Welcome to My Blog

I kept this blog during a month-long journey through Israel, on my own. Since then I've added background information on the Gospels and spiritual reflections to the travelogue. There are also a few posts on Peter and his life.

The Sea of Galilee, allegedly from the hill where Jesus fed 5,000.

Note: I've moved a lot of this blog to www.emilyjamison-diggingdeeper.blogspot.com.

You're welcome to use the pictures on this blog for personal or church use providing you give credit to www.emilyjamison.com.

Hope you enjoy this blog!

--Emily Jamison

Bethsaida

Closed! I was so upset. If only I'd gotten to the pier an hour earlier, maybe I would have made it to Bethsaida on time. If only this, if only that. There was a gorgeous skyline so I left the car door open, dropped the keys on the ground and dashed across the highway to photograph it - you have to chase pretty skylines around here - and turned around to see two tour buses disappear into the site.

Turned out the gate's always down, unlike every other site - you just pay there. $12.50. What?!!! Capernaum was 75 cents.

The guy took pity on me when I hesitated before reaching for money. 'Go in, if you like it, come back and pay,' and handed me some brochures. I pulled over, decided I'd be a fool to be stingy and went back to pay. 'No, no, you pay later. The park never closes. Stay as long as you want.'

Well, okay. I don't really care when I pay, actually. $12.50 is still $12.50 two hours from now. So I went clambering on rocks again, staring at signs that say 'Residence,' 'Courtyard,' etc. and wondering how on earth they could tell the difference. I could photograph the one saying 'Kitchen,' put it in the book as 'Residence,' and no one would ever know the difference. (But of course I wouldn't do that.)

(Actually I know they decipher it by what archeological remains are inside the room. So, in the kitchen they must've found pots, etc. But that doesn't make the stone walls look any different in the kitchen than they do in the residence. )

After a couple hours it started raining so I headed 'home' to pack and blog. The man at the entry gate was very perturbed. "Why are you leaving so soon?" (So soon???) "Because it's raining." (A good reason, I thought, to not be climbing over rocks under the open sky.)

"You don't have to pay. It's okay. Go on through. I live around here. Come back any time you want, let me know if you need anything."

Huh? I was pretty confused, but took advantage of Israeli hospitality before he could change his mind.

My social day indeed, I got into two more lengthy conversations, one of which nearly got me into men-trouble. You'd think my Temple adventure would have taught me caution, but I'm a bit slow on the uptake.

Anyhow. I wound up fine and headed off to the airport the following morning, which is a different blog. So I'll sign off, hope someone out there enjoyed this!

I also sailed on the Galilee today.

Sailing on the Galilee

I sailed on the Galilee! At long last. Awhile back I was sitting on the beach Jesus grilled fish at during a post-resurrection appearance to the disciples. A Nigerian group there was splashing water from the Galilee on their faces; one of them asked me if I had touched it. Holy water...I was so startled! Sacred water had never occurred to me. After they left I splashed Galilean seawater on my face too, but my heart missed out on the miracle of it.

I was sitting on the old rock pier yesterday, hoping to find a tour group I could tag along with, when a worker asked what I was doing. 'Oh, we're going in 15 minutes, circling and coming back to the same place. You can come with us for free.' Perfect! So I talked to his daughter for a bit, she's 22, really sweet.

I waited a couple hours but the group never showed. After showing her my pictures, seeing hers and talking about Israeli religion and politics, I started freaking about not getting more writing done the day before I left.

It was my social day. I'm sitting on the rocks writing when a nice Irish guy walks up and says hi, asks me what I'm doing or something, I forget. Turns out it's the same thing he's doing - and he's talked to the manager and done all the leg work. Lucky me! So an hour, soda and chocolate bar later I set sail.

It was an American group, they were really sweet. I was kind of anti-social, it was my last day and I wanted to scribble everything possible and everything impossible. Finally I finished scrawling and moved on to meditation: Jesus calming these waters, treading upon these waves. I struggled hard, but it was futile until I realized Jesus must have spent a lot of daily grind time in boats that sailed this sea. He laughed, grew tired, cried and hugged on boats like this.

I wonder how much comfort He took from these shores? Did He lose Himelf in their beauty when rejection cut Him to the core? Did He sit by them at night, listening to waves lapping, praying for strength to get through the day?

My revelation was interrupted mid-sentence, and I chatted with this sweet lady from Michigan until we got back, whereupon I dashed to the Bethsaida ruins. I'd been itching to get their all day - a fisherman's house preserved!

I also saw the ruins of Bethsaida today.

Daily Life in Capernaum

I saw an old harbor today, for the third time. I have read so many books and seen so many pictures that many things don't strike deep, but these walls and anchorages that speak of the daily grind keep making an impression on my heart.

Show me the un-amazing! Daily life. The grit that made the clock go 'round. I like to see where Jesus hauled sails, mended nets and bought rope. I like to realize that he probably did mend nets, not because he was a fisherman but because he was a friend. I like that he probably did sit on the ground sorting out unclean fish, listening to friends snap yet not lecturing.

I clambered around the rocks some and stumbled on the ruins of the old fish shop. Its pools of slimy, slithering fish are long gone, but I pondered it as I sat on the old seawall. Nearby was the same gorgeous array of blossoming bushes they saw- pale lavender, raspberry, an elegant cream and bright pink. I watched it get stormy as they did, saw the sky darkening as storm clouds blew in from the north.

Peter's house was a short walk away, and it's easy to picture him, Jesus and Andrew crossing the dirt road lining the coast, stopping by the rock-walled fish shop to get some bait and wading out to the sailboat rocking in the harbor. Perhaps the two brothers were complaining about the chilly water, the lack of fish or James and John.

Capernaum strikes deep because of what happened here. Because of shivering winter nights wrapped in blankets and gorgeous spring afternoons fishing, because of hot summer nights on the roof and the first tinge of fall. Because of children making mischief in the courtyard, women grinding grain for dinner and men coming in from a long night fishing. Because of joking, crying, grumbling and loving. Because of the ordinary stuff of life. Jesus' life.

Peter's House

I saw the ruins of Peter and Andrew's alleged house today, in Capernaum, but its early conversion to a church renders it impossible to picture it two thousand years ago. It was larger than most of the houses pictured directly below, but had the same basic structure - one or more courtyards surrounded by individual rooms.

All of the houses in Capernaum were built of the depressing black basalt in the picture (bleached grey by the sun, apparently). Most families in Capernaum lived in one room, which bordered a courtyard used by multiple families. Just behind the wall is the Sea of Galilee, and the stumpy hills in the background are on the far side of it.


This octagonal structure is the remnants of Peter's house, from the fifth century. It was converted to a house church hundreds of years earlier, then remodeled. The structure blocking it is a modern-day Franciscan church forbidden to tourists.

The house dubbed 'Peter's' had two courtyards, lucky for them. There were several bedrooms, one of which was probably used by him, his wife and any children they had (all in one bed, most likely). Another room would have been for Andrew and his family, and perhaps the others for cousins.

It's hard to get a good photograph, since the Franciscans had some odd compulsion to build a church in the air over the venerated site. This floor gives an idea of the woman searching for her lost coin - a bit more difficult than hardwood or carpeting. The walls probably had oil lamps propped on a ledge.

Expanded Version of This Article
Was Peter Poor?

Jesus' Tomb

Excavated Houses Oh, well. So I dashed, minus my time for writing (God help me if I ever lose my digital recorder). All this dashing was a bit frustrating because I tried to see all three sites the day before, but all Christian sites were closed because it was Sunday and all Jewish sites were closed because it was a major day of Passover week (this was Sunday, the last day of it was Monday).

Took me awhile, but finally I found my next destination, which I've been wanting to see the whole time I was here. This was my third try. Closed! Was I ever disappointed. It's a bunch of houses they've excavated from Christ's time that were occupied by the very wealthy and, quite possibly, the pseudo-high priest Annas. (You know when it says in Luke "when Caiaphas and Annas were high priests"? Actually the high priest position could only ever be occupied by one person, but Annas had so much power that it was effectively him and son-in-law Caiaphas running the show. Actually 5 of Annas' sons were high priest. The high priesthood at that time was bought and sold, and essentially controlled by 4 families. etc etc. Anyway.)

So one of these houses had an extra-lot of mikveh - ritual baths - making scholars think that maybe it was the high priests house. There are actually six houses, I just wanted a little glimpse, anything would have helped, even just ten minutes (and twenty photographs!), but - closed! ah,well. I'll just have to come back! ;)

Jesus' Tomb
So, desperate search for a taxi, who promises to put the meter on and doesn't, sucks to be him, he gypped himself 5 shekels instead of ripping me off. I even protested in the middle of the ride. He didn't have a clue where he was going anyway.

Finally I said just drop me off here, I'll walk! A couple minutes, I found it, 15 minutes, I'm out and racing for my hotel. It was one of my favorite sites though and I wish I had time to spend there. The Garden Tomb, where Christ was allegedly buried and most definitely not buried. It was found by this British guy, Gordon, who determined that you could see the shape of a skull (think Golgotha, the 'place of the skull') in the city from there. The Protestants got all excited because it was their one claim on a Holy-Land place - this was in the late 1800s - but later research proved that that type of tomb was last used in the 700s BC or something, I forget exactly.

Anyway, it was in such a nice pretty garden, with benches to sit and meditate (rather out-of-place to meditate on the tomb yesterday anyway, as it was Easter Day!) I could have meditated on the Resurrection there anyway though. It was just such a lovely spot. The tomb was as tomb-like as the other tomb I saw and the prison-cave I was in, not much difficulty writing that one regardless of whether I was there.

Homeward Bound
Well, then I dashed, flew, ran back to my hotel, in whatever miscellaneous location it might be in. Close by, I knew, and there were no taxis around. Half an hour later, I made it back, and was ready 15 minutes early! Now how about that?! I thought that was pretty good.

The day got worse from there, a shuttle to the airport to rent a car, then a trot around the airport with a cart that only goes left, waiting for elevators that don't work, signs going all the wrong ways (you can't get from one half of the second floor to the other without going down to the first floor. There the elevators are broken so you take the escalator back up, which then tells you the rent a car is on the third floor (odd), it is actually on the Ground floor, once I get to it the guy tells me to go find the office (there is one back in the building). I told him tell me where, becaause I've had it, and was trying hard not to just lose it entirely. He took my suitcase and personally walked me the 100 yards there.

Gracious. What a messy day. Finally I got in the car, and spent two hours trying to get out of where I was without crossing those dumb wicked terrifying Judean mountains. (All the Israelis find it mildly amusing that I am so scared of them.) After lots of circles I headed backwards entirely, then went north and cut across the very pretty and flat Jezreel Valley. (thing Megiddo, battleland. Zillions of battles have taken place near Megiddo over the millenia, because of the geography, and Revelations actually says that the last battle will take place at Har Mageddon - 'Mountain of Megiddo.' Everything in Israel lays claim to something biblical, and this place lays claim to Armageddon. )

Well finally I made it to my hotel, this room is about 50 degrees and the heat doesn't work and the room stinks like it hasn't been aired out in seventeen years. The computer is disastrous and doesn't tell me how much time I have left, so I might just end mid-sentence. Oh, well. Today I am off to see Peter and Andrew's house, then back to the hotel to write and transcribe yesterday and today's stuff.

Got to run! ciao!


I also saw the Temple today.

The Temple

The Temple was central to the Jewish religion; all of the sacrifices were offered there, and Scripture mandated that Jewish men attend festivals at the Temple three times a year. During Passion Week, as they were leaving the Temple, one of the disciples said to Jesus:

"Look, Teacher! What massive stones! What magnificent buildings!"

"Do you see all these great buildings?" replied Jesus. "Not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down."

(Mark 13:1-2)


The Dome of the Rock, an ancient Islamic shrine that is one of the holiest sites in Islam, stands where the Temple sanctuary stood in Christ's time. Scholars believe the foundation stone of that Temple is inside of it.

Which "buildings" he was referring to is unknown, but it included the Temple sanctuary. The prophesy was fulfilled in 70 A.D., after a long siege by the Romans. Sometimes people think that this prophecy wasn't fulfilled since the western wall, or Wailing Wall, of the the Temple still exists; however, it was the buildings Jesus referred to, and indeed they are gone - every last stone. Nothing is left.

One of the original streets that ran outside of the Temple is preserved, and you can see the massive stones, exactly where they tumbled to the ground two thousand years ago.

These boulders, on an excavated Herodion street, are probably right where they fell when the Romans torched it almost 2,000 years ago. I sat in one of those indentations on the left, which were probably kiosks in Jesus' time. The women probably bought spices to anoint Jesus' dead body in a shop like this, albeit larger.


The Temple Mount itself surprised me. I expected it to be this vast open space, but it's covered with mosques, curbed walkways and young trees. There's nothing old aboout it. I was so disappointed. This is a standard walkway on it, complete with lampposts and garbage cans.


Not a great picture, but the closest I have to what I was expecting - and what it was like in Jesus' day, I believe. Picture Christ's Temple where the Dome of the Rock is, and take out the buildings.

Travelogue
This guy walked up to me asking me if I wanted a tour - I said how much? (you learn quickly in Israel that costs are hidden. Payment is expected but the expectation is never stated.)

"Oh, little money, not much."

Oh. Well, what do you know about? Do you know about what it was like 2,000 years ago, or just the other centuries?

"Oh no, I know lots about what it looked like in Herod's time."

Great. Little money, none upfront, lots of information. Turned out he worked there, which was a plus - usually it's any old person offering you a tour.

Well, I shouldn't have believed him. He dodged every question about Herod's time, giving me all the information I never wanted about the sixth century (Mormon takeover) and the Byzantine period. "Here. I show you something." He takes me up a flight of stairs into some building - there are lots of buildings on the Temple Mount - turns around and locks the door. We are in his apartment.

oh dear God. Bells ring in my head. But I prayed and got more peace about it than I usually get about anything, so I figured it was okay. It was kind of cool, actually. He had renovated this apartment, scraped off the wall and discovered an old 1st millenia (my memory's not so good. 3rd entury? 8th century? It's all the same to me.) mosaic on the wall. There were ancient arches/dome in there, and an old ornate (inaccurate world) indentation in the wall fitted for a statue or something. Who knows what it was. It had this 'garden room' or something that was - never mind skylights - completely open. Gorgeous since there was a gorgeous blue sky overhead (and the omnipresent clouds on the horizon).


In his apartment - can you imagine having this in your house?!

He asked me if I had a boyfriend or was married ("yes") and gave me a five-minute lecture on how I shouldn't have believed him the first time he said "I love you," etc. etc. etc. because men only mean that on the second or third time they say it, blah blah blah.

