Israel through my lens
peter_asirvatham@yahoo.com

"Sorry Sir, we do not supply our guest rooms with newspapers." came the answer when I called the reception for The Jerusalem Post. I had been a reader of the online paper, and I thought what a good idea it'd be to collect The Jerusalem Post at Jerusalem, as a souvenir as well as read it. It was end of Day Five (30.04.2008) of our pilgrimage and we had just checked into The Jerusalem Gate Hotel, west Jerusalem. The room did not have any newspaper.
"Would The JPost be available at the lobby?" I tried my luck.
"No Sir" and the line went dead.
I dialed Binu's room, "Binu, would you like to go out for a walk with me?" Having some time on hand before dinner, I thought I'd step out for a walk. Before leaving Chennai, I had planned to purchase a book called "Israel through my lens" in Jerusalem, now I added The Jerusalem Post to that list.
"Sure, in five minutes." Binu replied. Binu and I had stepped out for a walk the previous evening as well, at Bethlehem, when I went looking for a local English Palestinian Newspaper. We had found none, what I bought as a souvenir was an English newspaper printed in Egypt dated a few days earlier.
I turned on the TV as I waited for Binu. Israel was getting ready for her 60th Independence Day celebrations a few days away - 14th May, and a TV commercial celebrating the event was playing on TV. I cursed myself for not having the camcorder with me to record it. Perhaps I'll find it in Youtube later, I thought. I've not been lucky till date.
"Is there a Newsstand or a Bookstore nearby, where I can buy The Jerusalem Post?" I asked the receptionist when Binu and I reached the lobby. "Down by the bus stand, Sir" came the reply. Before I could ask where the bus stand is, the man was on the phone answering another guest.
It was nippy outside, we pulled our jackets close and thrust our hands into our pockets. We generally loitered around, expecting to find the bus stand. Almost all the buildings we came across were built with stone bricks. The roads and pavements were clean, no litter anywhere. Traffic on the roads moved smoothly, not one motorist used the horn! Motorists slowed down or stopped to allow us cross the road where there was no signal, no one cursed us!
Among the people we saw on the roads, two distinctive groups stood out - Haredim and soldiers. Haredim are ultra-orthodox Jews, conspicuous in their black coats and hats. The soldiers were conspicuous too, in olive green uniforms, with their berets tucked into the left shoulder flaps and with their machine guns hung casually from the shoulders. The soldiers were a mixture of both sexes, they were off-duty, but still alert.
Not finding the bus stand nor the bookstore we returned to our hotel. We continued our search the next evening, after taking directions from the reception. We found a store that had The Jerusalem Post. Some more walking and we found the bus stand. Next to the bus stand was a shopping mall, outside of which were barricades, and everyone entering the mall had to walk through metal detector frames and security check. The people waiting for their turn to enter were patient, the only clue to their impatience, if any, was the number of cigarette butts littering the floor. Israel takes its security seriously, though suicide bombings by Palestinian terrorists had come down in Jerusalem, thanks to the "Wall of Separation" - a security barrier that Israel had built in some parts of The West Bank to monitor Palestinians' movement.
Inside the mall bright neon lights on shop-fronts attracted customers to step inside. A great many people were moving around everywhere, including soldiers, but minus Haredim. We window-shopped around the mall. I was happy to see a Canon 400D camera (same as mine) in one of the store windows. And yes we finally found a book store.
"Have you got the book "Israel through my lens," by David Rubinger"? I asked the man at the counter. He directed me to two store girls inside, I repeated my question to them. The girls blinked. "It's a coffee table book." I explained, "David Rubinger was a photographer with The Jerusalem Post and he covered the Six Day War of 1967." At the mention of the Six Day War, one of the girls smiled, went over to a book shelf and returned with a book. I was so happy and gave the girl a big thank you smile.
But soon my happiness turned to disappointment - the book was in Hebrew! To buy, or not to buy was the question that plagued my mind. The book would certainly make a great souvenir, but not a practical one.
Binu and I returned to the hotel, empty handed, save The Jerusalem Post, tucked under my arm.

Since my return from Israel, I've found the book on Indian online book stores. On more than a couple of occasions, I've been tempted to make the purchase. But my other mind has said, "You might be lucky in your next visit to Israel!"
God willing.

A photo-album of "Israel through my lens" - CLICK HERE

He died in my place

 Peter J. Asirvatham

 

I awoke with a start that momentous morning. I thought I heard someone call my name. As I lay on the cold hard floor of the prison my senses became alert.

