Saturday, September 12, 2009

The tale of the Western wall and the Garden Tomb

Hey, I'm back after a while of not blogging. Why? Basically because I'm phenomenally lazy and I have this strange idea that if I THINK about blogging, I've done it. Or something of the sort. Anyway, for those who read this incredible blog, be excited... you're about to hear about my ventures into two of the most religiously revered places in the world not to mention the story of a harrowing shooting and the hill of the scull--Golgotha.

But first, let me keep good on my word to speak quickly of the burial place of Samuel the Prophet. It is on this hill top of the freeway between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem in the valley Paul was taken through when he was captured by the Romans and carted away. From the road it looks like an ancient, limestone crusaders castle (which it essentially is) with a large steeple which seems like it may now be used as a minaret. We parked and walked up a boardwalk which rises over some ancient excavations of something we never found out what, then into the ancient church. It has a fascinating history.

Since all three major religions in the area revere Samuel as a prophet, each of them has or has had a presence in the building. As I alluded before, it was originally built by the crusaders--in fact, it was on that hill or a hill near there that Richard the Lionhearted on the last crusade stood as he looked out over Jerusalem. The Muslim forces arrayed against him were too great, and, even though he could see the city he dreamed of conquering from the hill top there, he had to turn back and return to England. This is, by the way, the same Richard the Lionhearted that is king during the time of the legendary Robin Hood.

But getting back to the point. Since the crusaders were beaten by Saladin the Magnificent, the church was taken over and turned into a mosque of sorts with a cenotaph for Samuel on the top floor (a cenotaph is a thing which is created to represent a person though they may not actually be buried in or under the thing). The inside of the church is old and in disrepair--I don't think anyone has bothered to repaint it for hundreds of years, and, as a consequence, the entire place looks an awful lot like somewhere Indiana Jones would venture, deep in the heart of the middle east. Unfortunately for me, no 1930's era men on motorcycles flew in through the window, and I didn't find a giant key which was sure to unlock the treasure trove of Ali Baba and the Fourty Thieves.

While I was there, I didn't see the Muslim cenotaph, but I certainly saw the Jewish one in the basement. That was by far the coolest thing. We weren't quite sure if we could go down there, but with the guidence of our Professors, the women went down the right staircase and the men the left. The woman's room was dominated by half of the blue silk covered cenotaph, leaving only enough room to walk parallel to it to the tiny bookshelf at the far end. Women there were reading books in hebrew and rocking back and forth as is their habit. Someone told me it has something to do with the biblical injunction to worship the Lord with all your might, mind and STRENGTH, hense the rocking.

But I'm spending far too much time on this. We left pretty soon, done with our day long geography fieldtrip (basically meaning that we went to every good lookout spot with 15 miles of Jerusalem and had a lecture on the important places within view--including a view of the mountain from which David fought Golith as well as Bethlahem and the wall which leads into the West Bank, which we were technically in anyway. It's confusing), and went back to the center. I really enjoyed the Samuel's tomb thing mostly because it felt SO foreign and old, which is, of course, a funny thing to say when I'm living in one of the most historically significant and foreign places in the world....

Now, what you've been waiting for. The Western Wall. We left from the center on foot, passing through the valley where Joel says the last Judgement is going to take place, and walking along Saladin's wall on the East of Jerusalem--including past the Golden Gate where Jesus made his triumphal entry (it is now permanently sealed and there is a Muslim Graveyard in front of it. It is the only gate of Jerusalem we can't go through at all anymore.) From there, we joined the small groups of people heading up through Dung Gate to go to the Western Wall.

As a side note, Dung gate is called such for a reason. It is where they historically through out all the garbage of the city. As a reminder of this, the entire area around there still smells like it. It also opens right from the old city to the actual old city--the City of David. Unsurprisingly, it is where David built his Jerusalem. But the city of david will figure more later in the story.

Returning to the main narrative. From Dung Gate, we walked up to the large security entrance of the huge Western Wall plaza. They hardly glanced at me as I passed through--at first they checked our bags, but I think when they realized we were just the Mormons, they didn't bother anymore. As soon as we got inside, we were distracted by the group of soldiers and civilians dancing in circles with a guy with the Israeli flag running around in the middle. As he ran, they yelled in a continuous stream, and when he stopped, they would dance one direction, holding each others shoulders, and then turn and dance the other way. It wasn't long before we realized there was a women's circle right next to theirs, and we ran over there. They danced in circles like the men, but more quickly, and everyone was singing some patriotic song I'd never heard. An Israeli girl pulled me into the circle and we danced and twirled around.

