Meshing the old with the new

Day 3: Jerusalem

After waking with stiff joints and a blister on my toe, I strapped on my water bag and threw on a hat because of a growing sunburn on my forehead. We had yet another day that began in the university courtyard here. Our prof, Dr John “Jack” Beck lit up when he talked about our actual JUC building being an original 1st-century part of the tower city wall. He mentioned within the wall (and still within the building) was an empty first-century tomb. Our minds were blown. 🤯

We then headed to the Upper Room- and although this building has been torn down and rebuilt several times, the silence in this upper “space” was quieting to my soul. But when I stepped outside and saw the horizon of Jerusalem, that’s when I cried. I can only imagine Jesus looking out across the city, knowing that in hours He would be arrested. But also thought that Jesus knew what would happen to this city eventually, even the building where they met for the Last Supper.

We then headed from the Abbey to the steps where Pilate most likely convicted Jesus. The stones there are the same ones that would have been there at the time of Jesus’ crucifixion. Seeing the steps where Jesus could have possibly been standing when He was tried and convicted grabbed my heartstrings and pulled them taut against my chest. I wondered at that moment- what He felt. I stood on a stone, wondering if I was standing in the spot of the raging, angry crowd who demanded a sadist be released in place of Jesus, in the place of a Roman soldier just trying to do his job, or maybe even where Jesus stood.

We then walked across town into the Christian quarter to stop in what seemed like a random street. Our prof began there, “This part of town used to  remain outside of the city wall during the time of Jesus. In fact, there was a huge rock quarry right at this very spot. And what do you do with an unused quarry space that’s surrounded by graves? You turn it into a place for crucifixion.” This is when it dawned on me- that our prof was pointing out that Jesus had been crucified in this area- possibly right where we stood.

I took a second look as we moved from there to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. When I realized that this street had three trees close together, a box of trash, and a cafe across the street, my eyes welled up. How could the place where Jesus was crucified be wholly forgotten? But the story wasn’t finished here. There was still more to come.

There’s an interesting story that I’ve heard before, and our professor reminded us of the story. At the window above the main entrance to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, there’s a ladder propped up on a ledge, as if someone forgot to take their ladder with them while cleaning windows last. Because this church is overseen by three different Christian groups (Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Armenian Apostolic), and no one can remember why and who left the ladder there, they’ve chosen to continue to leave the ladder in its location because of the agreement that no cleric of the churches may move, rearrange, or alter any property without the consent of the other churches. So, since 1728, the ladder has remained, only to be replaced when it decayed beyond repair. This demonstrates the tense relationship that occurs throughout Israel within its different sects, religions, and cultures. The amount of pain and turmoil that has swung and blasted through the ages has left an almost irreparable cavern that could only be filled with the grace and love of Christ.

The sun began to warm up as we made our way to the Holy Sepulchre. When we entered, I assumed it would be very quiet and contemplative; but it was noisy, and people were walking quickly everywhere. I almost missed the traditional preparation table (many stopped to lay hands upon this). And when I rounded the corner, the room was almost empty, where Jesus was supposedly laid to rest.

We jumped in line for the Holy Sepulchre, and then our prof, with a big grin, asked us if we’d like to see some first-century tombs just around the corner. We all followed him- because when Jack smiles big- you follow.

There was an immediate sense of respectfulness when we walked into the small room before the tomb. Besides a small chapel was a low entrance into the tomb. We took turns, and the reality of death sunk in. We made jokes to avoid the seriousness of our surroundings and talked about the walls looking strange/creepy, but being there seemed to make the actual, bloody death of Jesus sink in.

When we got back in line for the Holy Sulpuchre, this time, everyone in our class was somber. The previous tombs had awoken the seriousness of Jesus’ death and our undeserved redemption. We took turns and crouched beside the slab that tradition declares to be the place where Jesus’ body rested… but when I walked out of that church, although I was sad for the cost, my Savior went to save mankind… I was full of joy that He had loved me (us!) enough to give up HIS life.

We wrapped up the morning by listening to Jack preach on Acts 2. The sun blazed hot- but the Word of God refreshed my soul. I thought to myself, “So, this is what it would have been like  to have sat on these steps to listen to someone teach, even back then!” As Michael read the proclamation of Peter to the crowd, the words rolled over us as if we were hearing them for the first time.

What came after seemed trite compared to what we’d just experienced on the steps of the Temple. But we went down to explore some first-century homes at the front of the Temple Mount. As we learned about the enormous cisterns carved out below the homes, Jack explained that they collected rainwater to fill up their cisterns. They had to time the process of cleaning and re-liming the plaster walls of the cistern, ideally to be ready for the rainy season to fill up the cisterns again. As I wandered from cistern to cistern, I wondered about the families that had lived above them. How many children did they have? Or was it a single man who lived there, or a childless couple? Were they devout Jews? Had they met Jesus? Did they know about the man who preached about God’s Kingdom? As I wandered through the ruins that flanked the southern steps of the temple, I noticed homeless cats making their homes there. I asked myself, “Would Jesus have walked through these streets up to the Temple steps?” I think so. Oh, how I yearn to have seen it then!