OK, can we change the subject? I'm getting desperate and praying hard. Still getting peace. Good! 'cause I'm getting a little freaked out anyway. He knew I was scared and I was like "Well, yeah, I don't know you." He offered me a mug of Turkish coffee - did I know how outstanding Turkish coffee was? You must sample it."

Well by that time a) I was ready to run; and b) I had to run. I had two more sites to see and had to be back by 11:00. It was now 9:30.

I thought he would never let me out of the darn place. Finally I escaped. "Money."

"Oh, right, money. What, 15 shekels okay?" (This is generous, as the tour at the Temple excavations cost me 10.)

"Oh, no. We give 100 shekels for this kind of thing." Tough. I gave him 20 and told him if he wanted 100, he should have said so in the first place. And walked away.

He tried to give me directions to where I wanted to go, but I was afraid he was mad at me and steering me completely wrong, and besides I wanted 5 minutes to write away from him. I never did get my 5 minutes, but I did get what appeared to be a circular tour of the Temple Mount, rushing the whole time, only to wind up where I started.

Finally I escaped.

No Sunrise Resurrection Service

If the Way of the Cross had been a disappointment (see yesterday's post for Friday), my sunrise service at the Garden Tomb, where Christ was allegedly buried, would redeem it. So I checked what time to arrive (5:00 a.m. for a 6:30 service), made sure I could get a taxi at 4:30 and went to sleep, reminding myself not to expect so much this time.

Pitter patter patter pitter - my sun-rise service was a rain-fall service. My last great spiritual experience, rained out. Sigh. Dejected look. Pout. But oh well, what can you do? It probably would have been a crowded mess of people singing and chanting in a language I can't read or understand anyway, and besides I got to sleep more than two hours.*

I figured I'd hold on to the rest of my plan - the Temple Mount and an archaeological museum I'd spent a couple hours searching for another day, only to stumble on the Wailing Wall instead. I was thrilled to stumble on that actually, I posted that separately somewhere. Unfortunately the taxi driver said the Temple Mount was closed for Pesach, Passover. (I'm not sure why since the Moslems are in charge of the Temple Mount. Isn't that sad? It's the holiest place in Judaism.) Okay, fine, maybe I could see it tomorrow. I would get my archaeological museum. And this time, I would find it. I had four hours.

10 minutes later I found it, and no surprise, it was closed. I stared at the chained door pathetically, then sat on a stone wall and watched the Passover celebration going on in the square. If you haven't figured out from reading Friday's post, I can be kinda stubborn, and I was determined to get something out of the day, so I sat there writing about it - who knows, maybe some day it will help me write about the wedding party at Cana or something. It was kinda fun actually, but I do wish I'd gotten to see the other stuff, especially the Temple Mount and the Garden Tomb. I spent months researching the Temple, and it would have been really cool, but oh well.

3 plans and 3 down the drain, but what can you do? That's traveling for you. I think I saw another place Christ was buried while I drank Coke #2 in a tomb Friday, so I'll just use that. I doubt He was buried in an alleyway, but I'll find a garden somewhere or something. Actually no one was buried in the Garden Tomb for centuries on either side of Christ's death, so it's irrelevant. More likely He was buried in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where there is a long line to see a gold-encrusted tomb. I ditched that entirely.

Finally I got a taxi back to the hotel - I've getting some nerve. I yelled at some taxi drivers for not setting the meter. One told me to get out, but I was halfway out the door anyway. They rip you off like crazy, usually offering you an off-the-meter price that's about double the meter price. When I pitched a fit at his offer of 40 shekels he went down to 30 - I got mine for 14.30 on the meter. I must be figuring some things out around here, because I estimated it would be 17. Pretty good, if I do say so myself.

So finally I made it back to the hotel and started typing this. Darned if I won't get something done today!


*Post-script from after I got home - It wasn't rained out, apparently 1400 people attended the sunrise service, which was "amazing." Perhaps I missed my great spiritual experience, but I doubt it. I imagine it would have been hard to hear a thing with 1400 people around, and sitting around waiting for an hour and a half would have annoyed me. I am kinda bummed that I missed it though. Another year!

Jesus' Prison

After visiting the room where the Last Supper was held, I sat there deciding whether to give up, slumped my way down the hill, and poof! There right in front of me was St. Peter in Gallicantu, which I planned to see today but was rapidly un-planning due to exhaustion. yeee-hah, no effort! I slumped my way down the hill (you know it's bad when you're slumping your way downhill). And stood for awhile staring into space, with a couple tour bus drivers beginning to think me nutty (that's after the police and the army people at the top of the hill thought I was nutty. Must be an accurate representation. ;)

Jesus' Prison
Finally I expended my remaining energy and slumped down the rest of the hill, to the cave-prison Caiaphas may have held Jesus in, as well as where Peter and John were jailed. Funny, I'd always pictured the angel rescuing Peter from a cell with clanging metal doors and junky cots, like you see in movies.

It wasn't difficult to imagine cruelty happening here. The cat o'nine tails, men thrown against walls streaked with blood, slipping in puddles of it on uneven stone. It made me realize the agony they endured, and how little I endure for Christ. And what I'm called to, should I be called to it.


A close-up of the wall. The ledge in the upper right may have held a dim lamp, fueled by olive oil. Jerusalem can get pretty cold during the winter, and evenings in early spring are definitely chilly. With stone walls thoroughly chilled by months of winter, Jesus must have been shivering in here. Perhaps he sat on that stone step, praying to his Father, wanting to call on the legion of angels in heaven to rescue him, but loving us enough not to.

After many tour groups and much contemplation I went to their shop to get lunch. I was so exhausted, the guy took pity on me and gave me 25% off the Coke, and the candy bar for free! Maybe I should look exhausted more often.

The Field of Blood
Just outside of here is Akeldama, the Field of Blood where Judas allegedly hung himself. It overlooks the Kidron Valley, and if he had fallen he could have rolled quite far down this somewhat rocky hill, depending on which tree he picked and which direction the wind was blowing. Across the Valley is Gethsemane, where he betrayed Jesus.

Some of them are like willow trees hanging down to reach the ground. There are yellow ones, but they are too thin to hang yourself on.

Aaaagh!
My next stop was a walk through the Holyland Hotel model of Jerusalem in Jesus’ day. It includes a model of the Temple, which I was hoping to see before going to the Temple grounds tomorrow. Unfortunately they moved it to the Israel Museum, which doesn't sell tickets on the Sabbath.

You can visit. You just can't buy a ticket? They're week-long tickets. I guess it's not against the Sabbath to have someone in the office checking tickets and letting you in and whatnot, but it is against the Sabbath to ring up a new ticket? I dunno. This Sabbath thing confuses me. OK, got to run. ciao! me

I also saw the Upper Room today. You might also be interested in my posts on the Grove of Gethsemane and the Cave of Gethsemane

The Last Supper

I slept in today! 11 hours! (one for each hour of misery yesterday apparently.) I usually wake up so early, oh my goodness but the break was good. Then I got frustrated because I couldn't figure out the most efficient thing to do, but not super-frustrated. That's because yesterday defined frustration, so it really didn't compare. This Sabbath thing here drives me crazy. Everything's closed on Saturdays, all the Jewish sites. On Sunday all the Christian sites are closed. Hey - at least they don't fall on the same day. It did make planning take until noon then (well, I did sleep until 9.)

The Upper Room
I went to the Upper Room this morning, where Jesus and the disciples allegedly ate the Last Supper - the final meal of his life. The next day he was crucified. It's doubtful, though possible, that's it's the correct location for that meal, although it is likely that it is the room he appeared to the disciples in after his resurrection.

