The Mount of Olives

On the Mount of Olives

I looked and saw a hillside paved in gravestones:

Looking from the Mount of Olives.

Oh people, Oh dwellers in this Holy Land,

What have you done to the Mount of Olives?

Oh you people.

You have rooted out that growing green which was life,

which gave sustenance to life.

You have laid bare here the slopes of this mount of deep meaning.

Oh people.

You have sacrificed the living for the dead.

That which encouraged life, lived life,

 now lies useless, lifeless,

suppressed by the stones of the dead.

People, Oh you people.

Let the soil bring forth.

Do not hinder it.

Let the earth join in the joy of creation.

Do not deny it.

Oh people

Let the Mount live its life.

Do not deny it!

Join with it and sing with it.

Learn once again to rejoice in it.

Looking towards the Mount of Olives.

In the Synagogue

Yom Kippur morning and decked out in our Persil whites we accompanied Guide Gail to a local synagogue in Tiberius. We were so thankful for this opportunity and showed devout attention to all explanations.

Visiting the Synagogue in Tiberius. Women upstairs and men downstairs.

Joseph, the local synagogue attendant, was so highly elated that we should show so much interest. So impressed indeed, that he agreed to show us their Holy Scroll. As I entered the building I had looked around for the scrolls of their Torah. Books there were a-plenty, but no obvious scrolls. I suspected that the richly embellished wall hanging hid what I was looking for. It did. Joseph drew back the curtain, unlocked the wooden doors, slid aside another layer of door to expose beautiful, shining silver containers. He opened one and these for us to see their Holy Scroll - clear black writing on brilliant white paper.

We were privileged to be able to see a little further into the Jewish faith.

Located on another wall was a list of Jewish festival days - Shavuot, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur etc. and Purim. I innocently asked the significance of Purim which prompted a response, in which Gail, Pastor Peter and the Synagogue official all participated.

What manner of guide is this who is so sincere and knowledgeable about our blessed religion?

What manner of Christian Pastor is this whose knowledge of our religious text far exceeds that of most others who come to visit us?

And what manner of pilgrim group is this who are content to stand and listen to all ten chapters of the Old Testament book of Esther delivered by all three of us?

Their version lacked the continuity and Biblical phraseology found in most versions of the Bible, but it told the story. It is an interesting, gripping story , but I do wonder why it is part of our Holy Scripture. It runs as follows -

Esther

The powerful King Xerxes ruled his Persian Empire, which stretched from India to Ethiopia, from his citadel of Susa. He was one for throwing parties to show off his wealth and liberality. At one such party, after having imbibed a little too liberally he ordered his eunuchs to bring his wife, Queen Vashti, to the banquet. She was an acclaimed beauty and the King wanted to show her off in front of his guests.

But the queen refused to come.

The mighty king was furious. This could not be tolerated or soon all the wives in the Empire would be disobeying their husbands. He immediately sent an edict throughout all of his 127 provinces that every man should be ruler over his own household.

Now what to do with Queen Vashti? His advisers suggested that he divorce her and begin a search for a beautiful, young virgin who would become his new queen. King Xerxes finally chose a young girl, Esther, whom he installed in the palace.

Esther was an orphaned Jewish girl who was being raised by her cousin, Mordecai. The King had not been informed that Esther was Jewish. After Esther had been taken to the palace Mordecai missed her dreadfully for she had been like a daughter to him, and every day he walked up and down near the palace to be near her. One day he overheard how two of the King's officers were planning to assassinate him. Mordecai reported what he had heard to Queen Esther who passed the information on to the king, but giving credit to Mordecai.

The officers were apprehended, duly punished,  and Mordecai's name was recorded in the Book of Friends of the King.

The episode caused a reorganisation of the King's administration and a man named Haman was elected to  a position next in power to the King. Unfortunately power went to Haman's head and he decreed that everyone should bow down and pay homage to him. Mordecai refused to do this. Haman was enraged and when he realised that Mordecai was a Jew he was determined to destroy not only this man who refused to honour him,  but all the Jews in the Empire.

