Holy Ground, Part II

“What was the most impactful event of the trip?” my friend, Jerry, asked about the pilgrimage to the Holy Land last October (Inland Catholic, De- cember 2018). While several occasions stand out, one was outstanding: the visit to the Kando Store in Bethlehem. “You mean souvenir shopping was the most signifcant event of the pilgrimage?” No, dear friends and followers. I am not a shopper. I could not have cared less as our guide hustled us through bazaars and past shops. “This is all junk — from China.” He took us at last to the Kando Store in Bethlehem. Kando, a Christian Palestinian family, has run this business for three generations. Kando offers the ubiquitous olive wood carvings, icons and “genuine antiquities, jewelry and souvenirs.” Prominently displayed is an urn discovered by the great-grandfather at Qumran, the repository for the Dead Sea Scrolls. It’s not for sale. Everything else is.

Shibly Kando, the proprietor, greeted our pilgrimage group warmly, then gave an overview of the merchandise. Many products are handcrafted in their shop. The antiquities, such as pottery and metallic artifacts, are authentic. Each item is one of a kind, available nowhere else, not even on Amazon. I am listening, but indifferent. I will look, but none of it really interests me. At this time in my life, I am downsizing, not accumulating.

Shibly’s presentation concluded with the presentation of a crucifix to Father Michael Allelo, the young priest from Baton Rouge who did an exceptional job as our pilgrimage chaplain. “Nice touch,” I said to myself. But Shibly wasn’t done. There were three more crucifixes: for me, Father Al Grasher and Father Mike Kwiatkowski. This caught me by surprise. I don’t do well with surprises. When I thanked Shibly for the gift — that’s when it got to me, with tears welling up and my voice cracking.

When and why I am overcome with emotion is a mystery. There are times when I tell myself: Shouldn’t I be feeling something, but I am numb? And there are occasions when, from out of nowhere, I am overwhelmed.

The orbs on the Kando cross contain soil from Gethsemane, palm fragments, pebbles and grains of incense. This may not be the “true cross,” but I was truly moved to receive it.

The Palestinian question is a forest I am forced to enter to write this chapter of Holy Ground. The West Bank wall/barrier is being built by Israel to provide security from terrorist attacks; or to create “facts on the ground” to demarcate the border between Israel and a Palestinian state; or to render life more difficult for Palestinians, who must cross through checkpoints for their jobs in Israel. In Bethlehem, the wall looms large. Exit Kando Store and you face the wall.

Our guide, George, is a Palestinian and a Catholic, one of the few. “The Christian population of Bethlehem is officially 0 percent,” which means less than 1 percent. What an irony. The birthplace of Christianity may have no Christians living there.

We became more involved in the Palestinian question by a special feature of the tour company, Select International. Our tour group was divided into six smaller groups, each taken to the home of a Palestinian family. My group went to the home of John and Mary Handel, a young Palestinian couple with two boys, Robert and Roger. John runs a music production company. Mary does home health care, but most of her time goes to caring for her home and children. Their modest apartment appears to be adequate for their family, and with a living room and dining area large enough to accommodate their six guests. Mary prepared a typical meal of chicken and rice — and two desserts. She displayed her lovely needlework. We watched a short video on John’s computer. It told the Palestinian story, but in the setting of an English village. There is a knock at the door. The family inside is asked: “These people need some help. Do you have something for them?” “Well, we can give them some clothes.” “Actually, we were thinking of something else — your home. Yes, you’re going to give them your home.” In the next scene, the family stands in their yard, separated from their home by razor wire.

Palestinian roots run deep in this land. John displayed a book with his family’s records — births, baptisms, weddings, funerals — all of them in Bethlehem, dating back to 1650. I call this area of the Middle East “Holy Ground” because of the biblical roots of our faith that sprang up in this soil. There are other roots that run deep and make it Holy Ground.