This 'large upper room,' is small enough that it's very difficult to get a good picture of, but this series should give you an idea.


The disciples would have entered this door.



This would have been their first view. You can get a good idea of the size of the room from this - as I recall, I was practically out of the door, trying to photograph the broadest possible view of the room.



The far wall, from where they stood. To orient yourself, you can see the cleft in the wall, presumably for a statue, in the picture above this one. Imagine a large, three-sided table set back from this. Glasses of wine, festive food, dirty plates, dessert, and a lot of sadness.



The wall opposite the one above. The table was probably between them, perhaps a bit closer to the window in the far corner (see above), to get the last rays of light. A buffet table may have lined this wall.

I sat on stone steps inside (picture #2), watching tour group after tour group file in, listen to someone yabber, pray, and file out. Describing the room was halfway to impossible. Who knows what it looked like way back then? It's been altered so over the centuries, with Romanesque this and Renaissance that....well, I don't really remember about the Renaissance part. I do know that the columns were Romanesque, and other parts were modified later, but I don't know exactly when.

Some Biblical Background
If you already know the biblical basics of what Passover is, etc., you may as well skip this section.

They were celebrating the Passover meal in this room, when Jesus told Judas to go out and do what he was going to do, quickly. Passover, which is the biggest holiday of the Jewish calendar, commemmorates God leading them out of slavery to the Egyptians.

For a quick history - Abraham, Isaac and Jacob were Jewish patriarchs. Jacob, had twelve sons, ten of whom were cruel to their dad's favorite kid, bratty Joseph. One day Joseph's figurative head went missing, and he informed all of his older brothers that he had a dream indicating that they would all bow down to him.

Rather irritated, they sold him into slavery in Egypt. Little Joseph rose in the ranks over the years, until he got dumped into jail for allegedly having sex with his masters wife. (oops.) God let him hang out there for a couple years, then gave him the wisdom to interpret a dream for Pharaoh, indicating that there would be seven years of plenty, then seven years of famine. Pharaoh, impressed with this wise young man, promoted him to be head of all Egypt. (God doesn't follow the corporate ladder, apparently).

So, when the famine came along, Joseph was in charge - and there to see his brothers come begging for grain. They were reconciled, and Joseph's father (the patriarch Jacob) and eleven sons moved to Egypt, where he was reunited with his favorite kid.

God had renamed Jacob Israel, and Jacob's twelve sons became the forefathers of the twelve tribes of Israel, whose descendants were traced for many generations.

Centuries passed (God clearly doesn't work on the corporate time scale, either), and the Jews - too prolific for a later Pharaoh's taste - became slaves in Egypt. Really miserable. So God told Moses to have all the Jews put blood on their door, and get ready to leave - no doing anything time-consuming like making bread with yeast in it. That night an angel went through and punished the Egyptians for the way they treated the Jews, slaying every firstborn son in Egypt - unless you had blood on your door, in which case you got 'passed over.' So the Egyptians, clever people that they were, let them go.

yee-hah! Well, except that it took them 40 years of whining and grumbling to reach the Promised Land God was leading them to (that awful time-scale thing again).

So, at the Last Supper, Jesus and his disciples were celebrating this release from slavery to the Egyptians, nearly two thousand years earlier. (Something along that line - not surprisingly for something that happened about four thousand years ago, it's arguable.)

Travelogue
I’m at the hotel, trying to get food over Passover. Tis downright painful. You can’t even get a bowl of soup. America, America, how I love Thee so… We can even get food on Thanksgiving! Pick a time, any time… so I’m attempting a tuna salad…a heated bowl of Progresso would be phenomenal.

I definitely had the wrong idea when I decided it would be 'so cool' to be in Jerusalem for Holy Week. I really don't recommend it, especially if you're traveling alone. It takes longer to get places because roads are closed off. Taxi rates are different. Everybody is celebrating with family, like Americans do at Christmas, so you wind up really lonely - I just wanted to cry so many times when I sat in those dining rooms. You can't eat a lot of stuff, as you can see above. Some of the cheaper dining rooms are closed off, so you have to eat at the super-expensive ones, because it's too risky to go out by yourself.

You get the idea. They are really strict about it here. I didn't realize Jews today were any stricter about the Sabbath than American Christians today - which is to say, it really doesn't matter much to the vast majority of us. But they even have a Sabbath elevator! It stops at every floor so that you don't have to push the button. I think it would be a lot more convenient to push the button and get where I want to go! The big problem with it, though, is that it beeps every single hour, even late at night and early in the morning, and near as I can tell there isn't a room in the place that you can't hear it beeping all night long.

For Passover the hotel I was staying at put a great big sign out front asking visitors not to bring any food into the hotel, because they had cleaned it all out for Passover, eliminating any scrap of yeast.

Speaking of which, at our festivals and holidays, we eat extra good food. But Passover food - yuck! Well, a lot of it. The cooks really try, and the better hotels succeed, but that success always seems to be a novelty to the eaters - like wow, someone actually made something that tastes good over Passover!

They can't use the microwave, I believe, and I don't think the stove was legit either. Pretty much all I could manage was a salad - many of the things on the menu are banned on the Sabbath/Passover, and I finally gave up and asked the girl what I could have. She said she didn't know, she's go find out! (I forget which rules applied only to Passover by now).

Which seemed to be pretty common. Everyone I asked as to why the rules and which ones had no idea. They all said, "I don't know, I'm not Jewish, I just work here." And I'd say, "Oh, but do you just know the symbolism?" "No," they'd say, "I have no idea." Which struck me as a little odd. Do they not talk to each other at all?

I also saw Jesus' prison today.

Walking the Crucifixion Route

I always knew it would be an awe-inspiring experience to do the Via Dolorosa, the Way of the Cross, the 13 stations representing Passion Week. Every Good Friday pilgrims pack the streets, following a massive wooden cross, united in spiritual passion. Some even carry their own crosses, wanting to draw close to Christ's sufferings. I'd seen so many pictures in my research, but I never dreamed I'd get to be part such an awesome, unforgettable experience.

Until it drew closer, and I started to dread it. So many people mourning the crucifixion, the Good Friday heaviness multiplied by thousands; what a depressing day. But I couldn't come to Jerusalem on Good Friday and not participate in this. It was the ultimate, something amazing. I had to be part of it. So I set my alarm for 5:30; it started at 9:00 but a taxi driver told me I'd better leave by at least 7:30, preferable 7:00; it was so crowded, streets would be closed off. Of course - why hadn't I thought of that? My excitement mounted.

A taxi driver dropped me off at the wrong place at 7:15, but no problem. I had plenty of time to get there. Then I saw a local said no, don't take a taxi - look, a group is just starting, right there.

What a let-down! 50 people, all responding in some sort of litany thing. I didn't even have the paper. But hey - I had to be part of this. We finished Station #1, all filing out of the church, front rows first, is a solemn ceremony. I followed some people upstairs for Station #2; why wasn't everyone following us?

Because that was the 13th station. It started at 6.

You have never seen a more dejected little face. I sat down on a stone stump, put my chin in my hands and stared at the ground, wailing "God, how could you do this to me? I've...blah, blah blah" Finally I got up. I would not miss the Way of the Cross. How did I get to the beginning?

The minister decided I had two heads. Directions? Whoa. Way too complicated. "Should I take a taxi?" Oh, gracious no, all the streets are closed. You'll have to walk. But I can't tell you how to get there. Just follow the groups backwards. There are groups going all day."

"All day? All day? There are groups going all day?" Dejection, elation... I'm the emotional type. But hold on a second - follow them backwards?

"Oh, sure. You'll see them all over the place. You won't have any trouble at all. Just ask directions here and there. All the locals will know."

Hum. Well, I would not miss the Way of the Cross. Onward Christian soldiers.

Well, he was right. There were processions going all day. All about 15 people. Sadness and woe. But, I would not miss the Way of the Cross. So I followed them backwards, a lovely idea assuming they waited more than two intersections before turning. Finally I started seeing bigger groups, that was encouraging. 50 people was beginning to sound pretty good.

So I dashed down each street as a group came along, pushing people aside in an effort to see what their previous turn was. I was rapidly figuring out that getting two turns per group was joy defined.

Things weren't too bad at first. A lot of groups came, and I got it okay. But apparently it was an early-morning thing, because they got sparser. And sparser. And sparser. Often I waited 20-30 minutes per turn.

Four hours and fourteen zillion frustration-iotas later, I made it to the starting point. St. Mary Magdalia. The place I took a 20-minute taxi ride to yesterday.

Frustration or laughter. The laughter didn't occur to me. But I would not miss the Way of the Cross. Surely an English-speaking group would leave soon. I just had to find out when. I looked for the table of who was in charge. I looked upstairs. I looked downstairs. I looked at the corner.

No table. What? All organized events operates via tables. Sign-up sheets. A point-person, committe-leader...no go. I asked around. Oh, all the tours were pre-arranged. You had to pay in advance through your hotel.

Wait a second? You had to pay to participate in this great spiritual experience? Immorality defined! But I would not miss the Way of the Cross. I'd wait around for an English-speaking group. I'd pay extra.

An English-speaking group? Oh, those were pretty rare. Hopefully one would come along at some point though, and maybe they'll let you join.

I would not miss the Way of the Cross. I would wait.

Oh, but you shouldn't wait here. You need to go to the first station.

Wait a second. You mean I'm not at the first station?

Oh, no. You have to walk a bit to get there. Some groups just meet here. Follow another group, you'll find it without a problem.

More group-following? Oh, grand. But, I'll continue my hunt. I will not miss the Way of the Cross.

Eventually tenacity rewarded itself; I found the first station. Elation defined. People milled about. I bought a Coke and drank it facing into a stone corner; if they couldn't see me, I couldn't get in trouble. Rules or no, my soda was well-earned. An army troop couldn't have kept me from that soda.

All right. Tours. Some Russian groups wandered through, seeming to have already started. A French group. Some Germans. No English. Finally some woe-be-gone Americans asked me where the bathrooms were. Americans? Americans! All praise to God on high! Just a couple? Fine. No tour group. I had people to go with. And Americans, to boot! yee-hah! We decided to do the rest of the stations together, from station #2 on. Station #2?

oh, yes, we couldn't find station number one, so we gave up and started at station #2.

OK, I really felt like giving up by now, but I couldn't miss out on any of the Way of the Cross. This great spiritual experience. Surely I had to do every station. Besides, now God's reasoning is clear. Of course! I need to stay at each station and write about it. Being part of a tour group would distract me terribly; it would never work.

I somehow found out - by some person or other - that a major one was going at 12:00. A major one? The major one! It was it. It did exist. I hadn't missed it. yee-hah! Granted, God's used easier methods in the past, but I would get my Way of the Cross. My great spiritual experience, all those worshipers united.

So I waited for an hour, camera on my lap, staring into space. Finally we left. I was right at the front! The ultimate reward! Go God!

God wasn't into the mercy thing yesterday. Squished to death. I couldn't even keep my balance. It was awful. Tired, frustrated, people singing and chanting in a language I can't even read, let alone understand.

That was it. My grand spiritual experience. My fellow pilgrims, united in spiritual passion. A worship image I'd seen in pictures for years, never dreaming I could be a part of it.

A tenth of a mile later, I dropped out. Thank God! Much better. I could breathe. I could balance. And I didn't have to listen to people reading and yabbering in an unfathomable language.

But, my great spiritual experience still lay in waiting. I would do it myself. I would not miss the Way of the Cross.

I set out for Station #1.

Oh, you were just there. That's where everyone met. It's closed now.

I'd missed a station? What? Well, fine. I'd been at the station. I could remember what it looked like. Now, station number 2. I sat in a church and stared at a stained-glass window, fed up with life. Station #2 was doing no better on great spiritual experiences than Station #1. But at least I knew I was in it. Things were looking up. Finally an African group came in and sang "Yani Sore" for 15 minutes. Not the song "Yani Sore." The phrase "Yani Sore."

First it annoyed me. Then it relaxed me. Finally I struggled to repress laughter. I don't know why. It was that or frustration. Finally they filed out. Great! Now I could ponder the wonder of God in silence. My great spiritual experience at last!

Another group came in and varied the phrase. Oh, who cares! I'm about to crack up by now, and wondering what happened to the poor English couple that were sitting in the middle of it all. At least I was stuck in a chair on the side.

Life didn't get much better. My dreams of a great spiritual experience went out the door by Station #4, where Christ was buried or something, I forget, in some cave-type place. I stood in there drinking another Coke, apologizing to God for having absolutely no spiritual gusto left. I really did feel guilty, but I was just beyond.

Well, life got worse. I got lost on my way to Station #5. Finally some man decided he would help me. I made it to Station #5 panting. "Pray here."

What?

"Pray here. Pray to Mary."

OK...so I pray (not to Mary).

Move to iron grill in the floor. "Here. Pray here."

What?

Pray here.

But why?

Pray here.

OK, then. So I prayed "God, I have no idea why I'm staring down an iron grill praying or what's going on but anyway..."

"Pray here."

"I just did."

"Pray here. Pray to Jesus."

At least it wasn't Mary or iron grating.

Well so it went, to station 7. Finally I said I can do it. "Money." he said. I gave him 3 shekels - .75 US. Sorry, but if you don't ask for money beforehand, you don't get much. Sucks to be you. Aren't I such a sweet nice Christian? sigh. Sweetness was not my middle name by now.

Well, little competent woman that can do it herself, walked in circles until finally ending up back at station 4. oh, dear God. Can I burst into tears? I stared at the wall for awhile, then followed a group. And got lost. And followed a group. you get the idea. More hours, and I was at station #8. Which was closing in half an hour. (By now it was 4:15.)

All right, if every single one of these stations closed in half an hour, and I missed my Way of the Cross, the city would implode. I would ensure it. So I finished my non-existent meditations on my cold stone steps and dashed out the door. Where was station #8?

Oh, there is no station #8. Our tour guide said there are only seven.

What? Only 8 stations in my 13-station Way of the Cross? No way.

I really really really felt like believing him and quitting, but my little booklet said there 14 stations in my 13 station Way of the Cross, and I would do all 14 even if they did close. I would sit outside the church and meditate on the Scripture. I would not miss my Way of the Cross.

I dashed down a street. Where is Station #8?

Oh, just down that street.

Rapid dash. Wrong. Rapid dash back. Nothing. Rapid dash to the right.

A tour group! "Excuse me, do you know where Station #8 is?" I think that's the one we're on. That plaque of there, that's Station #8.

A plaque? One of my great spiritual experience sites is a plaque? Major let-down. But, wait a second... an American accent!

Americans! yee-hah! Pure delight. My day is worth something.

Indeed, it did improve from there. The most wonderful group from Colorado adopted me for an hour. The were so sweet and talkative and inquisitive and affectionate - I even got a hug when we parted ways at the end. The first bit of affection I've gotten since I left home three weeks ago, and I was delighted. I even followed them to the bus, figuring there would be a taxi there. Which there was.

