Stations of the cross and final reflections
We entered through the Damascus gate shortly after 5 am, at that time in the morning, I thought the old city would be quite and peaceful. I was wrong. At the gate was three Israeli guards with guns of course trying to keep the younger Muslims from entering for morning prayer. The security officers have decided that since they are typically at the heart of conflict that they should eliminate them from worship, only escalating the situation. As we made our way to the beginning of the stations of the cross, we were met by Muslims on their way to pray and young Muslims praying outside the gates as they are not allowed in. Friday is there holy day.
** Photos by Susan/ Cooper Lindstrom
At the first station, we heard some shouting from an Israeli on a golf cart towards a group of praying Muslims as they quickly dispersed. Jerusalem has always been at the heart of conflict because everyone wants a piece of it. This moment, though disruptive, was also authentic.
We walked the Stations of the cross, taking turns carrying a
cross much smaller than what Jesus had carried as each person took their turn.
Each station memorializes part of the path Jesus took that day. The concept of Stations of the Cross,
actually originated in Europe by Christians who couldn’t get to the Holy Land
and wanted to connect with Jesus’ suffering but doing it in Jerusalem where
Jesus would have walked was powerful. The Stations of the Cross are not joyful
but penitent in their reading. As humans
we have to embrace humility to really understand joy. The readings from the
Bible were not exactly what happened to Jesus, but underneath was a summary.
The prayers were powerful. We prayed for the sick, the hungry, the oppressed,
those in conflict and the ways were experience those ourselves.
The journey ended at Church of the Holy Sepulchre which was
built by… you guessed it, queen Helena in the 4th century. Marissa
got to read inside the church because she had the second to last station. As we
read at 6:10 am, a service was also going on, but there were only a few people
in the church, a big difference from the Chaos from 7 days earlier.
Our guide rushed our time to see the sights and we left
quickly to get the other groups back for their departure. At around 8 AM, we
left looking for the upper room inside the city walls. We got lost and ended up
over by the temple mount and had some Israeli guards tell us to go around….
Around where? who knows? My heart rate was up as we kept bouncing into Israeli
guards “protecting” the city on Friday.
The only place that felt really safe was the Church of the Holy Sepulchre so we went there instead. We knew we could find our way out of the old city if we went there. (Marissa) had been saying earlier that she didn’t really like that Church. Too many people, how can you really feel connected to the events that happened there when everyone is running around/ waiting in line?
*Photos taken by Susan/ Cooper Lindstrom
When we went in, no one was in line for Jesus’ tomb and
there was a minimal line for Golgotha (where the cross was) – We said our
prayers and left the city.
It was an experience unlike anything else.





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