    "Barabbas" I heard my name called out, voices in unison. I jumped up. Why was my name being called out so early in the morning? Were my ears playing a trick on me? No. There it was again "Barabbas". It sounded like it was coming from the Praetorium - the governor of Judea, Pontius Pilate's office. "Barabbas, Barabbas, Barabbas, Barabbas." Louder and louder as more and more voices joined in. 

    My heart sank! Has my execution day arrived? "Crucify him!" rang out a shrill lone voice. As if on cue the crowd picked up and, the chorus began, "Crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him!" I had been incarcerated for insurrection against Rome, and death by crucifixion was a foregone verdict. "Barabbas, Barabbas, Barabbas Barabbas." The baying for blood reached fever pitch. Suddenly the chorus stopped. 

    A sliver of uncanny silence pierced my pounding heart. I had known the verdict for my crimes - crucifixion, and knew that the day would come but was it really so soon? Not during Passover. Surely God, not now! 

    And then I heard with rising dread the stomp of soldiers' feet hastening down the prison corridor. Strong arms threw cold shackles on my hands and feet, dragged me up the cold steps and pushed me out into the glaring light.

    Squinting in the bright sunlight, I saw a large crowd gathered outside the Praetorium, standing in the front was Caiaphas - the high priest, with the chief priests and members of the Sanhedrin - the religious ruling council of Israel. The governor was seated in the judgement seat. "Which one do you want me to release to you: Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?" demanded the governor. The crowd responded "Barabbas, Barabbas." Pilate continued, "Again I ask you. What shall I do, then, with the one you call the king of the Jews?" "Crucify him!" They shouted. "Why? What crime has he committed?" asked Pilate. But they shouted, "Crucify him!" Their demand prevailed.

    It was then that I noticed the man standing before Pilate, the one who had been called "Christ" Jesus. Realisation dawned on me - the crowd had been demanding my release all along and, the crucifixion of this man.

    Jesus Christ turned to look at me. A strange feeling swept over me as I gazed into his eyes. Overcome with guilt I tried to look away and yet in just a moment I yearned and turned to look into his eyes. A rush of warmth engulfed my heart, momentarily. Suddenly, two soldiers dragged Jesus away for flogging, while another unshackled me. I was set free without trial.

    One of the soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on Jesus' head. Another put a staff in his right hand and they knelt in front of him and mocked him. "Hail, king of the Jews!" they said. They spit on him, and took the staff and struck him on the head again and again. The crowd that had demanded my release was oblivious of my freedom. As they led Jesus away to crucify I followed him to Golgotha (The place of The Skull).

    Crucifixion - a painful and humiliating execution meted out to criminals by Rome is inhuman and yet soon after Jesus was hoisted on his cross, he cried out, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." The excruciating pain and shock – to mind, body and soul can change the kindest soul - Jesus forgave his tormentors and all those who were responsible for his condition, from the cross! 

    Two criminals were crucified alongside Jesus. As the chief priests, elders, and even passersby mocked Jesus, the two criminals who were enduring a similar fate as Jesus joined in the mocking too. All of a sudden, however,  it dawned on one of them who Jesus is. He cried out to him, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." When Jesus saw the man's faith he answered, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise." His words pierced my heart. Why, oh why was I not up there on the cross? Why was I set free into darkness?

    As the darkness engulfed my soul, an extraordinary darkness came over all the land at noon. About the ninth hour, Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." As he said this, he breathed his last. At that very moment the earth shook under our feet. The earthquake was so powerful that some of the rocks around us shattered and the sun re-appeared! The light was so blinding, everyone around were so terrified. Even the Roman Centurion in charge became white-faced and exclaimed, "Surely he is the Son of God."

    I went home a free man, yet, blissful sleep escaped my fatigued body and troubled mind that night. At day break yesterday, I returned to Golgotha. The first rays of sun from behind the Mount of Olives silhouetted the empty cross of Jesus. Dew drops on the rugged cross made the blood of Jesus Christ glisten in the morning light. The blood on the cross reminded me of the blood of the Pascal lamb on the doorframes in the first Passover in Egypt - a story I've heard from my father, repeated at every Passover. Now, the blood of Jesus Christ and Passover had an all new meaning. I heard a still voice say, "He is the Passover Lamb, whose blood takes away the sins of the world." I turned to see who it was, but there was no one around!