It took me back to the hotel. Ah, paradise! I walked in my room, flopped down on my bed and ordered room service. Ring...ring...ring...ring... answering machine. In Hebrew. I left a message in the hope someone would call me back.

Well they never called and my fruit never came, but by that time breakfast and a candy bar sufficed. I put on my pj's and fell very asleep very fast. For eleven hours - one for each hour of misery, I guess. A final blessing.

Anyhow, I got my Way of the Cross. It and great spiritual experiences are now antonyms, but I got my precious, dreamed-of, awesome-to-be Way of the Cross.

ugh. Never again.

Well, if anyone's gotten this far I'm really impressed. A lot of complaining, I suppose, but it really was the most stressful day of my trip.

The Wailing Wall

More to come - under revision! Also see The Temple: On the Grounds, from several days later.

(This is a continuation from the 'Cave of Gethsemane' post - same day, different site.)


It was still early so I went to see the excavated mansions of the Old City, where part of Jesus' trial took place.* I couldn't find it but I did stumble upon the Wailing Wall, the western wall of the Temple where Orthodox Jews pray, apparently because it is closest to the long-gone Most Holy Place, dwelling of God's Presence in the Temple burned by the Romans centuries ago.

On a sidenote - Jesus prophesied ~"Not one stone [of the Temple] will be left upon another." The walls that remain are from the Temple grounds, not the Temple building. The Temple grounds covered 15% of Jerusalem, and were surrounded by crenelated limestone walls. Covered colonnades often used for teaching bordered the inside of the walls, and lead into the expansive courts Gentiles and Jews could gather in. Closer to the center were courts restricted to Jews, and within those the Temple building. Not one stone of this remained after the Romans torched it in 70 A.D.

I went up and touched the Temple wall - wow! It was the most amazing thing, after all those hours, months and books, all that exhaustion, frustration and determination, to touch that Temple wall. I was so grateful that God brought me there. It was like the fruition of everything, the final gift and most gracious reward.


ciao!


I also saw the Cave of Gethsemane and the excavations just outside of the Temple today.

*Approximate, probably or I'm guessing at the numbers and formation.

The Cave of Gethsemane

(Click here for information on the : Garden of Gethsemane , - this blog is the cave that most of the disciples were in.)

The front of the cave. The red and gold curtain covered the opening for an olive press, which was a common installation in caves during that time period.

I've seen a zillion pictures of the roomy cave holding 20-odd chairs, and - being an inexperienced cave-explorer- assumed it was a simple hole in the Mt. of Olives. Yet all my research said they went there 'to keep warm,' and may have spent many nights there on their various trips to Jerusalem. But, despite all my information and much puzzling, I couldn't picture it being much warmer. Cozier perhaps, and out of a harsh wind - but warmer?

Turns out it's an underground cave, protected from the frigid air . Early April evenings are chilly in Jerusalem (trust me), so they were probably praying in the back corner, behind the stairs, coats wrapped closely around their bodies. Did they doze off like the trio in the olive grove? It was warmer in the cave, they were 'exhausted with sorrow,' and it had been an intense holiday replete with food and wine. Or did they keep each other awake, huddled in a group, praying, sharing fears, struggling to make sense of all He had told them that night?

Anyhow, so I'm picturing the dejected disciples in the cave fighting sleep, and the trio shivering in a wild olive grove, picturing Roman soldiers marching from the Antonia fortress behind the holy Temple, down the grassy slopes and over the Kidron Valley bridge. On and on they marched, 50 rows of 12 men*, stumbling in the moonlight, tripping on the rocks.

Ceiling design enhancements by medieval pilgrims.


By my calculations, they would have come across this hill. The Antonia fortress was to the right of that wall (i.e., go left at the corner), and back a bit. The soldiers probably came from the Antonia, across the Kidron bridge and into Gethsemane - which is probably a route similar to what Jesus and the disciples had taken many times.

*Approximate, probably or I'm guessing at the numbers and formation.

A Spiritual Experience
Etienne de Villiers, administrator of the site world-sos.net, e-mailed me a revelation experienced by his friend, Mrs. Wil Laponder:

"Filled with respect, I took your name which was the most beautiful for me: 'Christus.'* My pencil moved around your name, and what was the result? A flower with eight petals and the `IS' in the middle**! That is just like You are, in the smallest flower and in all; in the large and in the smallest, You are everywhere.

The IS flower drawn by Mrs. Wil Laponder. 'Christus' means Christ in Afrikaans, and 'IS' means 'am,' as in God's name 'I Am Who I Am.'

You probably taught that to Your disciples. At Gethsemane, I asked You where the real Gethsemane was. As always, you instructed me in images. We had to walk straight ahead, over stones and walls. You showed us the Mount of Olives, and the place where You were during the last hour, alone with Your great sorrow, because people did not understand You and therefore judged You. You said: 'Here, My struggle was the most difficult.' I sensed Your presence at that special place in the field with enormous awe and reverence.

Later, at the church dedicated to Mary, You asked me to cross the bridge, and You lead us to a cave-door with the name 'Gethsemane' above it. Inside, drawn on the walls of the cave, were several 'IS'- flowers, exactly as You made me draw them! Later, back at the bridge, the radiance of Your Light was intense above the cave. Oh Father, how can we ever thank You enough for the revelation of the 'IS'- flower and the truth it holds; as only You, the I AM in all, 'IS' truth.

*’Christus’ is Afrikaans for Christ
**God's name, `I AM WHO I AM', is `EK IS WIE EK IS' in Afrikaans

I AM WHO I AM (Exodus 3:14).
I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me (John 14:6).
At that day ye shall know that I am in my Father, and ye in me, and I in you (John 14:20).

May His I AM live in you eternally."

Note: While I think it's a wonderful experience to have and don't doubt that God sometimes gives His followers such divine revelations, please don't read this and think God will speak to you in a similar way. He grants different experiences to different people.

Outside the Temple

More to come - under revision! Later I saw the outline of the old entrances - wow! After all those pictures, to see the public's Double Gate , touch the priests Triple Gate, squeal and jump in front of them. (Just kidding.) I was talking to myself though, so excited, "I can't believe I'm here! This is the most awesome-est thing in the whole entire world!" etc. etc. Then I realized someone was behind me and I was like oooooooh, I feel stupid. But he was very nice and offered to take my picture. (I declined since I looked atrocious.) Anyhow. Tomorrow is the crucifixion procession, the Via Dolorosa, so I'll be going to that, and then to the supposed tomb where Jesus was buried (which is definitely not the tomb, but I'll explain that tomorrow.) I also saw the Cave of Gethsemane and the Wailing Wall today.

The Kidron Valley

The Kidron Valley, which runs between eastern Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives, plummets rapidly into a ravine that is dry much of the year. The bridge that joined the two is probably what Jesus and the disciples used on their way to Gethsemane.


The Kidron Valley - that dark splotch on the pathway at the bottom is a person. Just the other side of the path the Mount of Olives begins.

The Highest Point of the Temple
Jerusalem is split and surrounded by valleys. To the east is the Kidron Valley, to the south of the Old City is the Valley of Hinnom, and the Tyropoeon Valley ran southeast through the Old City.

The Temple was in the northeastern 15% of Jerusalem, and the Kidron Valley plummeted down beside it.

