Of everywhere we have been so far, Israel is easily going to be one of the most fascinating places. Its history and its relationship with the rest of the world are singularly unique, and we were both curious to see how this was reflected in its culture. Israel is a country only 60 years old, populated by disparate peoples who came from all over the world, speaking a language which, 150 years ago, was still used in an almost entirely liturgical sense. Even though we felt completely safe while walking the streets, the knowledge of the close and persistent tension between the Israelis and the Palestinians could be a little disconcerting. The way it has become such an accepted part of everyday life in a place which is in many ways not outwardly very different from the United States was unnerving. It can be summed up in the frank response of an employee at the tourism information office when we asked how to get to Bethlehem (“I don’t know–if I go there, they’ll kill me”). Because everyone must serve in the military, the streets of Jerusalem were filled with teenagers walking around heavily armed. We would watch incredulously as 18-year-old girls in army uniforms and flip flops would walk by with an automatic rifles in one hand and popsicles in the other. We doubt that this casual attitude is doing much to help the situation…but perhaps that is a discussion for another time.
Political commentary aside, we can say without hesitation that Israel is being added to our list of favorite destinations. The area has an inescapable sense of antiquity and holiness, one which we think any visitor, whether Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or not even religious, can easily sense.
The nearest airport to Jerusalem is Ben Gurion in Tel Aviv. We arrived in the middle of the night, oddly upbeat. We went up to the customs window together and requested that our visa stamps be put on a separate piece of paper, not in our passports. While we don’t have any intention of travelling to them in the near future, several countries which have a problem with Israel’s existence will not allow entry if you have an Israeli visa stamp in your passport. The customs agent complied without hesitation, as this is surely a typical request; however, we couldn’t help but wonder if it is a little depressing to them to admit person after person who does not want any record of their visit.
Our arrival into Jerusalem was almost magical. The late night shuttle bus from the airport dropped us off around 4 am just inside the Jaffa Gate. The walls surrounding the city look ancient, and we stared up at them with a sense of enchantment when we thought of them holding off Crusaders and Muslim invaders. We had to walk through the winding pedestrian alleys to reach our hostel, and they were dark and silent. The streets are smooth, slippery stone and are often covered by the criss-crossing of buildings and elevated walkways around the city. Turning down a couple of alleys and climbing a few stairs brought us to the Citadel Hostel. The lobby looked like the interior of a cave, made of low-ceilinged ancient brick covered over in rough plaster. We wondered how old the building was. A tired employee brought us to our room and we slept well into the morning.
When we finally woke up, we made some coffee and explored the hostel. The bottom half looks very old, but the top half had clearly been subsequently added. We climbed up to the roof, which also serves as the cheapest dorm. Stepping over a couple of matresses, we were given a spectacular view of the old city. There, right in front of us, was the Temple Mount with the Dome of the Rock, and behind that, the Mount of Olives. To our left was the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. And in between, the winding, confused streets of Jerusalem.
We headed out eagerly to explore the city. We headed first to the Temple Mount. The quiet alleys of the night before had been transformed. The shops had opened up and spilled their wares out into the street, and the tiny paths were so packed with people that it was difficult to move much faster than a slow walk. We were happy to note that we were rarely heckled or hassled. We arrived at one of the entrances to the Temple Mount to be told that it was closed for prayer. Though it took some investigating to figure it out, we uncovered that the only time non-Muslim visitors are allowed is between 7:30-8:30 and 1:30-2:30. The Western Wall is always accessible, but there is heavy security and there was actually a significant line. So instead we decided to venture to the Lion’s Gate and walk the Via Dolorosa.
It is important to note how much of the religious and historical significance of the designated Biblical sites in Jerusalem needs to be taken with a grain of salt. Many of the traditional sites were designated by Constantine or the Crusaders, and it is not known whether they really correspond to historical locations. We realized early on that it is vitally important to keep this uncertainty and mystery in mind, or else all of the doubts and lack of evidence will quickly leave you jaded if you try to take it at face value.
