Holy Ground, Part III

Five o’clock! Rise and shine! Our savvy pilgrimage guide, George, had rearranged the schedule. The Bethlehem experience taught us that prime time visitation of the sacred sites also meant long lines and more waiting than walking. The revised game plan called for an early departure to the Old City of Jerusalem, then making the Way of the Cross to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where we would celebrate Mass. This was the Triduum of our pilgrimage. It was worth the 5 a.m. wake-up.

In prayerful solemnity, we walked the Way of the Cross through the maze of streets that create the enchantment of the Old City. Here Jesus walked, or, as we had become accustomed to say: “Here Jesus walks.” The Passion, death and resurrection are not past events, but the foundation of the real presence of Christ, who lives today. But the stones still shout, because they are forever sanctifed by His presence. We who walk the way today do not reenact the past; we are permeated by the past that shapes our present.

Do these pious thoughts express what I felt? No. This is feeble theology-speak. However, two moments on the Way brought the past to the present.

George had obtained a ceremonial cross to be carried on the Way. It could be managed by one person, but he knew what he was doing when he had us taking turns, with four at a time bearing the cross. “Who wants to go first?” No thanks, I said to myself. Let someone else take the lead. But after the meditation and the walk to the second station, something happened. Call it a Simon of Cyrene moment. I wanted to carry the cross. How do I account for the sense of urgency? Eventually, everyone would take a turn on the cross, some more than once. This simple symbolic act brought me into a deeper connection with the Passion. I am also called to take up the cross and walk the cross road.

The Way of the Cross concludes within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which was built and rebuilt through the centuries over the traditional sites of Calvary and the Tomb. Calvary is honored much like the place of the Lord’s birth. On the floor beneath an altar is an ornamental opening through which you touch Golgotha. Here, one would like to linger, but even though the hour was early, the procession of pilgrims already was in full force. We moved on to the Sepulchre to celebrate Mass at our scheduled time.

Besides Calvary and the Tomb, a third fixture of the great church is the Stone of Anointing, the rock slab venerated as the place where the Lord’s body was prepared for burial.

Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about 100 pounds. They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews. (Jn 19: 39-40)

This was the place for a second moment of connection with the Passion.

On the previous day, George had told us that some women come daily to dress the stone with aromatic oil. Pilgrims bringing shawls and other cloths rub them on the stone to capture the aroma. The shawl can be used to accompany prayer in visiting the sick. I was immediately overcome by the simplicity and loveliness of this gesture. Everyone was. “Where can we find shawls?” “Oh, everywhere,” George said. Happily, our hotel’s shop was well-stocked. Each of us departed from the stone with at least one precious linen.

Our early morning visitation to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was complete. We returned to the hotel for brunch and rest. The fact is, I cannot recall how we passed the rest of the day. Maybe that says something about the Triduum. What more is there?