For my post-Christmas break this year I went to Egypt with a friend. My friend speaks Arabic and he became something of a local hero; for many of the Egyptians working in the resort where we were staying he was the first Westerner they had met who spoke their language. Security at all the hotels and along the beach was high and we were often stopped and our bags searched. As one, very young, security officer searched our bags my friend said something to him in Arabic and the young man’s face split into a wide grin and he said in astonishment (and in English) You speak Arabic?’. And then a very amiable conversation ensued between the two of them. Afterwards I asked my friend what he’d said which had brought forth such a delighted smile from the Egyptian guard. Apparently he had asked, So, is there a bomb in my bag?’, which I thought was quite a brave opening gambit but it seemed to have struck the right tone.
How we communicate when we find ourselves in a foreign land is of course a very loaded issue. As a relatively rich Westerner enjoying the natural resources of the region where I was staying I knew I could speak in my native tongue; for the Egyptians to reap the benefits of tourism they have to learn to speak the language of Westerners who frequent their hotels. Already an implicit power relationship is bought into play as soon as I am greeted in English – this encounter will be on my terms because I have some of the resources that you need or desire: When the Egyptian hotel workers were addressed in their native tongue the implicit power relationship was redressed and it seems a more natural and genuine relationship became possible.
How we travel through a foreign place is something that bears particular resonance for pilgrims travelling to a place which is both foreign and yet holds significance for their faith which brings with it a great familiarity. On what terms do we relate to this foreign place, with its customs, traditions and language which is not our own but which is very much our own through the place it holds in our religious language and beliefs? This is one of the issues that the pilgrims from this church will be grappling with as we travel to the Holy Land in March. A group of 18 people will be setting out on 3rd March for a 10-day pilgrimage around Israel staying in Jerusalem and Tiberius, visiting the sites where Jesus was born, lived and died and was seen after His resurrection. Of course we are travelling at a difficult time when we might be feeling very ambivalent about the political situation that we face and the suffering we know is happening in Gaza.
Part of the challenge and joy of pilgrimage is that we do not encounter these holy sites on our own terms. More often than not we will find ourselves challenged by the incongruity of what we imagine should be the case and what we find when we get there; or by the juxtaposition between the sacred and the secular – by the advertisements for the Holy Rock Caf�’ alongside the signs to the Holy Sepulchre. Our earthly lives can similarly be viewed as a sort of pilgrimage where we encounter many things which seem incongruous or not the way we imagine they should be or where we have to enter conversations on someone else’s terms and in their language. This involves letting go of the implicit power that we might have as a tourist in a foreign land demanding that others speak our language because at the end of the day that is what we pay for. Our earthly pilgrimage is one of relinquishing power and allowing space for conversation to take place on God’s terms and in God’s time.
Of course this is hard and difficult but God’s terms are uniquely generous and full of grace. Surprisingly it can be because God is generous and gracious that we find it hard to enter this conversation. We might like to be loved by God for what we have done or achieved rather than because it is in God’s nature to love us but it is this love which makes the relationship possible. God became human so that we could enter into conversation. He learnt our language even though we could not pay the hotel fees; ultimately the Christian faith means we are neither tourists nor pilgrims but inhabitants of the most Holy Land- the Kingdom of God.
As those of us from this church set out on pilgrimage to the Holy Land in March we shall be asking for your prayers and as we celebrate the daily Eucharist we shall be remembering you in our prayers. Whilst we hope to uncover something particular through bringing ourselves into the places where Jesus lived and where millions of Christian pilgrims over the centuries have prayed we shall be sharing with all Christians in our common vocation to enter more deeply into the mystery of the incarnation when God became human and allowed himself to be vulnerable to a conversation which used power and force.
Later in March we shall also be organising a quiet day at Edgware Abbey exploring the theme of pilgrimage and what it might mean for us as we make our annual pilgrimage through the season of Lent. Something we might think about during this time is on what basis do we enter our conversations; with one another, with ourselves and with God: What are the implicit terms of these encounters – might we need to relinquish power so that God’s grace can work in us?
Wherever we find ourselves in our Christian journey, whether we feel ourselves to be tourists exploring what it means to be caught up in the mystery of God’s love or whether we are committed to be pilgrims on the journey, we look to the God who invites us into a conversation of love and peace.
With love and prayers,
Mother Sarah
Mother Sarah writes
Sarah Eynstone