The privilege and challenge of space to 'be'

One of the reasons for spending so much time of my Sabbatical in Palestine and Israel was to be able to spend time ‘being’ in places that I have visited previously, but not had so much time to ‘be’ in because there is the next place on the itinerary to get to, the counting of pilgrims to be done (or the offering of information to other visitors who think I look as though I know what I am doing because I am wearing a clerical collar!)

The time I have had in Jerusalem, Bethlehem and the Galilee has afforded the privilege of being able to look, to listen, to pray, and to ‘be’ in the places that countless millions of pilgrims have visited before me – amongst whom I have also been one in earlier years. There has been space to breathe, space simply to sit and to think – with nothing required of me except that I am in this place in this moment. The space afforded has meant that thoughts and prayers have been wide-ranging and often challenging. I have carried friends in my mind and reflected on how important they are to me. I have carried parishioners in my heart – those who are unwell, those who are in challenging situations, those who have celebrated important events in recent months, and everywhere I have gone, I have lit a candle for the people of my church and prayed for them (secretly hoping, I guess, that they are praying for me.)

Today’s journey was to Nazareth. The population of the town is city is Arab - both Christian and Muslim with the people of each faith living and working alongside each other quite happily for many, many centuries. It is a city that has seen much improvement in infrastructure over the past twenty years or so and it has a relaxed feel to it – quite different to Jerusalem.

I was looking forward to visiting the Basilica of the Annunciation, built over the site of the house of Mary and Joseph. Set across two levels, the lower level is spacious and simple, with beautiful contemporary stained glass windows that almost  to colour the air – adding to the ‘scene’ something of the joy and delight that must have filled Mary’s heart (alongside the absolute terror and fear I imagine she must have felt a) at the appearance of an angel and b) the news that she was to have baby!) Set at the farthest end away from the entrance is a chapel that, when the congregation is seated around the altar, they are facing the remains of the home that Mary and Joseph are believed to have inhabited. We were so lucky in our timing as there were very few other people visiting the Basilica and, although there was a Service of Holy Communion upstairs, the singing that carried over into the lower level was stunningly beautiful in its simplicity and added to my joy of being in this place. Time spent here is always a real gift and, although I find it hard to comprehend the way in which Mary managed to understand what was being asked of her, I am so glad that she answered, “Let it be to me according to your word”. I can spend ages in this part of the Church – gazing at the windows… wondering and wandering…

Outside the Basilica, the internal walls of the ‘compound’ are decorated with images of Mary created and gifted by various nations from across the world (these continue in the upper part of the Basilica too). Images of Mary with the infant Christ are also to be found in the Greek Orthodox Church of St Gabriel in the upper part of the city. Amongst the images is one in which the angel is holding out its hand in blessing to Mary, in whose womb is the infant Christ. I hadn’t noticed this painting before – I guess, because like so many others, I have looked over the ‘fence’ to gaze at the water below that bubbles up from one of the many springs in this area and from which Mary is believed to have collected water. Seeing this image reminded me of Damian Hirst’s Madonna exhibited some years ago at a Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy in London. Considered controversial by some, I loved it – imaging as it does, a heavily pregnant Mary with Christ in her womb. Her breasts are ready to give milk for Jesus to feed on, and there we see the Incarnate God waiting to be born in the form in which his ministry would be seen and we could come to know him – the Word made flesh indeed.

I love it when artists surprise and challenge (even if I don’t like what they produce to surprise and challenge!) This Holy Land is full of surprise and challenge – for visiting the places in which Mary and Joseph lived and worked to care for Jesus, as well as the places where he taught and healed and prayed, bring surprise and challenge of their own. How will I respond? How am I being changed? What am I being led to think of, to pray for, to consider, to put aside… the answers to any of these questions will, if one is open, inspire and challenge in their own way.

