Jerusalem

[Originally posted Nov 2, 2014]

Writing from Eilat, Israel - near the Red Sea, as in Moses and the Red Sea).

As Katy and I performed our typical pre-flight routine I saw a man walking down the aisle of our plane and instantly a wave of memories flooded into my mind.  He was dressed in a black suit, white button-up shirt, no tie, a black top hat and a longer than typical beard.  Were this all, he would have passed by unnoticed.  But, to top off his attire he wore long curly uncut sidelocks, a red flag for Hasidic Jews.  The Wikipedia entry for Hasidic Jews says the word “Hasidic” means loving-kindness.  However, as I think back to the summer of 2006 and my two weeks in the Holy Land following my mission the words loving-kindness aren’t the ones that come to mind.  What does come to mind is sitting in the front seat of a gigantic tour bus with Elizabeth when our driver asked a Jewish man walking down the street for directions to our hotel.  The man looked up at our driver and with the attitude of “go f&*% yourself, I’m busy” said “shabbat shalom”.  It was the sabbath and this man was not going to be detracted from worship.

Jerusalem.

The intersection of Judaism, Christianity and Islam.  It was Jerusalem where King David established the capital of the Kingdom of Israel, where Solomon built his temple, where Christ entered Gethsemane and was crucified and where Mohammad ascended to Heaven. 

Jerusalem.

In the past two days we’ve been to Masada, the Dead Sea, the Mt. of Olives, the Garden of Gethsemane, the Garden Tomb, the Dome of the Rock, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Western Wall and now we are down in Eilat near the “borders of the Red Sea” - Lehi and Moses country.  At church on Saturday (I love saying that) a girl bore her testimony and described Jerusalem as a “Disneyland of Holy Sites” and that is just what it is.  Instead of a blow by blow of events, the following are some highlights.

Masada

Trying out a Bedouin lifestyle.

Ramp built by Romans to invade Masada.

Gutters surrounding Masada channel rain into underground cisterns. The difficulties of living in the desert.

Judea

The Dead Sea

Putting on my Halloween costume.

Just don't get it in your eyes.

Following our float in the Dead Sea we hitch hiked back up (and it is up) to Jerusalem.  We then meandered through the Old City before exiting the Damascus Gate (where four Israeli police were dragging a teenaged Palestinian boy down the street in a headlock towards a police car, much to the dislike of the chanting and yelling crowd) at the north end of the Muslim Quarter and sitting down for a nice falafel and hummus.  The food was on-point but I yearned for dessert. I told Katy to ask the two Arab girls sitting next to us where we could find some good dessert (it was Friday evening and most shops were closed for the Sabbath).  Katy declined at first but I persisted and a moment later Katy was in the middle of a conversation.  Moments later we were invited to come get some dessert, bingo.  But it wasn’t just a walk down the street, we were told we’d have to go get on a bus and then some translations on her smartphone brought up the words “checkpoint” and “barrier” and so despite being a little hesitant as to where this dessert actually was, the two girls seemed nice enough so we got on the Arab bus headed north.  I’ll have to be honest, the thoughts of entering a military conflict crossed my mind and I regularly checked my iPhone to see where we were headed.  But, as promised, we showed up at Jafar’s Sweets in Beit Hanina where we were met by their friend, Aladdin.  (Wow, such great names and places - I later found out his name was spelled Aladeen - shucks).  We dined on some delicious Kanafa, Basbousa and Baklava with cream (instead of the usual nuts).  Such wonderfully nice people.

Falafel.

Aladeen, Susan and Katy out for some Arab desserts at Jafar Sweets.

Kanafeh, Basbousa and Baklava with a sweet cream filling.

Breakfast.

The following morning we took another Arab bus (the bus station just happens to be located right below Golgotha, no big deal) up the Mt. of Olives to Church at the BYU Jerusalem Center.  It was great.  Church was fantastic.  I even got to see my old pal, Brother Dan Rona. While there we were informed that the Jerusalem Center has had the students on lockdown the last couple days because of rioting in the area (the Temple Mount had also been unusually closed—something that hadn’t happened since 2000).  When Katy and I heard this we just kind of laughed that while the BYU kids were inside we were hitch hiking across the country and following strangers on public buses to unknown areas.  We then walked down through the Orson Hyde Memorial Park, the Garden of Gethsemane, and along the Via Dolorosa and up to the Garden Tomb.  It’s a strange and wonderful feeling when something you have studied and thought about and pondered for so long suddenly appears before you.  Every time I think of Christ and the Atonement and Suffering and Repentance I can now put a picture and a place with those feelings.

The Western Wall, where Jews feel nearest to God.

Just trying to fit in.

Heart, Might, Mind and Strength

Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Gethsemane

The JC.

The Garden Tomb - still empty.

This morning was our last chance to visit the Temple Mount, as it had been closed the preceding two days.  As we entered the Old City from the Lion’s Gate we stumbled upon quite a scene.  Israeli soldiers stood behind police barricades preventing Muslim women from entering the Temple Mount.  A Muslim lady nearby explained the situation, she said “They won’t let us go in and pray.  It’s been like this for weeks.  Today they say only men can go in.  The women talk back to the police because if men do it they will be arrested.”  Israeli soldiers decked out in their uniforms with weapons, Muslim women chanting “Allah is the Greatest”, camera men being pushed around by soldiers.  You can learn a lot about cruelty, mistreatment, oppression, and the like by watching the news or reading books, but standing there in the Old City watching it happen in real-time left a much more meaningful impact. 

A couple hours later, after waiting for the Temple Mount to open, Katy and I quietly walked around the Dome of the Rock.  What a building!  Near the Al-Aqsa Mosque a group of Muslims were all chanting aloud “Allah is the Greatest.”  (My speculation here is that to protest the Israeli police Muslims chant this slogan, because speaking up directly against the police is not tolerated).  As we were about to leave a Muslim woman came up to us and very angrily said, “What are you doing here?  You shouldn’t be here.  This place is sacred to Islam.  You shouldn’t be here.  They (referring to the Israeli police) don’t let some of us come up here, they shoot and kill our children, they prevent us from coming to our Mosque.  You shouldn’t be here.  Why are you here?”  Katy and I stopped in our tracks.  We tried to answer quietly and politely, but this was to no avail.  The situation began to escalate as others heard her yelling, so we quickly excused ourselves and walked away. 

Jerusalem is a wonderful place.  But it’s also a very real place.  It isn’t sugar coated.  It’s a place where thousands of years of history and sacred sites of multiple world religions has led to very strong feelings and a lot of tension.  A sign inside the Garden Tomb echoes the feelings of many in the Holy Land: