...and morning followed.

The last day. We had an exquisite "last supper" with our professor, Fr. Gregory last evening before taking him to the airport. And of course, we had to get up early this morning to see the sun rise from atop Mt. Scopus. (I am sure that I will sleep very well on the plane tonight, since I have not had a full night's sleep now for three nights! Added hardship: since this is a Mediterranean country, no café is open before at least 8:00.) We headed to our favorite supposedly 24-hour place, Café Zuni for a "proper American" breakfast only to find the doors closed and the gates locked! It was heartbreaking. We did manage to find a café for an espresso and a pan au chocolat (next best thing!) before heading across the ridge to the Mount of Olives to see the sun crest there and visit the Church of Dominus Flevit and the Mosque (yes, mosque) of (Christ's) the Ascension. After as much procrastinating as we could manage, we've returned to St. Stephen's to pack before doing a leave-taking walk through the Old City, taking a shower, celebrating Mass and heading to the airport.

I am thinking that this will not be my last post. There is much left to say and pictures to share, so stay tuned...

2 Things...

I am very much looking forward to:

1. Not sweating 24/7
2. A cup or two of Fr. Eugene's coffee
   

Jordan, part I: Its wonderful people

Yesterday, we got back from our last trip. We had our last class this morning. The end is near.

Our last trip was frivolous in the sense that it had nothing (well, very little) to do with the Gospels. The original inspiration of the trip was to visit Petra, known by most Americans from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade or National Geographic or (I understand) the new Transformers movie. (Charlie, here's a shout out to you: I hope it was everything you hoped/wanted it to be!) It blossomed into a visit to Mt. Nebo (where Moses and the Israelites first saw the Promised Land), the Baptismal Site of Jesus, the Madaba Map, the ruins of Jerash/Gerasa and ultimately, Petra itself.

There are quite simply insufficient superlatives or adjectives to describe our visit to Jordan. By means of a comparison (a very Biblical thing to do, I might add) of sorts to illustrate this point: not even having a flat tire (and having to pay for its replacement out of pocket, roughly $120) on our rental car or the same car's transmission completely fail on our way to the border yesterday (plus the inevitable getting lost in foreign country where there are few road signs and even fewer in English) cannot even come close to diminishing the rapturous highs of this "side" trip.

Get the idea?

I am not going to spend much time on the Sled, as we dubbed our over-sized minivan. (One thing you quickly learn here is that one simply rents "a car" and whatever the agency has or delivers to you is what you get; there is no such thing as a "no smoking" car and one had one of the backseat seat-belts cut out, for example.) In many ways, it is the fourth principle character in our Jordanian adventure. But it is not important in itself, but that it became the catalyst through which we learned of the immense generosity of Jordanians. As priests, we deal with people everyday and see humanity at its ugliest more than most people, so these experiences was most refreshing.

• A trucker stopped and helped us change the tire, which looked only marginally better than the one it replaced. (There were lots of tire shops along the highway, but they dealt only in truck and semi tires.) After single-handedly changing the tire, he offered to make us coffee or tea before sending us one our way! He spoke no English and would accept no money or gifts from us. "For nothing, for nothing," he kept saying.
  
• When we finally did get to a tire shop, the "spokesman" of the three workers (the most extroverted and the only one who knew a scrap of English) bought us sodas and desperately tried to communicate with us while his associate went out and bought a new tire that fit our van. I spent about 20-30 minutes giving the former soldier assigned to the personal protection of his king English lessons: counting to 40, declining "to understand" and why he could not say "I under" when he wanted to say "I understand." In a gesture that reminded me of what we used to do in grade school, he gave each of a small photo of himself, his formal soldier's head-shot, and wanted pictures of us and was very disappointed when we could not provide. Fr. Steven and I gave him and his sidekick our sunglasses as a sort of second best. He was sad that we would not accept a second soda or allow him to make us coffee or tea while we waited and he tried to engage us in conversation. They all exuded the warmest, most genuine smiles when (after two hours) we were back on the road to Petra. I am sure they would have tackled us and made us stay for dinner if it had been an hour later.
  
• When our rental died literally in the middle of nowhere, with the Dead Sea in sight, the thermometer at least in the mid-90's, having a liter and a half of water between the three of us and not having seen another car in 30 minutes. Within five minutes (I am NOT exaggerating), there were five men, one with a cell phone, swarming around the engine arguing (in Arabic) what was wrong, then the one with the phone calling his friends to see where there was a repair shop. There were also two 6-8 year old boys who enjoyed the excitement of something out of the ordinary happening in their otherwise boring day. (We ended up driving back to the last town in 2nd gear - the only one that worked - followed by three of these guys in their truck and the two boys in its bed.) They literally dropped everything to get us on our way and it made their day having done it.
  
• At the repair shop, another random band of guys stopped by when they saw we were having trouble communicating. One spoke a little English. Before we could ask, he whipped out his cell phone and called our rental agent. He also acted as "intermediary" between us, our agent and the shop people. (We ended up leaving the Sled there and taking a taxi to Amman.) They just beamed and radiated joy that they were able to help us and again, would accept nothing from us other than our gratitude.

That doesn't include the countless people we stopped to ask directions, the cab driver who insisted on buying us soda or water, the innkeeper in Wadi Musa (the nearest village to Petra) who took us up to the roof, he and his family's "personal space" to give a view by night of the village, etc., etc. Every Jordanian we encountered seemed to know the English phrase "Where you from?" (and then saying, "Oh, California!" or "America!") and one of three other phrases, which they used enthusiastically and emphatically: "You are welcome!" "Welcome!" or "Welcome to Jordan!" A couple of the younger ones, clearly aware of American pop culture and politics, asked what it was like having the Terminator as governor!

Oh yeah, and we saw some of the most amazing sites too...

Jesus in Galilee, part III (Thursday & Friday)

In comparison to the sheer number of places we visited on Wednesday, Thursday was a light day. It began in the lush wilderness of Tel Dan. It very much reminded these four Western Province friars of the area about our retreat center in McKenzie Bridge, Oregon. Dan is the traditional northern border of the land of Israel (Judges 20:1, 1Samuel 3:20, etc.). It is one of the headstreams of the Jordan River, producing roughly 250,000,000 cubic meters of water annually. Dan is interesting because it has ruins of two city gates, one from the middle Bronze Age and the other Israelite (Iron Age), and that it has the remains a cultic center founded by King Jeroboam in the 10th century BC that changed as the inhabitants changed. It is a startling reminder that worship in Israel after the conquest was far from uniform or even monotheistic! It clearly says so in the Hebrew Scriptures, but many Christians (myself included before this trip) take it as something of a hyperbole. Not so, not so. Another amazing feature of Dan it has on the only known surviving mud brick gate in the Near East; it dates to the 18th century BC. To put it another way, that structure is almost four millennia old! Not bad, eh? You're just walking along a trial and, bam, there it is. We knew about it because we had read about it ahead of time, but there is nothing on the site or near the structre that indicates its importance. To say it's understated is an understatement. (Sorry, I couldn't resit!)

Banyas (or Caesarea Phillipi) was our next stop. It too has one of the headstreams of the Jordan River. A crack beneath the cave spews out 20 cubic meters per second. It is lovely cool, refreshing spring water. (We even saw that someone had put their watermelon in the stream to cool it down!) Herod the Great's son, Phillip, used it as a capitol of his territory beginning in 4 BC, naming it after his patron and added his own name to distinguish it from the coastal Caesarea (or Caesarea Maritima). There is very little left of the city itself other than the ruins of the sanctuary to the Greek god Pan and the palace of Agrippa II, which is still being excavated. After his death (in 93 AD), the territory became part of the Roman province of Syria. The ruins were recycled a number of times to a variety of uses. There are currently divided by a modern highway. On the site, there are also remains of walls built by Crusaders. The view below, looking through a guardhouse, is the home to a family of Syrian hyrax. It was here that we all saw our first live hyrax after hearing about them for weeks from Fr. Gregory and signs around the city. He had described the critter as a guinea pig on steroids. A humorous image to be sure, but as it turns out, somewhat accurate too. The guinea pig belongs to the genus cavia, the hyrax belongs to the genus procavia.

On the way back to Tiberias, we stopped at a vista near Qunatra. In the foreground is a UN base; in the distance is the town, which was once divided between Israel and Syria. I believe now that it is all in Syria and the area you see is buffer between the two nations.

On Friday, our first stop on our way back to Jerusalem was Kursi, which its signs proclaim to be the site of "Jesus' miracle of the swine"! (Mark 5:1-13) It has been a site of pilgrimage, recalling this exorcism, since the fifth century. The site contains the remains of a Byzantine monastery (with mosaics in the church, of course) mostly made of the local material, basalt. There is a little hill (from which the larger picture was taken) where there was a small hermitage. You can see the hill and the "straight shot" to the Sea. The surrounding geology suggests that the Sea is not as high as it once was (the Jordan is now the primary source of the region's water). Regardless, it would have been a dramatic scene!

The last stop was in some ways the most incredible, even though it did not have anything to do with the Gospels: Belvoir. A Crusader castle (again, mostly basalt) with a "fair view" is an understatement. On a clear day (which you can see from the picture, Friday was not) you can see the hills of Samaria, Mt. Tabor, over the Sea of Galilee and the Golan heights to snow covered Mt. Hermon. It was a fortress of the Hospitaller Knights. For those who love the "romance" of the medieval castle (like Fr. Steven and I), it was like being turned loose in a candy store. Much of the structure is intact, complete with a moat and "secret" entrances from the moat. Although it was blazing hot, we spent well over an hour running about these most impressive ruins. Fr. Bartholomew is well on his wall to his 10,000 picture goal for this trip!

Jesus in Galilee, part II (Wednesday)

Wednesday was a full & busy day, beginning in Capernaum. Our scheduled time for Mass wasn't until 10, so we visited the Church of the Primacy of Peter first. This church commemorates the appearance of Our Lord after the Resurrection, Him preparing them breakfast and Peter's triple confession of faith (John 21:1-19). The church encloses a rock on which Jesus' had their bread and fish breakfast laid out. To me, the church is surprisingly small. The setting, right on the shore of the Sea of Galilee is very beautiful. The picture of the statue of Peter and Jesus didn't turn out the way I intended; in fact, it turned out better! I think the silhouette against the hillside and water is beautiful. We sat and prayerfully read this passage; we were quite moved by the place. Outside the church there are two outdoor chapels. One has a mosaic of Pope Paul VI prostrate before St. Peter making his confession to Jesus. The other has a striking mosaic of Pope John Paul II. The colors and execution of both are breathtakingly brilliant.

After that, we made our way to St. Peter's house. The church is literally built on what is considered to be the ruins of St. Peter's house, which you can see through the glass floor in front of the altar. We arrived to a Franciscan friar in a snit: for some reason, they had us down for Mass at 9:00 & 10:00 that morning. As you can see, the church is large, so he was (rightfully) miffed that the AC had been on for an hour and no one had shown up. After some soothing words on our part and Fr. Gregory showing him the confirmation that had us only down for 10:00, Fr. Bartholomew offered Mass.

