Palm Sunday in Jerusalem

And Monday in Bethlehem

Palm Sunday in Jerusalem is a truly remarkable experience. The Pontifical Mass starts early at the Holy Sepulchre; palms are blessed inside the Sepulchre, then the congregation processes round the Sepulchre three times. Mass then follows in the rather cramped side chapel immediately adjoining the Rotunda. While this is going on other Christian churches are celebrating according to their calendars: the Copts, the Armenians, the Greeks. The whole place echoes with the sound of chant, sometimes discordant and clashing.

In the afternoon there is a procession from Bethpage, atop the Mount of Olives, down to Saint Anne’s, the fine Crusader church just within the Lion Gate. The arrival of the procession can be seen in the video above. (I took several videos myself, but the one above is professionally made. I turn up in it at several points.)

The Mount of Olives really is a mountain and the climb is steep. The procession starts from the yard of the Catholic Church in the village of Bethpage. As soon as I arrived I caught the atmosphere of joy and exuberant happiness. The Patriarch was there, having his photograph taken with numerous Filipinos (who are probably the largest Catholic grouping in Israel). I knelt to kiss his ring and told him I was from England. ‘Welcome,’ he said.

Cardinal Pizzaballa is a tall well-built man, with great presence; his face is bearded and handsome. Before being made Patriarch, he was the Custos of the Holy Land, that is the Fransiscan responsible for all the Catholic shrines here, a considerable responsibility, and a very tricky one too, from time to time. An Italian, from the same part of the country and Saint John XXIII, he speaks excellent unaccented English and perfect Hebrew. Pizzaballa is someone to watch, in my humble opinion. And I did watch him interacting with people. He seemed relaxed, friendly and authoritative.

Up in Bethpage there was a sort of Palestinian worship group playing loud music; all the Catholic youth groups were there, including many from Bethlehem. It was also a joy to see a large group of pilgrims from Vietnam there, who must have saved for years to make the trip, and whose government makes life very difficult for the Church. And there was a Mexican group as well - Mexico, where religious processions were banned by the anti-clerical government of Benito Juarez, and where the celebration of Mass itself became outlawed under the unhappy reign of President Plutarco Elia Calles.

Juarez and Calles, where are you now? Hiow they would have been horrified by this popular gathering of all nations, this sight of people enjoying themselves in the presence of God. This sort of thing was exactly what they thought would die out, with a little help from them.

Also present were lots of friars, priests, seminarians and religious. And, which I have to say pleased me no end, lots of Lutherans, Anglicans and even members of the Church of Latter-Day Saints, all from abroad, all here in Jerusalem wanting to celebrate Palm Sunday and doing it with the Patriarch. That’s ecumenism for you.

The sense of joy and the sense of unity were palatable. It was a beautiful gathering, a long walk, but one which passed without one feeling even for a moment tired. It was greatly helped by the music and the chanting, and the African drums. People danced for joy.

The place of the birth of Christ

The next day it was off to Bethlehem to say Mass in the grotto under the altar of the Church of the Nativity, the very place where our Lord was born. Getting there was something of a struggle. Bethlehem is on the West Bank, as we call it, but it is on the other side of the separation barrier/fence/wall. A taxi takes you to the checkpoint which, early in the morning, was completely unstaffed: you go through a turnstile, then down a corridor, then through another turnstile, and you are there, surrounded by taxi drivers wanting to take you on to Bethlehem and beyond.

On the other side of the checkpoint you are in a different world, economically, at least. Several people in Jerusalem said to me ‘Of course, we are not allowed/cannot go.’ This is the perception, but you can, and I did, though I was the only non-local in the entire place, or so it seemed.

Mass in the grotto was very special and the Church of the Nativity is architecturally very fine; the nearby ‘Milk Grotto’ is also very lovely and touching. The guidebooks talk of how you have to queue for hours to enter the grotto, but I had a congregation of four in an otherwise empty basilica.

Bethlehem is by no means a little town anymore, or a Christian one either; in fact it is part of a huge conurbation made up of the core villages, which were Christian, various refugee camps dating from 1948, and more recent Jewish settlements. There has been a huge amount of building in recent decades.

Getting out of Bethlehem was somewhat tricky. The checkpoint through which one entered shut at ten, but there was a bus that went to Jerusalem at the bottom end of the town, which entered via another checkpoint. Here we all had to get off and were made to wait for some time. The soldiers and police looked at our papers and most of us were allowed to continue on our way.

One understands there is a war on not far away and that the Israeli authorities are nervous, so one can understand the security checks, but… The West Bank that we talk of does not really exist; it is divided into three types of area, A, B and C, some under Palestinian control, some under Israelis, some under joint control. Moving around for Palestinians is hard when it involves crossing from one area to another. Superimposed on this mosaic of different security regimes, are a series of roads under Israeli control which link the various Jewish settlements to Jerusalem and other parts of Israel; and snaking through all of this is the Wall. So just going a short distance, from Bethlehem to Jerusalem for example, a matter of six miles, may be very hard, or even impossible. And difficulty in communication and travel will lead to economic stagnation. It is sad.

The blank exterior of the Basilica of the Nativity, with the tiny door designed to keep horses and so on out

I am very glad I went to Bethlehem, and it gave me a much clearer picture of what life is like on what we call the West Bank. Truly this is a land of contrasts.