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eautiful chants in many languages fill this vast church,
which is believed to house both Calvary and the tomb of
Christ. Other highlights included a visit to Dome of the
Rock (below), whose serenity now seems strange in light of
the shooting and demonstrations that followed just a few
days after we met and interviewed the Director of al-Aqsa,
and a visit to the Church of the Nativity, where I joined a
choir in singing Persian carols at the birthplace of Christ.
Besides trips and lectures, there were a number of
poignant devotional opportunities. We celebrated
Communion together in Bethlehem, Jerusalem, Nazareth,
and on the Sea of Galilee, and every day we each led
evening prayers in our own traditions: we experienced
everything from traditional Anglican compline to a full
service of Greek Orthodox vespers. I had the privilege of
leading a short time of Taizé prayer in the Golan Heights, at
the border with Syria. It is far easier to offer eloquent
prayers for peace from a safe distance; faced with such
violent discord, I found there to be few, if any, appropriate
words to offer.
Whilst conflict inevitably permeated much of our
Tantur experience, we turned to focus on it more intently
towards the end of the trip. I was struck by Hebron (below),
a once bustling city now bearing the ugly scars of brutal
massacres, in the form of an eerie ghost-town separating
the Israeli settlement and Palestinian marketplace, policed
by huge numbers of Israeli military personnel. On the same
day, we interviewed the Mayor of Efrat, one of many
settlements in the West Bank; there seemed to be an
insurmountable gulf between the Mayor’s stories of
peaceful collaboration with the Palestinian villages
surrounding Efrat, and the countless stories of oppression
we’d heard from our neighbours in Bethlehem. I was left
wondering how these narratives could possibly coexist, let
alone be reconciled. It was thus both a relief and an
inspiration to meet people actively seeking peace, first at
the mixed Palestinian and Israeli community at Neve
Shalom-Wahat Al-Salam, a group of contemplative
activists with a radical commitment to unity and
collaboration. The same can be said for our tour guides
from Mejdi, an organisation promoting reconciliation and
dialogue; a non-religious Israeli Jew and a Palestinian
Muslim. I hoped that their measured, empathetic approach
to each other’s stories might begin to chip away at some of
the all too prevalent animosity between their communities.
My time at Tantur (above) drew to a close far too quickly.
As I navigated the incredibly strict security at Ben Gurion
Airport, I was very aware that I was leaving having only
scraped the surface. Before my trip, when people told me
that I’d be ‘walking in the steps of Jesus’, they meant on the
Via Dolorosa, or on the shores of the Galilee. Instead, I
encountered him in guides, clergy and activists –
peacemakers, from whom I learnt so much about the
beauty, pain and volatility of this impenetrably complex
region. I am more convinced than ever that we must strive
to be people of peace wherever we may find ourselves;
those of us who are privileged enough not to face a daily
threat of expulsion, oppression, or even death have a
responsibility to our brothers and sisters the world over.
We must go on challenging injustice, speaking truth to
power and seeking freedom, that all people may have the
opportunity to thrive.
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