Monday, September 29, 2008
WE'RE BAAAAAACCCKKKKK
Pilgrimage to Holy Land Brings its Benefits Back Home. As you know, several Southern California parishioners went on pilgrimage to the Holy Land as of September 3 of this year. They have now come back home and are praying with us in person again. We did not forget anyone while we were in the country of the birth of Jesus. Every time we hit a special holy site, Father Ike would lead us in the celebration of the Holy Mass and all of you were a part of our intercessory prayers. Now we are back, and we are still praying for you all. A pilgrimage to the holy land is a rich experience. It helps the pilgrims to understand how important the Bible and the stories and the lessons it contains really are in our lives as Catholics. It helps us to realize just how much territory Jesus and His disciples had to cover while they were carrying out God's Mission. It helps us to realize just how much we respect the River Jordan, the Sea of Galilee, the City of Jerusalem, the towns of Nazarreth and Capharnaum and so many others. A pilgrimage to the holy land is like a refresher course in catechism. It is also a deep lesson in the respect due to those who follow God in other religions. Jerusalem especially is a serious collage of many different types of Catholics, of Orthodox and of Jews and Muslims. They live there, they have it as the life-long dream place to visit before dying and they go through life respecting one another for the sake of peace. It is impossible to go to the holy land and not appreciate the ecumenical reality of the Land. Living it close-up, even for two short weeks is a spiritual eye-opener that can never be forgotten.Yes, we are back. We pray that our blessings will fall upon you who stayed. May God bless us all.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
BEN GURION AIRPORT-- ZACHARIAH, ELIZABETH, MARY AND JOHN
Ben Gurion Airport -- Bling!Zachariah, Elizabeth and JohnEn Kerem
We have arrived. The ground is still beneath us, but the wheels are turning. After 14 plus hours of existence in a an 18 foot metal tube with a couple hundred strangers, just the thought of being sprung free is rather refreshing. We have to confess that these are not holy thoughts, they're just the thoughts of traveler who is finally close to the goal. We finally get off the plane and start our long walk to the passport processing line. The visual surroundings provided by the airport at
Tel Aviv are spectacular and most people in our group are quite impressed. It is a very beautiful terminal. It is a small jewel, but a very pretty one.
We meet our official greeter, representative of George's International travel of San Diego. He is a Urugayan who immediately spots our Latino pilgrims and for a few moments there was a Latin flavor to the environment. Passport processing goes rapidly, baggage claim is normal and we proceed to the meeting of our guide who will accompany us for the two weeks that we will be in the Holy Land. I wish I could recount emotional ground kissing events, spectacular blood pressure drops or fainting spells, but none of that happened.
We were just very happy to be here, happy and not too much the worse for wear than we were at the beginning of the day. We were bedraggled and wishing for shampoo, shower and shave, and of course, real food.We reached the Grand Jerusalem Court Hotel in good time (minimal traffic), quickly got our luggage up to our rooms and prepared for the attack on the real food that awaited us. On the way from the airport (25 minutes' drive), our guide, Dicko (pronounced Dee-ko) introduced himself and gave us an orientation about the procedures that he employs while plying his craft. We reach Jerusalem and of course we do not see anyone walking around who resembles Jesus or anyone else whom we have met in the Bible. That will have to wait until we go visit His cousin, John the
Baptist's place in the morning. It is a very pretty small town, tucked away from Jerusalem proper and presented about a 45 minute to 1 hour walk for Zacharia, John's father, to report to the Temple to practice his duties as the head priest during the year that he found out that Elizabeth, his wife, would bear him a son. Despite carbon monoxide, global warming, political wrangling (what else is new?), this is a very charming little town and it's character speaks well of the family of the head priest, relatives to our Mother, Mary.
We made it. The weather is hot and humid, but En Kerem remains the jewel it always is. The visit to the birthplace of John the Baptist is always touching. Most of our pilgrims were touched by the wonderfully executed bronze of a pregnant Elizabeth being admired by the awed Mary. These few short hours visiting the place of the Jesus' cousin made a strong impression on us all.
We went from here to have lunch at the only kibbutz within the borders of the municipality of Jerusalem. It is called "Ramat Rachel (Hills of Rachel)" The victuals were simple, tasty,
served family style with no fanfare. We read the passage from Acts about the life of the first Christian community. Everything here speaks of God.
We took the opportunity to visit the site of the repository of the Ark of the Covenant after it got sent back to the Israelites by the Philistines. It is not easy to make all the visits in a perfectly well constructed historically correct logical order. Every day is a mix of Old and New Testament stories. Hopefully, by the end of the two weeks everything will come together.
Today, Bethlehem - Bring your passports; West Bank, here we come - the birthplace of David, Joseph, Jesus and the Latin Bible.
Back at you soon.
