Holy Saturday - Holy Fire - Holy Smoke!

We found out, Friday evening, that our permits for admission to the Holy Fire event in the Holy Sepulcher had been cancelled.  When all the details came to light, it turned out not to be a bad thing.  My assumption was that it took place at night, and the listing in the course outline, called for our presence at St. James Armenian Cathedral at 8:00 am in the morning.  It seemed probable to me that there were going to be two Holy Fire events, one with the Armenias, and one with the Greeks at the Holy Sepulcher.  I was wrong! The Holy Fire celebration nowadays takes place in the daytime for security reasons, and our rendezvous with the Armenias was to insure entry, as the Armenians have priority of ownership in the Holy Sepulcher.  As a result of some violence in the Old City the day before, the Israeli police and security establishment became anxious and withdrew many of the permits they had issued, including those for St. George's.  Some people from our group decided to try to get in anyway, and found the way completely closed and barred to them.  In retrospect, being locked into the Holy Sepulcher for five or six hours, standing, with nothing else to do except wait for the Greek Archbishop to emerge from the Edicule with a flaming torch doesn't sound like a particularly spiritually enriching experience.  So, any disappointment I had was short lived.

We were offered some alternate experiences: to go to the "Garden Tomb," a site beloved by protestant and evangelical types or take free time.  The Garden Tomb offers 1. A garden, and 2. A tomb from well before the 1st century A.D., but has no validity as "the tomb from which Jesus rose from the dead."  It came about because 19th century Protestant (romantics and pietists mostly, certainly not historians or archaeologists) didn't like the traditional site being in the hands of the Orthodox and Catholics.  So, they set about to find "the true location" of the tomb.  They found this tomb and some evidence of a garden, and imagined a nearby rock formation to look like a skull, and declared their findings to be the authentic site, rather than the one which tradition and archaeology have identified and venerated since the fourth century.  I will say this.  If you want to see a tomb that looks like the one pictured in your Sunday school books, The Garden Tomb is your best choice.  If you prefer authenticity, then the contents of the Holy Sepulcher take the prize.

I had a nice time reintroducing myself to the Garden Tomb, and I was amazed at the number of church groups who were there holding services.  As a rule, the Garden Tomb is pretty quiet and has smarmy quasi religious music piped in.  This day, the din from guitars and sound systems pretty well overpowered any peaceful thoughts or intentions.  Those evangelicals .... always so willing to share their enthusiasm.

Our supplemental afternoon activity turned out to be a real stroke of luck.  We were permitted to be at the Russian Orthodox Chapel when the Holy Fire arrived from the Holy Sepulcher after 2:00 pm.  There is a practice, here, of distributing the Holy Fire to as many churches as possible.  At the conclusion of the Holy Fire service in the Holy Sepulcher, runners head out in various directions, some even to the airport, to carry the Holy Fire to outlying locations where Orthodoxy predominates.  We arrived at the Russian Chapel at just the right moment.

While my Russian is not what it needed to be, it was fairly easy to follow the Bishop as he read some scripture and delivered an impassioned sermon that I'm sure had something to do with Easter and/or the resurrection.  The music, as always in the Russian church, was phenomononal ... celebratory without being gushy or sentimental.

We left the delivery of the Holy Fire service feeling like we had not missed anything, and had certainly avoided the much more uncomfortable Holy Fire service at the Holy Sepulcher.  Comfort, I believe, takes on a much higher priority with age and I am willing to say that I have arrive there.

The Easter Vigil service at the Cathedral of Saint George the Martyr was very familiar in form, being from the American Prayer Book.  Local variations included the usual bilingual acommodations and the service was much shorter than most of us are accustomed to.  Yet, the essentials were all there, and we closed out the day very much satisfied.  It was different than we had expected, but, in actuality better!

Friday - Goodness and Not so Goodness.

