"Next Year in Jerusalem"

Tonight is the Jewish Feast of Passover. Traditionally, this day hasn't meant much to me apart from signifying that the end of Lent is at hand. Generally, Passover has meant the countdown to chocolate again. Three years ago, however, I found myself in Palestine for Holy Week (2006). My former co-worker who lives in Jerusalem invited me to spend Passover and Seder dinner with her and her family. I had never before experienced such an event. It was beautiful and humbling. I could think only of Christ celebrating Passover with his disciples.

Seder was at my friend's parent's home -- Her parents, a lovely, elderly Ashkanazi couple welcomed me into their home with open arms, literally. Her mother embraced me, kissed me on the cheek, and exclaimed, "Welcome!" The dinner was beautiful. I wish I had taken more pictures during the ceremony. Being a "shy" guest, however, I mistakenly assumed that it would be rude to photograph the dinner. I only dared to ask for photo afterwards (below) and then found out that it would have been not only fine, but flattering to take photos. Next time...
Here is a photo of the traditional plate served with traditional food and way too sweet wine. There are bitters and salt to signify the bitter times and tears the Jewish people have wept. There is sweet stuff, too, to signify the the good times. I wish I could remember the significance of the other stuff, but it was all very meaningful.

I spent the night at my friend's house in Jerusalem and awoke early to go to Holy Thursday Mass at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which houses the tomb of Christ. Holy Thursday Mass at the tomb of Christ was singularily the most spiritually amazing moment of my life at that time. (I thought nothing could top it, but Good Friday prayers at Golgotha the next day and Fr. Tom's last Mass both proved to be more spiritually emotional and moving.) The entire Mass was in Latin, and there weren't nearly enough prayer books to go around. I found myself looking over the shoulder of a German monk by the name of Gregor (he was on sabbatical in Jerusalem), reading his prayer book in German and trying to translate in my mind to sort out what, exactly, was going on. It certainly was a challenge and more than tested my German comprehension. My meager German however, was enough to help me follow the Mass -- all 3 1/2 hours of it. It was beautiful!

The (now-former) Archbishop of Jerusalem, Michel Sabbah carrying the Blessed Sacrament and leading the procession three times around Christ's tomb.

The crowd at Holy Thursday Mass. There were so many people and it was so hot, and yet we all lit candles...

Good Friday the next morning was upstairs in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Golgotha. I gathered with the crowd outside waiting for the church doors to open. There, I met a young priest who was late for getting in line to process in with his fellow brothers. He said to me (in Arabic), "You seem like a nice girl. Space is limited upstairs [at Golgotha]. Make sure you hit, kick, shove -- do whatever you need to do to get upstairs." Ha! His comment totally cracked me up, but he was serious. And as soon as the doors were opened, I understood what he meant. Fortunately, I've had years of soccer experience, so I knew how to throw an elbow or two to get to the front of the crowd.

The start of the procession into the church. The Fransciscans were first.

My Great-Uncle processing in with the other Latin Patriarchate priests.

Upstairs at Golgotha. This was the best (and only) picture I could get. It was sooooo crowded I could barely raise my arm to snap a pic. This was the Archbishop walking by with the Blessed Sacrament in the monstrance.

After the services upstairs in Golgotha, everyone, lead by the Archbishop moved downstairs to process around the tomb of Christ again. You'll notice that the Latin Patriarchate priests actually changed their vestments between the prayers upstairs and the prayers downstairs. After this ceremony, I actually met Gregor's (the German monk from Holy Thursday) parents. (Random, I know, but this seems to be the story of my life.) They later introduced me to Gregor, so I was able to thank him for letting me look over his shoulder during Holy Thursday Mass.

The Latin Patriarchate priests gathering for the prayers downstairs.

Another procession around the tomb of Christ.

My Great-Uncle again. ;)

After all the ceremonies, I spent some time hanging out with this guy, Hanna (Arabic for John).
Hanna's job is to preceed the Archbishop and walk around metronomicaly hit this large metal pole on the ground. It is super-heavy and makes a loud thud. (I tried it.) Hanna escorted me through the crowds back to the Latin Patriarchate house to hang out for a bit before heading out for the Via Dolorosa. Amazing! No pictures, and I didn't even get to complete all the stations. Next time, fore sure... And as they say at Seder, "Next year in Jerusalem".