Jerusalem is everything I expected it to be. Four weeks have passed since my last update, and the cause for the lapse has been the sheer fascination that this incredible city incites. Indulging in the wonder of Jerusalem has been my task for the past twenty-eight days.
One local Jewish woman commented wittily, “You’re on pilgrimage. That means you run where Jesus walked, right?” Indeed, the immensity of Jerusalem keeps a body moving, for there is simply so much to experience. Holy sites spring up around you on every side.
The Mount of Olives, the famous crag that sits east of the city, is a perfect example of what I mean. At its base is the Garden of Gethsemane where 2000-year-old olive trees decorate a small courtyard outside the Church of All Nations. The eerie dark blue interior of this church aptly sets the tone for meditation: this is the place where Christ was betrayed and arrested on the night before he died.
Adjacent to the Garden of Gethsemane is a property equally as alluring. This holy site, maintained by the Orthodox Church, is known as Mary’s Tomb. Here you descend a stone staircase into a cavernous vault dug deep within the rocky hillside. Many believe that Mary’s Dormition took place within this empty tomb. (Orthodox Christians use the term “Dormition” rather than “Assumption,” though the theological import is more or less the same.) The darkness of the tomb illuminates the beauty of Mary and invites your thoughts to follow her gracefully to heaven.
You could stay hidden within Mary’s Tomb for an entire afternoon, but that would be to ignore the rest of the holy sites on the Mount of Olives. Just a just a short walk up the hill you find Dominus Flevit Chapel, a small but beautiful sanctuary perched upon the mountain. (Translation of Dominus Flevit: “The Lord Wept.”) This is a uniquely built tear-shaped structure, and its location offers you a picturesque view of the city. The chapel reminds you of Christ as he wept over Jerusalem, uttering these words: “If this day you only knew what makes for peace – but now it is hidden from your eyes.” (Luke 19:41)
I mention only three of the holy sites found on the Mount of Olives; there are indeed many more. And the Mount of Olives is only one of the many sectors of Jerusalem. My point is this: a lifetime spent in this city would not give you enough time to experience it all.
Out of the all of the places I have visited here in Jerusalem, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is my favorite. It is a rather ugly, jumbled-looking edifice, tucked away in the heart of the Old City of Jerusalem. Albeit unattractive to behold, the church is immensely important for Christians throughout the world. Under the roof of this massive edifice are located the hill on which Christ died and the tomb in which he was buried.
The floor plan of this complex church is awkward and difficult to describe, but I will do my best to explain the two main attractions. When you first step into the doors of the church, you encounter ten steep stone stairs immediately to your left. To take these stairs is to ascend Calvary. There you view the two chapels built in honor of Christ’s crucifixion and death. On the right is the chapel where Catholics celebrate Mass; this is supposedly the site where Christ was stripped of his garments and nailed to the cross. The back wall, above the alter, is decorated with a touching mosaic depicting our Sorrowful Mother agonizing over the deadly work of the Roman soldier who fastened her son’s hands and feet to the wood.
On the left is the second chapel, marking the place where the cross was erected. This chapel is used primarily by the Orthodox Christians, and behind its altar there is a life-sized iconic representation of Christ hanging on the cross. In a similar iconic style, Mary is standing at Jesus’ right, and the beloved disciple is to his left. This strangely beautiful scene is lit up on all sides by a soft glow of candles.
If you return down the stairs and walk but twenty yards straight ahead, you will find yourself in front of the marble structure that houses Christ’s tomb. Easily fitting under the church's huge dome, this building measures (approximately) fifteen feet wide, thirty feet high, and thirty feet deep. It has two compartments. The first compartment holds no more than twenty people and can be best described as a staging area for the interior compartment, the tomb itself. To enter into the tomb, which holds no more than six people, you must crouch down and shimmy through the low passageway that leads inside. In the hollowed confines of the tomb there is a marble slab marking the place where they laid Christ's cold body, and from this same spot he rose victorious on the third day.
While in Jerusalem I try to spend time to this church every day. Unfortunately there are some days I cannot make a visit due to our scheduled events (e.g., classes, lectures, guided tours, etc.). However, I looked through our pilgrimage calendar and found an opportunity to stay overnight in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. [Anyone is permitted to remain (locked) in the church over night - that is, from 7pm until 4am - provided that he or she can follow the three rules: 1) no sleeping, 2) no singing, and 3) no lighting candles. I am able to comply with all three.]
Our second Friday in Jerusalem was to be followed by a free Saturday, so I decided that that night was ideal for the overnight. I figured that I could stay up all night in the church and crash the entire next day. I arrived at the church around 6:45pm, approximately the time when the monks began rounding people up and shooing them out the door. I stuck close to a Franciscan monk, a certain Brother Gregory, a Californian man whom I had met earlier that day. He was the one who informed me of the three rules and told me to dress warmly. (The ancient, colossal church is like a Frigidaire at night.) After the monks expelled the final visitors out of the church, six brave souls (myself included) remained, willing to keep vigil through the night. When the monks deemed everything ready, the doors were shut and locked. A silence fell over the church.
For all intents and purposes, I was left alone on Calvary. Resting at the foot of cross and gazing up at the icon of Christ, I replayed in my mind the tragic scene that took place there 2000 years ago. That was my prayer. Then, when I thought that prayer complete, I made my way to Christ’s tomb and went inside. Once again I was left alone. Kneeling in front of the marble slab and placing my hands on its chilly surface, I replayed in my mind the triumphant scene that took place there 2000 years ago. That was my prayer. Finally, when my knees were worn out, I left the tomb and found another place in that holy church to sit and pray.
That night was full of intense prayer, and I was sure to remember all of you. I took with me a list of people for whom I promised to pray. I spent time with each name, bringing them all to Jesus as I sat at the foot of his cross.
The nine hours in the church passed relatively quickly. Brother Gregory was right about dressing warmly; there were times when I could see my breath. In some ways the low temperatures were helpful. Between the cold air and the hunger pangs, there was no room to get comfortable and fall sleep.
So that was my night at the Holy Sepulchre. I would love to tell you more, but there is no time. I am sad to say that this will probably be my last Holy Land email. Our plane leaves out of Tel Aviv in less than a week.
My plan is to continue traveling until the end of February. My parents, along with an aunt and an uncle, are going to meet me in Italy for two more weeks of pilgrimage. I hope to speak with most of you on the phone when I return to Chicago in March.
You will remain in my prayers. Please keep me in yours. Peace in the Middle East,
dave
2/6/07
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