All united in the great family of the Church

PILGRIMAGE TO THE HOLY LAND – 29 JULY TO 13 AUGUST 2019

When Fr Ferran told us he wanted us to go on pilgrimage through the Holy Land, many of us were filled with an excitement we couldn’t contain. Being able to visit the land of our Lord, following in the footsteps of his mother through the Palestinian desert, was an idea that moved us deeply and that, without a doubt, we wanted to put into practice from minute one. The preparation wasn’t easy, but the effort of all the pilgrims, and also the prayers of our families and friends, made possible what is surely, for many, the journey of their lives.

Once we had got through the various security checks at Tel Aviv airport, a coach took us to the convent of the Sisters of Nazareth, where we spent the first night, and the next day, accompanied by our sherpa, Pedro Judez, we set off on a route that would take us to Bethlehem a week later. Besides Pedro, we were in good company on this trip: on the one hand, Fr Pedro Narbón came with us, as the pilgrimage was made together with his parish, Santa Maria del Mar in Palamós; and, on the other, Simón, a Palestinian Catholic who was our back-up car while we walked through Palestine, because he wasn’t allowed into Israel. It was funny to see how Simón, while the minarets in the area recited the Arabic prayers over their loudspeakers, prayed the rosary, playing it in the car at full volume and arguing that, if they could, he wasn’t going to be outdone.

The route was hard. The heat and the dryness of the Palestinian land scorched you and, at first, it took the group a while to adapt to the conditions we were walking in. One thing that helped us a lot to cope with this was the kindness of the Palestinian people. Wherever they took us in, or if they saw you walking down the street, many offered us water, something to eat or a place to rest. It was striking to see the affection and generosity with which we were treated by those who, in a way, seemed to have less but gave you everything, imitating the words of Christ in the Gospel.

In this context I remember with special fondness the day we arrived in Zababde, where a half-full swimming pool was waiting for us which, as tired as we were, was more than enough. What made it so special was finding out later that the man in charge of the place where we slept had spent three days filling the pool with the water the tanker lorry brought him, as there is no running water in Palestine and it was brought in by lorry, and he used it all exclusively for our benefit and enjoyment, keeping practically none for himself. We felt very warmly welcomed by the Palestinian people throughout the 140 km of our pilgrimage.

Arriving in Jerusalem was another of the moments that moved us all the most. After days of long trekking, we finally caught sight of the holy city beyond the wall. We crossed the border at a military checkpoint, and some of us still wonder how Álvaro was allowed through with the penknife he always carries. Beyond the city walls we still had a stretch to go, but at midday we arrived, exhausted but happier than ever, at the Holy Sepulchre, in the heart of the old city of Jerusalem. The silence inside allowed us to draw near, with the calm and peace we needed so much, to the hole where the cross of Christ was placed and to the Holy Sepulchre, places where we prayed for a while, resting in the arms of the Lord. One by one, we pilgrims queued to kiss the hole where the wood of the cross had stood, while Fr Ferran whispered a few words in each of our ears for us to meditate on in personal prayer.

After praying for a while, we had a bit of free time and went to rest, aware that we still had some way to go before reaching Bethlehem. A couple of days later we arrived at the place where our Lord was born, and our route came to an end. We had accompanied Our Lady from her native Nazareth to the place where she gave birth to the Saviour of the world. Nor did we forget St Joseph along the way: he often came up in conversation and we wondered how he must have lived through those moments. In the grotto of the Nativity, today a basilica in the care of the Franciscan friars, we celebrated Holy Mass with the readings and prayers of Midnight Mass at Christmas, remembering the birth right where it took place. It was a curious thing, coming out of Mass, to meet a Catalan priest who was accompanying a group of Brazilians around the holy places. He told us he was a close friend of Archbishop Omella and that they wrote to each other quite often by post. He promised to pray for our intentions and asked us to do the same for his while we were in the Holy Land.

With the route over, it was time to give a warm welcome to our parents, who were coming to spend a week of visits, sightseeing and prayer with us. We surprised them by picking them up at Tel Aviv airport, and from there we went back to Nazareth. With them we visited the main holy places, walked the road the disciples took to Emmaus, climbed to the top of Mount Tabor and had a beautiful prayer vigil with people from all over the world in the Garden of Olives. I remember that, in the silence of the night, as we followed the crowd in procession behind the monstrance, our group struck up songs of praise in Spanish, and some Latin Americans who were also praying with us at the vigil joined in. I found it very touching to think that, after all, wherever we come from, we are all united in the great family of the Church.

Saying goodbye wasn’t easy when we got back to Barcelona. We were leaving behind many hours shared walking, talking, laughing, playing… but, above all, joining Our Lady and Jesus in prayer in their home, in their land. We all came home having followed in the footsteps of Christ on earth and convinced that the pilgrimage wasn’t over, that in fact it would never be over, because we wanted to keep following in his footsteps day after day.