israel: a place to commune
Communion and community were two words that I experienced often during the trip. It was a powerful experience to spend time in Jerusalem, the holiest city for three of the world’s major religions: Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. Although I know that Jerusalem is not always a peaceful place, I felt a profound sense of peace while there among a diverse community of believers.
It was an incredible experience to visit some of the most important sites to Christianity. We jammed so much touring into each day we were in the city that I had to journal all of the locations we had visited so as to not forget any site. The Wailing Wall was overwhelming, Church of the Holy Sepulchre was awe-inspiring, and the Church of All Nations next to the Garden of Gethsemene was majestic.
One of my favorite places in the whole city, however, was on a bench just outside of the Jaffa Gate. It is where I sat one evening by myself for about an hour after enjoying a gelato for dinner with some of my travel mates. I was glad to have some time to myself to sit and process what I had seen that day. With so much stimulation in such little time, I needed time to reflect.
It was around 7 pm and the sun had cast a deep and warm glow on the area. The open square, between the Jaffa Gate and the steps leading down to the outdoor mall, was full of parents walking with strollers, children riding their bikes with training wheels, couples walking hand-in-hand towards the open-air restaurants at the mall. I watched individuals too, some walking quickly with obvious purpose, and others strolling casually, seemingly enjoying the cooling evening breeze.
It was a unique opportunity to catch a glimpse of life in the Old City. Orthodox Jews walked among Arabic women, completely covered with dark fabric. Gaudily and minimally dressed women of unknown faith background stood among old women wearing all black, pushing their shopping carts. Children, oblivious to the people around them, raced through the crowds offering smiles to whomever looked their way.
An observation I appreciated above all others was a group of three teenage Jewish girls who stood facing a six foot wall by the mall stairs. Their bowed heads bobbed back and forth from the wall as they held small books tightly to their chests. I watched them for a few minutes with my sunglasses on so they would not see me staring. One of the girls stopped, handed her prayer book to an older woman, presumably her mother, who then took the teen’s spot at the wall and began her fervent prayers.
I witnessed a similar moment like this in Tel Aviv while I was eating my first Israeli lamb shawarma pita in the late afternoon. There was a call to prayer piped through the minaret speakers of a nearby mosque and four men around my age walked into an alley behind their shop to lie down small prayer rugs. One man did not have a rug and simply used unfolded newspaper. Their shoes were ceremoniously removed and, knees on the ground, they began bowing in prayer.
Their sincere, very public display of their faith practice caught me off guard. In the United States I am not used to seeing such obvious demonstrations of personal faith in public, let alone in a church sanctuary. It was beautiful, inspiring, and exciting to see young people, especially, practice unabashedly their devotion to God. I will never be able to forget the image of the young people praying.
Another place I felt an amazing sense of peace and community was at St. Anne’s church, next to the Baths of Bethesda. We entered through an archway that declared “Birth Place Virgin Mary.” Our tour guide, George, encouraged our group to stand in the nave and sing a song together because of the incredible acoustics. I think we sang “Amazing Grace” but I can’t be sure. I just remember having wet eyes by the end of the experience.
I’ve always known that music has been powerful in my life, those moments of beautiful, clear harmonies, reminded me of that. My senses were aroused and I genuinely felt an “enhanced state of being” (Corbitt, 1998, p. 148). The music that emanated from our mouths and echoed off the stone vaults of the sanctuary helped, at that moment, to unlock the realm of the spiritual world (p. 141). It was another unforgettable moment that I will cherish from my time in Israel.
It was an incredible experience to visit some of the most important sites to Christianity. We jammed so much touring into each day we were in the city that I had to journal all of the locations we had visited so as to not forget any site. The Wailing Wall was overwhelming, Church of the Holy Sepulchre was awe-inspiring, and the Church of All Nations next to the Garden of Gethsemene was majestic.
One of my favorite places in the whole city, however, was on a bench just outside of the Jaffa Gate. It is where I sat one evening by myself for about an hour after enjoying a gelato for dinner with some of my travel mates. I was glad to have some time to myself to sit and process what I had seen that day. With so much stimulation in such little time, I needed time to reflect.
It was around 7 pm and the sun had cast a deep and warm glow on the area. The open square, between the Jaffa Gate and the steps leading down to the outdoor mall, was full of parents walking with strollers, children riding their bikes with training wheels, couples walking hand-in-hand towards the open-air restaurants at the mall. I watched individuals too, some walking quickly with obvious purpose, and others strolling casually, seemingly enjoying the cooling evening breeze.
It was a unique opportunity to catch a glimpse of life in the Old City. Orthodox Jews walked among Arabic women, completely covered with dark fabric. Gaudily and minimally dressed women of unknown faith background stood among old women wearing all black, pushing their shopping carts. Children, oblivious to the people around them, raced through the crowds offering smiles to whomever looked their way.
An observation I appreciated above all others was a group of three teenage Jewish girls who stood facing a six foot wall by the mall stairs. Their bowed heads bobbed back and forth from the wall as they held small books tightly to their chests. I watched them for a few minutes with my sunglasses on so they would not see me staring. One of the girls stopped, handed her prayer book to an older woman, presumably her mother, who then took the teen’s spot at the wall and began her fervent prayers.
I witnessed a similar moment like this in Tel Aviv while I was eating my first Israeli lamb shawarma pita in the late afternoon. There was a call to prayer piped through the minaret speakers of a nearby mosque and four men around my age walked into an alley behind their shop to lie down small prayer rugs. One man did not have a rug and simply used unfolded newspaper. Their shoes were ceremoniously removed and, knees on the ground, they began bowing in prayer.
Their sincere, very public display of their faith practice caught me off guard. In the United States I am not used to seeing such obvious demonstrations of personal faith in public, let alone in a church sanctuary. It was beautiful, inspiring, and exciting to see young people, especially, practice unabashedly their devotion to God. I will never be able to forget the image of the young people praying.
Another place I felt an amazing sense of peace and community was at St. Anne’s church, next to the Baths of Bethesda. We entered through an archway that declared “Birth Place Virgin Mary.” Our tour guide, George, encouraged our group to stand in the nave and sing a song together because of the incredible acoustics. I think we sang “Amazing Grace” but I can’t be sure. I just remember having wet eyes by the end of the experience.
I’ve always known that music has been powerful in my life, those moments of beautiful, clear harmonies, reminded me of that. My senses were aroused and I genuinely felt an “enhanced state of being” (Corbitt, 1998, p. 148). The music that emanated from our mouths and echoed off the stone vaults of the sanctuary helped, at that moment, to unlock the realm of the spiritual world (p. 141). It was another unforgettable moment that I will cherish from my time in Israel.
references
Corbitt, J. (1998). The sound of the harvest: Music's mission in church and culture. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Books.