The View of a Pilgrim

On Thursday October 11th at 2.00am twenty-four people left Belmont Abbey on their long awaited pilgrimage to the Holy Land. As world events had gone from bad to worse throughout September some, myself included, wondered if we would ever go. However re-assurance from Maranatha Tours that Jordan and Egypt were very peaceful, that Israel was safe provided we avoided certain places, bolstered our confidence and armed with faith we set off. How glad I am that their advice was taken.

There are so many memories and impressions, the warmth with which we were greeted by everyone, the big smile that all Jordanians seem to be born with, and sadly, the emptiness of all of the Holy Sites, many of which had not seen pilgrims for months. We were asked, "Why have you come?" and "Weren't you afraid?" Answer, "Yes, a bit but we came anyway".

Manger Square and the Church of the Nativity were empty apart from our group. We were even allowed Mass in the Grotto, during which a Greek couple brought their baby in and held it over the Star, whilst their priest blessed it. The next day Bethlehem was closed and the Israeli tanks were parked in Manger Square and the Church of St. Catherine's had the newly restored windows shot out. This is of course a Christian site, not a Palestinian terrorist enclave.

A very special memory was of Mass in a Bedouin tent, after we were refused Mass at St. Catherine's Monastery. The lady of the 'tent' baked unleavened bread for us; her children squatted on the ground and watched the proceedings. I would love to know what they made of it. Their behaviour was impeccable. Afterwards we were given tea to drink. They had so little, but willingly shared what they had. So many Masses in different settings some in ruined churches some in very beautifully maintained churches, all very special in different ways.

The look on some of our more intrepid pilgrim's faces when they returned from the top of Mount Sinai having left at 1.30am in order to climb it and watch the sunrise. The wonder of seeing Petra for the first time through the narrow entrance of the siq then Mass high above Petra in the rock Byzantine 'Cathedral. The welcome at Jericho, shut off from the world by the Israelis for months. People hooting their car horns, calling out 'Welcome', so pleased to see us. Then finding us food when we found the previously bustling Inn of Temptation empty.

Our guides made the pilgrimage so informative and safe. Constantly on their mobile phones, doing all they could to smooth our way and sharing with us their knowledge. I mustn't forget my fellow pilgrims, all helping each other over rough ground and looking out for each other, much laughter and many lumps in throats and making new friends, all held in a very special bond. Father Brendan, our spiritual guide and leader, who always knew what we were feeling and found words to express those feelings. He even silenced the Israeli jets!!! Mary Carroll and her musical input, sitting on a rock with the keyboard on her lap and Francis Wood acting as a 'music stand'. I am so glad the pilgrimage went ahead.

One last memory; I was talking to an Arab in our hotel in Jerusalem one evening. He said that he had to go to England on business, and asked if I thought that he would be safe. Dumbfounded I asked why he thought that he wouldn't be safe. His reply 'I have a dark face and am a Muslim, we hear that dark people and Muslims are attacked in England'. Much food for thought there. I did my best to re-assure him. I hope that I am right.

Margaret Rose

From Left: Gethsemane,the Way of the Cross, Sinai, Guns on the Street, Fr Brendan explaining the Scriptures at Emmaus

"Zacchaeus, come down" ------------------- A homily preached at Belmont 4th Novmber 2001

Two weeks ago today, myself and a group of fellow pilgrims to the Holy Land arrived at Jericho. We stopped by a tree said to be at least two thousand years old, that the locals like to think is the tree that Zacchaeus climbed to rise above his shortcomings. It is a Sychamore Fig tree.

But there is more to Jericho than this tree. It is said to be the oldest city in the world. We remember how in 1200BC, when it was already six or seven thousand years old, Joshua and his band on entering the promised land circled the City seven times, and with a loud shout and at the sound of trumpets the walls came tumbling down.

It is sad to say that today, this desert oasis, this city of palm trees irrigated by the spring of Elisha, it is no less a besieged city. It is encircled not by trumpets but tanks with guns pointing inwards at its inhabitants. It is caught up the conflict between the Israelis and the Palestinians. The Israelis claiming that the siege is for their security, the Palestinians claiming it is pure state terrorism.

