Early this morning, on our last full day in Jerusalem, as the call to prayer was ringing out from the mosques over Jerusalem, we venture into the old city to do the Via Dolorosa. The Via Dolorosa is the stations of the cross through the streets of the old city, ending in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, each station at the place where the events actually happened. We carried a large wooden cross with us through the streets each taking a turn carrying it to each station. The streets were very quiet as we walked, telling the story of Jesus' passion and death. In the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, we visited mount Calvary, and placed our hand on a rock where Jesus' was crucified, found under an altar. We joined a celebration of the Eucharist at the epicure, or the place of Jesus' tomb and his resurrection. We prayed for those we care for, those we love, peace throughout the world, and our own continued conversion in Christ.
We prayed that we might "...make the way of the cross the way of life..." The prayers ended with a statement that we are all citizens of Jerusalem...truly a place I hope to come home to again. As we left the Church, the sun was in the sky, and the streets of Jerusalem were packed with people. Today was a Muslim holiday, the prophet's birthday, so schools were closed and children filled the old city. It was a reminder to me that the story of the Cross of Christ happens each day, in the midst of all of our lives, each day. These stories of our faith that we have been exploring over the past two weeks are meant to not be artifacts of an interesting past, but a narrative to make sense of our lives and our world, and inspire us to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.
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