Last year I was fortunate enough to spend Holy Week and Easter in Israel-Palestine. One of the major highlights of my time there was the Palm Sunday procession from the Mount of Olives past the Garden of Gethsemene and into the ancient city of Jerusalem through the Lion’s Gate. Children from the village earned themselves and their families a bit of extra money as they sold palm leaves to pilgrims following in the way of Jesus.
There was a palpable sense of excitement in the city with bars and coffee shops full of people. This excitement was tempered however by a feeling of tension. At every gate and on every street corner there were heavily armed Israeli security forces on the lookout for the slightest sign of trouble. For someone from the UK the sight of uniformed teenagers hanging about with machine guns was disquieting.
Tensions within the city were increased by Holy Week being in the middle of the holy month of Ramadan, and at the same time as the Jewish Passover festival. Jerusalem is a city like no other with holy sites around every corner and pilgrims from three major religions flocking to the city.
After the horrific events of October 7th and the response of the Israeli government in Gaza, reports from Jerusalem are of a much quieter time this year. The previously full bars and cafes are empty, as are the previously bustling streets. Tensions are much higher with an increase in restrictions for Muslims wanting to pray at the Al-Aqsa Mosque.
The scenes of suffering from Gaza can easily lead us to despair, just as Jesus’ disciples must have despaired at his arrest and crucifixion. The cry of Jesus from the cross is one that has echoed through the centuries – My God, my God, why have you forsaken me!
If our story ended on Good Friday with that sense of abandonment it would be all too easy to wallow in despair. But our story doesn’t end on Good Friday. Our story goes on fired by the light of Easter Day, and so we live lives not of despair but of hope. At times that hope may feel small and distant, but we go on with the fire of Easter lighting our way.
Easter is a time of great joy, a joy that overwhelmed us on Easter Sunday at St George’s Anglican Cathedral in Jerusalem. The Organist had decided to play Handel’s Halleluiah Chorus as her voluntary at the end of the service. I don’t think either she, or the Archbishop who was left waiting in the car park, were expecting the congregation to join in. Harmonies flowed and melodies soared in that great hymn of praise as voices from around the world let fly the cry of Halleluiah.
We pray that one day that cry is heard once again not just in Jerusalem, but in Gaza, Ukraine, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Haiti, and all places where hope seems dim and distant.