In the Womb with Christ

Praying at the site of the Annunciation.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”
‭‭John‬ ‭1‬:‭1‬, ‭14‬

This story is the part I’ve contemplated the most from my time in Israel. During my time there, I chose God’s will and trusted in His guiding hand more than I ever had before, and here are perhaps the most honorary steps He has ever lead me through.

I mentioned previously that I was visiting Nazareth. While there, a friend and I visited the Church of the Annunciation, where the angel Gabriel had began the story of our salvation with the proclamation, “Hail Mary, full of Grace.”

We checked out the church built on the spot, the church of St. Joseph built atop the ruins of his workshop, and then visited the grotto beneath the church. Here, I saw a sign explains how to receive an indulgence as a Pilgrim of Hope, and took it as a sign that this was an opportunity to really align myself with God again.

After some sightseeing, my friend wanted to go back to Haifa and go out on the town, and anyone that knows me knows I have a hard time passing up a drink, but I wanted to go to Mass later that evening at the Church of the Annunciation, and so I stayed in town.

When I walked back to the Church, everyone was leaving, and I thought I had missed the service. However, it turns out they were gathered inside to invite the new Guardian of the Holy Land to Nazareth for the first time since he was sworn in.

Before Mass, there was an Arabic happy hour full of coffee and baked goods and sweets, and here I even was able to meet the Custos after seeing his initiation weeks early at the Holy Sepulcher. An honor it was to be in his company.

What followed was a Holy Mass, which I followed with confession, and on my way out of church I was invited by a couple of German folk back later for a procession of lights to honor the Custos. Here, I accepted.

As I walked back into town to grab a Coke before the procession, I was struck with an air of Grace, a truly unique feeling to me, and joy filled me wholly. Each step was lighter, a smile became my default expression; I knew the Lord had blessed me.

Returning for the procession was dimming because although I was pleased to be there, no one spoke English. A mix of Hebrew and Arabic and Italian and miscellaneous other global languages caught my ear, but none English. To avoid such awkward standing around, I went to smoke a cigarette.

On the outside of the church gate was a slanted road with concrete pillars to protect the church’s outside walls from potential car crashes. One of these pillars was at a 45 degree angle and was crumbling at the top. “Dang, that shhhh——p,” I uttered, my mouth physically zipped to prevent me from continuing speaking. I gathered my composure and tried again, “Dang, that thing is tilted,” I uttered, stunned a little. I knew God had shut me up to prevent me from cursing at such a holy site.

I went to the restroom to freshen up and walked back into the crowd, trying to find someone who spoke English. I saw two American looking guys, I figured one of as Hispanic and another some sort of Caucasian American; they were Italian and German monks. I walked down the stairs and approached them, as they were standing near the church, and after we exchanged names, the German one said, “you really speak English?”

“I’m an English teacher,” I remarked. Their faces lit up, “We’ve been looking for you!” They grabbed me by the hand and walked me over to an Italian man and woman, who were dressed in all black except for a red pin bearing the Vatican Coat of Arms.

After learning I was an English teacher, they, too, led me by the hand and exclaimed, “Where have you been? We could use you!”

They placed me behind two middle-easterner monks on the left side of the staircase and handed me prayer cards for the Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory Be. They told me I would be helping with the procession by praying in English as we marched into the grotto. Surrounded by monks and nuns, I eagerly awaited the procession.

It began with the Vatican officials cueing the musical ensemble to start playing, then the Custos walked up the stairs and was standing beside me as he made initial declarations, followed by the beginning of the prayers.

After the first two decades of the rosary were prayed in Hebrew and Arabic, an Indian monk began to pray in English. I read the responsorial, and my Protestant roots came out when I concluded the Our Father with “For the kingdom and the power are yours, now and forever,” despite that being additional for the Catholics. It seems God would shut up my curses but would allow me to stumble into praising Him often this day.

My throat was dry from being, well, trekking through Israel in the middle of August, and the mic was flat, but no matter how I sounded, I was honored to pray on behalf of the Vatican and live-streamed throughout the world. The Vatican officials let us know afterwards that even the Pope was tuning in for this once-a-decade event!

We proceeded into grotto once more, and the prayers and music and declarations continued in the very spot where Mary was approached by Gabriel. Surrounded by holy men and women in robes, being underground looking up at the pointed ceiling with a small sunroof at the very top, I had this revelation that shuttered over my entire being that I was in the womb where “…to all who received Him, who believed in His name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.”
‭‭John‬ ‭1‬:‭12‬-‭13‬

Since my Confirmation this Summer, I’ve had a number of encounters with God, but this perhaps was the closest I’ve felt to Him.

It was He who showed Himself to me through the Eucharist, He who called me to Israel, He who repeatedly delayed my trip according to His timing, He who led me to circumcise my heart to embody Charity, He who made me realize that I could not love because of my sin, and to therefore repent, and it was He who guided me to form myself into someone who could accept Him, resulting in this indulgence and procession this day. My flesh according to His Word.

Being able to pray in the spot where Mary was approached and the Lord initiated His incarnation was the cherry on top of the day. The rest of the weekend I could barely sleep knowing I had encountered the Lord so intimately.

During a post-procession socialization, I was speaking with the Vatican officials, who were interested in the purpose for my pilgrimage to Israel, and referred me to the Office of the Custos in Jerusalem. More on that in a later post.

Contemplating this experience has been a challenge for me in that it seems so miraculous to experience God so closely, to know He was at my side, holding my hand, but it’s a good challenge, for it was only with a spirit receptive to the Lord that I was able to follow Him to such awesome places. May this be an everlasting challenge in my life.