Our first walk down the Via Dolorosa was surprising. We had always imagined that such a holy route would be packed with pilgrims, but we saw very few. They were far outnumbered by locals going about their usual business. The street stretches from the Lion’s Gate to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and is actually a winding path with several turns. There are chapels which mark each station of the cross, most run by different religious sects or orders. They were frequently empty. There are other landmarks as well, such as two houses claiming to be the birthplace of Mary (“The Catholics believe it is next door,” explained the Greek Orthodox minister with a hint of a smile). This was our first experience with something that is a source of real conflict in the Holy City–division of holy places between the different Christian sects. Since it was getting late and some churches were closing, we paused after the third station to visit the place which demonstrates this better than anywhere: the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
Before this trip, we had both pictured the church which supposedly contains both Golgotha and the tomb of Jesus a harmonious, holy place. Our first indications that this was not the case came from an unusual source: an essay by Stephen Jay Gould in The Lying Stones of Marrakech about competitive exclusion. He compared competition between different religious sects in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to species competing to fill the same ecological niche. The metaphor was not far off. The church is literally divided between six religion sects: Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Armenian, Ethiopian, Syrian, and Coptic. The agreement about who has what is called the Status Quo, and it designates specific areas of the church in which members of each sect can practice and live.
The result? Nothing short of chaos. The church itself is hard enough to find, buried in a maze of alleys not even easily located when one is following the Via Dolorosa. It does not appear to be a magnificent structure, although it is impressively large. It is nestled within the surrounding buildings, almost looking as if it does not stand on its own. Nothing inside is labeled or indicated, but everyone seems to know what they are looking at. We saw countless rituals and ceremonies we never knew existed, all revolving around holy sites and artifacts that we could not identify.
When we walked in, the first thing we saw was a stone in the ground, lit by candles and incense burners, surrounded by women in scarves. They were on their knees, placing all sorts of candles and other religious objects on the stone, and rubbing their scarves in its every nook and cranny with surprising urgency. We later found out that this is called the stone of the anointing, and is supposedly where Jesus’ body was prepared for burial. We believe the women were Armenian. We found more of the Armenian section of the church when we turned to the right, to a curving corridor off which there were many small chapels. We were stopped by some priests who said there was a service going on, and we could hear chanting around the bend.
Also near the stone of the anointing were some stairs which lead to the site of Golgotha itself. There was some kind of service going on there as well, so we only took a peek before heading back down. To the left of the stone is the large domed room under which contains the edicule, a small building inside of which is the tomb of Jesus (we don’t want to continue using the word “supposedly” before all of these sites, but do keep in mind that a lot happened between Jesus’ time and the time of Constantine). There was an immense line to get in, which we weren’t prepared to wait in. We were quite confused by this point, as we had not yet identified any of these things and had no guide other than Wikipedia, so we decided we would return later and go inside then. The edicule is in a portion of the church which belongs to the Greek Orthodox church, and was decorated accordingly, with incense burners and lamps hanging everywhere. People would bring candles up to light them at a fire buring next to the chapel and then extinguish them–we never confirmed it, but we think this may be related to the ceremony of the Holy Fire performed by the Greek church there. The Catholics and Armenians also have the right to have mass in the tiny chapel, but the Coptic church was forced to create a small altar behind the structure for their own services.
We explored the rest of the church and found other chapels which we only later identified, such as the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea and the site where Constantine’s mother, Helena, uncovered the true cross. When we found Catholic territory, we knew it immediately. The rough stone floor of the Greek Orthodox section gave way to a square of black and white tile with an altar decorated in a modern style. We took a seat at a pew to rest, and suddenly were surrounded by a group of Franciscans and Italian tourists in the middle of a service, singing and praying in Latin. From somewhere up above, a loud organ would play along to their songs, and when it quieted their prayers were almost overpowered by a group of Greeks chanting in the next room.
We were able to attend an Italian mass with the same group, in a place called the Crusaders’ Chapel, only accessible through the Fransican sacristy. After that we decided to leave and come back with more information. The church was fascinating, but not the holy site of pilgrimage we expected. There was more a sense of chaos and animosity, and even neglect. Portions of the church look like they have not been cleaned or even glanced at in years. It is as if everyone cares only for their own section, and anything not explicitly divided falls by the wayside. The division has become ingrained into religious practice, as each sect seems to consider especially holy those sites and artifacts which fall within their “territory,” and their rituals have grown up around this.
The next day, we went to the Western Wall early to beat the crowd. We got through security quickly, but it was still packed with people. There were even several groups celebrating barmitzvahs. There is a divider which separates the men and women at prayer, so we separated. Tommy had to borrow a kippah to cover his head. It was a struggle to reach the wall through the crowd of people, but once you reached it and put your hands on it, surrounded by others fervently in prayer, there was a great sense of peace and hope about it. The nooks and crannies between the stones were packed with papers, and we left our own intentions there as well.
