2014 Postcard from Jerusalem, Part II

 

…as I was saying, Irene had this great idea to go to Jerusalem and wave the palms on Palm Sunday! Tom, Irene and I journeyed across the border, along with Tricia, another colleague, and her son. We didn’t plan anything with Tricia and her son, since as she said,

“Well, you know, he’s a teen-age boy, and he wants to lounge around the hotel!” But we did tentatively plan to meet up in the procession on Palm Sunday.

 

Irene did all the planning for the trip, and I was happy to go along for the ride. Irene picked a hotel that turned out to be an interesting choice. It seems that our hotel is a place where many local Jewish families go on Fridays to celebrate Shabbat. These are more conservative families who do not wish to do any work or activity around the Sabbath, so they go to a hotel, where of course a staff will wait on them, make meals, and they even have a synagogue in the hotel. The last time in Jerusalem I stayed in an Arab hotel, so this was a different perspective. There is even a Sabbath elevator, that opens and stops at every floor, and one does not have to press any buttons. The lobbies and dining area were crowded with the families eager to celebrate their Sabbath.

Anyway, on Saturday for lunch, we ate at the Christ Church Guest House near the Jaffa Gate. Jerusalem abounds with Christian hospices, most originally built in the late Victorian age to accommodate the growing numbers of pilgrims. Inside the beautiful compound there was a little museum, so we went there after our lunch. We got to talking to the volunteers there, and one man from the American South offered to take us down below to see some of the architectural wonders. We eagerly agreed, walked through the coffee shop, down into a basement, and then went below into a sub-basement. The volunteer showed us a cistern, photographs, and told stories about the subterranean caverns below and how they have been used through the centuries. We realized that practically every structure in Jerusalem would have a similar story and underground tunnels and cisterns, dating back to Roman days at least.

 

Later that afternoon we made our way over toward the Lion’s Gate to St. Anne’s, a beautiful, 12^th century Crusader church, erected in honor of the mother of Mary. It is built next to the Bethesda Pool, the site where Jesus is believed to have healed a paralytic. There were many quotations about the healing power of the pools (I was born in Bethesda Hospital in Cincinnati, so especially enjoyed the points about Bethesda) and Irene and I walked around looking at the Roman-era pools and waterways (enjoying the fact that we had just had a private tour of another structure all the way across town). But the wonder of this spot is the acoustic brilliance inside the church! The church was built for Gregorian chant, and it may be the most perfect acoustics I have heard anywhere. Anyone can come in and sing—religious songs only—and the sound and the echo are divine.

 

Just down the road begins the Via Dolorosa, traditionally believed to be the route followed by Jesus from the Roman Judgment Hall to Calvary, the scene of crucifixions. There are 14 stations of the cross, and it is not uncommon to see pilgrims carrying large crosses in procession and prayer as they make their way down this street. We followed some of the stations, making our way back out of the magnificent Damascus Gate. On the way toward that Gate, we stopped at the Austrian Hospice for some apfelstrudel. This is a great spot, a great view, and a place I want to try and stay on my next trip to Jerusalem.

 

Near our hotel in East Jerusalem, outside of the Old City gates, is a place marked as “The Garden Tomb, a 1^st century tomb discovered in the modern day in 1867. In the 1880s, a very “Kiplingesque” General Gordon (the same one later killed in the siege in Khartoum in Africa) visited this tomb on his way to Egypt, and had an epiphany. Gordon didn’t believe the evidence that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was indeed the site of Jesus’ tomb, although since the 4^th century Christians had worshipped at that site. By the late 19^th century various Christian sects argued over this, and the Orthodox simply banned Protestants from worshipping at their site. General Gordon helped fund better excavation, and so this is a “competing” site for Jesus' tomb. What was interesting was the tour offered, the scriptural reminders of Jesus’ burial, and also how this site meets many of the specifications of what the site should be (among them, outside the walls of the city, hewn from a rock, a tomb made for a rich man, situated in a garden, and near a hill that does indeed look like a skull—remember according to the New Testament, Golgotha, “the place of the skull.”) What most impressed me was the guide was not zealously trying to turn anyone’s mind that this was indeed the site. This gentle Anglican, John from England, emphasized that the actual site is of far less importance than the spiritual significance of what really happened. “In the end, the crucial point is that the tomb was empty on the third day. That point—that part of God’s loving plan to bring us forgiveness is what matters.” We joined a group from San Diego, here in the region to do some Medical Missions, for a communion service and prayer. The beautiful garden was indeed a perfect spot to ponder the shifting histories and claims in Jerusalem. One of the leaders from San Diego concluded, “While we can debate the place where this happened, for us there is no dispute that ‘Jesus Christ’ was declared with power to the be the Son of God by his resurrection from the dead,’” as he read from the book of Romans.

