ON THE ROAD TO EMMAUS

2. ON THE ROAD TO EMMAUS (1983)

I met Jesus once.  It was by the Sea of Galilee. He was an American Franciscan and his name was Brian McTiernan.

Let me Explain.

For near 6 weeks over Xmas and New Year, 1982-83  Br. Paul Dunstan and I enjoyed a grand tour through Asia, Middle East and Europe on our way to a Renewal course in Switzerland.

With high expectations, we arrived in the Holy Land in early new year. After the usual shemozzle at Tel Aviv airport we haggling with the “Cheroot” (taxi) driver we wound our way up through the night to a ghostly Holy City. I could scarcely breathe when I caught sight of the walls which could tell so many stories over the centuries. We found welcome with the White Sisters only five minutes outside those walls.

I barely slept that night. I was just so eager to enter through that Damascus Gate and explore the Holy City. Around 6 am (it was winter) I was surprised at the brightness outside. It just had to be sunrise, even though the moon was high and full. I crept out, well rugged up and was soon slipping through the great gate. A wide piazza opened which was totally deserted and a little eerie. But there was a light over to my right. I moved over to this small window I peered in. The aroma was near intoxicating for me. And there was the local baker, with his long handled paddle withdrawing these flat breads from the oven. I nearly swooned when it struck me they had been doing this same work, reaching back to Jesus’ time. What a start!                                                          

I started to explore. I plunged down a darkened street. Soon enough it was arched over and much darker. It narrowed even more, much to my alarm. I could barely see.  Suddenly, it hit me that this little venture could be dangerous. A knife in the ribs and wallet stolen flashed across my mind. Our hero was in near panic. Just at that stage, tripping down the alley towards me came this young girl. With a case in hand she was obviously on her way to school. It was like an angel sent to rescue this hapless pilgrim. Almost shamefacedly I about-turned and followed my “saviour” at a discreet distance. Across my mind came an appropriate scripture quote from Isaiah: “And a little child will lead them”. I was so relieved to stumble out into half light and headed down the hill to Gethsemane.

But I did not meet Jesus in Jerusalem. I would find him in his own country of Galilee.

The bus drive north to Tiberius was sobering. Military check points, the start of encroaching settlements on Palestinian land, looking like fortresses and the sad ruins of refugee camps well away from the road boded ill for the future.

Tiberius obviously, is a bustling tourist resort in the good seasons. When we arrived it was deserted. Wide pavements, with 100s of plastic-metal chairs around a piazza with a cold wind scuttling around with leaves and papers dancing, all looked somehow derelict or abandoned. We were able to find accommodation in the Scottish Hospice, overlooking the lake and quite near the remains of a crumbling fort, part of crusader fortification  But we had a problem. We lacked a good map and information about transport.  We needed to get ourselves along the lake to Capernaum and other places where Jesus carried out so much of his ministry.

“Let’s go down-town(!) and see if we can get some information” suggested Paul.

There were some splashes of sun which did little to liven up a wintry scene.  All shops seemed be shut for the season .But then we struck oil, or gold. There was a sort of “milk-bar” with one lone man with a beer in hand. Better still, he was reading the JERUSALEM POST- in English of course.

Even better, he was a large and friendly- looking friar Tuck in his distinctive brown habit.

We introduced ourselves a little hesitantly. He engulfed us with a big smile, a warm welcome and beers all around. And his name was Brian Mc Tiernan from ‘ good ol US of A’.

That was the start of an amazing, graced little chapter. We immediately tapped into this resource.

“Ian, how do we get up to Capernaum?”

“No problem, be my guests tomorrow for Mass at Tabigha”. He explained the route.

I knew that place well from my teaching scripture to my students in Solomon Islands. It was the scene of one of my favourite Gospel stories, which I had told with relish to so many boys.

So, next day, we took the rattly bus from Tiberius. After some 30 minutes  it headed up the hill and over to Cana and Nazareth and so we alighted.  We hiked along the lake some 30 minutes to the little church. Brian was there to greet us and Mass was all set up in the Church of the Primacy. This was such a sacred place. It was here, by this beach that Jesus startled the night-weary fishermen after the resurrection as he called

 “Young men, have you any fish?”

Then the miraculous catch, John’s

“It is the Lord” followed by a splash as Peter reacted and soon they were squatting around enjoying  freshly cooked fish, “not daring to ask Jesus who he was”.

And then the  momentous scene with Jesus “handing the keys” to Peter.

 Well,  here we were gathered around that same rock where this occurred, which extends through the wall of this simple church and forms the altar?

Around this altar gathered Fr Brian, a Br Michael and two Marists, Paul and I. There was never a Mass like it for me. That original group by the beach seemed to hover. And yes, there was the tang of cooking fish!

The event wasn’t over. There was so much more to come.

“It’s my birthday today” said Brian. “I want you to be my guests”.

Well, the Franciscans have been masters of hospitality for centuries. Their reputation was confirmed  over the next hour or two as we celebrated with so much thanks and rare enjoyment.

It still wasn’t over. Paul and I had come prepared for our own personal celebration of bread and wine. When Brian pointed out where the “Sermon on the Mount” had taken place we headed along the road and up the hill. It was breath- taking as we sat on the grass, looking down the green slope, over the glittering waters of the lake to a dark shore. Out came our liturgical supplies- a bottle of red wine and a flat “loaf” of bread. In turn we read each of the 4-5 accounts of the “Feeding of those 5,000” with reflection.  Breaking bread and drinking wine seemed especially appropriate, despite the pre-dins. We were in no hurry. Then we took “quiet time”. For an hour we roamed in solitary manner.  Little birds, flitting and trilling caught my attention and I wondered if these were the ones who inspired” Consider the birds” of Jesus. It was easy to imagine some of those stunning events of 2000 years ago.  I almost expected the Lord to come walking along the orange grove.

There was still more.                                                                            

Was it an inspiration or some induced craziness? A holy madness’ possibly.

We decided to experience fully this situation.  Even tho’ it was mid winter I was determined to take a dip in the lake. It was Fr Brian who directed us to a gushing fountain spilling from the three mETRE bank onto the shore. (John’s gospel mentions tis area as “a place of springs”)A quick shower in this warmer water and it seemed to allay the shock of the freezing water. I did it! No special insight struck me as I took a few strokes, but maybe I knew how Peter felt when he was floundering.

But I did bring back a sacred object from Tabigha as a keepsake.  A smooth stone fitting neatly in the palm has been part of my story for the last twenty years and more. I used to call it my “story stone” when giving workshops involving story telling. And along with other such “relics” it sits in a glass bowl as part of a prayer focus in my room. Yes, that stone, was surely there way back beyond Jesus’ time, could tell 1000 stories.

I wonder how many others have encountered Jesus in that wonderful Franciscan.