Since it was still too early to ascend to the Temple Mount, we completed the Stations of the Cross along the Via Dolorosa. The chapels were usually empty. Tour guides would lead visitors around outside, pointing them out as tourist attractions, not religious sites. We did pass one Polish group praying the Stations of the Cross as they went.
At 1:30, we returned to the Western Wall to get in line for the Temple Mount. We had to go through security again. We were able to see the Dome of the Rock, which is an impressive and beautiful structure. We felt a little uncomfortable while we were up there, however; a few people gave us almost hostile stares, even though we were careful to adhere to the rules of dress and conduct. We have been to many mosques which were welcoming to visitors, but this area was not one of them. We were not allowed in the Dome at all.
Afterwards, we returned to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, better-read on the many things it contained (check out the article on it, which contains a floorplan and detailed description). We went up to the site of Calvary, where there are both Greek and Catholic altars. Beneath the Greek altar is a hole where you can, on your knees, put your hand through and touch the smooth stone of the hill itself. The line for the edicule was even longer, so we decided to return in the morning. We found another door which led up into the Coptic and Ethiopian sections of the church. There are some chapels and a monastery, and some homes on the roof as well.
The next day, we went back to the church first thing, and waited in line to enter the edicule. Inside the tiny was a stone slab lit by candles and incense where Jesus’ body is said to have lain. Everyone had about a minute to kneel and pray before an Greek Orthodox minister roughly ordered them out.
Our next objective was to go to Bethlehem, but as I mentioned before, the Jewish tourism information office could not offer much help as it is in the West Bank. At the Chrisitan information center nearby, however, a little nun assured us it was completely safe and directed us to a bus. The journey was indeed safe and easy. We were dropped off a short walk from the Church of the Nativity. It is also a Greek Orthodox church, under which is the cave where it is believed that Jesus was born. There is a Catholic church next door, under which are more caves where St. Jerome translated the bible into Latin. We purchased a wooden nativity set as a souvenir. The people there were very friendly, and we received practically no glances or stares; we were very glad we had been able to visit “the little town of Bethlehem.”
The next day, we took a bus to Ein Gedi, on the Dead Sea. Entering the bus station is much like entering an airport– all of your bags must get screened and you must walk through a metal detector. Several soliders, fully armed, rode on the bus as well, but it is possible that they might have simply been returning home. Ein Gedi itself is a little resort area with a couple of restaurants and facilities, and a designated area for swimming. It was so much fun. The sensation when you first get in is so unique and wonderful that we would watch people from the water as they cautiously stepped off the shore, just to see the look on their faces as they found themselves floating. The only problem is, you’d better not get any in your eyes. Just touching a wet finger to your tongue made your whole mouth burn. The shoreline was caked with salt, and the water left your skin feeling slimy and slick. We had a great time floating around.
We spent our last day in Jerusalem walking around the Mount of Olives. There are many more churches and shrines there: a small olive tree grove said to be the remnants of the garden of Gethsemane, and a lovely Catholic church nearby; a Russian Orthodox Church of Mary Magdalene with bright golden domes atop it; a Greek Orthodox Church containing the tomb of Mary; a Catholic church called Dominus Flevit, with a window behind the altar overlooking the whole of the old city; and no less than four shrines of the ascension on the top of the mount, including one Muslim shrine and a Lutheran church, the first real Protestant presence we have seen in the city. They all charged admission, unlike most of the sites in Jerusalem. There is a fantastic view of the Old City from above the Jewish cemetery which covers a huge portion of the mount.
That evening, we caught a bus to Tel Aviv. We arrived there at quite possibly the saddest-looking hostel we have ever stayed at… not anywhere we would want to spend more than a night. We went walking along the coast, and weren’t terribly impressed with the city. But we think our opinion might be biased as we were seeing it after a day of Independence Day celebrations. Israel was celebrating its 60th anniversary (according to the Hebrew calendar at least; on the Gregorian it falls on May 14th, hence the President’s recent visit), and there was trash everywhere left over from the excitement.
Our conclusion? We would recommend Israel as a definite vacation destination. Jerusalem was a perfect combination of the enchanting ancient city of sights and culture and the modern outskirts filled with shops and restaurants. The Dead Sea is not to be missed, and Bethlehem is just one of the many biblical sites a religious pilgrim can visit. There is something special about this area, and everyone seems to feel it–perhaps that’s the reason why it has been the source of so much strife and conflict.