Following the Stories of Jesus
Tell me the stories of Jesus I love to hear; things I would ask him to tell me if he were here: scenes by the wayside, tales of the sea, stories of Jesus, tell them to me. Hymn 277
It was just a week ago when Tom and I returned from Israel, but when I close my eyes I can summon the pictures that make me feel like I am still there! The first full day of our journey began on the Sea of Galilee, on a boat ride from Tiberias, and the words of Hymn 277 started running through my mind. For the next six days everywhere we went, each site we saw was tied to Jesus’ life, death and resurrection by scripture, faith and tradition. Each place told another story and the tune of that Hymn was like the soundtrack of our journey running constantly in my mind. I was continually reminded that living our faith is something that we don't do alone. We were just following in the footsteps of millenia of believers.
As we visited the site where tradition tells us that Jesus met the disciples after his resurrection and served them breakfast, I felt the rock, covered by candlewax where pilgrims have lit candles for hundreds, or maybe thousands of years. When we knelt in the Church of the Nativity to touch the star marking the traditional site of Jesus’ birth we were surrounded by faithful Christians singing Christmas carols many different languages. As we worshipped in the garden of Gethsemane, the palpable sense of belonging and caring fell over me like a warm blanket.
In our walks around the Old City of Jerusalem, we mingled with citizens of the city who were Jewish, Muslim and Christian. Many wore the traditional Eastern European dress of ultra-Orthodox Jews, long black coats, curling side locks and black hats; others wore yarmulkes (the small skull cap), carrying their prayer shawls and bibles on their way to a synagogue. On Friday, the Muslim Sabbath, we saw men and young boys rushing to the Dome of the Rock. Cars were parked everywhere – some looked like they were shoehorned into impossible places. We saw women fully covered and those who were dressed just like us. We saw Ethiopian Christians dressed in white robes, worshipping in their tiny church attached to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The conglomeration of sights was a feast for the eyes!
Walking through the Arab market, the smells of fresh spices and herbs drew us in! Piles of saffron, cardamom and other spices that are delicacies here were abundant. Pickled vegetables of all kinds were available in multiple colors. Never before have I seen neon pink pickled cauliflower. And the candy and pastry shops were so enticing. For someone with an overdeveloped sweet tooth it was agony having to walk by without stopping and tasting!
The final day of the trip we spent some time in the Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum. The weather was cold, gray and rainy, which seemed very appropriate. The solemnity of the building and displays is balanced by the beauty of the surrounding gardens and fierce belief of the people of Israel that nothing like the Holocaust will ever occur again.
As I reflect on our time in the Holy Land, as I think about the sites and look at our pictures, there is a part of me that rejoices in the things we saw and in the friendships we made. There is another part of me that grieves at the constant hostility and potential for violence that exists in the region to this day. My spirit was lifted and my soul was filled. My heart was touched; my faith was made stronger. Nowhere else have I experienced emotional highs and lows in such close proximity. It will take me many days to live into the sights, sounds and smells that we witnessed. I am filled with gratitude for the blessing of this trip and pray that each of you will have the opportunity to experience these sites for yourself.
Showers of Blessings,
Leah Taylor
By: Leah Taylor On 1/30/2012
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