We gathered in the morning light, with the lingering clouds highlighted in a rose hue above the cross which adorns St. George’s Cathedral, and we listened to the instructions of our guide, Iyad, as we headed into the city of Jerusalem to walk the stations of the cross. The various stations are strategically placed throughout the city and many pilgrims traverse the Via Dolrosa.
The instructions Iyad offered us seemed to be mere logistical considerations, yet they were much more for me.
Here’s what I heard him say: “Stay close to the cross”. This was a reminder to keep the group together, since we’d be crossing streets and needed to move as a group. I heard, “stay close to the place of our redemption, stay close to Jesus’ love, stay close to the healing grace Jesus so freely offered us on the cross”.
Next I heard Iyad say, “People may look at you funny for carrying a cross, but don’t worry about it”. I heard, “All that we do in the name of Christ and out of our love for Christ will not be understood by everyone. That’s okay. Be true to yourself and Christ.”
And then we headed out into the city. I heard “yalla — which had been Iyad’s cue to get moving, but I heard, “take the cross into the city, into the places we live, into the places that need to be healed, into the world, wherever you find God’s people.” (I have later come to realize “yalla” really means “Come follow me”, another good reminder to be followers along the way.
We moved as a group, headed toward the Old City of Jerusalem. We traversed the cobblestones, well polished from the millions of footsteps over the centuries. We were one of many who have made this journey. Life was beginning to emerge in the neighborhoods. We made our pilgrimage in the midst of the Muslim call to prayer, in the listening to the cock crow three times, in the awakening of sleepy cats in the alleys, in the presence of Israeli soldiers patrolling the gates to the city, past the Armenian hospice, walking in step with the Jews returning from prayer. And then we began our readings and prayers at each station, a kind of call and response, prayers led by each of us, and each of our hearts responding. Somehow the Spirit placed exactly the right reading or prayer in each of our hands, calling from the depths of our own spirits and souls that truth we needed to proclaim.
At one station, I believe it was VI, there was a woman sitting. After our time as a group, as we prepared to move along, our guide shared with us that the woman was asking for our prayers. It was a moment of grace. Mother Betsy and I instinctively moved forward, asked permission to lay hands upon her, and we prayed, and it felt as though all of us, and perhaps the whole world, was praying along. It was grace that we could offer the love Christ was sharing with us with this woman. In this exchange I heard, “taking the cross out into the city means being up-close-and-personal with others”. This ministry of taking up the cross means touching people, means sharing of ourselves, means a personal interchange. Another important piece of our pilgrimage.
We moved along and ended at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, where we went to Calvary, where we touched the spot where Jesus hung on the cross. It was in that moment that the fruit of this pilgrimage came to bear. I know what it means for me to “return to the place of my resurrection”. It’s all about self-emptying. The greek word for this act, of course, is Kenosis, and it means the complete release within, so that we can be filled with the Holy Spirit which will guide our lives. It’s a scary thing to do. It takes into account all that I have wrestled with and been offered clarity around this week. It involves surrender, suffering, sacrifice, humility, vulnerability, and above all else, love of Christ. This step stops being scary only when we realize that emptying ourselves doesn’t leave us with nothing, but rather it leaves us with everything~ Christ in our hearts.
We concluded our pilgrimage this morning with a glorious celebration of Holy Eucharist at the Cathedral. And guess what? The sermon was about resurrection! It was one of the best sermons I’ve heard in a long time. One image the preacher left with us was a quote from his deceased wife’s book, that “resurrection is future joy brought near in the present moment” (not exact quote). His wife had described resurrection as watercolor (future joy and hope) and seeping out over the glossy paper (our lives).
I found it. I understand this particular pilgrimage and what God spoke to in my heart. Redemption always happens. And it begins with our love of Christ and our commitment and dedication to not put it aside, and like Peter on the shore eating fish for breakfast with Jesus after his resurrection, to claim it as our own, and take the cross of Christ out into our world.