A word on the city. It is an English contraction of its proper Hebrew name, Kafar Nahum (the city of Nahum). There are traces of human habitation from the 13th century BC, but it only appears in history under the reign of Herod in the 2nd century BC. Nahum is the name of one of the so-called minor prophets and is (was?!) a fairly common name. There is nothing special about the place that would make it place for Jesus to settle after leaving Nazareth, other than it is where his first disciples lived.

After Mass, we visited the ruins of a synagogue in Capernaum. It is quite literally right next to St. Peter's house! While is the exact dating of the building is debated (evidence points to the late 3rd to mid 4th century), it almost certainly does not date to time of Jesus. Nonetheless, it is a powerful experience to sit in the ruins of a synagogue in Capernaum reading what Our Lord did there! In the picture of its ruins, you can see our professor and guide, Fr. Gregory. It was ungodly hot and humid, so we were happy that the walls cast significant shade for us to sit and reflect in.

Our next stop was the chapel of the German Benedictine monastery at Tagbah, the Church of the Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes. It contains the famous mosaic of a basket of loaves between two fish. Unfortunately (for tourists like us), it is near the altar and is roped off. I figured ducks were close enough! It is a very simple, beautiful chapel: in a word very Benedictine! It is a replica of a 5th century building with the ruins of a 4th church underneath it, which was slightly smaller.

We arrived at our next scheduled stop, the Church of the Sermon on the Mount, on the Mount of the Beatitudes, 15 minutes after it closed. Undaunted, we backtracked a bit, had lunch and visited the basalt ruins of Chorazin (Korazim). Jesus condemns it along with Capernaum and Bethsaida for its inhabitants' lack of faith. (Mt. 11:20-24) The ruins have a dark feel, being almost exclusively basalt, but also for the city's negative association in Scripture. That didn't stop us from playing around around a bit: we were alone on the site with no "adult" supervision. To give one example: there are pictures of yours truly doing a (bad) imitation of the famous Karate Kid pose on top of a pillar.

Our last stop for the day was the Mount of the Beatitudes and the Church of the Sermon on the Mount. It was a powerful "bookend" to the beginning of the day on sea shore below. From this mountain, you can see almost of the places Jesus lived and worked! We sat facing the church and the amazing view of the Sea of Galilee behind it and read the Sermon on the Mount. Talk about a powerful experience. Although the chapel itself is rather plain (given what we've seen on this trip!), it does have some interesting features: the altar is in middle (directly under the dome) and mosaic "water" flows down the steps on all four sides, it is eight-sided to reflect the beatitudes; on floor in each of the "sections," there is one of the Theological and Cardinal virtues (the 8th being Jesus himself who is the model and exemplar of the beatitudes and any/all virtue).

Jesus in Galilee, part I (Monday & Tuesday)

I was unwilling to pay for internet access this week at our Holiday Inn in Tiberias, nor did I have much time to write, even if I were, so I am going cover this past week in a couple of installments.

We began Monday as usual: Mass with Lauds followed by breakfast. Our first stop was Bet Alpha, which is known for a mosaic floor of 6th century AD synagogue. Compared to the other mosaics we have seen, I have to admit these were underwhelming. The main part of the floor is almost completely intact and shows an Ark of the Law, a complete depiction of the signs of the zodiac and the four seasons and the sacrifice of Isaac. That it is that complete and as well preserved as it is, is impressive to be sure sure. The style in which it was rendered is almost comical: it looks like a mosaic version of children's drawings. While I am no artist myself, if I had been paying for this floor, I would have demanded a refund! I tried to take some pictures of the floor, but they did not turn out particularly well.

Our next stop was Nazareth. We began our time with the Sisters of Nazareth. A sister showed us their church (which was being worked on, so it was very dusty) and the ruins beneath it, which range from the 1st to 12th centuries AD. The highlight of that visit was seeing a 1st century tomb that actually had a round stone which covered its entrance. (Bart and I kept singing or humming "Roll Away the Stone.") You can see me in the entrance of that tomb (as usual, blinking.)

On our way to the Basilica of the Annunciation and the Church of St. Joseph, we stopped a synagogue, where pilgrims recall Jesus teaching in the synagogue in his "hometown" (Mt 13:54 & Lk 4:16). The basilica is an unfortunate 1960's "cutting edge" design built on the Crusader (12th century) footprint with some striking and beautiful elements, but which is not especially beautiful on the whole. The church is surrounded by a courtyard on two sides with depictions of Our Lady from all over the world, much like the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, DC. It is a split level church. The focus of the lower church is the grotto of the Annunciation. It invites one to reflect on the humble circumstances of our Lord's birth by its simple elegance. There is an inscription on the altar from the Creed in Latin with one small addition that startled me: Verbum Carno Hic Factum Est. The Word become flesh here! The grotto does not pretend to be the spot where Gabriel spoke with Mary, yet it still speaks to the particularity and locality of the Incarnation, that it occurred in space and time and therefore in history. That alone made the visit worthwhile to me. The upper church has more images of Our Lady like those in the courtyard. The sanctuary is separated from the nave by a large whole, looking to the grotto below. The fresco in the apse is of Jesus introducing his stepfather Joseph (I think) to heaven. The church of St. Joseph is a simple church that could easily be missed in the grandiosity of the basilica. I found a little hidden treasure in the grotto beneath the main part of the church: a stained glass window depicting Mary & Joseph's wedding. I can't remember ever seeing that artistically represented before. We were so engaged in conversation (or whatever) that we drove through the little town of Cana without even realizing it. When we realized our error (when we came to road to Tiberias, where we stayed) we decided to get it tomorrow and call it a day. After a very nice dinner, we started a Tiberias tradition: nightly Scrabble contests. In case you're wondering, the final tally was: Fr. Gregory 2, Fr. Bart 2 and Fr. Steven 1, even though I went out three games in a row!

