Stunned at the normality as life goes on
Way back in January, when I was planning a mini-sabbatical, spending five weeks of the summer in Jerusalem was a most attractive idea. There is a monastery of our congregation there, whose Abbot was a monk of Glenstal for many years. And so I knew that I would be guaranteed bed and board and a warm welcome at Dormition Abbey. As I looked forward to this month of rest and renewal, little did I think that the Holy Land would become a war zone in the days before I was due to travel.
I considered staying at home. I’m not an unduly nervous traveller, but news reports of rockets being aimed at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv did make me more than a little anxious. But I consulted the people here in Dormition Abbey and they encouraged me to travel, so in the end I did.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I experienced when I got here. You might expect that what follows will be a tale of high security and high tension on a grand scale. That’s certainly what I was expecting. But it is not what I have experienced.
Expectations
In fact, I experienced the opposite. Airport security in Tel Aviv was no more demanding than it would be in Dublin or Shannon. It was after midnight when I got out of the airport, and the car journey from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, and into the Old City via the Jaffa Gate, was as pleasant a trip as one could ask for.
I thought I heard gunfire the next evening and inquired among the brethren if we should be concerned. But they explained that what I heard was actually the sound of fireworks being let off by Muslims at sunset, to signify the end of the day’s Ramadan fast.
A few mornings later, I awoke with a start at about 4.30am, sure that I had heard an explosion. I immediately went to my computer, to check the Twitter feeds of the Israeli news outlets, to find out if the conflict had spread to Jerusalem. There was no such news.
It turns out that what I heard was actually the Ramadan cannon being fired, signalling the beginning of the day’s fast to the faithful of the city.
Having spent the days before I was due to travel dithering about whether I should cancel my trip or not, I now find myself in a city where life is very much going on as normal.
Outdoor altar
On one level this is great. I have settled in well at Dormition Abbey on Mount Zion – the traditional site of Mary’s death. I have also visited Dormition’s dependent priory at Tabgha in Galilee, the traditional site of the Multiplication of the Loaves and Fish. There I served as deacon alongside the bishop at a memorial Mass for a deceased monk at a hauntingly beautiful outdoor altar on the shore of the Sea of Galilee.
The memory of the experience of chanting the Gospel of the Beatitudes there will remain with me for a long time.
Back in Jerusalem, I have been exploring the Old City, including the Jewish and Muslim Quarters, and I have felt completely safe. I have walked the Via Dolorosa with the Franciscans and I have donned a kippa and prayed at the Western Wall of the Temple.
There, seeing me struggling to take a ‘selfie’ with my phone, a friendly Jewish man from France took my photo.
I’ve sipped coffee in the sunshine outside trendy bars in the New City, and I’ve haggled with traders in the souqs of the Old City. And of course, I’ve been resting and reading and joining the monks of Dormition Abbey for the Divine Office. In short, the first few weeks have been all that I could have asked for in a sabbatical break.
I’ve been posting regular updates and photos on Facebook. A friend commented last week, “They are amazing pictures Martin, but I’m kinda stunned at the normality of it all”. She was right to be stunned. It’s great to be safe, and it’s great too to see people getting on with their lives and not letting the conflict control them. But having such a good time so close to what is effectively now a theatre of war is discomfiting. It is surreal.
What to do? I can’t do much, but I can pray.
For the peace of Jerusalem pray:
“Peace be to your homes!
May peace reign in your walls,
in your palaces, peace!”