The MHT 8, Part I: Intrepid Pilgrims

Commitments made while consuming pints of Guinness usually merit reconsideration in the light of the next day.  The roots of the Holy Land pilgrimage recently concluded by Momma Cuandito and me can be traced to last January's Trinity Night at Keegan's Irish Pub.  That quarterly event is hosted by Terry and Virginia Keegan, the pub's (now former) proprietors.  The folks in attendance are former members of Most Holy Trinity, the St. Louis Park parish where Momma Cuan and I first met as teachers.  Since the St.Paul-Minneapolis Archdiocese, in its infinite wisdom, shut down MHT's church and school four years ago, the quarterly Trinity Nights at Keegan's gives the ex-patriots a chance to reconnect, catch up and talk about the good old days.

The conversation among several of the men that evening centered around a Holy Lands trip planned for September, to be hosted by Father Joe Gillespie, known to many of us as a well-traveled and humorous Irish priest who is also the brother of one of the women in the MHT group.  On that cold January night, a late-summer trip to any warm place sounded great.  Father Joe had been to Israel four previous times, and a number of MHT folks at the pub were strongly considering signing up.  To be honest, Israel was not on the short list of places Momma Cuan and I someday wanted to visit, but the more this particular trip was described, particularly the opportunity to travel with friends and Father Joe, the more enticing it became.  What clinched it in my mind was Terry's revelation that Father Joe had a reputation for "never passing by a pub."  Even though I wasn't sure how many pubs we'd run across in the Holy Lands, I was willing to find out.

Although many more expressed interest during Trinity Night, only four couples -- dubbed the "MHT 8" by Father Joe half-way through the trip -- actually took the plunge in the form of making a down payment to Magi Travel.  In addition to the Keegans and us, our fellow pilgrims included Nancy and Bill Koster and Julie and Tom Hart.  The eight of us have known each other for several decades.

Had any of us known back in January what troubles would ensue in the coming months in Israel, we may never have given the September trip any consideration whatsoever.  The headlines this summer were filled with stories of unguided missiles being launched by Hamas from the Gaza Strip into Israel, the response by Israel in the form of an infantry invasion to destroy secret tunnels used by Hamas to attack Israeli settlements, and the aerial bombardment by the Israeli air force of suspected Hamas strongholds, some of which were in or near schools and apartment buildings in Gaza City.  The battlefield may have been in Gaza, but Jerusalem, which would be our home base for five days, is only forty-eight miles away. To add to the fragility and tension, the Sunni terrorists known as ISIL were on the move in next door Syria (and Iraq), slaughtering innocent civilians and decapitating foreign hostages.  We frequently checked the US State Department's travel advisories, thinking (hoping?) that travel to Israel would legally be deemed off limits for US citizens.  That never happened, although at one point Delta Airlines, our carrier, suspended flights to that country over the verbal objections of Israel.  The suspension lasted less than forty-eight hours.

In the midst of the troubling international news, Momma Cuan and I hosted a dinner party on June 18 for the other three couples and Father Joe.  As I expected, MC displayed her phenomenal culinary skills, preparing many dishes featured in her Jerusalem cook book.  The eight of us (not including Father Joe, who was unwavering) talked about the pros and cons of following through with the pilgrimage.  With so many wonderful places to choose as travel destinations, how smart was it to pick this particular time to visit the Holy Lands?  Were we all fools for staying the course?

 

Unlike the other three couples, Momma Cuan and I did not buy travel insurance.  Those who did found out later that their policies specifically excluded trip cancellation due to acts of war as a claimable loss.  I chose not to buy the insurance for a host of reasons with which I won't bore you here, other than to say that I approach many kinds of insurance with this axiom, which I learned during twenty-six years of practicing law, in mind: The insurance company is not your friend.

The biggest temptation to bail occurred a mere five weeks before we were to leave, when John Brady, the owner of Magi Travel, offered to refund all of our money if we decided to throw in the towel.  We had forty-eight hours to decide.  The eight of us exchanged e-mails back and forth, teetering on the brink of cancelling.  The position of Momma Cuan and I was that we would remain on board provided at least one of the other three Trinity couples did the same.  One of those other three couples actually contacted Brady to accept his offer, but then changed their collective mind a day later.

 

Things overseas had simmered down by August 26, when Magi and Father Joe hosted a "get acquainted" party at Joe's parish in south Minneapolis, St. Albert The Great.  This gave us a chance, among other things, to meet the rest of the tour group, plus our Magi travel companion, Ann Kolke.  We found out that evening that our traveling party would include twenty-nine people, including Father Joe and Ann.  Nine others cancelled, including two who told John Brady that their adult children insisted they do so out of fear for their safety.  (Our kids never took such a stance, probably figuring that if there was trouble, Momma Cuan would save me.)

 

I wasn't convinced that the travel gods would be with us until the day of our departure, September 12.  Our non-stop Delta flight to Paris was assigned MSP Gate G-9.  A mere three giant steps away was Flybar, where most of the Magi group hung out drinking Heineken before boarding.