Entering the City of Jerusalem

The day began by doing the down to earth tourist stuff, we rode up to the overlook and got panoramic photos of the city of Jerusalem including the Temple Mount and the Church of the Sepulchre.  And I traveled by camel, not far mind you, just in a circle.  Then we visited the Garden of Gethsemane and the church in the garden.  In the church is the rock that Jesus may have prayed at asking that “not my will but yours.”  It was closely monitored by a Franciscan monk whose job was to use the universal “shh” to all those that entered.  This church was beautifully ornate, but the twisted darkness of the olive trees would have been a scary place on any evening, and it brought home the agony Christ faced. 

                More tourist stuff.  Shopping.  Our visits have been smattered with shopping.  And eating.  We do that on a regular basis as well.

We visited one of repudiated sites of the Upper Room, where the disciples may have last dined with Jesus.  Since the church is divided, there is apparently a catholic and orthodox site for all things holy.  Also, in this location was David’s tomb which is an active prayer site, and men and women had to visit it on opposite sides.  From there we walked toward the old city.

                And  we entered the old city of Jerusalem.  This is not the Jerusalem of King David, but at least the Jerusalem of Jesus’ day.  We entered through the Zion gate and walked through the city past the shops both kitsch and kitchen.  I saw a pomegranate the size of a small cantaloupe, as well as the second most decadent thing in the world, a package of already peeled pomegranate seeds (the first being already shelled pistachios).   We visited the Syrian Orthodox church of our guide, and learned some things about that particular version of the Orthodox Church. 

                From there we exited the city and proceeded to Caiaphas palace where Jesus would have been taken for his hearing, and probably held over for transfer to the Romans.  This site is managed by a Catholic order, and there is a beautiful little church on a cliff, with a chapel beneath it, and the prison chambers and holding cells below that.  All from my bus, 40 people gathered in there as Bishop Hutchinson read the Psalm 87, as the lights dimmed and we were held in darkness, similar to how Jesus would have been held.  It was a haunting moment.  My heart resounded with “make me a captive Lord, and then I will be free.”

This was a thin place.