Satan tempted Jesus in three ways: telling stones to become bread when he hadn't eaten in forty days, taking him to a very high mountain and showing him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor, and taking him to the highest point of the Temple. "If you are the Son of God," the devil said, "throw yourself down. For it is written: 'He will command his angels concerning you, and they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.' Jesus answered him, 'It is also written: 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.''

A candidate for the furthest drop is the area of the Temple just above the Kidron Valley.

The Red Heifer
On the annual Day of Atonement, a red heifer carrying the weight of the sins for all Israel was sent out of the Temple courts to cross this bridge and wander into the netherlands of the nearby hills.

The eastern gate of the Temple opened almost directly into the Kidron Valley. I believe that the eastern, or Shushan, Gate, was used expressly for VIPs, and the other peons most of us would have been would have had to circle two miles to the main entrance at the Double Gate, near the commercial area.

Crossing the Bridge to Gethsemane
Jesus and the disciples almost certainly crossed the Kidron Bridge after departing the 'large upper room' the Last Supper was held in, and leaving for Gethsemane. Judas and the soldiers almost certainly used this bridge to follow them. All of them almost certainly used this bridge on their way to the high priests mansion.

A Garbage Pit
I believe that in Jesus' time this ravine was used as a garbage pit, and several centuries before that the zealous King Josiah burned all the pagan statues in it.

Travelogue
There is a nice tourists walkway going through the Kidron Valley, which fortunately for tourists is nice and deceptive. I'm not sure I would have made the climb down if I knew how far down - and up! - it was. The real killer is that once you're on the other side, it's a pretty empty area, so you're stuck going all the way back down - and all the way back up!


The Kidron Valley walkway, facing the Mt. Olives.

I tried crossing this at the wrong time of day, being quite unconcerned about it - it was still light, and there were people around. The problem is the church closed at 5, and thus departed all the taxis! I waited and walked and walked and waited and walked back and waited - finally wound up walking way, way far into a completely non-touristy area where I felt anything but safe. Dumb taxi wouldn't come, no matter what! Thought I was gong to get run over in the process, but - clearly! - I fared a bit better than that.

People!
Afterwards I returned to my hotel. The night before the waiter got upset with me for inadequate tipping, so this time I had the remains of a free basket of fruit provided the first night. It's a nice trick I figured out - when that runs out I'll just order room service for another basket. $10 initially, but any dinner in a tourist place is $10 or more, and it will serve me several nights. Plus, I don't have to be surrounded with people I don't know celebrating a holiday I don't understand in a language I don't speak. (Instead I go crazy being locked up between four walls. My second hotel in Tiberias had a beautiful view that encouraged writing and gave an illusion of space that prevented claustrophobia. Unfortunately that's harder to find in a city.)

I also saw the Mt. of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane today.

Last Updated: August 23, 2008

The Grove of Gethsemane

Given the innumerable webpages on Gethsemane, I thought I'd break with my normal pattern for this blog and do something different. If you want to picture Jesus' footsteps to the olive grove called Gethsemane on that fateful night, start here:


An image of the Kidron Valley, with the Temple just behind the wall, and the Mount of Olives and Gethsemane on the opposite side of the ravine.

Jesus and his disciples probably walked through the crowded commercial area just to the right of the corner in the wall. Here there were moneychangers, people selling sacrificial animals, shops selling spices, pottery, etc. Now turn to walk along this wall, on the walkway adjacent to it. It is less crowded here; indeed, there is no place to build a house, nor any shops, for this is the very edge of Jerusalem. The massive white ashlars that make up the outer Temple walls are on your left; just over the high railing on your right is the Kidron Valley, and your stomach might turn a little if you peek over the wall.

You walk for a bit - quite a bit, actually. Eventually the beautiful stones turn into harsher stone, and you know you are looking at ancient walls, built by that great King of Israel, King Solomon. Vaguely you hear the rabbi teaching. “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were nto so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

But look now - you are nearing the Eastern Gate of the Temple walls - the gate you can't enter, because you're not a VIP. Resentment burns inside of you, but the beauty of the Beautiful Gate, the most beautiful of all, stops you short. Rosettes carved into limestone and plated with pink marble, and the tall malachite columns with Corinthian capitals, turns your mind to the marvel the king greated, and the glory it gives to Adonai.

But time to move on! You turn right, to cross the stomach-turning depths of the Kidron Valley via the Kidron Bridge.


An image showing the depths of the Kidron Ravine - in the rainy season there is a trickle of a brook at the bottom. The dark splotch at the bottom is a person.

Ahead of you is the Mount of Olives, with its endless supply of olive trees and evergreens.


A photograph of some scenery close to what Jesus and the disciples would have seen when the crossed from the Temple, across the Kidron Bridge, to the Mount of Olives.


It is Passover now, and the city is crowded. Many of those caves, you know, are filled with people that have no family to stay with in Jerusalem.

But, you discover when you reach solid ground, there is a place not far away that is empty of the candles lit in other corners. You stop with the disciples, sit down with them and admire the view.


An image looking from the back of what is now a landscaped garden claiming to be Gethsemane, across the Kidron Valley to the Temple walls. If I were up higher, you could see the gold dome, just inside those walls, of the Islamic shrine that now stands where the Temple once stood.


Such beauty! From here you can see over the outer Temple wall to the building itself. It's stones show brilliantly in the moonlight, showing themselves as the glory of all Israel. The stars glint light off of the golden spikes adorning the top of the Temple.

The doors have been locked and guards posted, but you can guess that all is quiet inside. The chaos of the day is done, the celebration meal over, everyone drowsy from the greatest festival of the year - and some wine, you think with a smile.

You see Jesus teaching the disciples for awhile, and wonder what he is saying. And why he isn't talking in the nice, warm cave? Evenings in late March are cold! But he is pointing towards the building - what is he saying? You can barely catch it. Something about every stone of the Temple being destroyed.

You cringe! The Temple is still new, a masterpiece of beauty.

Most of the disciples get up eventually, and go into the cave nearby. Smart people! you think. Stay nice and warm. And yet there faces had been a bit disturbed that night... perhaps it was a troubled Passover festival for them, and they were praying. Huddled in their cloaks, most likely!

But three of them stay out. One leans against the gnarled trunk of an ancient olive tree; the other two pick the smoother ground of younger trees. Jesus walks forward, and you wonder why he isn't talking with the others, enjoying the night. Then you see his face - and cringe again. Something is dreadfully, dreadfully wrong.


A photograph of the landscaped garden with olive trees in it, which is allegedly Gethsemane. Tourists aren't allowed in, so you can't get a very good picture.

You watch him closely, and frown suddenly. That is blood dripping from his forehead! What sorrow is encompassing this poor man's soul! And his words turn your own blood cold. "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will." He gets up, steps over a stone in the cracked dirt, and returns to his three disciples. "Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour?" he cries to the one by the gnarled tree. "Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak."

He walks back, closer to you now, and his words make you want to cry. "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done."

You peek behind him for a moment - and see what he sees, as he turns around. His body is tense as he walks toward them, and the tenseness of his words carries. "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death," he says. "Stay here and keep watch."

"Abba, Father," he says, nearer to you again now, everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will."

The men's bodies are slumped over the trees, and his words filled with disappointment at the one on the gnarled trunk. "Simon, are you asleep? Could you not keep watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak."

Suddenly torches light the night,angling their way toward this olive grove of Gethsemane…what is going on? And wasn’t that one of his disciples, leading the way? You run until you are out of breath, and only the torches and the starlight enable you to see them. They are talking to him…asking him who he is. And he is telling them what you already know, what they already know. Everybody in Jerusalem knows who this man is. Jesus of Nazareth, claiming to be the Messiah.