Tuesday began with Mass at the Church of the Transfiguration atop Mt. Tabor. Although we left Tiberias in plenty of time, we got caught in a traffic jam and were almost late for the time Fr. Gregory had reserved for us. It is one of the prettiest churches served by the Franciscan Custody of the Holy Land. There are two sanctuaries: a large, main one above, and a small, more intimate "grotto" below. The smaller one, where we celebrated Mass, is particularly lovely. It was my turn to be the principle celebrant, but I didn't get the time I had hoped for to recollect myself before Mass. Nevertheless, there were several times during the Mass that I was moved to tears. There is nothing I can point to (a part of the reading, a word or phrase in a prayer, etc.) that was a trigger: the place just overwhelmed me. I am very grateful to have had that experience in that there. Maybe at some point in the future, I will come to understand what moved me, or maybe not.

Next up were the ruins of Sepphoris, an important city in the history of Galilee. When we arrived we saw what looked to be several groups of Hebrew-speaking teenagers excavating the site, as well as a group of British tourists. To date, it is the only active excavation we've encountered; we have seen indications that work was being done in other places, this was the first place we saw people doing it. In the remains of the main street, one can still see the grooves of wagon wheels in the smoothed stones. Like many places (a surprising number to me!), there was remains of mosaics, especially in the synagogue and the Citadel on top of the hill. An interesting feature of the Citadel is that when the Crusader rebuilt it, they "reused" Roman sarcophagi as cornerstones.

Our next visit was Cana. It took us a while to actually find the church that commemorates the miracle at Cana (Jn. 2:1-11). In a bit of pastoral flashback (or foreshadowing), there was a wedding rehearsal going on when we arrived. It is a small, modest church. We shared a number of wedding stories. There are a couple of gift shops that sell (wait for it, wait for it)... wine. There are no vineyards in the area, as one shopkeeper explained to us, so it has to be brought in from other areas. Again, not surprisingly, the special bottles are labeled for weddings, wedding anniversaries, etc. We even saw special certificates for couples who had renewed their wedding vows in the little church. Beneath the church there is a large stone vessel, a suggestion of what may have contained the water that Our Lord Jesus turned into wine that day. Let's just say that given that quantity, the party could have easily continued on for that week.

Our last visit on Tuesday was inspired by Fr. Steven's love of military history: the Horns of Hattin. It is not a common site on the tourist circuit, evidenced by the fact that is quite tricky to even gets to the dirt road, which quickly becomes impassible for a car or bus, that leads to the southern end of the summit! It was here that Saladin decisively defeated the Crusaders on July 4, 1187. As you can see, it affords magnificent views, especially toward the Sea of Galilee. Continuing our "Mad Dog & Englishmen" tradition, we hiked to the Horns between midday and midafternoon. The walk up the hill was made easier, yeah even pleasant, by a strong wind. Fr. Steven thoroughly enjoyed himself and we shared in it by his enthusiasm.

I go ahead of you to Galilee...

I tried three times over the weekend to try and write something: they all ended up in the trash. I suspect my problem was too much time, as both Saturday and Sunday were free days! Friday's class was on the Triple Tradition parables (those parables that appear in Matthew, Mark & Luke). Yesterday, we did a second trip to Bethlehem to let it "soak" in and to pray. We couldn't get to the grotto because of Masses. Today, we're heading northeast to Galilee. We're going to try and do a movable feast: those parables that only appear in one Gospel. The picture is of the main Church of the Nativity, which belongs to the Greek Orthodox. Divine Liturgy is going on up front; the trapdoors you see expose 4th century mosaic floors, on the right. We have seen a LOT of mosaics: these are particularly stunning for their vividness and detail.

Here is our schedule for the week. It is, as always, subject to change!

• Monday: Beth Alpha, Nazareth (Basilica of Annunciation; Church of St. Joseph), Cana
• Tuesday: Mass at Mt. Tabor @ 9, Sepphoris, Horns of Hatton
• Wednesday: Mass @ St. Peter's House @ 10, Tagbah, Mount of Beatitudes and Coraizin
• Thursday: Bethsaida, Caesarea Philipi, Golan, Dan
• Friday: Kursi, Belvoir , return to Jerusalem

Between the Essenes and the Sicarii

Our trip this week was a trip of extremes:

• old Jericho and environs: the lowest and longest continually inhabited city on Earth
• the Dead Sea: the lowest place on Earth and the saltiest body of water
  
• Masada: site of one of the most famous battles in history
• Qumran: site of the one the most famous historical and religious finds

Our excursion Monday began with a surprise to our professor: the "Inn of the Samaritan" (not surprisingly, on the road between Jerusalem & Jericho, just like the Bible says!) was open. The site seems to have little to do with the Scriptural story, although the museum proper was closed. It has an absolutely amazing collection of mosaics from around Palestine & Israel outside. There was even a little outdoor "chapel" with a modern mosaic floor. Depictions of animals are common on synagogue floors of the time. The giraffe at left is from a synagogue in Gaza.

St. George of Koziba monastery in the Wadi Qilt was our next stop. This Greek Orthodox monastery is situated quite literally on the walls of the wadi, close to the water at the bottom. My pictures don't do it credit: you can barely see it in the distance right next to my shoulder opposite Fr. Steven! (Yes, I know I should get a better digital camera; the brothers have been giving me crud about it.) One of the guidebooks we've been using (written by Fr. Jerome Murphy-O'Connor, OP) calls it, "the perfect example of a monastery in the Judean desert..."

