Being a Part of Two Jubilant Crowds on Friday Evening

After a long week of classes, on Friday afternoon, my classmates and I decided to participate in the Franciscan's weekly procession in the Via Dolorosa. Each week hundreds of Pilgrims gather to pray the Stations of the Cross on the route that established that devotion and eventually lead to virtually every Catholic Church in the world having their own mini Way of the Cross surrounding their worship space. As part of our Pilgrimage day two weeks ago, we prayed the stations by ourselves ( I wrote about that here: http://frbartjerusalem.blogspot.com/2009/06/church-of-singing-chicken-jesus-last.html), but we had never participated in this official devotion. To tell you how important this is to the Franciscans who manage the Catholic world around here - dozens of them show up week-after-week and the Stations are lead each Friday by the Custos - that is, the head Franciscan in charge of everything Catholic in all the Holy Land - He is literally one of the most powerful men in the Middle East and he takes time out every Friday to lead this important Franciscan devotion.

Geographically and textually, the Stations were the same that we prayed 2 Tuesdays ago, but that is where the similarity stopped. There were probably 200 pilgrims participating in the Stations and they moved as a unit through the crowded streets of the Moslem souqs that currently occupy the Via Dolorosa. I was impressed at the deep prayer of a number of the pilgrims, some of whom were in deep prayer and even tears. We made away quickly through the streets - the first 8 stations I was distracted by the crowding and the secular activities going on around us - worried about the mixed emotions - anger at the disrespect of those who continued talking and even yelling all around us, seemingly trying to disrupt the prayer - but feeling sorry for the people displaced by this throng moving through their places of business.

Then as the procession began the Ascent of Mt Calvary after the 8th station, we were no longer surrounded by the commerce and my mind and heart turned to prayer. The 9-14th stations are in and around the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the crowd ascends the steps to Golgotha's chapels. I waited downstairs by the anointing stone, but could still hear and join in the prayers. Once again my heart was lifted up by the history - this devotion has been going on in the Church for nearly 800 years - Christians have remembered and commemorated the way of the cross and the crucifixion of the Lord all the way back to the beginning of the Church. How many millions of men and women have walked this way? How many have taken part in this very devotion this year alone? this decade? in the last century? the last millennium? Thank you Lord, thank you for your sacrifice on the cross. Thank you for consecrating every Friday forever by your death on that day and thank you for bringing life through your death.

The Last stations took place at the tomb of Jesus - At the end we prayed the Our Father, Hail Mary, and Gloria Patri for the Pope's intention and then the Custos gave a special pilgrims blessing to wrap everything up.

I had an interesting experience while in Church of the Holy Sepulcher. A young woman heard me speaking English to Fr. Steve and asked me if she could ask me a question. She asked me "What is this place?" We were in the Gologtha Chapel and I assumed that was what she was asking so I explained that we were on top of the hill on which Jesus was crucified. She then asked some other questions and it was clear that she had no idea about the entire building. She was joined by several other young women and I began to explain various things and answer questions. "Is that the tomb of the Virgin Mary?" one asked. 'Oh no, that's over on the Mount of Olives..." Then one of them said to another "that's over where grandma lives..."

Wait - your grandmother lives on the Mount of Olives??? It turned out they were from Michigan but are here visiting their grandmother (for the first time). SO I asked if they were Palestinian. Yes. Christians? No, Muslims. Wow! That was a wonderful encounter. These young Palestinian Americans were soaking up everything they could on their first visit to the Holy Land. I was happy to be their little tour guide for a few minutes and share the richness of our faith with them. I have been here long enough that I am answering questions and giving directions on a regular basis -especially when I am in the Old City in my habit. I love that...

After Stations we also met a fascinating couple from San Francisco. I had spoken with them before Stations and was interested in how they experienced the stations. They were not Catholic and had some questions - they were moved by the reaction of the crowds. But I was blown away by their story: She is the daughter of a flight attendant who flies on "buddy passes" - they went to the airport for vacation not knowing where they were going to end up. They were hoping Peru, but it all depends on open seats on flights - so they ended up in Israel instead - no reservations, no plans, not even the right clothes for the desert. And they were having a great time. They were gonna stay for another week and then head over to Cairo. Oh to be so young, so carefree, so flexible...