Every course at St. George's has a time set aside for doing the Stations of the Cross in situ, so to speak.  Inevitably, it is at 6:00 am, near the end of the course, and I have done it once, and never again!  The idea of getting an early start to avoid the distraction of crowds sounds good on paper.  But, all the stations are closed until the "owners" who are almost all Moslem, decide to open them, if they ever do, when it is convenient for them, usually around 9:00 or 10:00.  Additionally, some past professor or dean, wrote his/her own version of the Stations of the Cross.  If I had to guess, I would guess that he/she was a graduate of EDS because this version is all about contemporary issues like man's inhumanity to man, environmental concerns, world and local politics and what have you.  This is the version which gets used.  Personally, I've concluded that the placement of the traditional Stations of the Cross are wrong and their location has more to do with crowd management than replicating the path of our Lord on his way to the cross.  There are several traditional devotions, including traditional Anglican scripts, which seek to bring participants into a closer identification with Jesus and, I think they are the ones that are appropriate.  That is a long way of saying that I blew off Staions of the Cross in the old city, again, and slept in.  Otherwise, I was pretty well behaved through out the day.

The Good Friday service at Saint George's Cathedral was recognizably from the Prayer Book, with local variations.  All the essentials: Good Friday lections; sermons/meditations; Veneration of the Cross; 

Solemn Collects; Mass of the Presancttified; abrupt conclusion; all present and accounted for.  I thought that I was the only person to have remembered that Good Friday is a fast day, only to discover that several other people considered themsrelves "fasting" if they didn't eat meat, in other words, like it was any other Friday.  I call that abstinence.  I suppose that kind of thinking is far more wide spread than I would like to know.  For myself, I held true to the tradition of no food until after sundown, and feel self righteously proud for having done so in the presence of so many slackers!

The truly new experience of the day was attending another Armenian service observing the burial of Christ.  Held at St. James' Cathedral, it was another musical tour de force, this time with the entire seminary chorus in place.  In reflection, I would describe it as an extended Evensong with Good Firday elements such as a beautifully decorated "grave" as a focal point.  Looking at a translation of the texts, I noticed a continuing plea for peace as a dominant theme, and who would not applaud that.  However, two solid hours of Armenian liturgical music while standing, no matter how beautiful and executed, is still a lot!  Since I have no other pictures for the day, I'll include a few from this service.

It's All About Foot Washing.

Perhaps my focus has been directed toward a different understanding of the importance of Maundy Thursday, because I have always thought that the most important thing about the observances of this day was the Institution of the dominical sacrament of the Lord's Supper.  Of the three Holy Thursday services I attended today, only the Anglican one celebrated the Eucharist.  Of course, it also included foot washing as the focus, but at least it's wasn't the central act of worship!

The Maundy Thursday experience in Jerusalem began with a walking trip to the Ethiopian Orthodox Church foot washing ceremony on the roof of the Church of the Holy Sepulchur.  Our accompanying lecturer told of a time when the Ethiopians had a place within the church, but politics and luck turned against them, at some point, and they lost out to the Copts and were relegated to the roof.  I'm sure that was seen as a come down.  But from the perspective of worship space, the roof serves them very well.  There was a very large turn out for the celebration with many highly decorated clergy and four bishops, including the Archbishop in attendance.

Ethiopian services can be very hard to follow, and this was no exception.  The prominant figures sat up on a dias sort of thing, and the number of people seated there increased substantially through out the service.  It may have been an intended part of the service, but it looked more like dignitaries were seated as they arrived.  Liturgical time in many of the eastern churches is pretty flexible.  At one point there was even a kind of procession of additional chairs as the number of participants out grew the places for them to sit. 

Several different chants accompanied the service, and in Ethiopian fashion usually involved two or three singers, each contributing his own chant line, not necessarily the same one, and not necessarily even in the same key.  It is an unusual sound to the western ear.  At one point, a large book was brought in and passages were read, each with its own chant response.  Eventually something was blessed, and getting some of it, became the focus of all the gathered faithful.  It turns out to be a plant which is associated with cleanliness, and getting a piece of it brings the hint of spiritual purity.  At any rate, while I saw no foot washing, it was by far the most colorful and unpredictable service I have witnessed this trip.

We had arrived around 10:30 for a service which began sometime later.  When it actually began is open to some debate.  However, the two things which aren't debatable are the the service lasted until after 1:00, and forced us into literally eating a lunch on the run, so that we could make our next appointed service at the Armenian Cathedral of Saint James the Less and the unseasonable heat up on the roof which made such a long service uncomfortable and slightly dangerous for some people.

If the Ethiopians seem rather relaxed and casual, the Armenians, through past experience, are the exact opposite!  Decorum is strictly enforced.  No shorts, no sleeveless shirts, no crossing of legs, and I'm sure there are others which I am unlikely to violate, so I'm not aware of them.

