We walked in the footsteps of Jesus

We were 56 pilgrims. We were not tourists. We were pilgrims on a spiritual journey to the land of the Bible, the land of Jesus. Tourists sightsee as they visit a particular place. Pilgrims pray at a particular place. Each of our nine days in the Holy Land, as we prayed and remembered the significance in the history of salvation of the particular place, the grace of God touched us and even on occasion overwhelmed our souls. We walked in the footsteps of Jesus. We read the Bible; we listened to readings from both the Jewish and Christian Scriptures and we heard familiar Bible stories as never before.

I cannot testify on behalf of each pilgrim in our group but I dare suggest that each one of us on the pilgrimage encountered the Lord as we prayed at the sacred sanctuaries in Israel which are associated with Him.

I am writing this column on Sunday, March 8, the second Sunday of Lent during which at Mass the Gospel of the Transfiguration is proclaimed. How could I not but remember our bus approaching Mount Tabor and seeing it rise out of the earth to an enormous height. It seemed to touch the sky. How could I not but recall waiting with the other pilgrims to board minibuses to drive on a treacherous road up the mountain on which Jesus was transformed before His disciples.

Jesus and His disciples walked up that mountain. We rode to where the divinity of Jesus of Nazareth was shown on earth. To where Moses and Elijah conversed with the Lord who as Son of God in that cloud had superseded time and space as the prophet of the end times and the Law-Giver joined Him. Like the disciples, Peter, James and John we wanted to stay there with Him. In the experience of Mount Tabor, God was shown to us.

The boat rode on very calm waters that Sunday morning on the Sea of Galilee. We looked across the billowy waves to the Mount of the Beatitudes to where Jesus preached to His followers — His program of life — those unforgettable statements, “Blessed are the poor in spirit; Blessed are those who mourn; Blessed are the peacemakers….” 

We looked across the lake waters to the shore to where Jesus had appeared to His disciples after His Resurrection and prepared a meal for those fishermen. The captain of the boat turned off the motor in the middle of the lake for us to recall and pray Jesus’ words spoken to the fishermen who were His first followers. “Fear not.” Our fingers reached in and touched the waters on which He had walked! Jesus was with us, among us, a boatload of pilgrims, as we sang and prayed on the Sea of Galilee.

We walked the Via Crucis, the Way of the Cross, in very early morning when it was still dark. Not an easy walk on those old cobblestones and through those crooked alleys. Walking toward Calvary. Yes. For some of the pilgrims suffering was involved. Their walking was physically challenged but our suffering was nothing compared to the sufferings of the Lord as He walked to Calvary. Each Station of the Cross from number one to fourteen was reverently announced and prayed and the haunting melody of the Stabat Mater echoed through those dark alleyways. It was difficult to read the assigned prayers be-cause of the darkness but that didn’t stop us pilgrims from doing some serious praying as we made our pilgrimage way in the morning chill to Calvary and to the Empty Tomb.

Arriving at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre we knelt to kiss the place where His Cross was planted into the earth of Golgotha. Each one on his or her knees venerated where Salvation was accomplished by the death of the Son of God. That kiss is unlike any other that had ever passed our lips. A kiss that expressed our belief that what happened in that place is God’s Word of His Crucified Christ to the world, to me.

The Basilica of the Annunciation dominates the small town of Nazareth. Jesus of Nazareth. Mary of Nazareth. We were in their town. The town where the Lord grew up in the house of Saint Joseph. Where the synagogue in which He learned the prayers and traditions of His people is located. Where Joseph, the carpenter, taught the Lord his trade. Where His Mother, Mary, encountered Gabriel, the heavenly messenger who announced to her that she was chosen by God to bring into the world the Good News of the Incarnation. In Nazareth, the Holy Spirit overshadowed her and the Word became flesh. What mystery is honored and remembered there in that insignificant town where God took flesh and dwelt among us! Our pilgrimage in Nazareth reminded us that into human life the Eternal God has come to us who by the Yes of Mary of Nazareth are lifted up to God.

To be continued. …