“Jesus left the temple and was walking away when his disciples came up to him to call his attention to its buildings. ‘Do you see all these things?’ he asked. ‘I tell you the truth, not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down’” (Matthew 24:1‑2).
Our Twelfth Day in Jerusalem
We eat protein bars. I fix my tasty International Coffee in our room for breakfast. We want to leave before the dining room opens. As hot as it has been during the day, an early day at the archaeological park works best. I dig my dirty clothes out of our makeshift hamper. The clothes I wore on the rampart walk will do nicely. They already stink!
We begin thinking like the locals in some ways. We’ve discovered getting around goes faster if you walk outside and around the city walls. We exit Jaffa Gate and turn toward the route I walked back in 1998 to Jerusalem University College on Mount Zion. Walking down the hills, memory kicks in for my knees. They begin to hurt. I start feeling sort of, well, not good. We cross the tricky intersection and start up the hill toward David’s Tomb. Oh, yeah, here it comes – diarrhea. The bathroom inside the building at David’s Tomb remains locked at this early hour. We already walked down to the school and back up to the vacant lot where ten years ago our professor, Wink Thompson, lectured us about the sandstorm in which we stood.David and I come in the back way by Dormitian Abbey, but too early for open bathrooms. We continue around the city walls to Zion Gate. We get to Zion Gate and the usually not so clean public rest rooms. Yea! This time they have paper. My condition comes on as a result of the heat. Sometimes my body reacts this way. I admit, and David will agree, I’ve been cranky since our start this morning. I keep praying for God to change my attitude. I feel angry. I keep kvetching like an Israeli in the wilderness, all the time asking for forgiveness, knowing what a gift it is to even be here. Yet, I continue focusing on my suffering until reaching theTemple Mount. Soon after arriving at the archaeological park, God grants me rest from myself. Once again, I concentrate on His work and His plan that centers on Yeshua and Jerusalem.
The Jerusalem Archaeological Park reveals amazing discoveries about Jerusalem during the Second Temple period. Resting on the original steps Jesus walked to enter the Temple Mountat the Hulda Gates overwhelms. We admire the southern wall of theTemple Mount in the area known as the Ophel. These bleached stones reflect the summer heat.David snaps a few pictures. I make my way back to the shade-providing awning. Sitting here, I notice men working on top of the Al-Aksa mosque. They swelter in this heat, and I sympathize with them.
In the meantime,David falls in love again. All the things he read about or saw on the net live here; the trumpeting stone, the Temple mikvah, the huge broken stones of the temple tossed off the Temple Mount by the Roman soldiers in 70AD, the Herodian street with the shop doorways on the side, and so much more. David returns from his short tour on the west side of theTemple Mount excited. He witnessed a group of junior high school aged youths on a field trip. They sing loud and clear, “Ki MiZion, tetsay Torah….”(The law will go out from Zion). He recognizes it because we sing it every Shabbat before reading from the Torah. We consider this special moment a divine appointment. David feels another connection to Jews living i nIsrael today. Their love of Torah reminds him of the depth and riches of Christ he missed before reading the Old Testament.
Archaeological findings reveal a history fueling my imagination. Perfectly honed Herodian streets with distinctly carved stones tell the story of wealth and riches. Stones on the ground that fell during the destruction of the Temple- the smallest of which weighed two and one half tons – report the devastation of war! An unearthed Byzantine home unwraps mysteries about everyday life centuries ago. The mikvah declares the past presence of priests and devout men. Across from my shaded awning I see the remains of the Umayyad Palacefrom the early Islamic period and a huge impressive tower built by Fatimad Sultan, renovated by the Crusaders, the Ayyubids, and the Mamluks. Even today, God draws people from all nations to this small spot. The heat of the day beats down on us.
Out on the plaza soldiers, in groups of thirty or more, walk by. Some groups carry large automatic rifles, others show none. These young men and women always catch my attention. They hold the task of protecting this incredible country. While sitting under the awning, I see a hundred or more of them pass toward the southern wall of the Temple Mount. Across the way, but still under the awning, three women and a man sit sharing a stone bench. Another man (obviously a guide) talks about the significance of this place. The group looks absolutely exhausted. The man in the bright orange shirt looks like he may fall off his perch any minute. One woman just looks bored. The other two women question the guide repeatedly, prolonging the agony of the man in the orange shirt. Poor fellow. Davidand I drench our thirst, then our faces, necks, arms and clothes in the drinking fountain and hike over to the Davidson Center.
The Davidson Cente rranks high on my list of favorite or most dramatic surprises. The center explains the archaeological findings just outside using a range of exhibits. The Story of the Pilgrim, a movie at the center, inspires me. It includes a virtual view of what Solomon’sTemple probably looked like. We walk into the little theater while the Hebrew movie with no subtitles is still running. We sit through the Hebrew version for fun. We want to see how much Hebrew we can understand. Can we pick up the story line? Some words we recognize and figure we know what goes on most of the time. I begin feeling a little smug about getting the language. Then the English version starts.
