11/29/12 – Return to the Holy Sepulchre

Even I was impressed that our tour included a private mass at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.  It was celebrated in the smaller Franciscan Enclave on the North side of the Aedicule.  The Perfume of incense was thick in the air, but I’ve always loved that smell…it’s so ceremonial.  I stayed at the back while dad stood up front alongside Sr. Jocelyn.  There’s not much to say about celebrating a mass in that location, the holiest of all holy sites for Christians; at least there’s not much that I can say about it.  But dad would definitely need some time to gather his thoughts before attempting to describe it.  The mass was a fitting end to our visit to the holy city.

It looked like Garth from Wayne's World joined us

Mass over the group was already on their way back to the tour bus when Sr. Jocelyn asked who was carrying her guitar.  A number of people had been carrying it throughout the day and now everybody was expecting someone else to have it.  Since I had the youngest legs in the group I volunteered to sprint back to the chapel to get it…if it was still there.  The way I was running with my camera in one hand it must have looked like I had stolen it.

I slipped though the crowds like a hot knife through hummus and flung open the door of the Franciscan chapel.  To the one old lady that was sitting there quietly I probably looked like I was there to stop a wedding.  The guitar was lying on the front pew exactly where it had been left.

I met up with Sr. Jocelyn in the courtyard and gave her the thumbs up as I pointed to the guitar slung over my back.  As we walked through the narrow streets to meet the others at the Jaffa Gate we paused to look down.  During the last reconstruction they had found large stones from the original street.  As Sr. Jocelyn was pointing out the stones characteristic grooves, grooves that were intended to prevent horses and people from slipping, she tripped herself.  Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed her by the jacket quickly enough that no part of her other than her feet had touched the ground.  I’ll have you know that this is no easy task…this business of grabbing a falling person.  I learned that the hard way a few years back when walking with a co-worker.  We had taken a morning coffee walk and were headed back to the office breakfast in hand.  She told me that she was uneasy on her feet on account of her new shoes, or something like that, to which I replied “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall” or something similarly chivalrous.  Not ten seconds later, Debbie was sprawled out on the floor with yogurt and berries splattered in front of her.  When she got over the shock and rose to her feet she said “I thought you were going to catch me?”  “I didn’t realize that people could fall so fast” I replied.

Maybe my reaction times had gotten faster in the ensuing years; even Jerusalem’s shopkeepers were impressed.  I even heard a couple of “whoa”s from them.  I asked Sr. Jocelyn if she was OK.  She was, but I had saved her by yanking on her previously dislocated shoulder which just goes to show you that every heroic deed has its risks.  Despite the pain, Sr. Jocelyn was smiling.

Jaffa Gate