We all need space and place to look, to listen, to pray, and to ‘be’… and I hope that you have space and place – and time – to do these things too. I also hope that you have the courage to be open the surprises and challenges you may discover along the way…

Visual delights to start the day

With no particular focus for today, l made my way through the Zion Gate this morning. It is so easy to pass by the importance of that statement. I made my way through the Zion Gate. The place where I am staying is on Mount Zion. We read of this place countless times in the Scriptures – both Hebrew and Christian. It is a place of great importance for it was here that David captured Jerusalem from the Jebusites and realised that God had given the land into the hands of the Israelites (2 Sam 5:7). In the grounds of the place where I am staying are the steps upon which Jesus is believed to have walked leading up the hill away from the Kidron Valley. On Mount Zion stands the Dormition Abbey where Mary is held to have ‘fallen asleep’ and ascended to heaven (although it is also possible to visit the Tomb of the Virgin Mary where she is buried, here in Jerusalem, in addition to seeing The House of Mary in Turkey, where she is believed to have lived out her days with St John! To cover all bases, I've been to all three...) For thousands of years this Mountain has been of importance to God’s people, and it remains so today.

With no particular focus for today, l made my way through the Zion Gate this morning.

The places explored across the five or so hours of walking took in all the four areas of the City: Armenian, Jewish, Christian and Muslim. I discovered myself in the Jewish area by accident and so, out of respect for the Sabbath, made my way away from it. It was my sense of circumspection rather than anything else... how weird am I?!

The walk through the Gate took me initially past the Cathedral of St James. I was actually looking for the Mardigian Museum which I was told by the entrance keeper to the church had been closed for three years (for those who like a smile, check this out!) My Library copy of Dorling Kindersley’s book is not all that up to date then (2012 Edition - should have checked the website!) He told me I could go into the church – which I thought was only open between 6-730 in the morning (no chance of me getting there at the moment, I’m still on UK time!) In the courtyard that leads into the church itself, there was one of the most joyful depictions of Mary and the Infant Christ that I have ever seen. It was such a lovely image with which to start the day.

 
There are beautiful mosaics beyond the gates (which were firmly locked, alas). Beautiful mosaics and images is a hallmark of this City, all of which sit alongside the challenge of religion and politics. It's a confusing place.

Drifting on from there I came across the iron steps that lead you up to ‘A Walk on the Roofs’ where you do, quite literally, walk on the rooftops – mainly above the souk, but also above homes, churches, synagogues and mosques. There were bicycles up there, children playing, families making their way over the rooftops – as it was a much easier route than the busy, winding streets below. From the rooftops you can see across to the surrounding hills, but up close it is a fantastic mess of satellite dishes (no planning permission required, obviously!), make-shift covers to stop the rain getting into the souk below, a playground, some smartly covered areas of flooring with other area that are quite dangerous if you don’t mind where you step. There are many nooks and crannies – one of which I followed – finding myself, quite unexpectedly, on a veranda overlooking the Western Wall (previously known as the Wailing Wall). I was soon joined by some young Jewish boys, and an older Jewish gentleman. They didn’t seem to mind me being there and, whilst I have valued immensely the privilege of praying alongside Jews and Christians at the Wall on previous visits (usually for peace in this City of Jerusalem) it felt right on this occasion to be at a distance – praying, watching, waiting, remaining, hoping.

And so I moved on… down a staircase, briefly into the souk, and then out into the Muristan area where I spent a while listening to a guitarist playing beautifully soul-full music. It was lovely here, away from the crowds for a while…

With no particular focus for today, l made my way through the Zion Gate this morning. It was a good morning – with more to follow… which will follow in a later entry as this one is far too long already!

Advent 4: Hope

Many of you will know, or recall, that each of the candles on the Advent Ring has a theme linked to it: with the fourth candle linked to both Mary and to the theme of hope. With Mary’s song, known by many as the Magnificat, which we have just heard, hope is a theme clearly appropriate to Mary, being, as she was, a member of the Jewish community who were longing for the Messiah who would release them from the subjugation and oppression of Roman rule under which they were living.