The Armenian service was dignified and accompanied throughout by beautiful chanting, provided by a men's choir, made up in part from the students attending the seminary located in the complex.  At a predictable point in the service, after the reading, the bishop left the sanctuary and was reverted in "foot washing apparel" at which time he washed the feet of the other clergy who were with him, accompanied by more glorious chanting.  At the end, he returned to his episcopal splendor for a blessing and dismissal to the assembly.  A very different experience than with the Ethiopians.

The last service of the day was at Saint George's Cathedral, with the liturgy with which we are familiar, from the Book of Common Prayer.  As with nearly all services at St. George's, it was bilingual, some in English, some in Arabic, with the sermon in both.  At the conclusion of the service, however, rather than going to an altar of repose, we "processed" to the Garden of Gethsemane for a few scripture readings and  some reflective time.  It was a most intense feeling to actually be in the Garden of Gethsemane on Maundy Thursday, contemplating the events which took place there 2,100 years ago.

From the college, the route is entirely down hill.  While the rest of the participants seemed happy to remain a while, and to walk back (up hill all the way) I chose to take a taxi.  Had I attempted to walk, I afraid I'd have never made it.  I arrive back at the college relaxed with time for a cup of tea before bed.  In mature years, one should learn to take it easy at the end of a long day.  After all, there is nothing to prove any more to anyone but oneself.

A New Look at The Galilee.

Day five  began early and lasted until late.  The intent was to explore sites in The Galilee where there were reports of post resurrection appearances.  It was a new take for me, even though I had visited nearly every site in the past, for some reason, I had associated them entirely with Jesus' ministry and never considered them as post resurrection sites.

Going up the Jordan road the arrival in the Galilee is always a pleasure, after the barrenness of Judea and the rocky hills of Samaria, the Galilee spreads out as a lush, green invitation to an alternative experience of the Holy Land.  Our first stop was at the site of the multiplication of loaves and fishes which contains some Byzantine mosaics which have miraculously survived the centuries.

While there is no record of a post resurrection sighting at this particular spot, only a few yards away to the north, is the site commemorating the breakfast on the shore story from the Gosple of John.  This site is particularly celebrated by the Roman Catholics as the moment that the resurrected Jesus handed over the responsibility of the Church to St. Peter.

As I said, this site is particularly important to Roman Catholics.  Pope Paul VI, I think, visited it during his reign and I saw this Mosaic which commorates that visit.  Regardless of its intension, when I looked at it, I saw two confused fisherman from the 1st century, puzzled by what the old man in the strange clothes was up to.  I blame it on my innate impiety.  You can form your own opinion.

The prevailing tradition records another post resurrection appearance on the Mount of the Beatitudes, when Jesus issues the Great Commission, "Go out into the world, baptizing" etc.  I have to admit that it is difficult seeing these sites as isolated spots with a small gathering of people.  First of all, the stories themselves usually involve crowds, and the crowds we are encountering during this Holy Week adventure argue against anything small, quiet or intimate, which, I think, is more representative of the final appearances of the risen Lord.  Ultimately we always end up relying on faith and imagination.

Since we were so close, there was a stop at Capernaum, which required a change in focus back to the active ministry of Jesus.  However, there is a post resurrection link in that Caperaum remained a center for earliest Christianity in continuity with Jesus' life.  A site venerated for centuries as Peter's house, still draws much attention.  The ruins show clearly that the original house constructed on basalt fieldstone, was fortified by an external wall, then surrounded in the third or fourth century by at hexagonal church, and later by an even larger hexagonal church building.  Today, it rests under a modern Franciscan church that has a glass floor through which one can look directly down into the pile of stones that is Peter's house.

There was one new experience for me.  We were given access to the Orthodox Caperaum which is adjacent to the Franciscan one, but requires a different entry point.  I have seen the top of this church before, but this was the first opportunity to visit the site itself.  It is a very nice typically Orthodox chapel covered in Icons, in this case of a recent application.  While we were there, one of the peacocks which seem to have free run of the place, decided to fly up to one of the towers, giving me a photo that I happily pass on to you.

