A few years ago, I made my first pilgrimage to the Holy Land, as part of research for a book that eventually became Jesus: A Pilgrimage. And the person who most encouraged me to go, despite my protestations that it seemed a long way to travel for some research, was Drew Christiansen, S.J., then the editor in chief of America magazine and an expert in Jewish-Christian relations. “You can’t write a book about the Life of Christ without visiting the Holy Land,” he said, reminding me that the Holy Land was often called the “Fifth Gospel,” since it helped to explain the other four.
Drew was right. And the easiest way to explain what happened is to say that the difference between what I expected and what I experienced was vast. What I expected was that I might learn some interesting facts about the life and times of Jesus of Nazareth—perhaps a few geographical details that would illuminate some Gospel narratives. What I experienced was nothing short of life-changing: seeing and spending time in the places that Jesus lived, died and rose again grounded the Gospels in a way that I couldn’t have predicted. For example, seeing the Sea of Galilee and knowing that Jesus saw this same body of water—saw what I was seeing—was profoundly moving.
But one place I missed, to Drew’s dismay, was the little town of Ein Kerem, the traditional spot for the Gospel reading for this Sunday: the Visitation. Mary has just received news of the upcoming birth of Jesus and, filled with the Holy Spirit, travels to the “hill country” in Judea to see her older cousin Elizabeth, who is pregnant with John the Baptist.
Why does Mary undertake the arduous journey from Nazareth? There could be several reasons. First, to help her older cousin who is six months pregnant. Second, perhaps to escape the prying eyes of the townspeople of Nazareth. Third, to seek counsel from a wise older woman.
But there may be a more basic reason: to share her joy and to share in Elizabeth’s. After her encounter with the Angel, the desire to tell others (she would have told Joseph first) was probably irresistible. When we receive some good news, we all scout around for someone to tell. We try to avoid telling someone who might be jealous, but how wonderful it is to have a friend who can truly celebrate with us!
When Mary greets Elizabeth something astonishing happens. As Elizabeth says, “At the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy.” The Greek word used, agalliasis, means jubilation or, in one lovely definition, “extreme joy.” Note how physical this story is: Elizabeth doesn’t say “when I heard,” but “when the sound of your greeting reached my ears.” Then something physical happens to her, or rather to the child in her womb. It’s as if both are convulsed by joy.
Now, perhaps you don’t have something that brings you “extreme joy,” but this Sunday some good questions to “sit with,” as spiritual directors like to say, may be ones of gratitude. What brings you joy? What has God “visited” on you that makes you jubilant? And another important question: Can you allow others to share their joy with you, and be as happy for the way that God has graced them as you are for the graces in your life? Where, in short, is your hill country?
On a subsequent visit to the Holy Land, a few years later, I finally made it to Ein Kerem, in what turned out to be the green and lush “hill country” of Judea. At the Church of the Visitation is a fascinating statue of the two women, Mary and Elizabeth, encountering one another, which moved me deeply. I wrote to Drew, who died in 2022, to share my joy that I had made it. He instantly texted back: “I’m so happy!”
