Marching to Zion

Dome of the Rock from above
 

It’s hard to know what to think about Israel and Jerusalem.  For me, it evokes memories of my grandmother singing songs about marching to Zion and crossing the River Jordan as she cooked Sunday dinner.  There are so many places in Israel that serve as metaphors, and to see them come to life in the landscape is very moving.  On the other hand, there is so much violence and 

Jaffa Gate to Jerusalem

intolerance connected with the major religions of the book which claim Jerusalem as their home, it gives one pause.  Monotheism seems to have produced too many angry young men – whether they are Muslims scowling at women telling them to cover all their skin, Armenian priests roughly clearing tourists from the Church of the Holy Sepulcher so they can spread their incense, or Israeli army soldiers (granted, many of these are women) with Uzis hanging from their shoulders, bullying tourists at checkpoints.  Is the Holy Land a place of hurt or hope? 

One thing Israel has become since we were last here about 20 years ago is a place of “more”:  more people; more tall housing blocks; more million dollar homes on the sea (rivaling Dubai); more highways, cars, traffic and traffic jams; more souks with cheap trinkets and tourists to buy them; more walls, checkpoints and guns; more settlements around Jerusalem; and certainly more noise and general commotion (the Arab habit of honking the horn at every intersection seems to have arrived here). 

We were met by our driver shortly after arrival in Haifa port and driven to Jerusalem.  Fortunately, it was the Sabbath so the traffic wasn’t bad.  Unfortunately, it was the Sabbath and I was not to achieve my goal of visiting the Dome of the Rock.  On approaching Jerusalem, we circled to the south on a new highway rimmed on either side by high walls and concertina wire.  I wasn’t sure whether we were on the side of the prisoners or the jailors. We arrived at our hotel, the Dan Boutique, and after settling into our room, took a taxi to the Jaffa Gate.  There we had an incredibly delicious (and expensive!) lunch of Mediterranean mezzes.  Dwight took a taxi back to the hotel since the Old City terrain was unfriendly to his walker. 



The Rabbi

Illicit photo of the Western wall
 

After a quiet walk through the Jewish Quarter where small groups were celebrating the Sabbath, I arrived at the Western Wall to find it surrounded by security check points.  Most of it was walled off with yet another surly guard who warned us not to take photos—what a change from 20 years ago!  Another guard at the bottom of the walkway to the Dome grunted that the Dome of the Rock was closed for the Sabbath which didn’t make sense to me since the Sabbath is a Jewish holy day and the Dome of the Rock is controlled by Muslims, but I guess that is for the convenience of the guards. 

My main mission having failed, I decided to make for the Christian quarter and maybe there find more of a welcome.  I got lost in the souks and kept getting misdirected, I guess by owners who were unhappy that I wasn’t buying from them.  Signs left you hanging at intersections.  I finally ended up in front of the German Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, a starkly beautiful church which was built by Kaiser Wilhelm in the 19^th century.  I paid for entry and climbed the 178 stone circular stairway to the top of the bell tower where I was rewarded with a view of the Dome of the Rock from above with the Garden of Gethsemane in the background. 

Wearily, I made my way to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher where I worked hard to stay out of the way of surly Armenian priests and gaggles of tourists.  Another wander through the souks finally brought me back to the Jaffa Gate and the taxi stand where they only charged me twice the normal rate to take me to my hotel.  This is a long post, but it was a long and exhausting day in the Holy City!

Mosaic in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher