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IT FELT like winning the lottery. I was one of five
Canadian Christian journalists selected to tour Israel – all
expenses paid!
We spent November 26 – December 4 touring
the most famous Bible-related sites, and several not so famous.
The small size of our group, and the extraordinary
knowledge of our guide, Rivka, ensured that the experience was both
personal and in-depth. Our driver, Niso, was dubbed ‘Magic
Man,’ for the ease with which he got us through security checks.
Camaraderie grew quickly between the pilgrims. Early
on, we shared our fears of Jerusalem Syndrome – a real
malady causing its victims to ‘become’ biblical characters.
Alas, one of us, named Don, succumbed – becoming
The Prophet Don. The rest of us became Donites, and we plotted our
triumphal entry into Jerusalem.
Fortunately for the world, the cult disintegrated in
heresy and schism.
At first, I wondered whether our status as pampered
guests of the Israeli government might make our reports seem suspect in
some eyes. Would we be seen as mouthpieces for the regime?
But my concerns were groundless. We were free to ask
any questions we liked. More significantly, we were allowed into
Palestinian-controlled Bethlehem. We were escorted through the fabled
‘security fence,’ and then left alone to explore the city
freely.
This resulted in one of our most memorable experiences,
as we paused near the Church of the Nativity to pray for the Palestinian
people.
A travelogue of other highlights:
At Masada, Herod’s legendary fortress where some
900 Jews perished rather than surrender to Rome, patches of brightly
coloured frescoes from Herod’s time were still visible.
At Megiddo, we looked down at the Jezreel Valley, long
prophesied as the site of the Battle of Armageddon. A sudden downpour,
insufferably symbolic, drove us away.
The Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial featured the Hall of
Names, an unforgettable tribute to child victims of the Shoah. We walked through pitch
blackness into a chamber filled with countless pinpoints of light, as a
voice spoke the children’s names.
We learned that Jesus evidently rose from the dead in
at least two locales. At the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the tomb was so
mobbed by tourists that we couldn’t get in.
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The Garden Tomb seemed the likelier candidate
– chiefly because, nearby, is a stark cliff whose rocks eerily
form a skull-like visage.
The threat of terrorism seemed quite remote to me. We
were reminded of the hatred directed at Jews, as we heard of the horrific
carnage in Mumbai. But the general atmosphere in Israel – no
doubt helped by the gorgeous weather and the wonderfully high-spirited Jews
and Arabs we met – seemed to shield us, both spiritually and
physically.
One scene exemplified it for me. We had just toured
Bethlehem, and were sitting near the security fence waiting for our driver.
Nearby, lazing in the sun, were two guard dogs. One
lifted his head briefly to look up at me – and then drifted back
to sleep.
I will end with two spiritual epiphanies.
In a replica of a 1st century synagogue, a comrade
recited the Isaiah 61 passage read by Jesus in Nazareth. Another of us then
spontaneously spoke Jesus’ own words: “Today, in your hearing,
this scripture is fulfilled.”
At the Wailing Wall, I prayed the shema: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord
our God is One.”
Getting off the plane back in B.C., I felt like a
prince freshly exiled from Narnia.
January 2009
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