Next was a pure tourist stop: getting a picture on a camel at a "Sea level" marker. Both Fr. Bartholomew and I alighted. It was a fun and frivolous (and cheap: only 15 shekels, just under $4), not to mention a great photo opportunity. The guys haven't sent me the one of me with a "camel hat" yet. Look for it on my Facebook page! Despite their reputation to the contrary, this beast was good natured and didn't smell. (I may not be the best judge of that: I was developing of all things a cold that day.)

The "old city" of Jericho is located roughly 847 feet below sea level at the prodigious spring at Tel Es-Sultan (~1,ooo gallons/minute!), also in the Wadi Qilt. On the way into town, we stopped at Zaccaeus' Sycamore tree. It was difficult to enjoy because we immediately surrounded by Palestinian men desperate (palpably so, sadly) to sell us things. Jericho also has the first surviving defensive wall is dated to around 8,000 BC, pictured at right. There were a number of excavations from various periods in history, including a siege wall. It was impressive...until we got to Masada on Tuesday! There is a tram up the "Mount of Temptation," that affords a spectacular view of the oasis and on to the Dead Sea and the Jordanian hills on the other side. Unfortunately, it was quite hazy (not surprising with the heat), so we did not take it. Our next stop in metro-Jericho was Khirbet el-Mafjar, more commonly called Hisham's Palace. It must have been quite a structure in the day. It was there that stucco was used for the first time in Palestine. The "Tree of Life" mosaic is also there. It is hard to photograph because one is above and behind it.

Because everything in and around Jericho is so close, we decided change our plan and visit Qumran on Monday. It was blazing hot, but just amazing. The Essenses, who likely inhabited the site, were a sectarian Jewish monastic group who expected the immanent coming the Messiah and prepared themselves by meticulous observance of the Law, particularly purity rituals. Some scholars speculate that John the Baptist may have been an Essene: there are many similarities between John's teachings and those of the Essenses. I was quite moved by the site, its quiet and the accidents (Providence?) that saved the Dead Sea Scrolls. It is possible to hike up to the actual caves (pictured is the famous Cave #4, which held the most scrolls), but it was way too hot and late in the day to even contemplate that. From the picture, the Dead Sea is behind the viewer.

We spend the night at the resort village of En Boqeq. It is a funny little village: four major hotels (including one named simply "Lot"!), a plaza with a McDonald's and a cafe and a little promenade with sundry shops and a couple of restaurants. It looks under construction. Fr. Gregory told us that it's looked like that in the five years he's been going there. In our hotel and on the street, I heard more Russian than I have since being in Russia in 1998. Needless to say, this is an Israeli resort. Floating on the Dead Sea is a relaxing experience (until you accidentally get some water in your eyes, nose or mouth). Salt is the "sand" under your feet in the water; the temperature of the water had to be in the mid 90's. We played around for about hour. It feels really good on the skin. Fr. Steven and I both have a number of bug bites that benefited from the soak. You do have to shower when you get out: it becomes uncomfortable when you dry. Although we were in the shade, it didn't take long. Fortunately, there's a station right on the beach.

There is so much to say about Masada. This huge, battleship shaped plateau dominates the landscape of the area; it is impossible to miss. It is a focal point of modern Israeli lore: so much so that Josephus (our primary source about what happened there) would not recognize the telling of the story by the modern Israeli government. In fact, "Masada will not fall again" is part of an Israeli soldier's swearing in. While modern historians can tell that Josephus embellished and added flourishes (like Eleazar's speech), his basic outline of events until the Romans breech the wall is backed by archeology. In the photo, you can see the Dead Sea, the diamond shaped ruins of a Roman fort and a remnant of the siege wall just below. Other sources outside of Josephus show that the Sicarii were not the Jewish freedom fighters that are portrayed today: on the contrary, there were Jewish terrorists who preyed on not the Romans (who were their stated enemy) but on other Jews (those who cooperated with the Romans or who they perceived as being sympathetic to them). We know that they attached the nearby town of En Gedi and killed over 700 Jewish women and children. Regardless of the spin, it is a powerful place to visit. The geography of the place (and human interactions with it) and the sheer force of will and ingenuity it took to live in such a place is astounding.

Sunday on the Haram Esh Sharif

This morning, we decided to head up to the Haram Esh Sharif (also known as Mount Moriah or the Temple Mount). It is only open to non-Muslims for a total of about 3 hours a day, ninety minutes in the morning and another ninety in the early afternoon (during "siesta time"). In the interest of full disclosure, I have to confess to almost missing this excursion: I, who am usually the first to be ready to go, woke 15 minutes before we were scheduled to leave St. Stephen's. Such is life. Walking through the Old City first thing in the morning, when the city is justing waking up, is always fun. Without the hoards of people and the merchants trying to get you into their shops, we have tended to notice features that we've missed (this time it was a well from the time of Sulliman), even though we've been by the spot countless times. We met up with two British undergrads (students of doctoral student who had stayed a few days at the Eçole) at the entrance. The non-Muslim entrance to the Haram (to go in any other gate is to publicly proclaim yourself a Muslim; the guards at those shoo tourists away regularly) is right next the the main entrance to Western Wall (just off the right side of the first picture. Like going into the Western Wall area, you have to pass through security and a metal detector. We were told specifically to have no religious objects of any kind on our person when we went, including rosaries in our pockets, etc. We did see, as we were getting ready to leave, a group of sisters in habit (though without crosses, etc.) touring the site.

