How do we approach Holy Sites? Israel and Palestine are full of spaces marking and commemorating places from Jesus’ earthly life and ministry, from the Annunciation to the Ascension. In my experience, some of them feel more like ‘thin places’ than others. However, whilst I might find it easier to glimpse God in the airy Church of the Beatitudes, the crowded, noisy Church of the Holy Sepulchre was clearly hugely moving for those pilgrims who brought clothes, rosaries and candles to be blessed in that holy space.
On a balmy Galilean night, a group of us discussed our range of responses to these places. For some, these places of commemoration and acts of piety were disorienting, even off-putting, in the context of a faith that tells us God can be found in all places, and that warns us against worshipping things other than God. Others struggled to put into words how these sites touched and moved us.
We settled on the idea that, like icons, these places can act as windows, aids to prayer, that help us to connect. I was reminded of the task of clearing my late grandmother’s house – some items I wanted to gather in my arms and embrace, catching something of her perfume and evoking a precious memory. Other items didn’t move me at all, and I could easily part with. There was an unpredictability to it too, depending on my mood, who I was with, what else I had done that day.
Over the course of our time here, some Holy Sites may leave us cold, even feel unsettling, whilst others may help us connect with God. Together, though, they form the patchwork of a pilgrimage which will transform us, if we let it.
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The word became and flesh and dwelt among us
We couldn’t get into the site of the Nativity. The church was heaving with pilgrims, ready to queue for two hours or more to see the spot where Jesus is believed to have been born. After long day, with an early start and still feeling the effects of the change of time zone, we decided to turn away. We sat in a nearby church to reflect and pray, spontaneously joining a Roman Catholic group singing ‘O come all ye faithful’.
I left Bethlehem with some sorrow – the incarnation is what makes my soul sing about Christianity, that the God who sculpted the universe came down to the dust and dirt of earth to live among us.
The balm to that sorrow came at the Church of the Annunciation, commemorating the angel appearing to Mary and all that ensued. There, the words ‘The Word became flesh and dwelt among us’ are emblazoned across the front of the church, and it suddenly struck me that the incarnation, the taking on of flesh, could be said to begin here in Nazareth, where the young Mary probably lived.
Bishop Christopher and Revd Alun led us in reflections on this world changing moment in the warmth of the early afternoon sun, and some of us sang ‘Salve Regina’, chanting the words inscribed on the side of the church as we celebrated Mary’s ‘yes’ in the place where the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.
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All being well, in about eight weeks, I will be ordained priest by the Holy Spirit by the intercession of Bishop Martin. My thoughts have begun to turn to what it will be to stand being the altar and lead the people of God in the Eucharistic prayer.
Following the footsteps of Jesus in the Holy Land, I cannot help but be confronted with the layers of meaning in Holy Communion. The elements are ever present, in soft toasted pita at breakfast, in fields of vineyards, the water of the Jordan. More than this, the many stories of salvation that converge at the Eucharist – manna in the wilderness, feeding the five thousand, the Last Supper, the promise of the heavenly banquet, Christ revealed in the breaking of the bread, and more – come into new focus when contemplated with the backdrop of the shore of Galilee or the Judean desert lands.
The multifaceted nature of this beautiful sacrament, it’s deep mystery and world changing simplicity leave me in no doubt that I will continue to uncover new resonances, new delights, in the Eucharist through the course of my priestly ministry. This week in the Holy Land, though, will hold a place in my heart: memories of praying in the Church of the Multiplication, of visiting the Upper Room, of receiving communion on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, will echo in my mind as I stand behind the altar.