Judgement and Condemnation - Redux

One of the Gospel readings for the beginning of Holy Week concentrates on the "Cleansing of the Temple," episode.  In harmony with that, we began day four at the Western Wall of the Temple Mount with a revisualizaiton of the Temple and its environs during Jesus' time.  Since it was the second day of Passover, we were sharing the space with many Jewish pilgrims and locals who were marking their own observances.

We moved forward in space and time to the site of Jesus imprisionment beneath what is now the splendid church, St. Peter in Gallicantu, built on or near the House of Caiaphas, the High Priest, villain of the Passion stories.

As the name suggests, the commoration here is of Peter's denial of his relationship with Jesus, hence St. Peter at Cockcrow.  The rather substantial Byzantine ruins, the relationship to Ciaiphas and the alledged prison cell are just sidebars to the dedicatorial intention. 

Current thinking replaces time-honored tradition by placing the trial of Jesus before Pilate, not at the Antonio Fortress, but at the Herodian palace now incorporated into the Jaffa Gate.  This is erroneously named The Tower of David, even though it was constructed at least 800 years after David's death, an ancient attestation to the "Washington slept here" phenomenon, no doubt.

By far the most interesting archeological explorations of the day were in the basement of the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer and the Church/convent of Alexander Nevsky, both of which contain remnants of the wall that surrounded the city in Jesus time.  The Nevsky church has the threshold and part of the sides of the Judgement Gate, through which Jesus was lead to Calvary, outside the city walls.  The pavement on which the good sister is standing represents the cardio, or main street of Jesus time, and the steps represent the location of the entrance to The Anastasia, the great 4th century church that Helena built.  The present Church of the Holy Sepulchur is approximately the back half of what was the original.  Time and multiple conquests take their toll!

The next stop was the Church of the Holy Sepulchur which was packed, beyond belief.  This structure incorporates the site of the crucifixion and burial of Jesus, or the last five Stations of the Cross.  I'm pretty sure that past blogs have pictures of scenes from the Holy Sepulchur, but I know that there are no pictures of the recently restored Edicule which houses the tomb.  The millions of dollars spent on this restoration are obvious when one notices the fresh colors, and more importantly the absence of the ugly steel supports that have been holding it up for the 200 years.  Thanks to the Greeks, the Latins, and the Armenians, and numerous individual donors for resorting this holy place to a site inspiring veneration.  The lighting is terrible in the HS, but perhaps this picture will do for now.

 

Wither Thou Goest, I Will Go.

The course description for Easter Fire promises, among other things, an experience of identification with the person of Jesus, and especially in the last days of his life.  To that end, day 3 was a sort of recollection of the beginning of his active ministry.  So, it was off to the Jordan River, to the approximate site of Jesus' baptism by John.  I say approximate because no one can say for sure where this even took place.  The traditional site is in the Kingdom of Jordan, and there are Byzantine ruins there to attest to the longevity of its claim to authenticity.  Travelling from Israel to Jordan is rediculously complicated.  So, the Israeli Army allows people who want to visit the location nearest Jesus' baptism site to traverse their mine field (really! a mine field!) and reach the West Bank of the Jordan River.  It's a very functional place with virtually no religious symbolism at all.  Many, many people come there and are inspired to step into the river and even immerse themselves as a renewal of their own baptism, and there are some who are actually baptized with friends and family and clergy all in evidence.  Being proper Anglicans, we settled for a Renewal of Baptismal Vows, straight out the Prayer Book, and a sprinking with polluted water delivered via an dubiously acquired olive branch.  Completely satisfactory in my book!

Scripture tells us that Jesus was "driven by the Spirit into the desert for 40 days," so, our next stop was at the Mount of the Temptation, a desolate mound at the eastern end of the great Judean desert with many visible caves in which to fast and be tempted.  The entire pile is crowned, of course, with a Greek Monestary into which there is no admittance.  We were however, given the opportunity to experience one of the oldest desert monestaries in the Judean wilderness, The Monestary of Saint Gerasimos, a fourth century hermit/monk who pulled a thorn from a lion's foot and made him a pet, and eventually became the head of a semi-erimitical larva which survives, today.  It is truly an amazing place.  In the middle of the bleakest desert erupts this oasis of flowering beauty, most cordial hospitality and impressive Orthodox worship and piety.  Best part of the day!

This is Saint Gerasimos from my growing collection of icons.