A homily is not the place to try to unravel the rights and wrongs of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, if ever it could be done. But of course many see it as the root cause of the present war that we find ourselves in. But it is clear beyond doubt is that in Jericho today as in many other places in our world, the community is suffering, children are being born into conflict, people are losing hope.

For us pilgrims it was remarkable that we could get there at all. The city has been virtually closed for over a year. The Israelis opened it just three days before we got there. But three days later it was closed again. Imagine the effect of the city of Hereford if it was closed off for a year - on the economy, on the morale. For a City that relies on tourism, to drop from having 14,000 visitors a month to having just six visitors a month to its archeological ruins. The enforced closure of the city was like a death sentence. It was heart wrenching for us, to have the extraordinary experience of being the first group to visit for a year. We passed buildings riddled with bullet holes, but we met people who were simply delighted to see some outsiders. People waved and shouted welcome. They said simply that we were a sign of hope that things could return to normal. They were a people, caught up in conflict, longing to live normal lives. Many prayers are needed for the peoples of the Holy Land.

But how little things change down the centuries. In our Lord's time Zacchaeus was basically a collaborator with an occupying force, the Romans, whose presence the Jews despised. He wasn't just a tax collector. He was one of the senior tax collectors. He wasn't just collecting a little income tax to run a few hospitals and orphanages, he was lining his own pockets in doing the dirty work of his masters, in making them rich. It was more like extortion, or a protection racket than a tax system.

But Jesus entered Jericho and Zacchaeus longed to see him. Being what we now call vertically challenged, he climbed the tree to catch a glimpse of the man as he passed by. He is like us longing for a sight of the Lord. He is ready to change. He just needs to be noticed, welcomed and encouraged. Like us today, in a complicated world it is easy are caught up in structures of violence whether military, economic or social. We don't have to be in the Middle East to be aware that the world favours the rich and the powerful and the strong.

Jesus spots him and tells him to come down. But Jesus had seen something up in that tree nobody else could see. He saw a lost son of Abraham who was worth saving. Jesus favours the last and the lost and the least. He favours us when we turn to our loving Father with hearts ready to change.

In Luke's Gospel Jesus often has one of two things to say: to the poor, the humble, to the forgotten ones he says "Come up." To the rich and comfortable like Zacchaeus he says "Come Down." And he hurries down with joy, because just like the lost sheep, the lost coin and the lost son, Zacchaeus is delighted to find himself found and at home with Jesus. For the first time in a long while he saw the needs of others and was transformed from a being a "taker" to becoming a "giver". He sought to make up for the damage he had done.

But if we are to follow Jesus ourselves then we have many a high horse to climb down from, much high handedness to repent. It is like getting to Jericho from Jerusalem. It is not only the oldest city in the world, sitting as it does close to the Dead Sea it is also the lowest city on Earth. The only way is down. Down was the way Jesus took in the incarnation in sharing our humanity. Down with out feet firmly on the ground is where we belong.

Zacchaeus had made that journey down, but the worry is the bystanders, the crowd that had prevented him getting a glimpse of Jesus. Like the Elder Son they too had far to go. They grumbled and complained. Grace and mercy seem too easy.

But here again, as always, Jesus speaks directly to our situation today. "This man too is a son of Abraham". For Moslems hostile to Jews, for Jews hostile to Moslems and for Christians hostile to both as well as each other, we must not forget that we all have Abraham for our father, that we are brothers and sisters always.

There should be no states, no cities, no individuals cut off from others. Jesus would have us reach out. If only all Jews, all Christians, all Moslems could have on their lips those words when we greet each other: "This man too is a son of Abraham." "This woman is a daughter of Abraham."

Then maybe there would be no Jerichos: no nations, states, cities or towns cut off from the rest, kept in by social, economic or military walls. There would be no Zaccaheuses: no people considered beyond the pale, too far gone, beyond salvation.

The one God, the compassionate the merciful is with us all. Blessed be he.

And may all the walls that divide humanity, the children of Abraham, come tumbling, tumbling down.

Dom Brendan

31st Sunday in Ordinary Time