dkmiller

While walking up the tel (mound) that leads to the top of the excavation a storm blew up and pelted our group with rain. Just as we reached the top, the rain stopped, the sun, came out, and a huge rainbow popped out stretching from one end of the Valley of Meggido. I think all that stuff about the end of the world is metaphorical, but I still smiled and thought of the myth of Noah and the rainbow representing God’s promise not to destroy the earth. Nice juxtaposition.

Rent horses and climb up the volcano. It’s incredible!

I bought a few candles, lit them as prayers, and stood in line to go down into the grotto. As I stood there I thought of all the candle smoke soaked into the walls and ceiling and of all the prayers lifted up on that place. As I was getting into the spirituality of it all, an argument broke out between two groups ahead of me in line about which group was next to go down into the grotto.

Oh, well! People are people!

The Catholics and the Orthodox jointly maintain the sepulchre. Each one thinks the way they take care of things is the only way. What a shame!

My tour of the Old City included a walk along the Via Dolorosa, the “Way of Sorrows,” the traditional route Jesus took to the site of his crucifixion. We started in the cells in the Roman garrision where Jesus was probably held prisoner and then basically walked the Stations of the Cross. Even though I don’t think anyone can know the exact spot the historical events took place, and even though I think much of the story is legendary and has no historical basis, at some point on the Via Dolorosa, my attitude about my whole trip was transformed. I felt like I was no longer a tourist but a pilgrim. It was quite moving.

I was at the Western Wall late one evening. It was quite empty. In addition to my small group of friends (five of us in all), the only people there were a few of the ubiquitous soldiers, a group of Yeshiva (seminary) students, and a college or high school group from the United States. The Yeshiva group was exclusively males, as Orthodox Judaism allows only males to become rabbis, and the US group was co-ed. They weren’t mixing, so there was no trouble at first.

The Yeshiva students formed a circle and began singing and dancing. I was moved, thinking how anemic my own liberal Protestant worship forms were. At some point, a young woman from the US group began dancing also. The Yeshiva teacher began yelling at her with such an intensity that it got a bit scary. The US group’s chaperone herded the group off somewhere else.

This all happened while my group was standing back in the plaza overlooking the large area beneath the wall itself. This spooked us enough that we just went back to our hotel. Later in our tour (the next day maybe), the entire tour group of about 150 went to the Western Wall. Those of us who wished went into the area right up at the wall. I couldn’t help thinking about the exclusivity of the entire spatial arrangement. Men on the left side, women on the right, Jews and vistors at the bottom of the wall, Muslims and visitors at the top of the wall where the Dome of the Rock is.

All in all, my feelings about the place are still very ambiguous.

I had a great time in a small cafe, eating and drinking local beers.

I had a chance to go to Israel for free, and many of the people I was going with were taking their spouses. My wife didn’t want both of us to be go out of the country and leave our son behind, so my sister decided she would go with me. It was very cool. We had the chance to see all kinds of things together and to get to know each other as adults. It was sacred space and a sacred time for us both.