Haman and his henchmen cast the pur (that is they cast lots) to determine on which day the purge would take place. The thirteenth day of the month of Adar was selected. Haman then issued orders under the seal of the King's signet ring and couriers were sent to all the provinces of the Empire.

Mordecai, the Jew, was very alarmed when he learnt what was about to happen. He approached Queen Esther suggesting that she should beg the King for help. Naturally she agreed to do what she could to help her Jewish people. She sought an audience with the King realising full well the danger in which she was placing herself. Because of his great love for her, the King agreed to listen to her request.

Esther asked that the King and Haman come to a private banquet which she was organising. Her request at this first banquet was that the King and Haman come to a second banquet when she would make known her real request.

Haman was beside himself with pride. He boasted to all how he alone had been invited to dine with the Queen and King. His followers were also happy and all bowed down to pay him respect. But not Mordecai, the Jew. This enraged Haman and he had a gallows erected on which to hang this pesky Jew.

In the meantime King Xerxes had been browsing through his Book of Friends of the King, came across Mordecai's name and wondered how he had been honoured for what he had done. His servants informed him that Mordecai had received nothing. The King determined to redress this oversight, asked Haman what should be done to someone who had performed a deed that saved the King's life. Thinking that the King was speaking about him, Haman gave a long list of honours that this man should receive. Haman was then told to go and give these honours to Mordecai, the Jew, who was always walking up and down in front of the palace.

Oh, the disbelief, but Haman did as he was told. He was a worried man. His friends agreed that he was in trouble.

Worse was to follow for Haman.

That night at the second banquet, the King asked Esther for her request and she begged that her people be spared from annihilation. The King was furious and wanted to know who was planning this heinous deed. Esther pointed to Haman. The King was enraged and had him hanged on the gallows which he had built for Mordecai. He immediately revoked the edict ordering the massacre of the Jews, confiscated Haman's property and gave it to Esther. Mordecai was now elevated to a high position.

There followed great celebrations in the Jewish communities throughout the land. Mordecai decreed that this day of rejoicing and feasting be celebrated annually. People were to remember that this was a time when the Jews got relief from their enemies.

So was born the festival of Purim.

Thank you, I'm so pleased I asked. Mind you, I think that a few details found at the end of the Biblical version had been left unsaid. Check out for yourself!

The synagogue at Capernaum where Jesus would have taught (see Mark 1:21). The white reconstructed building shows signs of its previous beauty.

Again in the synagogue at Capernaum. What once was a beautiful house of worship!

Bethlehem

Bethlehem

O little town of Bethlehem

how still we see thee lie.

Above the deep and dreamless sleep

the silent stars go by.

Yet in thy dark streets shineth

the everlasting light.

The hopes and fears of all the years

are met in thee tonight.

Ah, Bethlehem. So often we have sung your praises. So well do we know you in song and pantomime, in children's Christmas presentations and table manger scenes. Now we are to see you in reality - the twenty-first century version where the little town has grown somewhat. What tour memories of this town have remained with you? Which have I brought home with me? Let me think.

The little town of Bethlehem of two thousand years ago has grown into a city-hardly little, hardly still.

After a peaceful stroll around the Shepherds' Field we hit the streets of Bethlehem running. Well perhaps not running for up until now  it has been a long first day and lunch was waiting. You probably don't remember what you ate but you surely will remember dancing around in costume to the beat of a Turkish drum, and the coffee afterwards.

The name of the restaurant?  Christmas Bells, situated on Manger Square. True, I'm not joking. I am always amazed how a non-descript entry door can open up into a vast wonderland of surprises. In this case the small door lead into a vast cavern of culinary delights - well, buffet food! As my photo shows, they milk the name 'Bethlehem'  for every last drop. In this case I didn't complain.

Even with the photograph, I can't remember what I actually ate for lunch. The Bethlehem beer was cool and pleasant.

It was then across Manger Square to the Church of the Nativity and its close neighbour. We came knowing from Sunday School that Jesus was born here in Bethlehem but after being lead through the churches and caves, things became a little confusing so I'll leave that till later. I'll now hop on the bus and go quickly to the last big event of the day.

The Three Arches!

What's that? Come on now. Many of you have been waiting for this - retail therapy. For those dedicated shoppers among us this was the first opportunity to flash the plastic.

The Three Arches. Wasn't it an Aladdin's cave of wonders! This was another case of how an unassuming door can lead to seduction and overspending.  The family-run company has been in business for many generations and one can see why. From the beginning there were smooth, polished salespeople one finds hard to resist.

Think about it. We enter and "as a special privilege" we are able to watch one of their craftsmen at work. The engaging old fellow is busily whittling away at an emerging camel.  He is creating pieces, we are told by our shop guide, from solid pieces of olive tree which display a deep beauty, not like the cheap laminated carvings one finds in most of the other shops. Only quality products here. And the craftsman smiles and whittles a little more.

What an amazing array of olive tree carvings could be seen in the Three Arches. These are the small ones.

Then "this way please", past eye-bobbling items which are not to be admired yet. "There is something more I want to show you". We are then taken to a cluttered counter  to be addressed (entertained) by another smooth talker. He introduces us to a range of great products available to us. Yes, all currencies and cards are accepted. He engages his listeners by asking questions and handing out small gifts to those who come up with a correct answer. ( By the way, I was lucky enough to be given one of these small gifts, a colourful trinket box. It was made in China and the lid had already come away from the hinge.)

Complimentary cool drinks next. Or coffee or tea. How could one resist?

Did you? Would you?

We spent a long time there, so that we could have a thorough look around, or was it all designed to wear down our resistance?

Yes, my wife really loves her gold (14 carat, because that resists wearing) Jerusalem Cross pendant with a free chain (gold-plated, I would think).

But this is Bethlehem, after all and it's good to support local industry.

Mount of Olives

Dominus Flevit - Teardrops from Heaven

Jesus had come over the Mount of Olives from Bethphage and Bethany surrounded by a group of his boisterous followers. He was riding a donkey and they were running and shouting beside him. Although a couple of his disciples had put a few of their own items of clothing on the colt to cushion Jesus' ride it was still quite uncomfortable. He stopped to work out a more comfortable position. He looked up and what did he see?

The stones that Jesus saw. The huge carved stones helped create Herod's Temple Mount. The al-Aqsa mosque on the Temple Mount dates from the eleventh century CE.

The sun is shining brightly on this clear, spring morning, sparkling off  the  dew on the olive leaves. Below the blue dome of the sky lies his destination,  Jerusalem. Shining golden  in the centre is the holy temple, God's earthly home. The gold is glittering, the pure, white marble shimmering. This surely is one of the wonders of his world. Surrounding the temple are the porticoes, lines of marble columns capped with white limestone. The massive basilica forms a boundary to the south. What a sight. Oh, what joy to worship the Lord in the beauty of this temple!

But Jesus' eyes must move on, for there is so much to see in the great city. They shift from the temple mount to the City of David with its crowded buildings teeming with life.  Then further to the upper city with its huge, rich mansions. Completing the circle his eyes come back to the massive rocks supporting the temple mount. Even from this distance their size is evident. And so neatly carved. So beautifully crafted. Built for a God.

Jesus sat and thought, he looked again and saw more. He saw that his words concerning the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven had fallen on deaf ears. He saw what the prophet  Amos of years past had seen. Then his mind returned to the present and he saw the sky darken and the sparkle die. He saw death and destruction, masses running, mothers pleading, children screaming, soldiers dying, blood flowing in the gutters. He saw buildings crumbling and fire bringing all to ash.

His head bowed into his hands and he wept at what he saw. He wept why this should be.

The Dominus Flevit Chapel on the Mount of Olives remembering a sad, frustrating time in the life of Jesus.

Luke19:41-44 reads as follows - "As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said,' if you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace - but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognise the time of God's coming to you' ."

And Luke 13:34 - "O, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing."

Future generations of believers determined that this moment of frustration and sadness in Jesus' life should have a specific location for pilgrims wanting to retrace Jesus' footsteps. The chapel of Dominus Flevit is the latest to be built in this vicinity to remember Jesus' disappointment. This location certainly fits the biblical statements that he came down the Mount of Olives, approached Jerusalem and saw the city.

This small chapel, constructed in the shape of a teardrop was built in 1953/54 for the Catholic Franciscan Custody of the Holy Lands. It follows the simple, but imaginative plans of Italian architect, Antonio Barluzzi (remember that name?) who was responsible for a number of chapels throughout the land.

Dominus Flevit was the first scheduled stop on our walk down Palm Sunday Path; the first of a long list of churches dedicated to the recorded movements of Jesus during his ministry. Yes, I was excited, looking forward with keen anticipation.

I had read up briefly on this church (it's always good knowing what one can expect), its architect and other examples of his work. The exterior lived up to expectations. It needed little imagination to see its resemblance to a large teardrop. The tower finials certainly could be seen as teardrops from heaven.

Architect Antonio Barluzzi's teardrop from heaven.

I went  around the corner to be met with disappointment. A church service was being held in the church and we were not able to go inside. Alas, my view of the holy mount through the iron window design was frustrated. How was the hen and her chicks depicted? And the mosaic from earlier churches?

I could have cried!

But, I consoled myself. Whereas this was the beginning of Jesus' final week, it was the beginning of our time with him in his earthly home.

And I am sure this has not been our first disappointment with a church. I mean visiting a church as a tourist or pilgrim and not as a congregation member of St.  So-and-so.   But I digress.

Just a few years ago I was excited about seeing up close a very magnificent facade of a church in the hill-top village of Orvieto in Italy. I had seen many fine photographs of the church and was determined to take one just as good. But alas! when we turned the corner to view the Cathedral I was sorely disappointed. The whole facade was undergoing renovations and completely covered with hessian. Not even a small glimpse of the mosaics on the portals, or a peep at the bronze Evangelists on the piers of the facade or a sneaked view of the bas-reliefs on the piers.

What the heck! My "Complete Guide to the City of Orvieto" probably contains better images than I would capture. However, that's not the point, is it? ...... But I digress even further.

Back to Jerusalem and Dominus Flevit. Just to add insult to injury (so to speak) the main picture on my Immanuel Tours Pilgrimage Certificate Nr 101853, is taken from inside the chapel overlooking modern Jerusalem - the one I wanted to see in reality and photograph for myself. Oh, how cruel.

Golan Heights

On Mt Bental

We had come from the Mount of the Beatitudes to Mt Bental in the Golan Heights. From "Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the children of God",  to the United Nations   peacekeepers for they are needed here. One short drive can transverse millennia of history as well as a broad spectrum of human emotions.

A gap had appeared in our very tight travel schedule and Gail, our guide, had suggested the possibility of driving to the Golan Heights, not describing specifically what might be seen there. The name itself prompted a unanimous decision to have Salah drive us there. Those of us with sufficient age showing on our faces or wide gaps through our thinning hair, clearly remember the strife surrounding this region.

We arrived at the summit of this old volcano, wondering what exactly we would find to interest us. There was first a few Druids inviting us to taste their fruit. Very good indeed! Then we walked through a short avenue of quaint iron sculptures, pieces of art created by Dutch artist, Joop de Jong. Quaint and humorous, one must agree, but I did hear a few of our party debating whether art accurately described the works.

Steel put to a better use. An imaginative sculpture by artist Joop de Jong.

