Today was full of juxtapositions. The worst and best of religious zeal, and indeed of humankind, seemed to be on display.
We entered through very tight security into the Dung Gate of the Old City. Very similar to an airport, except we could keep our shoes on. There was a temporary bridge we walked on up to the Temple Mount. As we walked by the Waling Wall (the last remnant of the Second Temple, destroyed in 70 AD, and now a holy site for Jews), we also walked by stacks and stacks of Plexiglass riot shields. Nowhere during our entire walk were we more than a hundred yards from armed Israeli soldiers, rifles in hand. (Military service is mandatory after high school in Israel). Since many of them were staying in our hotel, I had the surreal experience a few nights ago of witnessing two young women who could not have been more than 19 years old, walking through the lobby in T-shirts and yoga pants, with those same rifles at their sides.
On the temple mount we saw one of the most imposing structures in the Old City: The Dome of the Rock, third holiest site in Islam. It is from there, Muslim stories say, that the Prophet Muhammad ascended into Heaven. Some of the most beautiful tiled calligraphy I have ever seen adorned the outer walls, and the dome was gold plated. Sunrise was a glorious time to see it, and to remember that we were walking on the grounds of the former Temple itself!
We had a lovely chance to sing "Beautiful Savior" at the Church of St. Anne, a huge, cavernous stone dome of a church near the mosque. The echoes seemed to last forever. Right outside were the ruins of the Pool of Bethesda, where Jesus healed a paralyzed man in John ch. 5. A place of healing indeed.
Lunch was in an Armenian restaurant--on offer was pizza, of all things!--and yet even in this place of fellowship, there were memorials to the Armenian Genocide of 1915. Once again, joy mixed with sadness.
After our meal we were blessed to have a visit with the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, a church built in the 1890's, only steps from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Pastor Ibrahim Azar, who leads the Arabic-speaking congregation (there are also services in German, English, and Danish!) was a very gracious host. He led us in some singing and prayer, and welcomed us to have some tea. It was a lovely visit.
Then on to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre itself. The word "Sepulchre" means "tomb," but our guide Iyad shared with us that he calls it the Church of the Resurrection, because somewhere below or behind the structure of this ancient church lies the very spot where Jesus rose from the grave! The huge structure is lit mostly by sunlight and candle light, giving a sense of mystery and reverence. That being said, the crowds of people and the way they pushed and jostled to get in line was a real disappointment. It is so easy to forget where we are--and more importantly who and whose we are--even in a place like this! Even still, in the quiet, candle-lit chamber, where only two or three people can stand at a time, there is room for none of our anxieties or frustrations. There is room only for the awesome truth: Christ is Risen!
Taking things slightly out of order, we ascended some steps to the rock of Golgotha--a natural outcropping visible through glass, that one can duck under an altar and touch--just drawing us more into the story of Jesus' Passion, which we had been walking through all day.
We finally ended at the Western Wall--Judaism's holiest site--and approached with hand-written prayers. Likely, many of them were for peace in this land we have grown to love. Many others, I am sure, were for that peace to prevail in our own hearts. May God's peace, which passes all our understanding, guard the hearts and minds of our loved ones far away, and all those reading.
Peace,
Pastor Tim
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