We have arrived. The ground is still beneath us, but the wheels are turning. After 14 plus hours of existence in a an 18 foot metal tube with a couple hundred strangers, just the thought of being sprung free is rather refreshing. We have to confess that these are not holy thoughts, they're just the thoughts of traveler who is finally close to the goal. We finally get off the plane and start our long walk to the passport processing line. The visual surroundings provided by the airport at
Tel Aviv are spectacular and most people in our group are quite impressed. It is a very beautiful terminal. It is a small jewel, but a very pretty one.
We meet our official greeter, representative of George's International travel of San Diego. He is a Urugayan who immediately spots our Latino pilgrims and for a few moments there was a Latin flavor to the environment. Passport processing goes rapidly, baggage claim is normal and we proceed to the meeting of our guide who will accompany us for the two weeks that we will be in the Holy Land. I wish I could recount emotional ground kissing events, spectacular blood pressure drops or fainting spells, but none of that happened.
We were just very happy to be here, happy and not too much the worse for wear than we were at the beginning of the day. We were bedraggled and wishing for shampoo, shower and shave, and of course, real food.We reached the Grand Jerusalem Court Hotel in good time (minimal traffic), quickly got our luggage up to our rooms and prepared for the attack on the real food that awaited us. On the way from the airport (25 minutes' drive), our guide, Dicko (pronounced Dee-ko) introduced himself and gave us an orientation about the procedures that he employs while plying his craft. We reach Jerusalem and of course we do not see anyone walking around who resembles Jesus or anyone else whom we have met in the Bible. That will have to wait until we go visit His cousin, John the
Baptist's place in the morning. It is a very pretty small town, tucked away from Jerusalem proper and presented about a 45 minute to 1 hour walk for Zacharia, John's father, to report to the Temple to practice his duties as the head priest during the year that he found out that Elizabeth, his wife, would bear him a son. Despite carbon monoxide, global warming, political wrangling (what else is new?), this is a very charming little town and it's character speaks well of the family of the head priest, relatives to our Mother, Mary.
We made it. The weather is hot and humid, but En Kerem remains the jewel it always is. The visit to the birthplace of John the Baptist is always touching. Most of our pilgrims were touched by the wonderfully executed bronze of a pregnant Elizabeth being admired by the awed Mary. These few short hours visiting the place of the Jesus' cousin made a strong impression on us all.
We went from here to have lunch at the only kibbutz within the borders of the municipality of Jerusalem. It is called "Ramat Rachel (Hills of Rachel)" The victuals were simple, tasty,
served family style with no fanfare. We read the passage from Acts about the life of the first Christian community. Everything here speaks of God.
We took the opportunity to visit the site of the repository of the Ark of the Covenant after it got sent back to the Israelites by the Philistines. It is not easy to make all the visits in a perfectly well constructed historically correct logical order. Every day is a mix of Old and New Testament stories. Hopefully, by the end of the two weeks everything will come together.
Today, Bethlehem - Bring your passports; West Bank, here we come - the birthplace of David, Joseph, Jesus and the Latin Bible.
Back at you soon.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Comedy of Holy Errors, 1st Travel Day
The pilgrim's pride, 1st day of travel.
Treparations are all done. You sleep four hours, wake up full of adrenaline, turn on the Internet to check your bank balance, run to the donut shop for breakfast, come home, swallow your "breakfast", check your bags, make the bed, take a shower, get dressed, put the bags in the driveway ready for pick-up and you're ready to go. Whoa, not so fast there, big boy, where are your eye-glasses? Eye-glasses? Oh, right. Wow, that's why everything is so fuzzy. You run into the house and announce to the "Voice-in-the-Kitchen" that you can't find your glasses. "They're right there on the table." You go to the table. No eye-glasses. You go to every nook and cranny of the dwelling and you can't locate your glasses. You check the car, no glasses. Back to the house you go. Wife is now also frantic and turning every which way looking for those glasses. Prayers start to fly, beginning with, "God, what time is it?" "Ouch, only 45 more minutes before pick-up." "St. Anthony, I know it's early, but wake up, Holy Man." "Jesus lost and found, don't let him go to Jerusalem without his glasses!" "Mother Mary, calm me down. You do some of the looking for a minute or two while I take a sip of coffee." Now some important details are starting to set off bells in your head. Turn off the main water valve; pull all the small appliance plugs; lock the windows; check for the passports, the tickets, your wallet...Oh, where are your glasses. 15 more minutes to go. As you come into the house from turning off the water valve, there she is, glowing and saying "Thank you, Jesus Lost and Found" as she extends her dainty hand with your glasses in them. "Where did you get them?""In the hamper.""No, impossible""Possible" she says, "they must have fallen in when you threw something into the hamper and the clothes caught the glasses and dragged them into the laundry basket."
So off you go to the rendezvous point, glasses and all. You attend the Mass for the group. You receive the blessing of the priest and the congregation, gather around for a final send-off picture taking session and make your way to the waiting airporter shuttles. Picture taking? Camera? Pictures? Oh, no, don't tell me that I forgot my camera. HHHmmmmm, where oh where? Ah, I have a mental image now. This is not the disaster that I thought, it's in the carry-on bag in the trunk of the car. Phew! I'll exchange that bad feeling for the one I would have had if I had forgotten it at home.
