Not my usual Sunday

Usually Sunday for me means 3 church services and a meeting or two in the afternoon. This Sunday was a little different.

First we queued up to enter the Temple Mount – previously the location of the two Jewish temples (destroyed in 6^th century BC and 1^st century AD), and now the site of the Muslim Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa Mosque. 

Jews are forbidden to enter as they might be stepping on forbidden areas of the temple; 
all non-Muslims are forbidden to enter the two buildings (or to do any openly religious act like praying whilst they are there). One of the watchers did ask to see what book I was holding as I walked around, but he seemed to think my Lonely Planet Travel Guide was acceptable.

 

The size of the open space is enormous (especially in the old city of Jerusalem). The outside of the Dome of the Rock is very beautiful.
 

Then we caught the Arab bus to Bethlehem - the little sleepy town with the stable that happened to be busy the night that Jesus was born. Things have changed ... now Bethlehem is a bustling and chaotic mid-size middle-eastern town. As soon as we stepped off the bus there were taxi drivers trying to drive us into town; we preferred to walk to get to know the town. We didn’t check whether there was any room at the inn, but there sure wasn’t any in the car park or on the streets. 

The Church of the Nativity is built on the supposed site of the birth of Jesus, and there was certainly no room in the crypt under the church for us to get in – too many worshippers. As you can see there really is no room in the air above you either as you walk along – with so many chandeliers, candles and even baubles – but the effect is even more pronounced at the moment with all the scaffolding for renovations. 

But the most surprising sight was when a group of young Asian tourists approached the front of the church with their mobile phones on ‘selfie sticks’ taking photos. They then each handed a plastic bag of something (bread?) to the priest, who held it up in front of an icon of a saint and then handed it back to them. The guy with the longest selfie stick wasn’t content with just the plastic bag, but handed over his backpack as well. I presume they were seeking some kind of special blessing … but they also asked the priest to come out so that they could take a group photo with him as well. He seemed to take it all in his stride, but then didn’t miss his opportunity and reminded them that now it was time to give him a donation (we later noticed on the front of the mosque opposite that it was forbidden to give money to anyone inside that building). Having finished there we were welcomed into the service at the Catholic church next door and stayed for a few minutes observing the rituals.

Once we were outside again the taxi drivers were trying again. Since we were hoping to go to a couple of places we ended up going with the one who was standing next to his friend the policeman, who was very happy to verify everything he said. For a fixed price he took us to the three places we wanted to go, and waited there for us. 

First: Mar Saba Orthodox Monastery. We’d never been to a monastery before and had read that visitors were welcome at this one. The setting is austere – bleak desert hills overlooking the Dead Sea. The buildings are picturesque and some of them are decorated inside with beautiful frescoes of Bible scenes. 

We were welcomed by one of the monks, who looked just as you would expect a 35 year monk to look – dressed in a habit, dark hair, large beard. As you’d expect, he was from Moscow and his English was impeccable because he used to work there for an international company before he decided to become a monk. We had a delightful conversation about life in the monastery. What does he do when he is not showing tourists around? Church services for 7-8 hours each day, he sleeps for some time, there’s some time for contemplation, and of course there is some house work to be done around the monastery. As there are only 12 monks (and the ground probably wouldn’t produce anything anyway), they do not grow their own food. We talked too about some finer points of theology and church history. He also showed us where St Sabas was originally buried. Unfortunately the Crusaders stole his body as a relic and took it back to Venice, so the monks built a beautiful shrine. Some 800 years later the Catholic church gave his body back, which our monk guide showed us in the main church. Only his decayed head and feet were showing but we were assured that his whole body was there, just covered up. Our guide explained that part of the Holy Spirit placed upon a saint remains in the body, which causes the ‘relic’ to have healing powers. The whole visit was so fascinating and enlightening; my only disappointment is that we were not allowed to take any photos so I can’t share any of the sights with you.

Women of course are not permitted to enter the monastery even for a visit, but as we left a whole bus load of women were being allowed to touch some special box at the door so as to receive a blessing.

Second was a rather different home – the ruins of King Herod’s mountain top palace and final resting place – Herodium. When he wasn’t busy murdering members of his own family and slaughtering young boys in Bethlehem, King Herod the Great was an extraordinary builder (the Second temple, Caesarea, Masada). Herodium was the largest palace of his time, including a bath house, a pool, dining halls, an internal garden and an amphitheatre with a royal box. 

He designed it as his final resting place, even destroying the newly built amphitheatre to make way for his tomb, but somehow his tomb became lost and wasn’t discovered until 2007! Having watched a documentary about the discovery of this tomb with Hamish before I left, it was great to see its location in real life. Sadly I discovered that the man who spent so much of his life searching for this tomb died whilst working on the site shortly after finding it. 

Herodium - the views were amazing, the ruins were extensive, and once again there was a fabulous tunnel down through the enormous cisterns and the tunnels that later Jews fighting the Romans built. 

Our final stop with our driver was at the dividing wall which the Israelis have built around the West Bank (Trump’s idea isn’t original). The wall has been highly effective in reducing Palestinian attacks in Israel, but its sheer size, and the restriction it places upon the Palestinians movement is highly resented. Some Palestinians have taken to art to express their protest. 

A bus ride back, Shwarma and Chicken Laffa for dinner in the old city, and then …

Church at the oldest Protestant church in the Middle east – Christchurch Jerusalem, just opposite the Tower of David (last night’s light show). Established by English Christians eager to reach Jews with the Gospel of the Messiah. Built in the 19^th Century, the building is deliberately less ‘Christian’, and the liturgy draws upon Hebrew words like Messiah rather than Christ. Even one of the songs was in Hebrew (but with English ‘sub-titles’). The sermon was warm but meandering, the singing joyful, and to join in celebrating Jesus' death with people from around the world close by to where it really happened was really quite moving. So thankful for ‘his body given for me.’

A Muslim holy site, an Orthodox church, a Catholic church, an Orthodox Monastery, an Ancient palace, a dividing wall and an Anglican church service with a difference. Not my average Sunday!