In the Holy City

We are seven hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time, so we were asleep at the time of the Boston Marathon bombing and didn't learn of it until late the next night when we checked cable news.  What a heartbreaking and senseless tragedy.  We're grateful that between the internet and the several U.S. news stations carried on Israeli TV, we can keep up with national news from home.

Yesterday we explored Jerusalem without any particular plan.  We entered by the "New Gate" and just wandered.  It is very easy to get lost in the maze of narrow walking streets.  Many are only about 12 feet wide, and all are paved with bumpy stones.  Most of the streets are covered, turning them into crowded tunnels lined with tiny shops selling souvenirs, baked goods, fruit, fine art, groceries and pretty much everthing else imaginable.  Shop owners stand in the street, urging passersby to spend their money with them.  We have fallen into a bad habit of buying cheese and honey-laced pastries while walking between the Jewish, Muslim, Christian, and Armenian quarters.  The chaos in the streets is overwelming and we feel justified seeking comfort food.

After getting disoriented several times, we did manage to follow most of the Via Dolorosa ("The Way of Suffering") to the traditional site of the crucifixion and burial of Jesus.  The Church of the Holy Sepluchre is a mammoth structure containing the final four Stations of the Cross, including the site of the crucifixion and a large, ornate structure representing the empty tomb.  Throughout Jerusalem are countless churches and monuments commemorating events in the Gospels.  It is unlikely that many are authentic locations, though many Bible scholars seem to agree that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is accurately sited.

We also visited the Western (or "Wailing") Wall at the lower edge of the Temple Mount.  Jewish worshippers come to this fragment of the Second Temple to pray and cram prayer notes into cracks in the wall.  Leroy and I donned yarmulkas (required for all visitors) to get close to the wall.

There are a lot of really interesting people in Jerusalem.  Many of them are tourists, like us, and most of the are there for some sort of religious pilgrimage.  They come from all over the world, and many languages are heard while walking through the streets.  There are also a lot of "characters," for example a man wandering all over the Old City dressed like Jesus.  We saw him several times.  I honestly think he believed he was Jesus!

Today we returned to the Old City before 9 a.m. and bought tickets for the "Rampart Walk."  We

climbed to the top of the fortified wall surrounding the city and walked the narrow, twisting pathway (with lots of steps up and down) where soldiers defended the city hundreds of years ago.  Eventually, we arrived at the Dung Gate (not as awful as it sounds) and made our way to the Temple Mount.   The line for the security check (similar to boarding an airplane) was long.  Two of the tourists ahead of us in line were not allowed to enter for reasons unknown even to them, so we were relieved to get past the guards and into the vast, flat area (the size of fifteen football fields) containing the Dome of the Rock and another large mosque.  We were not allowed inside due to ongoing repair work, but were in awe of the beautifully tiled Dome of the Rock.

We left the Old City and made our way down to the Kidron Valley to view some old tombs and the Jewish Cemetery before ascending the Mount of Olives (not a mountiain, just a hill requiring brisk upward walking.)    We stopped at the Garden of Gesthemane and then huffed and puffed our way up a narrow street to the spectacular Jerusalem vantage point at the Seven Arches Hotel.  We walked down through the cemetery to Mary's Grotto, a dark cave and the alleged tomb of the mother of Jesus.

Re-entering the Old City at the Lion's Gate, we tried to find our way back to the Rampart Walk.  We got lost in the Muslim Quarter as the call to prayer was sounding.  Two boys ages eight and ten or so asked us if we were looking for the wall, and they led us through their neighborhood to a place where we could climb over a metal railing (easier for them, than us!) and re-enter the Rampart Walk.  When we finally returned to where we started the walk at the Jaffa Gate, we plunged back into the crowded city streets to find a final pastry and then walked the mile or so back to our apartment on Ben Yehuda.

With all the tourists (like ourselves) and the multitude of historic religious sites crammed into the Old City of Jerusalem, it is hard to remember that it is a living community.  There are children's everywhere, though, and we saw them walking to and from school and playing today in the Christian, Jewish, and Muslim quarters.  I wonder what it is like to grow up in a town that is know as the "Holy City" and is remarkable for its religious divisions and even violence.  The writer of Psalm 122 urged "Pray for the peace of Jerusalem."  Wouldn't it be great if the children living in Jerusalm today were the answer to that prayer?

It has been a surprisingly cold day.  I don't think the highest temperature was above sixty degrees, and the sky was spitting rain off and on all day.  With the wind, clouds, sun, rain, and vigorous exercise, we had our fleeces on and off often.

Tomorrow:  Bethlehem!