We had heard from a number of people that the place to be on Friday evening in Jerusalem was the Kotel, the Western Wall - that the atmosphere was one of great celebration and jubilation. Knowing that things would get going around sundown, we stopped off for dinner at our favorite restaurant in the Old City. (El Buraq is located in the Muslim quarter just outside the North gate to the Western Wall Plaza, it is built into a stone vaulting beneath the buildings below. The food is great and not terrible expensive. If you are planning a trip, this place is a must. IT is the only restaurant in the Old City that I have returned to for a second try, and indeed I have been there for a third and fourth...)

After dinner we arrived at the Kotel just as the services for the beginning of Sabbath were ending. The plaza and the Wall were more crowded than I have ever seen them. It was clear that there were Jews of every kind (reformed Americans to Ultra-Orthodox) both on the Plaza and down at the Wall itself. At first glance it looks like organized chaos - there are bar-mitzvahs going on, much davening at the wall, there is both a communal experience and some who are caught up in their own individual prayers.

I was a spectator, but I was also swept into the spirit of prayer too. Inside the Sacred precinct on both the men's and women's side, there was also a great deal of dancing - dancing and singing in circles - a little more subdued on the women's side, but definitely there. I noticed facial expressions on some of the more "serious" men that was clear annoyance at (perhaps) the frivolity of the dance, bu there was room for everyone. As minutes passed the jubilation of the dance spread and the atmosphere was definitely one of great joy.

On the Plaza, we noticed large groups of soldiers leading the dancing and spear-heading the festivities out there. There were large dancing circles there as well - men being lead by a soldier and a young man waving an Israeli flag - not knowing what is and what is not traditional, i wasn't sure about these young people - it resembled a group of fraternity boys in the spirit of the big game bumping chests and leading cheers. They the young women soldiers also lead the young women in dance and song. No one could have stood by watching this and not be swept into the spirit.

At some point a huge number of young soldiers started pouring the gates into the plaza - all young men and women. What was this? Were they expecting some trouble? But wait... these soldiers aren't armed, but there were probably 200 or 250 of them standing in one area of the plaza. Soon a man that I can only assume was a rabbi moved into the crowd of soldiers and began talking to them. It was in Hebrew so I cannot be sure, but it seemed to be some kind of a pep talk. When he was finished, the soldiers spread out and many of them moved down to the Wall and joined in the dancing and the festivities there. We were able to move in closer. There was an odd mixture of nationalism and religious fervor mixed in this celebration (Americans tend to be uncomfortable with such a mixture - I am) but it was infectious.

We ran into our friend Cynthia who is leading a group of students on an archaeological dig. She is one of the people who had told me about Friday night at the Kotel and she was there letting her students experience it. We talked a little about impressions and experiences, then went our separate ways.

Then a small group of soldiers approached us and introduced themselves to us. Speaking broken English they wondered where we were from and what we were doing here. When they found out the other guys were from California, they were very impressed and wanted to talk about Arnold Swartzenegger. :) We asked them about the large group of soldiers that had come in an hour before. They shared that they were Officer candidates who had just finished their training (they would be commissioned on Monday.) and they were brought here as a unit for what they called "education Saturday." They would be spending the night in Jerusalem and returning to their base on Saturday. They found out that Fr. Steve had been a Naval officer and worked with the Marines and they asked him lots of questions about American military training. With the exception of language, these young men could have been any group of young men I had ever encountered on campus. They were great ambassadors of their country and went out of their way to engage the strangers in their midst. They were interested in hearing our impressions of their country and were glad that we were going to Masada next week. They were enthusiastic about their service of their country and excited about taking their place as new officers. They were also thrilled to be celebrating at the Kotel. I asked one who told us he was from Galilee how often he had come to Jerusalem growing up - not often. That surprised me a little, but he was glad to be there that evening. Eventually, they were called away by their comrades and we excused ourselves too.

By this time the crowd was thinning, it was near 10 and people were breaking up and saying goodbye to their friends to go to their homes to observe the Sabbath. What a beautiful and communal way to begin it. I have attended a number of Friday evening Sabbath services in my life and they are always special celebrations, but I felt that Friday night I saw it at its best and most complete. Judaism in the diaspora is always twinged with a longing for Israel. And tonight I saw why... Shabbat Shalom.