     How Caiaphas and his coterie had played out a drama! Demanding my release was a ploy to force Pilate into a quick end to the trial and get Jesus Christ crucified. As an insurrectionist, I had sought to overthrow the Romans by means of violence - often murdering Romans in cold blood. Jesus Christ, on the other hand had been preaching love. He spoke of the Kingdom of God where love reigned. For all the crimes I have committed, I deserved to be crucified! And in my place Jesus died! Why was I alive? Why was he taken - an innocent person who practiced the love of God? Guilt and shame torturing my inner self, my head bowed down with the weight of all the sins, I fell on my knees in prayer at the foot of the cross and asked Jesus Christ the Son of God, to forgive - me a sinner. My prayer set me free in the truest sense of the word - freedom from sin and guilt.

 

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

 

    Jerusalem and Zion has been abuzz since morning with the most glorious news - the resurrection of Jesus Christ! Early this morning a few women followers of Jesus from Galilee, had gone to his tomb with spices to anoint the body. They found that the stone that had been used to seal the entrance rolled away and the tomb empty.  Jesus' body was not where it had been laid to rest. A young man in a white robe had appeared to the women and said that Jesus Christ who was crucified and died was not there for he had risen. Jesus' followers had been echoing the same, "He is not here. For he has risen." What joy that news filled my heart!

    Many Jews and Gentiles have been visiting the Tomb of Jesus Christ since hearing the news of his resurrection. I visited it too, with my family. As I stepped inside the empty tomb a thought crossed my mind - "Death has been swallowed up in victory!" Kneeling down I invited my risen Saviour to come into my life. I left the tomb happy that one day I would see his radiant face again and look into those loving eyes.

    I must return to my prison, to meet my former captors and inmates, and all those in whom darkness resides and share the Gospel - the good news of Jesus Christ in whose name there is Salvation.

 

(The Garden Tomb of Jesus Christ - Jerusalem)

Sh'ma Yisrael
peter_asirvatham@yahoo.co.in

At about 5:40 pm (local time) on 28.04.2008 my family and I along with the entourage of pilgrims crossed into Israel from Egypt. Before crossing into Israel, our last place of Biblical visit in Egypt had been The Burning Bush inside St. Katherine's Monastery and, prior to that a trek up Mt. Sinai. To visit Israel had been a dream and this came true for me on that day.

Since my return from Egypt, Israel and Jordan, I've been reliving those moments of my pilgrimage through different ways. Coming across names of places I'd visited while reading the Bible is one way. Looking at the photos I'd shot, editing the videos are other ways. Some months ago I found yet another way - Messianic Praise and Worship music.

Messianic Praise and Worship music comes in both Hebrew and English (and I guess other languages as well). They are rendered by Messianic Jews - Jewish people or people of Jewish origin who had accepted Jesus as the "Messiah" or the "Christ". They are Christians too (they are also called Hebrew Christians or Jewish Christians) and they call Jesus as "Yeshua" - which may be the original pronunciation of the name of our Lord.

One of the songs that is repeated in the Messianic Praise and Worship albums (of my small collection) is Sh'ma Yisrael. Being the first song in two albums, it is a captivating one, even though I did not understand a word of the Jewish song. When I looked up the lyrics sheet printed on the CD cover, I saw it had a Bible reference - Deuteronomy 6: 4-6.

Googling the words "Sh'ma Yisrael" brought up a plethora of results with Wikipedia topping them. The Shema, short for Sh'ma Yisrael, is the centrepiece of the morning and evening Jewish Prayer Service and, the most important part of prayer in Judaism. Further study in the Study Bible for Deu 6: 4 points to Mark 12: 29 (and vice-versa). This is a passage that is familiar to many of us - here Jesus was questioned by a devout Jew as to which according to him is the most important commandment among the commandments. And "The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these." (Mark 12: 28-33)

In the other synoptic gospels, the evangelists Matthew and Luke have left out the "Shema" - or "Hear" (and Israel). Luke has gone beyond and expounded who a neighbour is with his Good Samaritan story. Regardless of the words "Shema" not being part of Matthew and Luke's gospels, it is an expression of our faith in one God.

The Sh'ma is recited by devout Jews while praying at The Western Wall on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Now, the Shema is not something unique to Jewish worship, it is part of the Christian liturgy and, is said three or four times (depending on the number of Sundays a month has) in churches that uses The Book of Common Worship.

Listening to the Shema while driving my car, on the ipod or in the church, conjures up memories of my times in Israel, especially praying at the Western Wall.

God in His Providence fulfilled my dream of visiting Israel in 2008, if it is His Will that I should go again (as I dream of going back) I'll recite the Shema at The Western Wall.