Holy Week in the Holy Land
Palm Sunday for the Catholic and Protestant communities here is very significant, and it is celebrated for the whole day, not just the first five minutes of the service. I first arrived to my congregation at the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer where we participated in that age old liturgy that I probably participated in for 23 years straight: standing outside the church we received big palm branches off the trees on the Mount of Olives (part of yearly-palm-tree-trimming) and we raised them high as we read aloud the Gospel regarding Jesus’ triumphal entry to Jerusalem. Then we marched in singing “All Glory, Laud, and Honor” as we circled the courtyard and entered our chapel. Almost immediately though, the story turned to the night on which Jesus was betrayed and followed him to the Cross. Unlike home, I didn’t have to yell “Crucify him, crucify him,” but I felt the burden on all of us just the same.
When the Eucharist was concluded, some of us young folks went around and got bagels–our last opportunity before the Passover feast week when shops were forbidden to sell leavened bread–for a picnic up at Augusta Victoria (Mt. of Olives). They went to play a rousing round of frisbee golf, which I declined to participate in as I am terrible at throwing frisbees and I stayed up until 2 am baking hot cross buns for our post-Palm Sunday dinner. We walked at 2 pm from the Mount over to Bethphage, from whence came the colt/donkey for Jesus to ride on. It’s an Arab community near the wall that used to be very close to Bethany which is on the West Bank side of the wall. There, great crowds had assembled, lots of international pilgrims and tourists, while locals sat on perches from their balconies, craning to watch the commotion. Small children ran through the streets selling palm branches and olive tree branches for $1 or more, while other entrepreneurs peddled water and popsicles on an insanely hot day. (Retrospect would show that I should have purchased said refreshment as I neared collapse from dehydration).
We waited for the patriarchs to come bounding through to the forefront, and they were followed by some local scout/marching bands who were going too fast to play music, and then all the bystanders crowded in to march along. I was swept away in a current of tour group hatted folk–in front some Spaniards and behind me some South Koreans–each waving their home flags and their palms of course. I even saw some foreigners with flags of Israel banded around their heads–weird! As we slowly snaked down the road on the Mount of Olives I saw many people that I knew, it was like a reunion. One band had the most melodious music singing “Hosanna Hosanna” and songs in Arabic, Spanish, and English (probably others too). This caused a major bottleneck as everyone wanted to listen instead of walk. We had the most spectacular view of the Dome of the Rock and Old City Jerusalem. It was very pleasant. Towards the foot of the mountain I ran into my sister and her friends from the Middle East Studies Program (MESP) who I encountered for the first time the day before in Bethlehem.
Together with Becca I went through the crowd down to the Cathedral of St. Anne where I guess Mary was born, and there was a concert but we didn’t stick around. Soon I had to make my way back to the Mount of Olives and Augusta Victoria where we were set to have a Palm Sunday dinner (with my hot cross buns). By that point I had just about died from exhaustion in the hot sun so I got some food, water, and stumbled back to the bus to the Old City and on home to Bethlehem.
The work week continued Monday through Thursday and then I escaped for my Spring Break, starting with a Maundy Thursday combined service of the English, German, Danish, and Arabic congregations of the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer. We remembered the communion of the disciples with Jesus at the Last Supper and then processed singing through the Old City back to the Garden of Gethsemane…the Russian Orthodox version, also on the Mount of Olives. Our candlelighting didn’t work in the wind but the readings were read regarding the night Jesus stayed with the disciples waiting and praying (and sleeping). It was quite moving. We also peeked in at the Russian nuns praying and singing inside their distinctive gold domed landmark church which is not usually open for the public.
Friday meant an early rise for the Via Dolorosa walk of the Stations of the Cross–the actual spots where Jesus supposedly was condemned, flogged, fell once, twice, thrice, was met by his mother, etc. The group was combined English congregations of the Lutheran Redeemer and St. George’s Anglican churches. We kept getting larger as we walked along and basically clogged every road we went down. It wasn’t terribly pleasant and I had a difficult time hearing or concentrating. I don’t recommend you try it on Good Friday. But it ended in the Redeemer main sanctuary where the priests prayed and stripped the altar bare of everything which sort of grounded the event. For the rest of the day I hung out at the Lehman’s house by Augusta Victoria and I decorated Easter Eggs with the kids.
Easter Sunday my roommate (who stayed the night) and I went across the way behind Augusta Victoria to the lookout for a sunrise service at 6 am, with the sleepy Lehmans. We were among the last there and sat on blankets overlooking the Judean Wilderness. And the Wall. The theme was that the ball is in our court…based off of Mark’s truncated Gospel which leaves us hanging after the resurrection. So we are called to Act! Then after the service and its great hymns such as “Jesus Christ is Risen Today” with trumpets and a full orchestra of volunteers, we proceeded across the street to the Lutheran World Federation where there was a nice Arabic Style breakfast with American style Bacon! Hallelujah.
We chowed down for a while and returned to the house where the kids hunted down their Easter baskets. So much candy! I went with my roomie downtown to go to East Jerusalem Baptist Church for their Easter service. It was very evangelical in style, no hymns that I’m familiar with. But I was able to meet and greet with other colleagues and friends and we had a wonderful picnic-potluck in their gardens. After lunch I went to the Old City to see my sister and send my Easter greetings (she went to the Garden Tomb for their sunrise service) and we hung out a while. I then turned my Easter dyed eggs into deviled eggs for a potluck/dinner for some local families from church and other places on the Mount of Olives. We ate pork tenderloin and smoked ham! I ate pig like a pig on Easter, haha. Stuffed, I returned to the Lehmans very satisfied and feeling like it had been a wonderful Easter day spent with a great community of friends-like-family.
The parts of the holiday that involved crowds of pilgrims and ‘holy sites’ were not the memorable ones–spending time with my congregation and worshiping in meaningful places was what counted. I did not have an opportunity to partake of Passover, but I know that they say at the end of their Seder meal, “Next Year in Jerusalem,” beckoning, if you will, the Messiah to come before the next Passover. It makes such a difference to have the hope and faith of new life, resurrection, the future victory already secured! Because Christ is Risen