As we were already on the outskirts of Jericho, a stop at the sycamore tree which Zaccheus (sp?) climbed (which is just possibly a survivor from the 19th century, certainly no older), an outdoor lunch which was punctuated by frequent announcements and calls to pray from a nearby minaret, an additional stop at another desert Monestary which we could only observe across a very wide and deep wadi, a trip back to the college, and a decent dinner at the Guest House, completed the memory records of the day.

More so than the "religious" sites, I always find myself slightly awed by Jericho.  Here is the world's oldest continually inhabited city.  Archaeological investigations verify that it was already a sizable city 8,500 years ago, and today, it is one of the agricultural mainstays of Isael.  Since it is next to the Dead Sea, it is also the lowest city on earth, and that affects its climate substantially, dates, bananas and others tropical crops thrive with the intense heat and adequate water supply from both the River Jordan and numerous springs.   If I were planning a course, I'd forget the ersatz religious sites, in preferrence to a better understanding of what is going on archaeologically in this pre-historical place.  By the way, they have found some collapsed walls at Jericho, but the evidence clearly shows that they were collapsed centuries before Joshua and his trumpet blowing gang showed their faces.  Maybe they tried to take credit for something with which they had nothing to do.  Trump's antics are nothing new.

When Jesus did this, he rode!

As we were entering hour three of our re-enactment of the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, one of my companions, who I'm pretty sure, was feeling the strain less than I, offered the title observation, which struck me as both hillarously funny and insightful.

Palm Sunday, this year will be indelibly etched into my mind.  I shall not have another like it.  We began the morning with our familiar Palm Sunday liturgy and the Blessing of Palms in the college front garden and a procession into Saint George's Anglican Cathedral.

Bishop Suhail Dawani celebrated and preached in Arabic and English, and the church was packed!  it was a great start to a very special day.

A quick lunch at the Guest House, and we were off to Bethphage for the start of the procession from The Mount of Olives into Jerusalem.  Our plans were altered when Israeli police, responding to the bombing of the Coptic Church in Egypt, pushed the safety perimeter surrounding Bethphage another mile back, which meant disembarking from the bus a good two miles from the staring point.  This turned out be be bad news for me, since we had to hurry to reach the starting area, and my hurry ain't what it used to be.  So, I was already feeling some physical stress before the procession even began.

I should pause briefly here to explain that, although by scripture, Jesus began his journey from Bethany  the disciples went to Bethphage for the donkey, or two donkeys depending on which gospel you read)

Bethany is now cut off from the traditional way to Jerusalem by the security wall which the Israelis imposed some years ago.  So, today, Bethphage has to be to starting point.

Gathering at the Church complex at Bethphage was an eye-opener in itself.  The diverse assortment of people and groups, not to mention an offical donkey lent an aire of festivity and celebration which I would not automatically assign to Palm Sunday, even the Triumphal part.  After all, we all know what happens next!

Having failed to do much advanced research, I assumed that we would be processing down The Mount of Olives, which we eventually did, but, from Bethphage one first has to walk up The Mount of Olives, and a steep and difficult walk it is, especially when accompanied by several thousand people, and, remember, I was already feeling the strain.

Miles of marchers, singing, dancing, chanting.  Crowds of by-standers shouting at people who were marching and offering vocal encouragement.  Some groups carried whole amplifier systems, and many guitars and tambourines along with a few brass instruments.  Oh, it is a sight and sound to behold.  Here, I think, a picture is required, maybe two.

There are any number of compelling memories that I will retain concerning this experience.  How exihilarating a feeling it was to be in the midst of so many diverse, but intentional people, all celebrating, one way or another, their faith and common calling as disciples;  how such a massive crowd could show such courtesy and co-operation with no external force controlling them;  how many young people turned out to show their faith, and how endlessly enthusiastic and energetic they remained to the very end!  How obstacles and delays just became excuses for more singing and dancing, and thwarted any signs of impatience or irritation;  how many ways there are to carry, fold, weave and decorate palm leaves;  that people bring small children in strollers and various kinds of carriers for an ordeal like this; that people who are old and crippled seem to be in better shape than I am.  And so on......

One last observation: A large majority of the pilgrims were Palastinian Christians or Arab Christians from other countries sympathetic to the Palastinian cause, and many carried Palastinian flags just like other national groups carried their flags and ensigns.  When the procession reached to Lions Gate into Jerrusalem, the Israeli police confiscated all the Palastinian flags and symbols before the marchers were allowed to enter the city to complete the procession.  It is that kind of senseless discrimination that keeps tensions at such an elevated level in Israel.  One always has to wonder, to what end?