There were two interesting features at the entrance to the Haram Esh Sharif: first, a sign saying that it was forbidden by the Torah to enter and second (which I almost missed) a mezuzah! (Mezuzahs are the small "shrines" traditionally put on Jewish doorways containing a scroll of the Law, which they kiss upon entering and leaving.) So needless to say, I was surprised when I saw a clearly Orthodox Jewish man (with tassles and kippa) a bit later on the Temple Mount. The second photo is of men praying at the Western Wall; the large arch on the right, adjacent to the Wall is a synagogue. There were very few people about; after 9 pm - midnight in the Holy Sepulcher, it was the most serene of the Holy Places.

The north end of the Haram is mostly off limits and is covered with trees (see yesterday's entry with a shot looking down on the Haram from the 1st Station). We asked an Israeli soldier who was walking by if it was permissible to go up on the wall; at first he said flat out "no," but about twenty paces beyond us, he turned around and said "For just a minute" then "before they see you and yell at you" he said conspiratorially. As we walked, we found a relatively secluded area near the Golden Gate (on the eastern side of the Mount), where we hopped up and took some pictures of the Mount of Olives and the Golden Gate; we had a good two minute run until we were spotted and duly yelled at in Arabic to get down, which we did quickly. Apparently we were dawdling a bit too long at the Golden Gate too, because the same guy yelled at us again. (Remember, the Golden Gate is the entrance through which Jesus - in the Muslim tradition, along with John the Baptist - or the Messiah - in the Jewish tradition - will triumphantly enter the Temple at the end of time. The Romans, not wanting any "competition," walled up the Gate.)

The plaza around the Dome of the Rock is beautiful in its simplicity. The mosaics that cover the outside of the Dome of the Rock are breathtaking. (The gold dome itself, I have to confess, is less impressive close up because you can see all of the scratches and other flaws.) In this picture, the Dome of the Rock is behind you, and you are looking roughly south toward the El Aqsa Mosque. Looking the Crusader/Gothic arch over the entrance, can you tell it was a church at one point in its history? The el Aqsa mosque is thought to have been the location of the Temple of Solomon (the king's residence). In the next picture, you can see the Dome of the Rock and the Dome of the Chain. The Dome of the Rock enshrines the rock from which Muhammed is said to have been taken up to heaven; it is also said to be a foundation stone of the Holy of Holies of the (2nd) Temple, hence the area's sanctity to the Jewish people. The Dome of the Chain is said to have once housed a chain made by King Solomon, used to adjudicate cases. Non-Muslims are currently not permitted in either the El Aqsa mosque or the Dome of the Rock. The last photo is of the minbar (basically a pulpit) on the southwestern edge of the plaza around the Dome of the Rock; it is just off camera to the right of the photo looking toward el Aqsa.

Our next stop was attending Mass at the Notre Dame center. It was both nearby (just outside the New Gate) where we were going and it had a 9:00 Mass in English. It was a treat because the main celebrant was celebrating his 40th anniversary of ordination. He was a missionary who had spent about seven years at the Notre Dame center. His homily, which was more or less a reflection on his 40 years of priestly ministry, was quite edifying to us, while also applying the themes in the readings to the congregation's lives as well. One of the other priests (who turned out to be the Vice Director) warmly welcomed us to come back and to concelebrate. (We were in mufti from our trip to the Haram, not to mention a bit on the sweaty side.)

In our continuing celebration of the 4th, we finished our morning by returning to Café Zuni for an "American" breakfast (eggs, bacon, sausage, "filter" coffee [which usually means drip coffee, but this time was a French Press] and all the trappings. My dish even came with guacamole, which was delicious. This place keeps on surprising. Tomorrow, we head down to explore Jericho. On the way home on Tuesday, we will "do" Masada and Qumran, possibly En Geddi as well. Wednesday will be another experience: we have to Ramallah, in the Palestinian territory, to the Jordanian consulate to get our visas for Petra. Now, I have to do my reading for tomorrow before Vespers.

Shabbat on the 4th of July

After class yesterday afternoon, we did the Friday Stations of the Cross procession led by the Franciscan friars. This picture of the Haram is from the school yard that is the First Station. (A note on historicity: the Via Dolorosa as it is currently laid out in the Holy City is probably not the actual route Our Lord took. It begins at the Antonia fortress, which in the Middle Ages was identified as Pontius Pilate's residence; archeology suggests it much more likely that Pilate lived in the Citadel fortress across town. Never mind: centuries worth of pilgrims have sanctified this route by their prayers and focus on Jesus' Passion.) The Stations were conducted in Italian and English, with the Our Father, Hail Mary and Glory Be's in Latin. It was a moving experience to pray the Stations with other pilgrims, amid all the distractions of going through the suqs (pronounced "sooks," streets lined with shops of every kind) as we prayed. The last stations are, of course, in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Some people seem surprised when this large procession entered! The Stations end with a blessing from the Custos, the Franciscan in charge of all of the Catholic Holy Sites in the Holy Land. He is arguably the most powerful and influential Catholic in the Holy Land. (No disrespect intended toward His Beatitude, the Latin Patriarch!)

