He is Risen

For many, watching “The Ten Commandments” is part of their Holy Week tradition.  I’ve never been able to make it through a whole screening.  So instead, I suggested last night, that we watch “The Passion of the Christ”.  A movie, I was surprised to learn, my husband had never seen.

Watching this and thinking about the significance of Holy Week and in particular, these last three days, brought back sweet memories of our trip to Israel and Jerusalem in particular, which we took when my step-daughter and son-in-law were married there.

It is true that a trip to the Holy Land is something special.  And if you ever get the opportunity, I highly encourage you to go.

Upon meeting a taxi driver with a Jordanian passport, we journeyed to Bethlehem, to the site of Jesus’ birth, within the bowels of the Church of the Nativity.  We were forewarned to carry our passports, but not to show them unless absolutely necessary. 

On the drive, a large wall to our left, and our driver, David Koresh (I kid you not – that was his name) says, “that’s the West Bank” and suddenly, I wondered if this is the best idea.

The church itself, felt like a dark, dank space.  One you would not think would be associated with a King.  We climbed the steep stone steps into the space of our Lord and Savior’s birth. 




In Israel, it is believed that the manger was actually inside a cave.  Which, according to what Keith experienced on a previous visit to Israel, makes sense; on that trip, he witnessed cows bedded down inside of caves along a mountain path. 

In this, the tiniest of spaces, we contemplated what a tiny baby would come to mean to Christians around the world.

In our opinion, it was worth the risk.  Even if it was a bit on the illegal side in the eyes of the Israeli government.


We prayed again at the Western Wall, also known as the Wailing Wall.  Covering my head respectfully, I carefully tucked into the cracks of the wall, my stated intentions.  For friends, for family.



In Jerusalem, we visited the Mount of Olives, the Church of Nations, and Gethsemane, the garden where Jesus was found praying when arrested the night before his crucifixion.

We walked Via Dolorosa, or the Stations of the Cross. 





Placing our hands on the spot where it is said Jesus braced himself to keep from falling.  The Fifth Station, “Simon of Cyrene helps Jesus carry His cross”.  Too solemn a place, we couldn’t bring ourselves to smile.

 








But it is within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where this visit, this pilgrimage, holds the most meaningful experience of my life.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is the site of the last four Stations, X – XIV.

Calvary, the site of the Crucifixion, and the 11^th Station.  It was extremely crowded in this part of the church.  And thus, difficult to stand before it and admire the beauty, in such a sorrowful place.

It was at Station XIII, Jesus was taken down from the cross, where lives a memory that is forever etched in my mind, my heart, my soul. 

The slab where it is said Jesus’ body was laid and cleansed before being placed in the tomb stands at the entrance to the Church.  Believers kneel under the candles, placing their hands on the stone.  Some bring religious articles, touching the stone, and praying over them.

Here, I knelt, I placed my hand on the stone.  As I did so, a most incredible feeling coursed through my body, starting at the arm which was placed on the stone, into my shoulders, up into my head, through my body, and down to my feet. 

I can’t describe it other than to say it was as if the Holy Spirit had entered my body.  And my heart.

To this day, when I think about that moment, or re-tell the story, my body is overcome with goosebumps.  The familiar feeling of the Holy Spirit returning to me.

The final Station, Jesus’ tomb, is a large black structure.  It is a small space, allowing only 3-4 visitors inside at a time.  It is, much to my surprise, rather unremarkable, given its significance.  Within this tiny enclosure is a piece of stone said to be a part of the stone which covered the tomb and the tomb itself. 

Now empty, physically.  But filled, spiritually.

He is Risen.