My trip to the Holy Land: Part III

Here are some more highlights from my trip to Israel, March 4-13.

On March 10, Friday, we stopped at the top of the Mount of Olives, valued for its panoramic view of Jerusalem and the Temple Mount. The Mount of Olives is the site of Jesus’ ascension into heaven, and where the Bible teaches He will return (Zech. 14:4). Standing at the top of the mountain (or perhaps more accurately, a large hill), one’s eye immediately goes to the Dome of the Rock Muslim shrine, because of its gold roof.

What also stood out to me were the rows upon rows of Jewish burial sites lining the hillside. There are above-ground boxes marking the sites, but the bodies are buried below ground. Jews want to be buried there because they believe that when their messiah comes (they don’t believe he’s come yet), their bodies will be the first to be resurrected.

From the Mount of Olives, we could see the Golden Gate, also known as the Gate of Mercy. It is the only eastern gate to the Temple Mount and was sealed off by Ottoman Sultan Suleiman in 1541. In Jewish belief, the messiah will enter Jerusalem through this gate. Christians and Muslims believe this is the gate through which Jesus entered Jerusalem.

We walked down the Palm Sunday Road, the traditional path Jesus would have taken with crowds waving palm branches and shouting “Hosanna!” Every so often, a street vendor would approach our group, selling hats, gloves, bags, coins or the like.

Continuing down the Mount of Olives, we reached the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus prayed in agony and sweat drops of blood before being arrested (Luke 22:39-46). Many gnarled olive trees dotted the garden, which would have been much bigger in Jesus’ time. Most of the olive trees were destroyed when the Romans leveled the city in 70 A.D.; however, one of the trees could have been there when Jesus was there in human form. Next to the garden is the Church of All Nations, which contains the rock where Jesus is thought to have knelt and prayed by. It was meaningful to think about Jesus’ complete surrender as He prayed, “Father, not My will but Yours be done.”

After that, we got back on the bus and went to the Israel Museum. There we saw some of the Dead Sea Scrolls, including parts of the books of Isaiah and Hezekiah, as well as other ancient manuscripts. The State of Israel has a complete copy of the scroll of Isaiah, which was on display at the museum for a short time during George W. Bush’s presidency; however, now it is kept in a secret location that only a few people, like Israel’s prime minister, know about.

Also at the museum, we saw a 1:50 scale model of the city of Jerusalem as it would have looked in 66 A.D. Jerusalem means “city of peace.” Today, the Old City of Jerusalem encompasses 0.35 square miles and has eight gates. The city is sectioned off into four quarters — the Christian Quarter, Muslim Quarter, Armenian Quarter and Jewish Quarter. The Christian Quarter includes holy sites for the Greek Orthodox, Roman Catholic and Coptic churches.

Anyway, also that day, we traveled to a shepherd’s cave, like the one Jesus would have been born in. When the Scripture says there was no room in the inn, the Greek word for inn is kataluma, which actually means the guest room in a typical house. The family lived in the house and kept their animals underneath. So since there was no room in the guest room of Joseph’s family’s house, Mary and Joseph would have moved into the cave where the animals were kept. Being in the dark, cool, damp cave gave an idea as to Christ’s humble incarnation.

Next we visited the Church of the Nativity. The church is the very likely the authentic site of Jesus’ birth. After being destroyed by a fire around 529, the church was rebuilt by Byzantine Emperor Justinian in the 500s and has remained largely unchanged to this day. In 614, the Persians, who destroyed many other churches during wars with Byzantium, spared this church because, as the story goes, they saw a mosaic of the Magi dressed in Persian attire. The interior of the church is very opulent, with the altar entirely overlaid with gold and intricate chandeliers and lamps hanging from the vaulted wooden ceiling. Unfortunately, our group didn’t get to see the part of the church marked as the site of Jesus’ birth, because it was too crowded, but one person from our group went in and got pictures.

We also visited a store with many Nativity sets made out of olive wood, which the area is known for. Later when shopping, we tasted dates native to the region, which were naturally sweet and delicious, similar to an oversized raisin. Our trip continued Saturday, March 11, when we spent the first part of our day in the Old City of Jerusalem (City of David). We walked through the Muslim Quarter of the old stone city, down steep narrow streets not hardly wide enough for a car, past alleyways and corridors, and past random vendors selling fruit, vegetables, and random other goods. It really gave me a sense for what an ancient city was like — a labyrinth of stone streets and walls. No green space to be seen.

We followed the Via Dolorosa, Latin for “sorrowful way,” the route Jesus would have taken carrying the 100-120 pound crossbeam of His cross. However, the whole city has been built up so the street level today is at least 15-20 feet higher than it would have been in Jesus’ time. Soon we arrived at the Church Ecce Homo/Sisters of Mt. Zion, which is the second station in the Stations of the Cross. Ecce Homo means “Behold the man” and references Pontius Pilate’s words to the angry crowd observing Jesus in John 19:5. We went down to the lowest level of the church to see the “Lithostratos,” or the stone pavement where Jesus was scourged. He would have had His wrists bound in leather straps to a post about 2-3 feet tall and stood hunched over while whipped with a cat o’nine tails. Seeing the stone and hearing the Scripture reading of what happened there was a very moving experience, hard to put into words. It’s amazing to think about what Jesus suffered for each one of us and the depth of love there.

I will finish up my recollections next week.

Striking a

Chord...