Jerusalem is literally built on top of history. It’s hilly so the houses are all terraced and they’re all made out of limestone so they’re all the same color (it’s the law). The tight streets run through the neighborhoods. You can tell if it’s an Israeli or Palestinian neighborhood by the street names and signs, Hebrew or Arabic. It’s built up on and around the Mountain of Olives, which I learned is the place where all three main religions (Judaism, Islam, and Christianity) believe the savior will come to (next time he comes).
The Holy City is in the middle, with a big wall around it. There are 9 entrances or “gates” into the Holy City, but only 8 are used because one is a golden entrance, meant to be used by the Savior when he comes strolling down the Mountain of Olives. The Holy City is holy for all three religions. Within the gates, there are neighborhoods or “quarters” for each religion: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. It’s like the rest of Jerusalem with the tight cobblestone streets and terraced homes, lots of stone staircases, but there are very few cars within the Holy City and lots, and lots of markets. Jesus would’ve been pissed I think because when he was at the Temple in the Holy City back in his day, he flipped over the tables of all the people making sales in the holy place.
The coolest thing about the Holy City is that there are so many layers underneath it. It’s the place where Abraham went to sacrifice his son, Isaac, and it’s also the place where the 10 commandments were found (supposedly). The first temple to be built there was back in King David’s time when it was still “The Kingdom of Judah.” He built David’s City, but the temple there was destroyed. A while later, Herod was king and he wanted to make the Jews like him so he re-built the temple as this beautiful grand structure all would come to see. It was a hilly area so he had his workers basically cut off the top of a tall hill and use it to fill in a valley part to make a platform for his Holy City to sit on, a quarter of a mile wide. This is the temple Jesus visited that outraged him.
My brother modeling his most recent purchase outside a Holy City home
Later, it was destroyed by the Romans. The land of Jerusalem went back and forth for a while between the Crusaders and the Muslims – it was valued land. Finally, the Muslims came out victorious and decided to rebuild there. However, they didn’t like the valleys surrounding the city because they felt that if there were intruders coming up that way, they wouldn’t be able to see them. So they filled them in by building new layers. This is the basic development of Jerusalem as it is today.
In 1948, the Jews finally got Israel, but it wasn’t until 1967 that they got Jerusalem. There was a section of the original West Wall of Herod’s temple remaining. There’s something in the Jewish Torah about the West Wall of the temple never falling and it was also the closest wall to the place of the Covenant of the Ark (the 10 commandments – people believe the original ones are still buried under Jerusalem somewhere). So the Jewish people flooded into the city and cleared some buildings to make a plaza – The Wailing Wall now.
The wailing wall plaza from above
Washing our hands before we approach the wall
At The Wailing Wall, you have to go through a security check with x-ray machines and metal detectors. We split up because one side is for men and the other for women. There’s a place where you wash your hands to cleanse yourself before you approach the wall. Then, you write a wish and when you go to the wall you’re supposed to stick it in between the stones. Up close, there are so many tiny sheets of paper shoved into every little nook and cranny and even little indents in the wall. Some of them are pressed so hard into the wall that they look more like gum than crushed paper (I looked closely to assure they were not, in fact, gum).
Women were crying or rocking back and forth in prayer, touching the wall, putting their heads against the stone. It seemed like some divine power or rush of emotion had washed over them just by being in the presence of the wall, something I personally did not feel. I watched them cry and put the notes in the wall, some women pressing them with all their might as if trying to make the words they’d written peel off from the paper and permanently attach to the wall. I wondered what they’d written down. I kind of wished I felt that strongly too.
Photo at the Wailing Wall, taken by Lizzy
When the wall fills up with notes, they take them and bury them all in the Mountain of Olives. Jewish people used to pray towards Jerusalem all over the world, the same way Muslims pray towards Mecca. They technically believe that all your prayers will first go to Jerusalem before they go to Heaven.
I left a note in the wall.
When we left, we had to walk backwards because you can’t turn your back on the Wall.
It’s so interesting to be in a place where all three religions come together. It’s holy for everyone. The mosque, though, is cut off from the rest. The quarter where their markets are and their people live is open. However, to enter the mosque you have to go through a separate security. They will let people of other faiths go in, but you’re not allowed to bring any books of faith in with you. Apparently, if they catch you with one it can start a riot.
However, we also had an Israeli guide so I’m not sure if his explanation was biased or exaggerated.
At the Catholic quarter, we saw the rock where Jesus was crucified and touched the stone where he was cleaned and saw the little cave where he’d been buried (“in accordance with tradition” – i.e. the places they generally believe all this happened). It’s all built up inside a church with extravagant decorations and mosaics and it’s so, so crowded. The wait to get into the burial cave was around 3 hours.
Papa Kev touching the stone where Jesus’ body was cleansed
My parents and Lizzy said they felt a jolt of energy when they touched the rock Jesus had been cleaned on, but I didn’t feel anything. My brother, Rudd, kept complaining the whole time about how it probably wasn’t really the rock where he was cleaned and how all of this was probably bogus. My dad got annoyed at him. He said it’s not about that. It’s about absorbing the spirituality of where you are.
I think I would feel more connected to the place if it were closer to its original state. I found it didn’t feel genuine or even very spiritual and special because it had become such a pompous tourist attraction.
Outside the church, up on a scaffolding there is a wooden ladder. Five different Christian denominations own the church together and used to argue a lot so they finally signed a contract saying nothing could be changed without the others’ approval. At the time they signed, someone had been using a ladder by the window. So, they left the ladder there as like a freezing of that moment of their agreement. Now, the key to the church is held by the Muslims and 5 representatives from the Christian faiths go over to the Muslim side every morning, promise to behave, and get their key to open the church. It’s all a little ridiculous.
Also ridiculous was Rudd trying to put our 8-year-old family friend through a window of Jesus’ tomb. The priest inside did not like that one bit.
Everyone in our group seemed to have something they connected with most that day. For me, it was the Stations of the Cross – the real Stations of the Cross. In the Holy City, the places Jesus walked, where he fell, where Mary met him, etc., are all marked in the spot where they actually happened.
Disclaimer: These marks spots are where the evens of the crucifixion “actually happened” according to tradition, and technically the whole thing occurred on ground that is now buried far beneath the currently streets.
But still! I was standing in the streets where Jesus himself had taken his final steps (pre rising from the dead). The tour guide moved quickly past these, not even stopping to show us each of them, but I stood on the side while he rambled. I stared at the spot where Jesus met his mother and tried to imagine what it must have been like to be a part of the crowd standing there watching them.
Touching a stone Jesus leaned on for support (according to tradition)
But before the image could fully formulate, we were whisked away to the next thing. I wish I had gotten more time in Jerusalem – just a day trip isn’t nearly enough. I certainly intend to go back.
The next stop: Bethlehem, in the West Bank – Palestine.
