Stations of the Cross on the Via Dolorosa

I woke up at 6:30am to go to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre for Good Friday. The plan was to attend mass at the basilica and then participate in the Stations of the Cross procession through the Via Dolorosa, however the morning turned out to be slightly more eventful than we expected. We arrived at the church right as the ceremony was about to begin. People were crowded in the courtyard and were blocked off from the entrance of the church by police gates, which was the first surprising moment. The bishop ceremoniously knocked on the great wooden doors and then he and a parade of monks entered the church. A man on a megaphone started pleading everyone in various languages to not push and move slowly, which seemed very out of place: second surprising moment. You could feel the anxiety in the crowd as everyone began to bustle towards the doors, which was disconcerting given the reverence of the moment. We had no idea why everyone was rushing to enter, though we discovered later that there was limited seating in the chapel within the basilica where the mass would be held. Nevertheless we made it into the doors without too much trouble and followed the procession past this beautiful tile mosaic depicting Jesus’ anointment and burial. In front of it was the stone slab where Jesus was brought after he was taken down from the cross. People come from all over the world to see this church and for many this moment was something they had been waiting for all of their lives. Many were kneeling in front of it, kissing it, and whispering silent prayers, and some people were even crying; it was incredibly moving to see such wholehearted devotion evoked by the intimate moment of coming face-to-face with history, something that is truly unique to a modern day pilgrimage.

            The procession continued to the tomb of Jesus and then continued up to the chapel where the mass was performed. It was all said in Latin, and throughout the whole ceremony the choir sang beautiful hymns, which filled the entire basilica. The ceremony lasted two hours, yet it felt like only 30 minutes. Because we did not make it into the chapel, we stood below listening to the bishop and were also allowed to wander around looking at the many altars and shrines erected by the various denominations for which this site is holy. When it was over, again we proceeded out of the church behind the monks, and waiting in the courtyard was an even larger round of people pushed up against the police gates waiting to enter the church. We were so happy we got there early.

Next, we tried to find the procession on Via Dolorosa where 4,000 people each year on Good Friday travel up the narrow road and stop at the 14 stations marking Jesus’ journey to the site of his crucifixion. There were policemen and soldiers everywhere, and we were continually ushered around rows of police gates. Three of us were separated from the larger group and ventured to find the first station on our own. However, somehow we ended up in the wrong procession surrounded by an Arab community who were dressed significantly more conservatively and almost all in black. We became increasingly more uncomfortable as we realized we were the only ones without our heads covered. We thought we had just been caught in a particular part of the procession that happened to be made up of Muslims who were participating simply out of interest. However, our impression quickly changed when people started looking at us and yelling “closed!” “closed!” Caught off guard, we stopped, while people kept telling us “closed,” and waving their hands in the air yet still moving towards the mysterious destination. A man on the side of the street finally told us that we were in the wrong procession and directed us toward Via Dolorosa. We had unknowingly and rudely intruded on a Muslim prayer procession: surprising moment number three. Needless to say we were quite flustered, but still managed to complete the stations of the cross and make it back to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre where we encountered arguably the most surprising and bizarre sight I’ve ever seen. A group of people dressed in what looked to be Egyptian halloween costumes were performing their own procession equipped with a boom box, a singing African woman, and a man dressed as Jesus, covered in red paint and carrying a cross. As strange and almost offensive as this was, it seemed to be very representative of the day.

People from all different backgrounds, countries, denominations, even religions all coming to worship on one particular day within the space of just a few square miles, which is considered holy by so many. At times one may intrude on another or even be offensive, but it is unintentional and perhaps unavoidable. Everyone is simply trying to celebrate the significance of the day according to their beliefs how they feel is important. Shoving, yelling, and culture shock aside today was a good glimpse into the complicated and often contentious nature of religion, and how at the heart of such a problematic issue are mostly innocent and well-intentioned individuals who are trying to makes sense of the world as it exists around them.