Agony and silence
Silence
The sun may have been beating down upon us but in the shadow of the Western Wall all things seem to fall away. Our Jewish brothers and sisters were coming before their day of work or school began to pray and lift up their prayers to God himself.
I love the Wall.
I love touching the foundation of my faith.
I sat watching and listening as so many others experienced the holiness of the Wall for the first time ever. In the listening and the watching I was drawn to a prayer book. I wanted to hold it and let the words of the Psalms flow upon me. I wanted to hold the words of Isaiah and remember the sacrifice that he was willing to make for the One that he so deeply believed in. I sat holding a prayer book filled with symbols in which I did not understand; in which I could not read and yet there in the midst of it all was God.
The Rock of my salvation was before me.
The Strong Tower has protected me from my enemies.
The Holy of Holies laid the foundation upon which I could build my life.
As I made my way to the Wall, to the Rock I could feel the tears welling up within me. The space was tight as people were pressed up against of the Wall. We were all gathered in community, in one body wanting something so powerful that all we could do was to use one another for support as we leaded into the mighty strength.
The stones are worn from the millions of pilgrims who make their way to let their prayers rise like insence.
We walked the Palm Sunday road into the garden. A garden of olive trees dot the landscape and there we heard Jesus ask us why we fall asleep. As the sweat fell from my skin the words 'his sweat fell like blood' pulled me into the words in which I have the privilege of speaking as I celebrate the sacrament of Holy Communion. The silence fell upon us over and over....the weight of the carrying the burdens in our own lives....we felt the disappoitments that we keep hidden away came pouring out.
The garden......the silence.....the agnoy
The sun may have been beating down upon us but in the shadow of the Western Wall all things seem to fall away. Our Jewish brothers and sisters were coming before their day of work or school began to pray and lift up their prayers to God himself.
I love the Wall.
I love touching the foundation of my faith.
I sat watching and listening as so many others experienced the holiness of the Wall for the first time ever. In the listening and the watching I was drawn to a prayer book. I wanted to hold it and let the words of the Psalms flow upon me. I wanted to hold the words of Isaiah and remember the sacrifice that he was willing to make for the One that he so deeply believed in. I sat holding a prayer book filled with symbols in which I did not understand; in which I could not read and yet there in the midst of it all was God.
The Rock of my salvation was before me.
The Strong Tower has protected me from my enemies.
The Holy of Holies laid the foundation upon which I could build my life.
As I made my way to the Wall, to the Rock I could feel the tears welling up within me. The space was tight as people were pressed up against of the Wall. We were all gathered in community, in one body wanting something so powerful that all we could do was to use one another for support as we leaded into the mighty strength.
The stones are worn from the millions of pilgrims who make their way to let their prayers rise like insence.
We walked the Palm Sunday road into the garden. A garden of olive trees dot the landscape and there we heard Jesus ask us why we fall asleep. As the sweat fell from my skin the words 'his sweat fell like blood' pulled me into the words in which I have the privilege of speaking as I celebrate the sacrament of Holy Communion. The silence fell upon us over and over....the weight of the carrying the burdens in our own lives....we felt the disappoitments that we keep hidden away came pouring out.
The garden......the silence.....the agnoy
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