Mary’s song is has become the song of all who hope for a changed world, a ‘better world’. It is the song for all who pray that a world in which the mantra that each person is a beloved child of God might become reality, as the Magnificat and the just and gentle rule of God are lived out in the way in which we treat, speak to and pray for each other. The world where the Magnificat is truth is a world where the promise that we are all made in the image of God is lived out with arms laid down, with open and honest conversation, with trusting hearts, with a passionate desire for equity and a fulfilling life made possible for all.

Mary’s song is a song of hope… it isn’t necessarily sweet or lovely though… just as I imagine Mary’s life was not sweet and lovely either. It is a song of change and disruption. The world is turned upside-down and the comfortable place of those who are in places of authority and power will be disturbed as the situations they hold will be taken away from them. Those who occupy positions in which they are nothing will be raised up. All will be disrupted.

We say these words each evening at Evening Prayer; we hear them most Fourth Sundays in Advent, often at Christmas and at our Patronal Festival… do we realise their power? Do we realise – as in both to understand and to make happen – the radical change that this song speaks of? I love the possibilities that it offers – but also, I will confess, I also fear what it demands of me when I say it, when I hear it, when I sing it.

I think of the young woman who first praised God with the words we have heard. I think of what needs to change in our world today to make the Magnificat a reality. I think of what I could do, what I need to do, what we need to do – all Christian people – to speak peace, to speak love and to speak hope into lives blighted by poverty, oppression, iniquity, injustice and I could go on. Think of what words you might sing.

You’ll know the hymn, When I survey the wondrous cross by Isaac Watts, and published three hundred and five years ago, this hymn ends, as I am sure some of you will know, ‘love so amazing, so divine, demands my life, my soul, my all’. I know that sometimes all that needs to be ‘done’ in the world can feel overwhelming – and I imagine that poor Mary, believed to be not much more than a child herself by our contemporary standards, Mary must have been pretty overwhelmed too when she was told she was to be the mother of the Messiah – and yet, and yet…

Mary gave her life, Mary gave her soul, Mary gave her all, to bringing this child to birth, to raising him, to teaching and training him in the faith, along with Joseph too – so that when the time was right, Jesus would know he was loved, he would know he was cherished, he would know he was the Son of God as well as her son too – and he would be able to give his life, his soul, his all as well.

If we are overwhelmed with what needs to be ‘done’ to make our world a better place, then, as Mary did, we need to begin with what it possible for us – and live with hope that the small things that we do will contribute to the whole. We may not be called to give birth to the Son of God – can you imagine what to put on the birth certificate under father – we may not be called to give birth to the Son of God but we can contribute by bringing his kingdom to birth, by living with hope: with arms laid down, with open and honest conversation, with trusting hearts, with a passionate desire for equity and a fulfilling life made possible for all.

We have heard these lines today: And they shall live secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth; and he shall be the one of peace. They were in our first reading from the Prophecy of Micah, when he spoke of Bethlehem in Ephrathah being the place from whence the Messiah would come, and also what the Messiah would be like. Micah was speaking hope to the people of Israel – the people from whom Mary came, the people from whom Joseph came, the people from whom Jesus himself came. These people were longing for a world that was different – where they could live free from oppression and hatred – and where they would be restored to the presence of God. There are many people longing for such a world today – we hear of them each day on our news and read of them in our newspapers.

We each live with hope in our hearts for a world that is ‘better’. God has given us the means to make it so – by faith and action. Many of you, I know, give time, energy, money and prayer to making this world a better place – and I thank you and encourage you in all that you already do. Can I ask this of you too though in these coming days: keep alive the gift of hope in your heart, kindle it and be inspired by it. Listen to hope’s encouragement and hope’s affirmation; listen to hope’s song and hope’s meaning. Let the hope that belonged to the people of Israel be your hope too – that our world will be changed and that people will all live with arms laid down, with open and honest conversation, with trusting hearts, with a passionate desire for equity and a fulfilling life made possible for all.

Amen.