The Holy Sepulcher, Jerusalem

Among the more graced moments of my life was the gift of celebrating the Eucharist in the Holy Sepulcher, the tomb of Jesus.

Today, the site of the crucifixion, burial, and resurrection of the Lord looks nothing like it did some 2000 years ago, owing to its long and complicated history. Then, it was an abandoned quarry located just outside the walls of ancient Jerusalem. It was transformed into a garden and a cemetery. Graves were cut into the quarry walls and in one place, an inferior section of rock was left by the quarrymen. It was on this rocky outcrop that Jesus was crucified and, just a stone-throw away, where he was hurriedly buried in the borrowed grave of Joseph of Arimathea. Today, the site is within the city walls of Jerusalem. The Church of the Holy Sepulcher stands over it, enshrining both the remains of the rock of Golgotha and the empty tomb from which Jesus rose from the dead.

As I began Mass, I was alone in the slightly claustrophobic burial chamber except for a priest-friend who was assisting me. The altar was the holy bed itself, a rich slab of marble covering the original rock on which the body of Jesus once lay. As we approached the reading of the Gospel, we intoned the “Alleluia”. Suddenly, a Franciscan friar, one of the custodians of the Holy Land, came running into the tomb. “No, no!” he said in broken English, “No singing!” His interruption of Mass startled us as did his reprimand. How could one not sing, not break into joyful praise, at this place where Christ accomplished the salvation of the world! But I understood why he scolded us. There are strict rules at the Holy Sepulcher which keep the peace between the Orthodox and Catholics who are jealous of their rights in this holy place. And so, if singing was going to be a point of contention, then so be it. We would refrain from singing. We continued Mass, our “alleluias” silenced by a well-intentioned, but very nervous, brother priest.

It seems to me that there are many things which want to silence the “Alleluia!” in us. Certainly, the times we are living in now is one of them. The thieves of hope and joy, however, are many. Like Peter, our patron, we see a tempest around us, the roar of the wind and the waves that threaten to overwhelm us, and we surrender to it. Hope and joy are overwhelmed in a storm of doubt and fear and, like Peter, we begin to sink.

But there is One who stands on the sea, who with a word brings calm to the storm for He is Lord of the Storm. There is One who is greater than any fear we may have, whose mercy is greater than any sin we have committed or regret we may feel, whose love has overcome every sorrow or burden that is weighing us down today.

There is an ancient tomb in Jerusalem whose occupant is no longer there. Everything is now different! The Universe itself has been changed! God has claimed us irrevocably for Himself! The Eighth and Final Day of creation has dawned! The wiping away of all tears has begun!

That is why we will sing our Alleluia today, though we are singing it tossed in a boat on an uncertain sea. We see the Lord of the Storm, The Risen One, who draws close to us, as He did to Mary of Magdala that first Easter morning, calling us by name and gently saying, “Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid!” (Mt. 14:27)

Christus Vincit!
Christus Regnat!
Christus Imperat!

Msgr. Joe Celano
Pastor