After returning to St. Stephen's and changing out of our habits (you'll see why in moment), we had dinner at what is becoming almost a hangout for us (this was our 3rd visit). You know you're more than a tourist when proprietors of the restaurant recognize you and seat you at your "usual" table without even asking! Such is Arab hospitality. After a great meal, we entered in the plaza of the Western Wall. We had been told it was quite an experience at sundown beginning Shabbat. It did not disappoint! When we arrived, the men's and women's sections immediately before the wall were filled with Ultra-orthodox praying; most of the men and a few of the women were davening (the rapidly repeated shallow bows) while reciting Psalms or other prayers. Toward the main entrance to the plaza (from the Dung Gate, the picture is above the entrance looking toward the Western Wall), there was already a large gathering of Israeli soldiers, both men and women. Some of the men were already gathered and dancing. It was a carnival atmosphere. It was an eclectic gather of people: the pious, recollected Ultra-orthodox, the tourists (like us!), Jewish spectators (men in kippas, or yamulkas), settlers with M-1 rifles (we spotted one with an M-16), and the inordinate number of soldiers in uniform, all of whom were of course armed with automatic rifles. We were approached by a group of soldiers (who were happy to talk to us and no more than 23 or 24) and found out they were a class of officer candidates preparing for their commissioning in a few days. At signal, all of the male soldiers went en masse (maybe 150 - 200 guys) to the wall, where they immediately began dancing! The scripture that immediately came to mind was David dancing with abandon before the Ark of the Covenant (2 Samuel 6:14). It was like having a 7:00 (or other early Sunday morning) Mass, a Baptist Revival and a carnival all going on at the same time! We were slightly worried about going (being non-Jews), but there was absolutely no problem (until Fr. Bart tried to take a picture, which violates the Sabbath prohibition on work). I am very glad we went.

Today we celebrated the 4th of July by sleeping in! We gathered for Mass in English at 9:00, just the four of us. After a slight breakfast, we headed out for our chores for the day: haircuts all around, visiting the Rockefeller Museum and buying a fan. A couple of interesting tidbits at the museum: an inscription from a 1st century Jerusalem synagogue (until the destruction of the Temple, synagogues functioned as Jewish "community centers," neighborhood gathering and social places, rather than strictly places of study and worship they are today), the lintels from the Holy Sepulcher (they needed to be removed in order to be preserved) and artifacts from Hishram's Palace, which we are going to visit on Monday. The barber Fr. Gregory wanted to take us to was closed, so we ended up at one near St. Stephen's. The owner's older son was the other barber; his younger son served us coffee, swept the floor and brushed off the clients when his dad or brother finished with them. One of the other clients was a Greek Orthodox Palestinian who used to run the optical department at Herrod's in London! (This was fortuitous, as Fr. Bart had broken his glasses yesterday, so he sent him to a friend of his who fixed his glasses on the spot.) After our shrivings, we met a friend of Fr. Gregory's, an Albright Fellow, and went to lunch at Zuni's, a 24 hour restaurant and bar, in the Jewish quarter whose advertisement is simple: "We Serve Bacon." Needless to say, we all got bacon cheeseburgers and fries to celebrate the Fourth of July! (It is funny, but has a serious side too: there is an Israeli policeman outside the door with a metal detecting wand you have to pass before entering the place. There was also a private security guard outside the Irish pub we went to last week that also serves cheeseburgers.)

Tonight (in a few minutes actually), we are heading up to the American Colony Hotel for some good ol' 'Merican drinks: Manhattans made with Jack Daniel's. We hoping that once the sun sets there might be some fireworks. On that subject, fireworks are common here: both Jews and Arabs love them. There was a big wedding last night, we found out, when we asked about the fireworks we seen and heard last night. Watermelon (which we've had and it's delicious) and milkshakes were also on our minds, but we don't want to be gluttonous!

Have a happy fourth of July. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem and for the people and government of the United States. The prayer is by the first bishop of the United States.

The Ascesis of Study

Study is a central ascesis of Dominican life. It is one that I have frankly let slip since leaving St. Albert's, our house of studies, over a decade ago. I have by no stretch of the imagination stopped reading good solid books on a wide variety topics; I have read what I hoped to be useful to me, to my ministry, to those around me, etc. or in areas where I find God "outside" of theology (like mathematics). However, this time in Jerusalem has pointed out to me that my approach has not been ascetic, at least in the Dominican sense. I have reduced my study to an utilitarian activity.

Ascesis and ascetic are not bad words. Modern culture may think so, but it's because it has a distorted view of asceticism. Being ascetic, or even an ascetic, is NOT about inflicting punishments on oneself (or having them imposed by another) in hoping of pleasing or satiating a masochistic God (or institution, superior, etc.) in order to be temporarily or permanently miserable and thereby somehow to gain merit. It comes from the Greek word askein, which means "to exercise"; when used as a nominal form, it is the word for monk or nun. St. Paul tells the Corinthians, "Every athlete exercises discipline in every way. They do it to win a perishable crown, but we an imperishable one. Thus I do not run aimlessly; I do not fight as if I were shadowboxing. No, I drive my body and train it..." (1Cor. 9:26-27a) Religious asceticism, then, trains the whole person for the encounter with God; "From my flesh I shall see God; my inmost being is consumed with longing." (Job 19:26)

The genius of St. Dominic in answering the needs of his time was to replace physical asceticism of traditional monasticism with intellectual asceticism, specifically study and preaching. Both forms are practiced by the individual in the context of community life and its fruits benefit the community. Their tangible "fruits" (e.g., raising wholesome food for the monastery or a particularly learned homily on the feeding miracles) are of secondary importance. Their primary aim is the sanctification (bringing to closer to God) of the individual and his/her community in and through a particular discipline.

For a Dominican friar, study is a discipline that is meant to keep him in shape for encountering the Living God and hopefully, to actually encounter the Father of Mercies in that exercise. If you have heard me preach or sought my counsel recently, you have heard me quote Bl. Teresa of Calcutta, "God does not ask us to be successful; God asks us to be faithful." I have replaced success (i.e., utility) for fidelity to my discipline to study.