I was anxious to actually walk over to the wall, so, taking my good friend Lindsay with me, we slipped through the crowded woman's section (the woman's section is one third the size of the mens, though the men's section was markedly more crowded) and finally got to where we were standing right in front of the wall, but still to far to touch it. Everyone around us was holding a holy book, reading and praying. Every once in a while, someone right up at the wall would put their faces to it and cup their hands around their face, then whisper something I, of course, could not comprehend. Sometimes someone would push forward with a folded slip of paper in their hands and a prayer written on it, then push it into a part of one of the cracks in the wall that was not completely packed with prayers. Lindsay and I were able to push forward enough eventually to touch the wall-- it is smooth and light with thousands of hands, faces and lips over the years. It was not long until the sun had set, and, since this was Friday, Shabbot had begun. An old women not taller than 4'5" walked up to Lindsay and I and said something in Hebrew, holding out a paper for us to take. I nodded, and she gave one to each of us, then walked away. It was a quarter sheet prayer in Hebrew of which I could only read the five letters they've taught us so far in Hebrew class. When we had our fill of standing at the wall and thinking of Herod, Solomon, the Jews and Jesus, we walked backwards as far as we could.

It is tradition there to never turn your back to the wall. To the Jews, though the spirit of God left the Holy of Holies when the temple was destroyed, it never left this wall. And as it is a sign of disrespect to show someone your back, everyone walks backward away from the wall. It does make for a good deal of tripping and running into people.

For maybe an hour, she and I stood at the fence that guards the Men's side and watched with dozens of other people as the men prayed, danced and sang. They are more entertaining to watch because they're more numerous and lively than the women, as well as because they have more tables to sit and pray at, and they partake in elaborate prayers and chants which involve several different movements. It was sort of like watching the water in a pool--in one corner, there would be whirlpool of people dancing, several feet away was another, towards the back the men waved back and forth as they prayed, and those closest to us were mostly sedantary except for when they would turn to face us, say something in Hebrew, and turn back to the wall. The ultra-orthodox wore their beautiful silk robes and fedoras or fur hats (unfortunately, I don't know their offical names) each hat representing a different "sect," if you will, of orthodoxy.

It wasn't long before it was time for us to walk back to the center, but as we began to leave, another dance party started up in the middle of the square away from the western wall. This one had both men and women in it, and they were louder and less organized than before. We danced with them--they're incredibly welcome towards gawking tourists--and finally, reluctantly, gathered outside the gate with the rest of our group.

That is when the news of the shootings in the city of David was broken to us. Just as we had gotten there that evening, a 20 year old Israeli had shot two Palastinians, reportedly 16 and 40 years old, in the leg. The shooter claims he did it in reponse to an assault by 6 Palastinians and that it was out of self-defense. The tension of the situation was compounded because it happened in a neighborhood, Silwan, which has been in the news recently because it recently evicted two Palastinian familes. There are many people who claim it was done because they were Palastinian and not for other reasons. As a consequence of this, and because the city of David is literally right down the street, there were police and soldiers literally everywhere. The center, always diligent as they are, got two busses and parked them just up a different street in the Jewish quarter which we were to take back to the center. One boy didn't make it. Don't worry though, he had been in the bathroom when we left, and seeing we were all gone, he took a taxi back to the center. But we were sitting in the busses for a while with the professors and security trying to find out where he was.

Something remarkable I must mention about the center is the level of security they provide. It is phenomenal. I don't know if the guards are full time or not, but I've counted at least 5 seperate people whose job it is to keep the 90 odd of us safe. When we go on large fieldtrips, there'll be one of them walking along in the middle or the back of our group, and two in a car that follows us as we go. It is very comforting to know that they are there. But this doesn't mean our freedom is impeded. We can go to Tel Aviv if we want to pay the money, and we can go into the city almost any time as long as we have two other people with us.

But that is beside the point. I sure do digress a lot.

That was last night. Today was something totally different, and utterly incredible. For the first time I went to the Garden tomb. No one knows for sure if this is the place that Christ was resurrected--many people will tell you it was at the Church of the Holy Seplechre-- but it certainly seems like the place and President Lee even said he felt the spirit every strongly there.

Alright, i have to go to a fireside, so I'll post this and write more about this later...

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