For some of us there had also been huge misconceptions - some had always imagined Mount Moriah to be somewhere out in the desert, but no, it is the mount on which the Dome of the Rock Mosque now stands in Jerusalem, the place where Abraham prepared to sacrifice his son Isaac. We knew, of course, that ‘Zion’ and ‘Jerusalem’ were synonymous, but that did not stop some of us from thinking of Mount Zion as being a long way from Jerusalem, when again it is a part of that very city itself, although now outside the walls of the old city.

Because of the recent troubles in Jerusalem there were very few tourists about, which was a bonus for us. Yet at no time did we feel in any danger. It did mean, however, that we could not visit Temple Mount where the Dome of the Rock Mosque is situated, and it was considered by our excellent guide, Oliver, after consultation with the local people, that a visit to the Shepherds’ Fields near Bethlehem would be too dangerous.

It was while we were visiting the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem that an incident occurred which became for all of us the highlight of the holiday. We entered a rectangular-shaped cave lit by forty-eight lamps and we felt we were standing in the very birthplace of Christ. A silver star with the latin inscription ‘Hic de Maria Virgine Jesus Christus natus est’ (Here Christ was born) marks the spot. A little to the right down a couple of steps lay the Holy Manger. The primitive rock, blackened by the smoke of candles and lamps, may be seen above the manger.

Whilst our guide was telling us the history of the church, a most moving, yet simple, event happened. Completely oblivious to our group a young mother came into the cave with a baby in her arms and a small child held by the hand. After kneeling in prayer she gently laid the baby onto the centre of the star for a few moments as an act of faith and then quietly left. I am sure we were all affected by this act, so simple but beautiful.

The days in Jerusalem were packed with many exciting sights and sounds, not to mention the lovely spicy smells of the suk. Coming back in the evening to Jerusalem in the rapidly failing light afier a memorable day out was truly unforgettable. We were travelling along the old Roman road from Jericho with the desert all around us - time had stood still here. The emptiness of that wilderness, with only an occasional Bedouin camp, was indescribable - something that really has to be experienced.

Soon we were in Galilee: we had floated in the Dead Sea, now we swam in the very different waters of the Sea of Galilee, and later, again in the evening, we came across the choppy waters of the lake by boat. A warm, stiff breeze was blowing, and the engine was silent, as we sang, and read the Biblical account of Jesus stilling the waves.

The peace around us was all too brief. We had started our fmal day with a Eucharist on the shore; now we finished it on the water. Truly an unforgettable experience."

Source: Some of the Pilgrims, The Spire Magazine - 1990 December

The December magazine gave a good account of some of the sights which were visited by our group of pilgrims from St. James’s on our recent journey. It was a privilege to visit such sights, to be still there, to think and to pray. While the experience of simply being in these holy places was moving and profound our pilgrimage would not have been complete without the contribution of the ‘living stones’ in the bible lands.

These living stones we met and talked with. We travelled to Nazareth, to the sights of the Annunciation, the synagogue-church, the caves lived in by the people at the time of our Lord’s birth and then met Canon Riah Abu Al Assal, Vicar of Christ Church, Nazareth. He is an Anglican priest, an Archdeacon no less, but more importantly, he is a Palestinian Christian. In Ibillin, a dusty unremarkable village in Galilee, we met Father Elias Chacour, another Palestinian priest, of the Melkite Church. But neither of these priests care much for titles. ‘We’re Anglicans’, we said. ‘Really’ replied Fr. Chacour, ‘and you look for all the world like human beings, my brothers and sisters’.

You see the point of such a not-particularly-funny joke all too clearly in a land where what you are, how you are treated, what your rights and responsibilities are, are determined by your religious and ethnic title.

Both priests urged us to remember that we are children of the same heavenly Father, whatever our background. In the state of Israel and in the Occupied Territories of the West Bank and Gaza Strip are Jews, Muslims and Christians, all children of Abraham. In Father Riah’s parish school, 70% of his children are Muslim, 30% Christian. His Church is entirely Arabic in its liturgy and pattern of life - set in the largest Arab city in Israel. Fr. Chacour has built from a few old stones a vibrant college, pledged to reconciliation between Jews, Muslims, Christians and Druze. But they are in a minority.

The overwhelming trend is to polarisation, separating Jews and Muslims, with the tiny indigenous Christian community of Israel being torn apart - so much so that both priests predicted that in 10 years time there may be no indigenous Christian community left. Yes, there will be plenty of Christian tourists and religious to guard the holy sites. But the local Christian community, after 2000 years, will perhaps be extinct. What irony.

So we spent time with these living stones, our brothers and sisters, and came away with these words ringing in our ears:

‘Do not seek for the City of God on earth, for it is not built of wood or stone, but seek it in the souls of men...’

We caught a glimpse of it with these two men and their vision. Remember them and their people."

Source: Ramani Leathard, The Spire Magazine - 1991 January

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