And then the summit and the peacekeepers. There were two blue-bereted soldiers, representatives of the UN peacekeeping force, stationed here, high overlooking the no-go zone between Israel and Syria. Two service personnel - one from The Netherlands and one from New Zealand. Bless them, for at any time the boredom of their watch could change to the danger of conflicting armies. As it was, the dullness of their watch was brightened by lively conversation and questioning from our interested group.

The peacefulness of this outpost belies the horror of the conflict raging in Syria not so many kilometres away. The sounds of war are heard in the quiet of an approaching evening. The sounds of conflict. A dull thud, a boom, reaches our ears. These are the sounds of exploding anger. To us it is but a sound, but to those whose houses are destroyed, whose livelihoods are shattered, whose eardrums are burst, whose lives are sacrificed, what is it to them? I shall never understand.

A United Nations peacekeeper on Mt Bental.

The empty trenches here on this mount, the silhouetted soldiers, the silent guns, stand as a memorial to a conflict almost half a century ago. This war, known as the Yom Kippur war, began on the Jewish holy day of Yom Kippur in 1973. On this day armies from various Arab countries surrounding Israel launched attacks, across the Sinai in the south and here at the Golan Height in the north. Here on Mt Bental the monument remembers especially the battle against overwhelming Syrian forces. These initially made advances but were later driven back. Burnt out tanks littered the landscape. Soldiers lay dead and dying.

As with all battles remembered - Waterloo, Anzac Cove, Leningrad, ( the list is long)  - many are sacrificed, benefits are few. I shall never understand.

We were driven back to Tiberias.

Remembering a less peaceful time on Mt Bental.

The Sea of Galilee

Beside the Sea of Galilee

I am looking out on the still waters of the Sea of Galilee. The sound of children playing in the hotel pool breaks the quiet of the approaching evening. They are enjoying the splashing, the fun of the water. I am contemplating the sea's calm. A boat crosses my vision.

The waters of the Sea of Galilee.

I think: Jesus sailed on these waters.

But then: These waters?

And I must agree with myself that they were not these waters. The waters of Jesus'  time have long since disappeared, drawn up by the thirsty summer sun, harvested to irrigate sagging crops or seduced down to a salty grave in the Dead Sea.

Does my lay-person's  understanding of the natural water cycle lessen my feeling, my appreciation of what I see before me?  For many this is but a lake, a basin of sweet, fresh water. It supports life in and around it. It is undeniably a great blessing to this area. The fishermen depend on it to provide their catch. The crops of the farmers would die without it. The tourist hotels would serve no purpose. For many others this is much more than just a fresh-water lake.

Sitting by its shores in the cool of the evening, it is easy to see the physical appeal of the place. It is also easy to feel the emotional appeal of the place. Won't we all remember these moments alone with the lake and the Lord?

A cartographer's outline of the Sea of Galilee lacks the emotion of the real thing.

Yes, and the Lord. For the Christian the presence of Jesus is still here. (Oh, I know you will tell me that he is with one wherever one is - even in Western Australia!)  The lake of his homeland heightens our perception of his presence. We pause, are silent, and this presence penetrates our souls and becomes part of us.

Am I drawn closer to the Lord by this experience. For me, I think not. Has the Lord drawn closer to me? I hope so.

It is easy to see why Jesus left his hometown of Nazareth and came down here - to Capernaum - to live. We were up there; hot, barren, hilly. Not the best place in the world to live. Then we came down here; cool, fertile, enjoyable. A place to enhance life. Like people in Queensland who move to the Gold Coast to live. Whereas most of them move there to retire, their life's work basically behind them, Jesus came here to recharge his battery to move out into the world, to get on with his life's calling.

We also will move on, some to continue retirement and others to pick up on their various vocations. As we discovered, each in her or his own unique way, Jesus'  presence remained here. 

His foot-prints are still on the water.

