We were invited by a group staying here to go along to Jerusalem for the Palm Sunday procession. I heard it was much like a long parade but the Patriarch would also be present and give a blessing, so I was not sure what to expect. Preparing for what I thought might be a hot afternoon; I asked if I could wear shorts. “Pants would be more appropriate”. So with that response I gauged that it would be an earnest commemoration.
Ohh Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike, haven’t you learned not to assume here yet?
We exited the bus after a two and half hour trip and walked 5 minutes to where the procession would begin. We arrived about 45 minutes early and of course it did not start on time so I had time to people watch. As I absorbed the gathering crowd in the intense midday sun I regretted choosing jeans as my long pants and a dark shirt.
People of all cultures were collecting: Spanish, Italian, Arabic, Polish, French, German, American (other than the usual suspects from the last two groups), and more. I was informed that there would be a great number of people there, but it is one thing to hear about it and another to see the great mass.
The procession began with a handful of local school drum-lines. That’s when I kind of got the idea this would not be what I expected. People fell in behind and with the volunteers from Tabgha I hopped in front of a Philippine group, secretly thinking if they were half as gregarious as our Sisters in Tabgha we would be okay.
They were extremely friendly and encouraging and knew our Sisters. We spent the next 2 and a half hours singing and dancing with them on our way to the church of St. Anne in the Old City of Jerusalem. It was a great time; I think I was smiling for the whole time.
Not one to urge others in bold religious expression I tend to shy away from trying to influence others’ faith. Sometimes it makes me uncomfortable when I feel like people are trying to tell me what is correct to believe or to make me feel obliged to proclaim my faith by what they have for standards of faith in God. I like to go at it in my own accord. None of those tense emotions arose from this celebration. You could sing and dance if you wanted, you could just walk along, or even watch from the side and not feel anxious.
I sang so much; I began to lose my voice by the end of the day. My feet hurt from dancing and walking and I wasn’t smelly or too sweaty by the end of the day but I was drained of energy like after a workout. At the end of the procession when you thought maybe people might be easily irritated because they were so tired all I saw were smiling faces. You could tell the feet were dragging of some of the pilgrims, but the songs kept them positive, even as spaces became cramped in the Old City. You saw people sharing water, creating space to sit or stand, and most important: smiles. I call that proclaiming faith.
1 comment:
Nice to learn about this event and the way people from all over the world come together in harmony.
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