Of Diversions and Arrivals

You can't get there from here. No one actually ever said it, but one of the things bout traveling through the Holy Land is that you rarely travel in a straight line. Sometimes it's geography that gets in the way. Visiting the places that Jesus knew around the Sea of Galilee involves driving around the lake, unless you have access to a boat. The drive from Ein Gedi on the Dead Sea to Bethlehem looks like a straight shot, until you realize that the rock hewn mountains and stone strewn wadis of the Judean Desert are in the way. And even in Jerusalem itself, you find yourself traveling round in circles, circumnavigating the Old City time and time again, even though it would be almost quicker to travel through on foot.

One of the things that you realize when you read the Gospel according to St Mark, is that Jesus rarely travels in straight lines either. But it's not just because of the geography. From the time that he goes into the wilderness after his baptism, right to the time he is arrested, Jesus is driven by the Holy Spirit to do the work of God (Thanks to the Rev Dr Christopher King for this insight, in one of the many conversations among the pilgrims this last week). Deep down, most of us, I suspect, think that life should go in straight lines. But the reality is that life rarely works out like that. There are innumerable twists and turns and diversions. Often it is incredibly frustrating, as we look at where we want to go, but somehow can't get there from where we are. Yet looking back at our lives, we often find that what we thought were detours in fact took us places we needed to go, without which we would not be the people we have become. And sometimes we can even see the hand of God in them.

The pilgrimage to the Holy Land is over. I began this blog entry in the bus traveling through Jerusalem; I'm finishing it in an office on Long Island. I have a suspicion that the pilgrimage will, in time, prove to be one of those detours that will shape my life in unexpected ways. If nothing else, the process of pilgrimage teaches you to let go of your own illusion of control and receive the unexpected as a gift, trusting that God will lead you in straight paths and detours alike.


The Rev. Dr. Raewynne Whiteley

Heading Home

Bishop and Mrs. Provenzano, together with the Long Island Diocese clergy spouses/partners who have made the pilgrimage to the Holy Land, board the plane for the voyage home to New York.

Safe travel, and welcome home!

At the Garden Tomb

We celebrated Eucharist here at the Garden Tomb to complete our pilgrimage.

Place of prayer: the Western Wall

The Western Wall, dating back to the period of the Second Temple and the reign of Herod the Great, is one of the most sacred places in Judaism. It has been a place of devotion and prayer for centuries.

Top photo: pilgrims from the diocese of Long Island praying at the Western Wall.
Bottom two photos: images of a life of prayer at the Western Wall.

Learn more: http://www.sacred-destinations.com/israel/jerusalem-western-wall

On the Temple Mount

Visiting the Temple Mount

Here is a website to learn about the history and importance of the Temple Mount (only the authors are responsible for the opinions expressed): http://www.templemount.org/

And here a site about the Dome of the Rock, the Muslim shrine built on the Temple Mount: http://www.sacred-destinations.com/israel/jerusalem-dome-of-the-rock

Experiencing unity and division

Church this morning was at the Anglican (Episcopal) Cathedral of St George in East Jerusalem, on the Arab side of the city. Just a couple of blocks away, the wall marks the boundary with the Palestinian West Bank. Walking towards the Old city from the Cathedral, you travel along a busy street, lined with Arab shops and market stalls, and after passing into the Old City through the Damascus Gate, you find yourself on the boundary between the Muslim Quarter on the left and the Christian Quarter on the right, though there is no visible difference between the two.

Mostly at home, when we hear about Israel, we hear about Jewish Israelis on the one hand and Muslim Palestinians on the other. But rarely do we hear about the people caught in between: the 170,000 or so Palestinian or Arab Christians, like Isaac, who owns a shop near the Cathedral. Isaac is Israeli; he also happens to be Arab and Christian. His parents' home was in West Jerusalem, now a Jewish area; after the 1948 war they were forced to move east. When the wall dividing the West Bank from Israel proper was built, Isaac's home ended up on the wrong side. It's only two blocks from his shop, but is behind the wall. He has had to make a choice - live in his home, and forgo his Israeli identity and his livelihood, or keep his shop and live with his wife and children in one room in the Old City. He has chosen the latter, and so his home lies empty and may eventually be bulldozed.

This morning the Eucharist was celebrated in two languages. At times it alternated between English and Arabic. The sermon was preached twice, once in each language. We sang the hymns and said the responses in our own languages, English and Arabic simultaneously. And at for end, we went into the parish hall for cake and Turkish coffee. It was truly a taste of the time to come when, as Isaiah says, "On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well aged wines..." (Isaiah 25:6). Pray for our brothers and sisters in the Middle East, and for the peace of Jerusalem.

The Rev. Dr. Raewynne Whiteley

At the Western Wall

Young soldiers, women included, in the Israeli military, are patrolling right by the Western Wall in Jerusalem. Every Israeli citizen is required to serve in the military.

At Saint George's College

We were present for services and the coffee hour following at Saint George's College, Jerusalem. Saint George's is an institution of the diocese of Jerusalem.