First day in Israel

The First Day

Jerusalem the Golden,

With milk and honey blessed .......

I know not, oh, I know not

What joys await us here......

I could hear the clear, tenor voice of Harry Secombe on an old scratchy piece of vinyl I have at home. For me, he accompanied the song on the bus's PA as we made our way along the Rabaa-al-adwaya  to the Mount of Olives to see for ourselves what awaited us there. And we saw. The emotion of it all. A moving beginning and then it all began .....  moving more quickly.

that initial panoramic view, the oohs and aahs and the odd tear, the dome of the rock, watch out for pickpockets, the man and his donkey, beautiful view, only two dollar, the wall, which wall? the dome of the rock, the valleys, in the shadow of death, the green line, temple mount, palm sunday road with bitumen and taxis, the crowds were there but where were the palms? the chapel of dominus flevit, dominus who? franciscans, maroochy, pavarotti, antonio barluzzi, yes, barluzzi, we shall meet him again, teardrops from heaven, church of the nativity, white limestone buildings, windmills, chickens under my wings, graveyards, stones, you must build this way, hedron valley? no kidron, hell, ottoman empire, ossuaries, necropolises, the jerusalem cross, peter and his rooster, st pierre en gallicante, armenians and greeks, orthodox and roman catholics, dominicans and franciscans, the stump of jesse, olive trees which refuse to die, church of the nativity, o jerusalem! jerusalem! as the deer pants for the water, vulgate, st catherine, hadrian, 386ad or is it ce? 530ad, queen helena, why do you sleep, atms, cabramatta, parramatta, oodnatta, what the hell, what's it matter? 24th december, 2nd january, 19th january, united nations, united nations? no the church of the nations, doric, ionian or corinthian, byzantine, and the cock crowed thrice, in the shepherds' field, shopping, dancing with the turks, retail therapy, constantine and caiaphas, king soloman and the queen, what a day this has been...

What! could you not keep up with me for one day? (Memories of Matthew 26:40, including a mistranslation and quoted out of context).

OH, what a day this has been!!

I fell quickly asleep, my mind abuzz with sights and sounds, places and dates, architects and columns, queens and saints, carvings and oliv...........zzz.   

Israel (and Jordan) - Thanks for the Memories. 

34 hours from Petra and I stumbled through my back door burdened down by the accumulated paraphernalia of my twelve days' Holy Land tour with three additional days in Jordan.

Yes, I arrived home with a back-pack bulging with bits and pieces, a camera case of captured images, a port full of dirty laundry and a mind full of memories. My back held the back-pack, my shoulder the red camera bag and one hand dragged the washing. The other was firmly and carefully clutching two bottles of duty-free Jägermeister.

The dirty washing I will see to myself. "What's that my Dear? You will do it? Bless you." Absence does make the heart grow fonder. I envisage that the images will not all disappoint me and I will be able to share some with you. I will however take care of the Jägermeister. One bottle is already approaching the eiskalt level. The bits and pieces in the back-pack will add to the clutter in my study and hopefully prod my memory along.

My memories? They are best remembered by being shared.

Memories are not logically arranged, chronologically organised or neatly filed; but they pop up randomly. Patting my neighbour's dog and I am reminded of the cats chasing around the grounds of the Dan Beach Hotel. Chopping wood for the fire and I visualise Turks laying rail tracks and deforesting Israel and Jordan in the process. Drive past our home church here in Laidley and I am once again worshipping in the Redeemer Church in Old Jerusalem. You get the idea.

Over the next who knows how long? I invite you to join me as my memories bounce around - not chronologically, not logically - as a word, a thought, a sight, a sentence in my note book, takes me back to our pilgrimage. My thoughts may not always be your thoughts, my reactions not always similar to the way you reacted. What a dull world it would be without variety! I trust, however, that my words will help you relive what for many of us was a trip of a lifetime.

Flying high on The Faith Boat Australia meets Israel.