through his love, takes care of us all.  The importance of the church at Tabgha is so that we can remember that with God, there will always be enough.

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Saturday of Pentacost 5

Dear Pilgrim,

As we drive around the Sea of Galilee my thoughts turn to my grandmother, who recently passed away.  How she hoped to accompany me on this journey, for reasons I do not know.  I look everywhere I go for a place that is the place she wanted to see, the place she wanted to stand, but still I do not know.  We arrive after a brief drive at Mount of the Beatitudes, the place I am told where Pilgrims are known to have commemorated the Sermon on the Mount since the 4^th century CE.  Although there is nothing we can see here from that time, there is a Catholic church here that was built by the Franciscans in 1938 to commemorate this spot.  Although modern, the church is Byzantine in style, and octagonal in shape.  The shape I am told, is to represent the 8 Beatitudes from the Sermon on the Mount, in the New Testament book of Matthew.  I know very little scripture myself, but am familiar with these 'blessings', and often feel comforted by them.  Once inside the church I am able to establish some sense of peace, but it is frequently interrupted by some other 'pilgrim' either pushing, talking, smoking or otherwise breaking the silence.  The grounds prove to be more peaceful and if looked for there are spots of privacy and calm where one can meditate and think about the purpose of this place.  Because I am mourning the loss of my very dear grandmother, I look for comfort in these blessings supposedly spoken near this place and know that I am comforted.  The significance of being in this place at this time is clearly to remind me that Jesus spoke these words not only to his disciples, but to all people.  From the top of this mountain one can see all of the Galilee and overlook the many places where Jesus would have taught.  But it is not only this view that has significane, but the mountain itself,  for it symbolizes a place of prayer and revelation.  As I realize this, we are called together for lunch in the shade of the trees, where we discuss our experience and prepare for our next pilgrim site.