From Tomb to Tomb

Late Spring – 2006

Hello from Jerusalem,

Yesterday, Saturday, my wife and I took an afternoon walk to the Old City.  It was surprisingly busy, with Jewish people going to the Western Wall for Sabbath prayers and tourists thronging shops and other holy sites.  When we first arrived in Jerusalem we couldn’t walk down the narrow shop-lined lanes of the Old City without hearing, “Hello friend.  See my shop.  No need to buy anything. (yeah, right)  Hello, Hello!  Where are you from?”  Yesterday, we got none of that.  I think we’re familiar to many locals by now. Not being bugged to buy made the walk more fun.  I even dared a few glances into stores!

Our first stop was the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.  A shame it’s been ages since we’ve gone there.  We live a 30 minute walk from the holiest shrine in Christendom, yet we seldom visit anymore (we go to church in the Garden of Gethsemane).  Of all the local churches, it feels the least church-like, more like a castle or some decrepit old museum.  Also, with the politicization of the Jerusalem Patriarchate, and the perpetually rocky relationships between the denominations sharing the building: Greek, Catholic, Armenian, Coptic, Ethiopian, and Assyrian, visiting can be more depressing than inspiring.  Yesterday, however, it was fun and upbeat, interesting and humorous, like visiting an aging grandparent, full of interesting stories, but unaware of her foibles and funny habits. 

The place was surprisingly crowded, always nice to see given the sharp drop in tourism over the last five years.  We walked toward the tomb but ran into a crowd of worshipers, Catholics gathered all around the tomb singing a hymn, so we went around to the opposite side for a better view.  Lovely organ music accompanied a procession winding around the 200 year-old unattractive structure built around the tomb itself.  At the head of the procession, Turkish looking men wearing red fezes led the way.  Such men have been responsible for leading bishops through the Old City and within the church since the Ottoman Empire ruled.  Because of the ongoing Status Quo Agreement imposed on the church in Jerusalem by an Ottoman sultan in the 1850s and continuing even now, everything is the same as it was then.  This Agreement was the sultan’s attempt to keep peace between the perpetually bickering Christian groups, all wanting access to the same space.  Yes, once again, real estate is at the heart of the matter.  Picture a neatly dressed, mustachioed man wearing a red fez on his head, a dark suit, and a long, curved sword dangling from his belt, leading processions of clergy, bishops.  You know they’re coming from the loud, intermittent bang of the staffs they carry, smartly striking the stone floor with each step.  Next was a cross and a banner, then scores of Franciscan monks singing a hymn, then some priests, and finally, a pink-hatted gentleman who may have been the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem.  He smiled and seemed very nice, at least from where I was standing.

All that alone would have satisfied, but the extra special something that made this a true Jerusalem moment was the fact that the Greek Orthodox and the Armenians were worshiping at the same time in their portions of the large, echoey building!  I’ve mentioned the holy cacophony before: it never fails to amaze me and at least sometimes, like yesterday, amuse.  Must those services happen at exactly the same time?

From the church we walked through the Muslim Quarter’s market toward Damascus Gate and on to the Garden Tomb, our next (we thought) stop.  While walking along the crowded way I heard someone calling my name.  One of my employees from work, a late 50ish gentleman named Mousa, was visiting friends of his, a candy shop owner and a few others.  He invited us for coffee and while we hated to say no, neither of us wanted a late afternoon buzz from the thick, sweet, strong brew we knew we’d be served.  We thought a few friendly words with Mousa would be enough, but soon, he took me by the hand (literally by the hand; in Palestinian culture male/male touching such as greeting with an embrace or a kiss, is common and accepted), and led us into the candy shop.  Since we didn’t want any coffee (would it really have hurt us to drink some?  C’mon now!), we accepted glasses of water (Americans!  Sheesh!) and chatted with the men gathered in the back of the brightly lit store.  After a few minutes, the owner thrust a largish bag of mixed nuts into our hands, plus a smaller bag of candy.  We tried to refuse, but the shop owner’s warm, welcoming, very genuine Palestinian hospitality wouldn’t hear of it.

From there we went to the Garden Tomb, a site not far outside the Old City.  A little over 100 years ago, an explorer found a first century tomb set in a garden not far from a rock ledge that looks sort of like a skull.  Based on its age, appearance and location, he thought this might be the tomb where Christ was buried.  This place is especially popular with Protestant and Evangelical Christians who are not as comfortable with the idea of church tradition and things that are or look ritualistic, even though the Holy Sepulcher site has been venerated as the place of Christ’s burial and resurrection from the first century until now.  The Garden Tomb complex is interesting with its many terraces, sheltered places, and benches for impromptu worship services.  While we were there, many groups were touring, praying, and singing Christian songs:  more worship around a tomb!  It’s hard to go far in Jerusalem without seeing some sort of religious behavior or another.  It’s also hard to go far without seeing tombs.

In a simple two hour walk, we went from one tomb site to another, both surrounded by Christian faithful worshiping God.  Though I am more comfortable with the Holy Sepulcher as the site of Christ’s resurrection, I have to agree with one statement on the brochure from the Garden Tomb, that the actual place is not as important as the reality that it happened.  There is a lot of truth in this, especially seeing how the veneration of the actual piece of turf can lead to such discord.  And what serendipitous, unexpected fun we had, sandwiched between the two tomb visits: sweet hospitality at the rear of a candy store in the Old City of Jerusalem.

Jerusalem Letters Introduction

About literarylee

I sling words for a living. Always have, always will. Some have been interesting and fun; most not. These days, I write the fun words early in the morning before the adults are up and make me eat my Cream of Wheat.
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