Well, we got some of it. Most of it we totally miss, including the main plot. I love The Story of the Pilgrim about a man who comes from far away to worship at theTemple. It cost him a year’s wages and several weeks to make the journey. When he sees the splendor of the Temple and goes to make his sacrifice, he is humbled. This virtual reality model captures the grandeur of the Temple much better than scale models. The Temple looms majestically, although not as majestic as the One it honors. I am humbled by His very presence within me.
Outside again, loud music, singing, and chanting come from the upper plaza near the security gates. A band plays. I hear familiar Hebrew songs flowing from the plaza. Loud drums beat and children sing. As they get off yellow school buses, the music stops. Shofars sound. Then we hear more shouting and music. Excitement fills the air! Most of the three hours we spend at the Jerusalem ArchaeologicalPark includes hearing this assemblage. We finally get up to the plaza and encounter a Bar-Mitzvah parade! They celebrate bar-mitzvah for boys (bat-mitzvah for girls[1]) on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. When a Jewish boy reaches the age of 13 (12 for girls), friends and family join in the special birthday celebration. That’s when they reach the age of religious duty and responsibility.[2] It encompasses more, but you have the basic idea.
SinceDavidheardChristChurchserves a good lunch, we hike up the hill for a nice spot on the patio. A quiet refreshing place with shade branches overhead welcomes us. The pastor who preached Sunday’s sermon sits near us. He did a great teaching on how God cannot be coerced or manipulated. Unfortunately, we often find ourselves doing just that more often than we like to admit. A tour group comes by. I recognize one of the ladies as the song leader last Sunday morning. Last Sunday, the pastor introduced a young couple with a newborn to the congregation. They intern here for a year before moving on. Relaxing on the patio brings all this and more flooding back to my mind.
After lunch I make an executive decision. On this hot day I will do best spending the rest of the day at the Gloria. My knees still hurt from our fun day on the ramparts. David, eager to see more of theOldCity, goes exploring. Thankfully, I get busy reading and writing. Out of curiosity, I switch on TV. Yes, we have TV in our room. We’ve been here two weeks and never had it on. I can’t get it to work and call the office. They send a man who shows me what button to push. How embarrassing. He leaves. I push the magic button. Headlines fill the screen, “Netanyahu meets with President Obama” from the BBC! I turn it off.
Davidreturns to the Jewish Quarter and gets the Scripture for inside our mezuzah from the Scribe, Yosef. He also buys a beautiful painting. Beautiful, but expensive, so he makes it his special souvenir of our trip.
He visits two museums. Although quite old, Rabbi Wiengarten, the spiritual head of the Jews, got unjustly hauled off as an exile to Jordanin 1948. After the reunification in 1967, his daughters and others created the Old Yishuv Court Museum as a visual testimony to the fact that Jews lived in the Quarter before 1948. It displays Jewish rooms during various periods before 1948.
Alone on the Ramparts museum shows pictures and film of the battles for independence in 1948. The sad movie causes David to wander the Cardo area aimlessly for awhile lost in his thoughts. David comes back to the Gloria totally wiped out. To cheer him, I remind him of Israel’s national athem, HaTikva (The Hope). “In the Jewish heart a Jewish spirit still sings and the eyes look east toward Zion. Our hope is not lost, our hope of two thousand years to be a free nation in our land, in the land ofZion and Jerusalem.” We googled HaTikva and listened to a beautiful version by Barbara Streisand voicing the resiliency of the Jewish people and the faithfulness of their God.
I fix him a chocolate shake with peanut butter. Fixing a shake is a lot different here than back home. I start with lukewarm tap water (disguised under the cold-water faucet), add chocolate protein shake mix, and powdered peanut butter. Then I use David’s battery powered whisk. What I don’t end up wearing, he gets to drink! In the Old City of Jerusalem, you never get ice for a drink. They just hand you the bottle or can of soda. If you ask for a glass with ice, they reply, “It’s cold.” However,David gets ice from the hotel bar almost every night for his knee. I feel positively naughty by using some of the ice in a Pepsi Max. Oh, but it’s such a treat!
Bread stands and all kinds of food sellers abound in the Old City. Bread arrives daily along with food served in all the restaurants. Tourists purchase bottled water and souvenirs that must be restocked. Shockingly, loading docks do not exist here. Yesterday I saw a flat bed truck delivering a full load of bottled water to the Western Wall, probably a standard daily delivery. Everything here costs because of the expense of getting things in and out. Trucks can navigate only a few streets, so pushcarts must do the work. A small tractor pulls the hand loaded trash cart along the steep streets.
The amount of inventory these little shops hold amazes me. Each little hole in the wall holds tons of products. Stuff stacked from floor to ceiling – necklaces, bracelets, earrings, bric-a-brac (whatever that is), rocks, wood carvings, silver, coins, and more overflow into the street. Things that don’t sell just stay. They never go away. Once they become antiques someone will buy them.