It's probably no accident that I am also not in great physical shape at the moment either. Funny how that works! I need to bring this to prayer: since God has seen fit to show this to me, it also means God is wanting some action on my part...

Not MIA, just busy

These last few days have been packed. Saturday was a free day (no tours or class). I must admit that I did something I rarely do: I took a nap after breakfast. It lasted 2.5 hours! I guess I needed the sleep. That's what I did instead of sorting and captioning pictures. Honestly, I don't know where Fr. Bart gets the energy! Saturday afternoon we got a surprise treat: a tour of the tombs and archeology "department" of the Ecole. Fr. Jean-Baptiste is the resident expert Dominican archaeologist. This is the second time he has invited over to his office; every visit begins with coffee! He showed us the tombs on the property (of which the Garden Tomb next door is actually a part). His research indicates they are Byzantine age; others (including the Israeli government) believe they are Iron Age (Solomonic). The real treat of the afternoon was when Fr. Jean-Baptiste had Fr. Steven "model" a suit of Crusader chain armor! He marveled how well it fit and how easily he could move despite it's 35 kg weight. (Steven's left hand is covering the exit hole made by an arrow that pierced a previous wearer's thigh.)

Sunday was in many ways a watershed day. We visited Hebron and the Tombs of the Patriarchs (Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, etc.). Arab roads (as opposed to Israeli) are poorly marked, so we had some difficulty finding our way. Fortunately for us, a car of young Arab men (one of the only other cars we had seen) graciously led us to Hebron. Fr. Gregory told us on the way that this is actually common in Arab culture, for people to not just lead you, but drop whatever they're doing and take you where you are going. (Kind of like the folks in Safeway, but only natural.) They deposited us in the center of city and promptly disappeared! It took us another 45 minutes to make our way through the modern city toward the Tombs, which were, as it turned out, on the opposite side of town from where we arrived. We learned a bit of Arabic that day (this is a tranliteration, not an attempt at spelling): doogree, doogree, which seems to mean, keeping going straight!

The old city of Hebron (actually all of Hebron, but especially the old city, which is near the Tombs) is the shame of the state of Israel. Here, Israeli settlers literally live on top of the Palestinians and try with all of their might to make life hell, so they will leave. The Palestinians were happy, if surprised, to see us. (This actually surprised me, given how much money the US gives to Israel and how much of that money actually goes to settlements. They seem to make the distinction between a nation's government and its people.) I got the sense that the Jewish people just wished we would go away. To date, this was the most visceral, intense and obvious example of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict we have yet experienced. In this photo, taken from a Palestinian roof, you can see a settler's house wall to the right, empty water canisters and some of the netting the Palestinians use to protect themselves from the trash and other refuse the settlers throw on them.

That night, we stayed in Arad. It is a beautifully planned and executed Israeli city in the middle of the Negev desert. You could have been in any middle/upper middle class neighborhood in the US. We encountered a group of students on a Birthright Israel trip at our hotel; one student in particular talked with us for quite a while. (Birthright is a group that believes every Jewish child should visit Israel and takes high school and college students there whose families cannot afford the trip.) We were reflecting that Birthright would not, even if its Israeli guides were permitted in Hebron, take its students there.

We also went to Tel Arad that afternoon, instead of Mamre as originally planned. It is the best example of a Bronze age city (9th - 8th century BC). It is right on the "border" between the Judean foothills and the Negev desert. There is also a Canaanite temple, complete with an altar and a Holy of Holies in a similar arrangement to the later Jerusalem Temple. (The altar of sacrifice is just out of the viewer's sight, to the viewer's right in the foreground.)

On Monday, we did Mamshit, Tel Beer Shiva and Bet Guvrim. Mamshit (yes, we made all of the off-color jokes you'd expect, even though it's a long "i") is along a major trade route and is magnificently built; many ruins survive today, including two churches. The mosaics in the churches are amazing (even though they look drab because of the dirt on them), as are two frescos. These are a pair of surving arches of Mamshit.

Tel Beer Sheva is important for two reasons: 1) it marks the scriptural southern boarder of the Promised Land (e.g., Judges 20:1, "from Dan to Beer Sheva") and 2) it association with the Patriarchs (Abraham's & Isaac's treaties with the Phillistines in Gen. 21:25-33 & 26: 15-33 and Jacob's vision to go Egypt in Gen 46:1-7). Bet Guvrim is amazing for it's so-called bell caves (caves left behind after mining limestone) and two Sidinion tombs. It was "bonus" Fr. Gregory decided on it since we missed Mamre and were able to get to Tel Arad the day before. From the picture you can see how they get their names.

Because of our extra stop on Monday, we did not get home until late in the afternoon. The Ecole was hosting a special event that night: Solemn Vespers of Ss. Peter and Paul to formally close the Pauline Year. The celebrant was His Eminence Walter Kaspar, Pope Benedict's personal representative in the Holy Land for these events. Although I was beat, I decided to go just to say I was there. I even made it into a couple of the photos. (I will try and get the link: they are great photos of the Basilica.) It also meant that we got Tuesday "off" to study, since we had no time to do so since our last time in the classroom!

Today was our class on the Epiphanies. Like the rest, each day is filled with "Ah ha!" moments, both through our individual preparations for class and in the discussion we have together. I have not been this excited about (formal) study in very long time. There is always more we want to do, but cannot! Tomorrow we will do the Feeding Miracles and Table Fellowship (in case you're following the outline, which in case you haven't noticed has been altered since we arrived) and the Controversies on Friday.