What is going on…they are shackling his ankles – as he stands cooperatively. They drag him away, over the Kidron Valley Bridge you had all just crossed with freedom.




Note: I left out some of the details, but Peter took a sword to the high priests servant, chopping off his ear, which is an odd thing to aim for. Maybe he drank a little too much at that celebration, or was too tired and upset to see straight. Or maybe Malchus ducked. Or maybe Peter actually was aiming for the man's ear... see why at my blog entry here.

The Mt. of Olives

The Mt. of Olives and I didn't start off as great friends, since that's where my septic tank room was. phew! Gross. I was so afraid I'd smell like one! Anyhow, things did improve. The Mt. of Olives is on the eastern side of the city, and back in yonder years when the Temple existed, and the Day of Atonement existed, a red heifer symbolizing the sins of all Israel would be sent across a bridge over the Kidron Valley, to oblivion on the Mt. of Olives. It's pretty crowded today - my septic tank hotel claimed that it was within walking distance of the city. Well, they may be right, but I sure wouldn't feel safe walking it! What an idiot I can be sometimes. duh, the cheapest place is in the rattiest area... Hi, Emily, wake up!! Anyway, here's some views of it. (will come - 2/28/08) I also saw the Garden of Gethsemane and the Kidron Valley today.

The Damascus Bazaar

I nearly got robbed the today. ugh! Taxis from here on out, even though only about five blocks to my hotel.

I struggled through the Old City bazaar yesterday, an interminable claustrophobic mess that was really cool to see.



I was hopelessly lost and overwhelmed and finally some very kind tourists, neither of whom knew each other, took pity on me and walked me all the way to the beginning of the bazaar. Then confessed they'd been lying, they didn't really want to go there, they were just getting me there. sweet wonders! thank thank you for ensuring my sanity remains!

But I'll write about that another time. My battery will die, and this hotel doesn't come up with the blogger.com screen either.

Terrifying Drive to Jerusalem

At last I have the internet in my hotel room instead of down in the lobby - $7/hour! It was $2/hour at the Holiday Inn in Galilee. :( But I have it none-the-less, for free. Apparently if you walk in with a laptop you automatically get put on the business floor, no questions asked. Cool deal! Now if I could just have a clock.

Godrays in the Jordan River Valley, on the highway from Galilee to Jerusalem. For a spiritual take on this picture, click here.

I have yet to find a hotel room with a clock? Even in the $301/night room I stayed in (@1/3 that price). Now somewhere in $301, couldn't you put in a clock? I'm also missing the little basket of shampoo/conditioner/moisturizer etc. you get at the hotels at home. One - I thought this was creative - offered soap/shampoo/conditioner all in one? I put it in my hair just because I had to try it. (It feels really disgusting to put soap in your hair.) Another offered a push-button-thing of soap in the shower - good - and another of 'cream wash'? Is that another name for moisturizer? I must be out of style.

But, I have a bedspread, the room doesn't smell like a septic tank, and there are no lizards crawling on my wall. (The Dead Sea - I gave a prolonged shriek, packed my bags and slept in the car. Someone told me that a lizard on my wall was a good thing as it would have 'eaten all the bugs in the room.' Oh fantastic...but you have to look on the bright side. Sunrise over the Dead Sea is pretty, and I would have missed it if the lizard hadn't gone a-crawling on my wall.)

I was so terrified of Jerusalem, I made myself dizzy and had to prolong checking out. That's crazy. I spent a year in Russia, 4 months in Korea and have driven a rented car through much of Israel. So why so scared of a city? It's silly.

A rock formation at the corner of the Jordan River Valley and the highway leading through the mountains described below, possibly near where John the Baptist had much of his ministry.

I think a lot of it had to do with my bus station experience, when I was in Jerusalem a few days ago. One sweet angel sent by God helped me through the security check and waited while I got my stuff together, which went through helter-skelter because I didn't know they screened everything, like we do at an airport. There was a long line, the woman didn't speak English, every one was shoving past me while I took my coins out of my pocket, jacket off, backpack off, wallet case off, etc.

The sweet angel, forever nameless, even made me put my jacket back on and my camera and wallet over my head before she left. "You've got to be more careful. You could have lost everything if I hadn't held it for you."

Then I almost got lost in the bus system, and after that my septic tank room... oh dear. Jerusalem and I were just having big issues. Then I realized I hadn't finished all my stuff in Galilee, so I went back. And stayed in my nice $301/room with its mahogany and marble furniture. And my gorgeously gorgeous view of the Galilee. yee-hah! (That's the one I got for a third of the price.) I was really needing some special treatment, and it makes writing a good deal easier.

The 5:00 a.m. view out my room in the Caesar Tiberias, overlooking the Sea of Galilee harbor. Tiberias was the capital of Galilee in Jesus' time and there was a large harbor there.

So I suppose it wasn't completely irrational to be afflicted with Jerusalem terror. And part of it I think was fear reacting with medication to produce physical effects.

ugh - I had the worst drive from Galilee to Jerusalem. I did it before at night, no problem, I couldn't see the eternal millions of feet I had to fall. It was horrible. "Please God help me. Somebody help me. I can't do this. I don't want to die falling off a cliff. I'm sorry I ever complained there were no mountains near me. That's really fine. I'll never complain again, please God, just get me ouuuuut of this." (Big cliff). etc. etc.

Oh, it was terrible. I thought we would never stop going up. I was so terrified to look to the side and so determined to stay in the left lane (once it appeared), where I couldn't see the cliffs that I didn't realize we were out for awhile. Then all of a sudden it dawned on me that I wasn't going up and down. And I looked to the side and there were fields... and then I laughed hard at myself. Sometimes I'm not brilliant!

Well by that time I'd sweated up a storm of fear - gross - and oh! I smelled horrible! So I stood in the ladies room at the airport with a t-shirt I'd packed and soap trying to scrub out the stink - ugh! It was disgusting. I got a lot of strange looks and giggles. It's amazing how social women can be when they want to know what you're doing!

Scared of Jerusalem

I'm sitting on my bed in Galilee at 6:30 a.m., packed and waiting for the breakfast buffet to open. I haven't blogged the last couple days - shame shame! I got dispirited and tired. Israelis seem sweet, the sites are fascinating and Galilee is beautiful, but I'm desperately lonely and my trip is only half over. All I want in this world is to go home.

I'm terrified of Jerusalem, since my horrid bus station experience. Did I tell you about that? I forget. This time I'm driving from Galilee to Tel Aviv to drop off the car, then taking a shuttle directly to my hotel in Jerusalem. It's worth the extra money - at least I don't worry my stuff will get stolen.

How come trips cost so much money? I'm trying not to worry, since the Bible says worrying is wrong, but it's a mixed message among most Christians. If someone worries we reassure the person, normal enough, who wouldn't - God will provide, is in control, won't let you go, you have to trust Him and not worry. But if you do let go of the worry, you and/or others think you're being flippant and irresponsible. It's so confusing. The Bible says worrying is bad, but then if we don't worry where the world says we should, that's perceived of as wrong too sometimes.

I can't win!!

OK, got to run. Sorry these are abrupt, I don't want my battery to die. I'm not too worried because I'm pretty sure no one will read all of them at this point anyway. Next blog...today's I think!


p.s. - American hotels need to take a lesson from their Israeli counterparts - refrigerators! A fantastic invention. I love being able to put a soda in it, or anything. And most rooms seem to have one, not just expensive ones.