 

That evening we walked far and wide in the much more modern, hip section of Jerusalem, going into the famed King David Hotel, and then eating a wonderful meal at Focaccia, a place recommended by a local hipster.

 

The following morning we tramped all through the Old City again, hoping for a viewing of the Dome of the Rock. But, as happens, the tours were cancelled just minutes before we would have gone in. So we looked for palms to wave in the procession. We didn’t have much luck, but then I saw some huge palms and decided to buy them. The palms cost about $6.50 each. Expensive palms! We gathered some lunch from a bakery in the Jewish Quarter and then headed up to the Mount of Olives.

 

On our way across the Kidron Valley we saw an enormous Muslim cemetery below the Dome of the Rock, and then as we crossed the valley we saw one of the oldest Jewish cemeteries in the world. It was this cemetery that religious Jews had in mind when they came to die in the Holy Land through the start of the 20^th century. You walk by the Tombs of the Prophets, believed to be the burial place of Haggai, Malachi and Zechariah. Many Jews have believed, and perhaps still do since I saw a family mourning a recent loss in the cemetery, that from here the route to heaven is the shortest, since God’s presence is always hovering over Jerusalem; others have held that here, on the Mount of Olives, the resurrection of the dead will occur.

 

There are six churches right in about 500 feet of each other, marking sites such as where Mary is believed to have died, where it is believed that Jesus instructed his disciples in the Lord’s Prayer, and a spot that marks where Jesus wept over a vision of the future destruction of Jerusalem. We allowed a couple hours to hike up the hill, visit the churches, and claim a spot for the afternoon procession. We walked by the Garden of Gethsemane, the spot where Jesus prayed the night before his arrest. Another church adjoins the garden, the Basilica of the Agony, from 1924 that shows a gorgeous gold mosaic of God looking down from heaven over Jesus and the peoples of the world.

 

We knew that the procession began in Bethphage, the spot where Jesus and the disciples received a donkey and made their way down the Mount of Olives for the jubilant welcoming into Jerusalem. It was a stiff hike up the hill, but a beautiful day, and we carried our palms up the hill. Once we got there we saw some folks who had more stunning palms and asked where they had gotten them. Oh, I see—they had gotten them just down the street and paid only about 75 cents for them. Oh well!

 

As we settled on a spot to wait for the procession, guess who we see directly across the street, but our colleague Tricia and her son! We got together and told of our exploits around town, and then at 2:30 the procession began. I had no idea what to expect—while I have spent my life waving palms on Palm Sunday, it always lasted about 30 seconds in our family’s church, although at my church in New York City we did process around the block.  But here, in those last minutes before it began, it was clear that hundreds and hundreds of people had gathered to process down the Mount of Olives and into Jerusalem.

 

The Arab Christians traditionally begin the procession with a very Orthodox banner and folderol. And then it seemed that national groups had formed. We stood in line near a group from Poland (“Why have you never visited Poland?” my new BFF inquired). Across the street was a group from Ukraine. As the procession began, the excitement built. We joined in the procession right behind a colorful, jubilant Brazilian group, and right in from of a group from France. The procession down the hill (probably about a 2 mile walk) was mixed with waving, singing, and since we were behind the Brazilians, much dancing! The hosannas and the singing and the smiles and the celebration were indeed an interesting and moving sight. The procession came down the Mount, crossed the Kidron Valley where hundreds of years ago Jesus had come back to Jerusalem for Passover later that week.

 

As the procession continued with all the exuberance and enthusiasm, it was interesting to think more about the Kidron Valley, also known as the Valley of Jehoshaphat. The Book of Joel records that the judgments will be rendered here on resurrection day: “Let the heathen be awakened and come up to the Valley of Jeshosaphat, for there will I sit to judge…” Muslims hold to a similar belief: they believe that Muhammad will sit astride a pillar under the wall of the Dome of the Rock. A wire will be stretched from the pillar to the Mount of Olives, opposite, where Jesus will be seated. All humankind will walk across the wire on its way to eternity. The righteous and faithful will reach the other side safely; the rest will drop down in the Valley of Jehoshaphat and perish.

 

We ended the procession, looked down at our watches and made a beeline back to the hotel to get our bags and make it for the last taxi to the border that day. Timing could not have been more perfect—the trip back took only 2 ½ hours—much shorter than the 6 hours to get to Jerusalem.

What a wonderful and moving way to spend Palm Sunday—a thrilling procession, pondering the mysteries and joys of faith, and time with exquisite friends.