Top two photos: meeting fellow Anglicans after the service.
Middle: the interior of Saint George's Chapel.
Bottom: the exterior of Saint George's.

You can learn more about Saint George's history and the purpose it serves today at their website: http://www.sgcjerusalem.org/

Learning in Israel

As we travel through Israel, we learn a little about the people who live here. We learn about Israelis, Israeli Arabs, Kibbutzim, and bedouins. The Israeli Arabs call themselves Palestinians. The three major religious affiliations are Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. Most Christians are in Jerusalem and are Armenians, Coptic, Russian Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Romanian Orthodox.

Our journey south from the lush vegetation in Galilee to the arid desert in the south was a contrast in climate and in culture. As we headed to Bethlehem we passed Bedouins living in tents along the road and learned of their radical hospitality to friend and stranger. While passing the Palestinian town of Jericho we learned that the wealthier Arabs live in Galilee and the poorer ones live in Bethlehem and Jericho.

As we approached Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus, our guide informed us that he and the driver would not be able to enter the town because they were Israeli. They both disembarked at the border and an Arab driver boarded the bus and drove us through the checkpoint into Bethlehem.

The border crossing was just wide enough for the bus to enter. There were armed guards and a steel reinforced concrete wall that was at least 30 feet high, and a sign that announced that Israeli citizens were not permitted to enter. I felt a twinge of guilt because as an American I was permitted to enter Bethlehem. Had we betrayed our guide and driver by entering this place? That sign could have easily said "no blacks or jews" or ...(fill in the blank).

This experience caused me to reflect on the diversity of our group and of our diocese. In Long Island, we are rich and poor and everything in between. We are multi-ethnic, multi-racial, multi-cultural, multi-national... We are many people, yet one diocese.

What can we learn from Israel? The most important lesson is that walls, physical or emotional, do not solve problems. We do not belong to Paul, or Apollos, or a priest, or a parish. We don't own anything; we are stewards. What will be our legacy?

The Rev. Karen Davis-Lawson

Humbly I adore thee . . .

One of the first things that strikes you as you enter the city of Jerusalem through the Lion Gate is the golden glow that emanates from the buidlings. It's simply light falling on the sand-gold limestone that the buildings are made of, but it almost seems as if the city itself has a halo, inviting you to reverence and worship.

As we walked the Via Dolorosa today, I was struck by the multiple forms of reverence shown throughout the ages and even today. In the Crusader church of St Ann, our voices resounded long after we stopped singing, the echoes revoicing our praise. A jumbled pile of large crosses by the ninth station bears testimony to the Friday tradition of carrying a cross while following in the footsteps of our Savior. In a small church, an Ethiopian priest kept vigil, wrapped in a traditional shawl of black with maroon stripes. And in the church of the Holy Sepulcher, women in headscarfs chatted loudly to one another, black-clad Orthodox priests lined the route of a procession, people knelt and kissed the holy places, others lit candles and offered them in prayer, and still others stood in reverent silence.

Reverence lies in the act of worshipping or paying homage to Christ. We do it when we sing and when we pray, when we genuflect or make the sign of the cross, even when we dress in our Sunday best. And yet each of these can become perfunctory, habitual actions that have lost their essential connection with our Savior. It's at times like these that being exposed to other, less familiar forms of reverence invites us to a new experience of worship and awe.

The Rev. Dr. Raewynne Whiteley

Bishop and Mrs. Provenzano

Overlooking the city of Jerusalem.

They're everywhere!

"It ain't the heat, it's the humility." ~ Yogi Berra

At the sites of Jesus' suffering and death

Photo 1 - the stone of anointing, where tradition indicates that Mary and the other women anointed the body of Jesus for burial;

Photo 2 - the site of the Crucifixion of Jesus;

Photo 3 - the 11th century doors of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher;

Photo 4 - the Coptic Monastery in the area of the tomb of Jesus.

"Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and placed it in his own new tomb that he had cut out of the rock. He rolled a big stone in front of the entrance to the tomb and went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were sitting there opposite the tomb." (Matthew 27:59-61)

"When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body." (Mark 16:1)

"Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot. They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?” “They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” (John 20:11-13)

"For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!" (Paul's Letter to the Romans, 5:10)

At the place of judgment

"When Pilate heard this, he brought Jesus out and sat down on the judge’s seat at a place known as the Stone Pavement (which in Aramaic is Gabbatha)."

(John 19:13)

Rich Days

Jerusalem February 18, 2011

The pilgrimage is going well. There has been a faithful mix of
religious sights, national interests and relaxed playfulness.
The clergy, spouses/partners have been terrific. There exists a
respectful sweet balance of personal time and community time. The bus
has become a rolling kibbutz (community center of prayer, conversation
and learning).

We have experienced so much in such a short period of time that we
each ache for time of reflection and expression. Our community meeting
last evening was a rich mixture of sharing information and short
homilies.

Today was a playful day of cable cars to Masada, flooring in the Dead
Sea, and literally breaking into the sight at Qumran because the start
of sabbath brought an early closure of the sight.