Day 1 - Mob 1

I had a safe and unremarkalble flight to Israel.  Austrian Airlines was lovely, but for me, there is no way to make these long flights pleasant.  That Austrian Air has not been lured into flying the ubiquitous jumbo jets, helped a great deal.  Immagine my surprise at being seated on a plane that sat only five across instead of the eleven or twelve across which I remembered so vividly from the flight to Peijing last fall, and it was an aisle seat, too.  The transfer in Vienna was so routine as to be boring, and the arrival in Tel Aviv remarkablly untroubled, with smooth sailing through Israeli customs, probably, but not certainly helped by the previous Israeli visas already stamped in my passport.  Even the sherut ride to Jerusalem went better than preivious journies. I somehow merited being the second person dropped off instead of the very last, as in previous encounters.

The 4:30 pm arrival at Saint George's was made so much sweeter by the greeting I received from Azzam Bassa, the Housekeeping Super, who welcomed me back, snatched my luggage and had me ensconced in my room in minutes.  A quick unpack and shower, and I was ready for the first event of the course, dinner at Saint Geoorge's Guest House, followed by the usual "orientation" event, overseen by Bashara Khoury, all round fixer, arranger, guide and welcoming old friend from previous courses.  I was disappointed that economical considerations had caused the Saint George's kitchen to close, meaning that all meals would be served at the Guest House instead of the dining room, but I was quickly reassured by the sight of Joseph, last name unknown, who has moved over (up?) to become the chef at the Guest House, which means that the same familiar middle eastern cuisine will be a memorable part of this trip, also.

I fell exhausted into bed at 9:00 pm, and almost slept through breakfast on Saturday, but managed to eat enough to to sustain me through the first of the course-scheduled liturgies.  It was the Orthodox celebration of the Raising of Lazarus.  Our participation was to be part of the procession, in modern day Bethany, from the enormous and jam-packed mass at the local church to the "actual" tomb.

   The procession to the Tomb was orderly, if not particularly pious, and the arrival at its narrow, nearly inaccessable entrance was truely joyful and predictably congested as many of the participants tried to gain entrance to the Tomb as the proper act of conclusion for the celebration.  Thankfully, I had been in Lazarus' Tomb on a previous trip, and felt no need to repeat the dauntingly steep and clostraphobic experience under such contested conditions.  I did find it somewhat amusing to see that there were two burly bouncers, regulating traffic into and out of the Tomb, a necessary precaution, I'm sure.  I think that I am unlikely to see such a sight, again, and I had to wonder what Lazarus would have  thought about so many people trying to get into the very death chamber from which he was miraculously and joyfully released.  What can I say, these thoughts come upon me, unbidden!

Returning to the College, I had time for a quick run into the old city, just to be reminded of the incredible vitality that is part of that experience.  A return visit to the Saint Anne's complex, which occupies the site of the Pools of Bethesda near the Lion Gate, brought back wonderful memories of previous visits.  Dinner in the Guest House, a very long, but interesting "seminar" with an indigenous Rabbi on the practices and meanings of Passover brought day 1 to a close.  This time I made it to 10:00 pm, before falling into bed, exhausted but satisfied!

How Ecumenical Can You Get!

Over a year ago, I became aware that Easter of 2017 was going to have a remarkable character,the main one being that the Orthodox and Western calendars line up together, which is infrequent if not rare.  Additionally, Passover also occurs in Holy Week which is bound to add a good deal of spiritual gravitas to the mix.  Also, Easter is fairly late this year, making Jerusalem weather far more predictable and hopefully more pleasant with winter completed.  My spiritual geek is most excited by the prospect of descending the Mount of Olives with a truely ecumenical crowd of witnesses, revisiting the "Upper Room" on Maundy Thursday, walking the "real" Stations of the Cross on Good Friday, and being present in the Church of the Holy Sepulchur when the Greek Patriarch of Jerusalem emerges from the tomb to announce" He is Risen" in Greek, of course, which I have never learned to say, let along write. I'm not sure that it is possible to experience a spiritual overload, but I am willing to try!

This is enough for a first post from O'Hare.  More to come as these most holy of days run their course.