A Poetic Response to Israel pilgrimage

I alluded, in my Pentecost sermon posted in this blog, to the pilgrimage I made in February and March, 2009 to the Holy Land under the auspices of the CF Foundation and guided by faculty from Wake Forest Seminary.  It was an experience that has continued to have an impact many months after returning.  We were expected to share some sort of response to our trip when we gathered in June, 2009 for a post-pilgrimage retreat.  The poem below was my response.  It leaves much to be desired as a poem, but I have hesitated to edit it because it held so much of the raw emotions of our journey.   There is an allusion in the poem to our bus trip from Jerusalem to Bethlehem.  At the wall separating Israel from the Palestinian territory, Israeli soldiers boarded our bus and really gave a hard time to the ten year old daughter of our tour guide, who had joined us for the day.  We were scandalized, but she and her father took it all in stride, as just one of the indignities that Palestinians endure all too regularly.

Accidental Pilgrim

I.

I went to Israel

It was swell

But that’s not all

there is to tell

I went to Palestine

It was fine

But –not to whine!

we crossed a line

We crossed a line

We saw the wall

All is not fine

in Israel.

I went on pilgrimage

It was free

I read each page

They sent to me

Itineraries of archaeology

Unbeatable opportunity

Escape, perhaps, touristically,

Mind  engaged potentially

Heart guarded intentionally.

But

II.

Pilgrimage

Awakens outrage

Makes you look

Behind,

            beneath,

                        beyond the Book

Pilgrimage

sets the stage

for the Spirit’s hook

for the Shepherd’s crook

Pilgrimage

says, “Engage!”

opens a crack

You can’t go back.

III.

The option of disinterested impartiality

Is no longer a possibility.

The practice of poor Sapphira,

of keeping some part

of the heart

out of the mix--

spiritual fingers crossed

coyly behind the back—

Didn’t work out too well for her.

Why then would I think I can

Engage in such duplicity?

IV.

Geoffrey Chaucer’s merry crowd

as they were Canterbury bound

Didn’t know what they’d bargained for.

Told their stories, laughed and cried

Set their feet upon the Way

Ate the food that pilgrims eat

Saw the sights that pilgrims see

In a very English way

Found that they had learned to pray

by doing pilgrim things each day.

V.

Did our pilgrimage

make us sage?

We took the flights

We saw the sights

Jerusalem at night

Full moon rising bright

Rainbow in Galilee

rising from inland sea…

Cranes and gulls in flight

Herod’s ancient might

Jerusalem’s walls

Banyas’ falls

Nuns in baseball caps

Girls in head scarves

Boys with real machine guns

Old men in conversation

Too many salesmen in

Too many shops with

Too many T-shirts and

Too many pashminas.

Very many churches

Very many children

Very many pomegranates

Very ancient stone walls

VI.

Unphotographed:

A Wall

An ugly fence

A pile of riot gear

A crackling tension

Haman hung upon a rope

Visit coming from a pope

Yad Vashem and Western Wall

Che Guevera at the grocery stall

Little girl who runs and leads

Twenty grown pastors through the streets

Sits in silence on the bus

as soldiers board—she doesn’t fuss

Pilgrim eyes don’t look away

Pilgrims watch, pilgrims pray

bearing witness by our presence,

Knowing, though, we miss the essence

VII.

I went to Israel,

it was swell.

What did I take

home?  I’m more awake.

I went to Palestine

It is fine.

I think its pain

is becoming mine.

I went to the Holy Land.

It was grand.

I came home to Holy Land

on which I stand.

                                                                                    --June 16, 2009