Today we experinced a deepening our our small community as we lingered
over supper, shared stories and learned new things about ourselves
and each other.

Our clergy and their spouses/partners have been extremely generous and
open. The pilgrimage is drawing us all into deeper relationships and
stretching the limits of faithful response to be one body in Christ.

Tomorrow we enter the Old City and begin to walk the stories and
mysteries of Our Lord mixed with the history of Judaism and Islam
that share this Holy City.



Bishop Lawrence C. Provenzano

Shabbat Shalom in Jerusalem

Today, when we returned to the hotel in Jerusalem after a busy day visiting Masada and the Dead Sea, the lobby was full of little girls in black party dresses, white tights, and black Mary Janes, brothers in black trousers and white shirts, and their parents, preparing to celebrate the Sabbath. Extended families gathered in the downstairs dining room, while upstairs, a rabbi with long curls and white robe and cap taught a group of young adults the Sabbath rituals. And at another table in the lobby, three preteen boys in khakis and sneakers seem to be arguing with an older sister about what card game to play, while a younger kid in a plaid shirt begs to be allowed to join in. If the babble of voices and laughter is any indication, this is a joyous time to be savored, in which family and faith are inextricably entwined.


As Christians, our the closest thing to the Sabbath is Sunday. For most of us, the days of roast dinner - or pasta and meatballs - for Sunday lunch - are long gone. And I don't think I'd want to go back to the days of blue laws and enforced churchgoing three times each Sunday. But I wonder if we have lost something in the process. Sundays are busy, filled with soccer or shopping or the incessant demands of chores. Family and faith so easily become relegated to the time left over, or perhaps even displaced altogether. And even when we make them a priority, they are often marked by sullen teenagers and harassed parents and overtired toddlers. And I wonder, what can we take home for our own weekly celebration of the resurrection?

The Rev. Dr. Raewynne Whiteley

The Dead Sea Scrolls

The Dead Sea Scrolls are 972 texts from the Hebrew Scriptures discovered in 11 caves near the Dead Sea. Here we are looking toward the mouth of one of the caves.

Learn more about the Dead Sea Scrolls here: http://www.ibiblio.org/expo/deadsea.scrolls.exhibit/intro.html

More from Masada

There is a first century synagogue discovered at Masada. We gathered here to hear our guide describe the history of the place and its importance.

A scribe working on a text was a reminder in the 21st century of a heritage of learning and reverence for God's Word.

On high at Masada

Here we are on top of the ancient fortress of Masada. The top photo looks toward the Dead Sea, some 1500 feet below.

Learn more about Masada here: http://www.bibleplaces.com/masada.htm

Boundaries & Identity

One of the things you notice as you travel throughout Israel is the
closeness of the borders. On Tuesday, we travelled up into the Golan
Heights to the Valley of Tears, where a major battle in the Yom
Kippur War in 1973 was fought. Less than an hour's drive from the Sea
of Galilee, you stand and look past three abandoned tanks into Syria.
Earlier in the day, we had looked north-west to Lebanon. Today we
traveled down the Jordan Valley. To our left, sometimes within 30
feet, was a double fence, electrified, with land mines in between.
Along it runs a sandy track, which is checked several times each day
for the footprints of border-crossers from Jordan.

On our way from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, we crossed the border - and
the wall - into Palestinian territory. Neither our guide nor our
driver, who are Israeli, could enter; we had to pick up a new guide
and driver for our time there. As we waited at the border to cross
back into Israel, with machine gun toting soldiers passing through the
bus, I was aware that for those residents of Bethlehem, who work in
Jerusalem, just a couple of miles away, this is an everyday
occurrence, and for Israeli Jew and Palestinian alike, it is a
restriction and ofttimes indignity.

Whether you are Jewish, Palestinian, or non-religious living in
Israel, you cannot avoid the understanding that you live among your
traditional enemies. And that has been the case for thousands of
years. Set at the crossroads between Europe, Asia and Africa, this
land has often been fought over. Abraham entered a land that had been
long settled by Canaanites; Moses led the people of God back to a
promised land settled by Jebusites and Hittites and Hivites; David and
Solomon had to defeat the Philistines; the prophets spoke to those who
had experienced the land-hunger of the Babylonians and Persians and
Assyrians. And Jesus lived in a country occupied by the Romans.

Against all that opposition, identity has always been something for
which it was necessary to fight. Clear boundaries have been necessary
- of language, law, and culture. As you travel this land you begin to
understand why law and covenant were so important, setting a people
apart for God. Here, identity has always been inexorably entwined
with religion. And the faith that has grown in this soil is
passionate and fiercely loyal to the God who calls it forth.

Which makes me wonder, what of our faith? For most of us, it has not
been born in the context of enmity. Being Christian in America, we
don't need such rigorous boundaries to maintain our faith. Most of
our neighbors really don't care who or what we believe in. And the
danger is that we too may cease to care.

The Rev. Dr. Raewynne Whiteley