One of the great joys in my ministry has been a close connection with our companion Diocese of Jerusalem and the Middle East. Since 2004, when I first visited the land of the Holy One, I have been a pilgrim and led several pilgrimages—most recently in 2019. When the pandemic ends, I intend to lead more pilgrimages because they offer rich spiritual growth to clergy and laity—and because our partners there are greatly heartened by visits from fellow Anglicans.
Coadjutor Bishop Hosam Naoum, with whom I share a warm friendship from our years as cathedral deans, says, “the population of Christians increases every time a pilgrim group comes here!” This sounds light-hearted but speaks to an important truth: Christians comprise only 2% of the population of Israel and about 1% of the population of Palestine, and the vast majority are Arabs. In both cases, Anglicans are a small minority of all Christians in the land of the Holy One. When pilgrim groups are on the ground, the presence of Christians (socially and economically) makes a big difference.
I like to lead pilgrimages during the season of Lent. In the beautiful Ash Wednesday service in the Book of Alternative Services we say, “every year at the time of the Christian Passover we celebrate our redemption through the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. Lent is a time to prepare for this celebration and to renew our life in the paschal mystery.”
Journeying through the land of the Holy One in Lent, listening to the “Fifth Gospel” as it is proclaimed by the sun, wind, water and stones of the places where the life, death and resurrection of Jesus happened, is a profoundly moving way to prepare for the celebration of Easter.
On the first full day of my pilgrimages we journey to the desert, the wilderness where Jesus was tempted, where Moses led the people of Israel, and where John the Baptist dwelt. Driving down from Jerusalem to the Dead Sea, and then south to Masada, pilgrims look upon the land Moses last saw before he died, as the Exodus reached its conclusion and Joshua fought the battle of Jericho. From the staggering vistas of Masada, pilgrims feel the heat of the desert as they look out over its expanse in Israel and Jordan.
In the late afternoon, having spent time in the ancient oasis city of Jericho, we go to the Wadi Qelt lookout, an out of the way place I discovered while on a course at Saint George’s College in Jerusalem. I like to give pilgrims lots of time to sit or walk along the ridge, listening to the land tell its story of Jesus in the wilderness, knowing that what they see is largely unchanged since the time Jesus walked there. It is at once mind-expanding and deeply centring.
It is hard to believe that we entered into the coronavirus pandemic in Lent of last year, although it feels like we have been in the wilderness for a very long time. We have had a vivid experience of the 40 days and 40 nights Jesus spent in the hills and valleys you see in the photograph beside this column.
When the prophet Isaiah speaks of hope to a people who have been in exile, away from the normal pattern of life and the familiar things they had always known, he says, “the wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing.” If you look closely at the accompanying photograph, you will see something rare: the desert is blooming.
Soon, God willing, and with the best of human wisdom and compassion, all people on earth will see the end of this pandemic, this time of walking in sometimes foreboding desert lands, with dark valleys and steep inclines. Think of how we will rejoice when that happens, when the desert blooms for us and life begins anew.
In the meantime, lift one another’s spirits, and give generously to organizations that are assisting others in these challenging days. And do not hesitate to receive the vaccine when it is available in your area: that, too, is an act of selfless care and generosity toward all other human beings. It is a Christ-like thing to do.
When the desert blooms, life begins anew
One of the great joys in my ministry has been a close connection with our companion Diocese of Jerusalem and the Middle East. Since 2004, when I first visited the land of the Holy One, I have been a pilgrim and led several pilgrimages—most recently in 2019. When the pandemic ends, I intend to lead more pilgrimages because they offer rich spiritual growth to clergy and laity—and because our partners there are greatly heartened by visits from fellow Anglicans.
Coadjutor Bishop Hosam Naoum, with whom I share a warm friendship from our years as cathedral deans, says, “the population of Christians increases every time a pilgrim group comes here!” This sounds light-hearted but speaks to an important truth: Christians comprise only 2% of the population of Israel and about 1% of the population of Palestine, and the vast majority are Arabs. In both cases, Anglicans are a small minority of all Christians in the land of the Holy One. When pilgrim groups are on the ground, the presence of Christians (socially and economically) makes a big difference.
I like to lead pilgrimages during the season of Lent. In the beautiful Ash Wednesday service in the Book of Alternative Services we say, “every year at the time of the Christian Passover we celebrate our redemption through the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. Lent is a time to prepare for this celebration and to renew our life in the paschal mystery.”
Journeying through the land of the Holy One in Lent, listening to the “Fifth Gospel” as it is proclaimed by the sun, wind, water and stones of the places where the life, death and resurrection of Jesus happened, is a profoundly moving way to prepare for the celebration of Easter.
On the first full day of my pilgrimages we journey to the desert, the wilderness where Jesus was tempted, where Moses led the people of Israel, and where John the Baptist dwelt. Driving down from Jerusalem to the Dead Sea, and then south to Masada, pilgrims look upon the land Moses last saw before he died, as the Exodus reached its conclusion and Joshua fought the battle of Jericho. From the staggering vistas of Masada, pilgrims feel the heat of the desert as they look out over its expanse in Israel and Jordan.
In the late afternoon, having spent time in the ancient oasis city of Jericho, we go to the Wadi Qelt lookout, an out of the way place I discovered while on a course at Saint George’s College in Jerusalem. I like to give pilgrims lots of time to sit or walk along the ridge, listening to the land tell its story of Jesus in the wilderness, knowing that what they see is largely unchanged since the time Jesus walked there. It is at once mind-expanding and deeply centring.
It is hard to believe that we entered into the coronavirus pandemic in Lent of last year, although it feels like we have been in the wilderness for a very long time. We have had a vivid experience of the 40 days and 40 nights Jesus spent in the hills and valleys you see in the photograph beside this column.
When the prophet Isaiah speaks of hope to a people who have been in exile, away from the normal pattern of life and the familiar things they had always known, he says, “the wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing.” If you look closely at the accompanying photograph, you will see something rare: the desert is blooming.
Soon, God willing, and with the best of human wisdom and compassion, all people on earth will see the end of this pandemic, this time of walking in sometimes foreboding desert lands, with dark valleys and steep inclines. Think of how we will rejoice when that happens, when the desert blooms for us and life begins anew.
In the meantime, lift one another’s spirits, and give generously to organizations that are assisting others in these challenging days. And do not hesitate to receive the vaccine when it is available in your area: that, too, is an act of selfless care and generosity toward all other human beings. It is a Christ-like thing to do.
The Rt. Rev. Shane Parker is the Bishop of the Anglican Diocese of Ottawa.
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