Mount of Olives

Note: My posts over the next weeks, although still arising out of my recent trip to Israel, will reflect topics relevant to the Christian Holy Week.

The Mount

                I stood looking across the Kidron Valley to Jerusalem. The sky was summer blue. The city was a broad sweep of dull dun and there was a scattering of dark and olive green. Central to all of this was the glittering golden dome set on its blue base. This beautiful building is the Dome of the Rock, one of Islam's holiest shrines. Many, like me, have stood at this point on the Mount of Olives and reflected on what they saw and what they couldn't  see. I witnessed people sobbing with emotion, overcome by what they saw and felt.

Looking across to Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives. The colours would have changed little from Jesus' day.

                The Mount of Olives is a chain of low mountains running north/south to the east of Jerusalem. A good place for growing olives, one might assume! One descends the hills, crosses the narrow Kidron Valley and arrives at the eastern wall of the city. The hills are some 800 metres above sea-level, significantly above the height of Jerusalem. From the mount one can look down on the holy city. The two villages of Bethany and Bethphage (mentioned on Jesus' travels) as well as others scattered throughout the mountain, were located in farmland pockets which provided much of the fruit and vegetables for the city.

                Many years ago Jesus also stood here, probably close to where I stood, saw the Holy City and reflected on what he saw: "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your chickens together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wing, but you were not willing. Look, your house is left to you desolate."        

                What did Jesus see? The blue sky would not have altered. The dull, dun colour of the buildings, local limestone, would have been the same. I suspect that there would have been larger patches of dark and olive green. Central to his gaze also would have been the glittering gold, but the gold of a square and not a dome as I saw. The spectacular gold he saw was the gold of their holy temple - the earthly dwelling place of their God. But he saw more than this.

                Jesus looked. He was sad and sombre as he reflected on the likely future of this city. I looked and I was saddened as I reflected on what the past 2000 years had done to this City of God.

                Jesus looked and like the prophets of old, saw the destruction of a people whose hearts had wandered from the God of their ancestors. Here was once again the farmer prophet, Amos, who saw the religious leaders exploiting the poor. Here once again was Jeremiah warning Jerusalem of its approaching calamity. But Jesus' immediate future lay in this city. It lay here with the religious elite who spurned the general public. It lay here with the temple officials who cared mainly for themselves. It lay here with the High Priest and his advisors who collaborated with the enemy rulers. It lay here with the Roman soldiers patrolling the streets.  His end would be on a hill just outside the walls of the city.

                I remember driving to Adelaide, South Australia, for the first time many years ago. Coming from the east, as I did, one had to drive down to the city from the Mt Lofty hills. As I was driving and seeing glimpses of our City of Churches below, I thought, "I'm finally here."

                The Mount of Olives was a watershed for Jesus as well. One can picture him looking across at the city, his destination, and saying, "I'm finally here." He knew what fate awaited him in Jerusalem and he could have turned back, headed down to Jericho, north along the Jordan River, back to the relative safety of Galilee. He didn't. He chose to continue his life's calling to the end.

                The Mount of Olives was the beginning of Jesus' last week.

It couldn't be the Mount of Olives without a few olive trees. here are a few younger trees on the slopes.

Isn't it true that there are times when we also are standing on our own little Mount of Olives looking out into the future? What we see could be foreboding; it could bring discomfort, test our endurance. Our choice should be to go ahead and do the right thing, remembering some good advice from the Book of Proverbs (3:5-6): "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding: in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight."