May 10
Notes on a Pilgrimage: “everything is “alleged” here.”
*travels{abroad}, Israel, palestine, {abroad}journey Add commentsIf I could give one theme to my life, Pilgrimage would be it. I see it as a broad way to view life as one long learning journey. I see it as a slow accretion of details; of knowledge and experience. I believe that by going slow, being present in each moment, lies the key to going “fast,” if you will. By taking the time to reflect and discover more of who you are and what you want to get out of this lifetime, dreams can be realized.
My dream is to live that sort of “life on pilgrimage” approach; to view each moment as bringing with it a new possibility.
Easter Sunday in Jerusalem brought with a new possibility, but not the possibility I has hoped for, exactly. It was a disappointing experience, to say the least. Perhaps I didn’t prepare enough for what I expected would be one of the most moving days to visit such a sacred site. Did I attempt to give it enough meaning for myself? To be honest, I really couldn’t find a way to make it “special”. Besides, I think to myself, what is “special” supposed to mean, anyways?
Perhaps, there were just too many shiny objects in the way for me to see what was really there. I was completely blown away by the amount of commercialism I found. Entering the Church of the Holy Sepulcre, people fought past each other mercilessly in an attempt to rub personal amulets against a rock where Jesus was “allegedly” crucified on.
It was a huge church; constructed around a rock. Enamored with expensive gold objects and artifacts telling the story of a simple man who loved the world so much, he made the ultimate sacrifice of letting go. Observing the masses of mourning pilgrims, a feeling comes over me. A tingle that slides down my spine bone. It’s the same sort of tingly goose-bumpy feeling that I got upon entering the grounds of the Vatican City. As my mother describes it:
“it’s the sort of feeling you get when you know you’ve come “home”, to a place that has been touched.”
Touched by what, though? What’s wrong with just having a rock in the middle of a room? What’s wrong with letting that be “enough?” What does “home” actually look like, anyways? Would Jesus have created this sacred space in the same way humanity has attempted to? Someone, or many people, have said:
“there is just enough religion in this world to create hate, but not quite enough to create love.”
Perhaps that’s true. The whole experience has left me feeling off balance, jaded, and questioning everything I ever thought travel, life, and belief was supposed to mean. In Jerusalem, international territory, finding co-existing means police barricades, weapons around every corner, and vendors hawking goods and services in your face; I can’t help but feel that there has to be more.
Within the narrow confines of the old city, women in hajibs wander between bare-shouldered babes from the Western world as old orthodox men ogle past to wail their wishes to the wall. Colorful scarves, tapestries, and t-shirts billow in the wind, from the light entering the labyrinth of the old city. Something seems eerily ersatz with the scene.
At the end of the day, exhausted and perplexed, I sit pondering the predicament over a Taybeh. It’s Palestine’s only beer. I read the slogan. It reads “the finest in the Middle East.” I then begin attempting to read my feelings. Is it me? I ask myself. Did I not rise up to the challenge of finding what is sacred in this experience? Can I perhaps be satisfied with what I didn’t find? What’s wrong with not being able to find the sacred in the middle of beer-swigging Westerners, anyways?
Leaving the place, I turn the corner. Suddenly, in the quiet shade, I gain a glimpse of god smoking shisha.
After later discussing the voyage with my host, Gili, I’ve come to a more concrete conclusion. As a zen master and creativity workshop creator, he has traveled across the globe using his artistic talent. Walking, in search of the best hummus in Tel Aviv, he said:
“If you want to dedicate a part of your life to pilgrimage, you need to explore the many layers around it, including the seemingly “bad” ones”
We found the best hummus that afternoon. In the end, I found quite a bit more.
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May 10th, 2010 at 11:24
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