Once seated, the conversation begins. One story after the other along the lines of the one above. The lost passports that were placed in a safe place that could not be forgotten, but could not be found because the "safe place" was the family Bible. The final itinerary with notes and comments that was laying on the floor at the threshhold of the wrong door.
Pilgrimages are holy travels, but they all start out about the same. The stories are all true, and at the time of the telling they are all humorous. They are like the opening prayer. Because the endings are all happy ones and because God's intervention was palpable, they tend to make everyone happy. They are like public confessions where human weakness is not an enemy because God and His Army are there to overcome it.Such was the beginning of our day, 9/13/2008, a day when Friday the 13th came on Wednesday, but it didn't really cause any harm because all of us were already in God's Land in spirit.
I am writing this on the airplane. A blessed airplane it is, too. It has God's name written in two languages on it's skin, EL AL. We are halfway to our destination. When we get there, with God's help, I'll tap into the mystery of the Internet and let you in on some of the excitement of the last few hours of preparation that are a part of every life just before a big adventure.
Treparations are all done. You sleep four hours, wake up full of adrenaline, turn on the Internet to check your bank balance, run to the donut shop for breakfast, come home, swallow your "breakfast", check your bags, make the bed, take a shower, get dressed, put the bags in the driveway ready for pick-up and you're ready to go. Whoa, not so fast there, big boy, where are your eye-glasses? Eye-glasses? Oh, right. Wow, that's why everything is so fuzzy. You run into the house and announce to the "Voice-in-the-Kitchen" that you can't find your glasses. "They're right there on the table." You go to the table. No eye-glasses. You go to every nook and cranny of the dwelling and you can't locate your glasses. You check the car, no glasses. Back to the house you go. Wife is now also frantic and turning every which way looking for those glasses. Prayers start to fly, beginning with, "God, what time is it?" "Ouch, only 45 more minutes before pick-up." "St. Anthony, I know it's early, but wake up, Holy Man." "Jesus lost and found, don't let him go to Jerusalem without his glasses!" "Mother Mary, calm me down. You do some of the looking for a minute or two while I take a sip of coffee." Now some important details are starting to set off bells in your head. Turn off the main water valve; pull all the small appliance plugs; lock the windows; check for the passports, the tickets, your wallet...Oh, where are your glasses. 15 more minutes to go. As you come into the house from turning off the water valve, there she is, glowing and saying "Thank you, Jesus Lost and Found" as she extends her dainty hand with your glasses in them. "Where did you get them?""In the hamper.""No, impossible""Possible" she says, "they must have fallen in when you threw something into the hamper and the clothes caught the glasses and dragged them into the laundry basket."
So off you go to the rendezvous point, glasses and all. You attend the Mass for the group. You receive the blessing of the priest and the congregation, gather around for a final send-off picture taking session and make your way to the waiting airporter shuttles. Picture taking? Camera? Pictures? Oh, no, don't tell me that I forgot my camera. HHHmmmmm, where oh where? Ah, I have a mental image now. This is not the disaster that I thought, it's in the carry-on bag in the trunk of the car. Phew! I'll exchange that bad feeling for the one I would have had if I had forgotten it at home.
Once seated, the conversation begins. One story after the other along the lines of the one above. The lost passports that were placed in a safe place that could not be forgotten, but could not be found because the "safe place" was the family Bible. The final itinerary with notes and comments that was laying on the floor at the threshhold of the wrong door.
Pilgrimages are holy travels, but they all start out about the same. The stories are all true, and at the time of the telling they are all humorous. They are like the opening prayer. Because the endings are all happy ones and because God's intervention was palpable, they tend to make everyone happy. They are like public confessions where human weakness is not an enemy because God and His Army are there to overcome it.Such was the beginning of our day, 9/13/2008, a day when Friday the 13th came on Wednesday, but it didn't really cause any harm because all of us were already in God's Land in spirit.
I am writing this on the airplane. A blessed airplane it is, too. It has God's name written in two languages on it's skin, EL AL. We are halfway to our destination. When we get there, with God's help, I'll tap into the mystery of the Internet and let you in on some of the excitement of the last few hours of preparation that are a part of every life just before a big adventure.
Monday, September 1, 2008
PRAY WITH US IN THE LAND OF JESUS
Here is your chance to visit the Holy Land through the magic of the Internet. A small band of Pilgrims from Southern California will be spending some 6 days in Jerusalem and surrounding areas. They will then move north to the Home of Jesus in Galilee where He did the greater part of His preaching and teaching. We will be there for 3 days. We will share our prayers, reflections and other thoughts with you. You can find them all here. We welcome you and wish you blessings from Jesus during this special time for us and for you.
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