CHRISTMAS IN ISRAEL-- Preview from PLACES: THE JOURNEY OF MY DAYS, MY LIVES

PLACES: THE JOURNEY OF MY DAYS, MY LIVES  -- Thaao Penghlis' upcoming book -- is now available for pre-order at Amazon. 

Thaao Penghlis enjoyed tea for two with Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, carried the mythical Gloria Swanson into a Hollywood acting class and fitted Robert Redford for a suit (suggesting the then matinee idol shed a few pounds) before landing defining roles on General Hospital, Days of Our Lives and Mission: Impossible. The former career diplomat pursued the curious and complex path ofan actor's life to fund his unyielding desire for spiritual & exotic travel.  With the fervor of an archeologist and the passion of a seeker, Penghlis takes readers wtih him on spectacular adventures as he crosses Egypt's Sinai Desert, ascends Mt. Moses, is cleansed in a remarkable and shocking ritual in Havana, crashes in a balloon ride over the Valley of the Kings in Luxor and navigates the behind the scenes drama of daytime television, often more sudsy and tumultuous than what appeared on screen.  This compelling and candid memoir weaves his deep Greek and Australian heritage with Hollywood escapades and captivating spiritual journeys to places few travel.

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The following excerpt was originally done as a recording with OutTakes Interviews on 8/28/12.

CHRISTMAS IN ISRAEL

In the summer of 2004,  Palestinian gunmen held captive the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem for 39 days.  Monks were trapped inside the Orthodox Church for the entire ordeal.  The terrorists created a regime of fear and so an American monk and two Palestinians were killed.  It was now Christmas Eve, 2004.  And the tension had died down.

Excited, I arrived at Tel Aviv Airport on my first journey to Israel.

Leaving with my baggage, I was quickly surrounded by four Mossad agents.  Badges flashing, I was spotted as a terrorist again.  I smiled.  They looked threatened.

“Are you carrying drugs?”

“What?”  I said.  “On Christmas Eve?”

Blank.

I cut to the chase, having been through this before.

“I’m an actor.  You probably recognize me from Mission Impossible.  I’ve been invited to do publicity here for the studio.”

Their faces dropped.  Their masks disappeared; and embarrassed they apologized profusely.

It was lovely to see their human side.  I enjoyed the drama.

My destination that evening was to find a guide to take me to Palestinian territory and pray at the spot where Christ was born.  That evening, outside my hotel in Jerusalem, my guide was waiting; and we quickly began our journey.  Trusting the process and feeling I was on God’s path, I went with him in a van across the border into a dark street.  Twenty minutes later, there was another van waiting.  On the path along the way, the phone rang and they were speaking in their own language and then they began flashing their lights.  I got into the next van, introduced myself and by the time a third van appeared, I thought I was being kidnapped.  By this time, a scholar appeared and put me at ease.  Because of that tragic summer incident, it was forbidden to go there without proper connections.

In ten minutes, we approached the square.  In front of me was the Church of the Nativity where the Christ child was born exactly two thousand and four years ago.  Carols were being sung, echoing through the ancient square.  I remembered this was my parents’ dream to be standing here in the center of the Christian world.  They never did make it because of the constant turmoil that exuded from this sacred space.  I was in Palestinian territory on the West Bank and not a woman in sight.

Facing the church with my guide beside me, he explained the three entrances created through the ages; in ancient times, a chariot would charge through it.  Over the time, the door had been diminished to a small opening to where only one person at a time could enter.  In front of it stood nine military soldiers blocking the entrance.  No one was allowed in.  Because of the early uprising, it had become no longer a place of God but a fortress.  The sacred space of prayer was shut.

My guide explained my situation to them, but they kept repeating, “It’s closed.  It’s closed.”

He apologized to me.

“I’m not lucky,” he kept saying.  “I’ve failed you.”

I told him I was not going to give up so easily.

“To come all this way, I will call God in my own way.”

So we had a drink.

I said, “But you’re a Muslim?”

“I don’t care!” he said, frustrated.  “This place is like living in a box.  A reminder of the constant battle with the Israeli government.”

Two scotches later, my bravado rose up.

“Let’s try again,” I said.

“It’s useless.  They will threaten us again,” he responded.

Losing my patience, I replied, “It’s Christmas.  It’s not supposed to happen this way.”

Determined, we went back and approached the guards.  They stood defensively.  The war was not over.

Suddenly the door opened and a Greek monk came out, puffing profusely on his cigarette.  I studied him, thinking God wasn’t talking to him either.  He caught my eye and looked at me.

“Are you Greek?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“From Mission Impossible?”

“Yes,” I replied.

He came charging over to me and hugging me as only Greeks do without apology.

“It gave me so much pleasure while studying theology.   What can I do for you?”

I said, “It’s Christmas Eve.  And I’ve wanted to go inside the Greek Orthodox Church since my childhood; and they won’t let me in.”

“Come with me,” he responded.

He put his arm around me and escorted me to the entrance.

The soldiers took a defensive stance with rifles threatening.

“Is this not a place of God?  Then behave yourselves.  This pilgrim has permission to enter.”

God spoke; and the soldiers parted.

As I bent over to go inside, I turned to my guide who couldn’t believe the change of events.

“You said you were not lucky?”  Luck is when opportunity meets commitment.  Persistence won out.

I followed the Father in and sat at the place of Christ’s birth, the sacred space that thousands had waited to see and take a glimpse of this famous spot of folklore.

I had an hour to myself uninterrupted.  I couldn’t help but be moved when I touched the core of Christ’s birth.  It was no longer a postcard.  I thought of my family and friends and the inner peace that touches within the depths of one’s beliefs.  I just sat reflecting all that had passed my way thanking the universe and feeling like a child again in its beginnings. My pilgrimage had evolved in the most sacred way.

Two years later while sitting in an Athens café, I watched two monks having a drink and a cigarette.  After a few minutes, one of the monks with a heavy bearded  face turned in my direction.

“Do you remember me?”

“No, I’m sorry,” I replied.

“I’m the priest who opened the door to you for The Church of the Nativity two years ago.”

My, what are the odds of that happening in the enormous world we live in!  It was an emotional moment for me.

We both embraced each other like spiritual brothers.

Another coincidence?  Or simply recognizing the signposts of life and knowing you’re on the right track?

A reminder that trust in the process does lead to victory.

These journeys are there for all of us.  The difference lies in the way we see.

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To see more pictures from Thaao's holiday to Israel over Christmas 2003, visit this link at his official website.