Sunday in the Holy City

You'd imagine that catching the bus first thing on a Sunday morning would be a quiet event, but the bus from the checkpoint to Jerusalem was full, before 9 am! Freshly-washed men with lavish hair-oil scenting every whiff of air, were on their way to work. The weekend is Friday and Saturday for Arabs and Jews, who make up the majority here, and it was over.  We went to the back of the bus and took our seats in the sunshine, looking at all that black, gleaming hair. There was perhaps one woman on board but it seems they do not make up a large part of the employed in these parts. Her head was covered.

Jaffa's orange oranges!

It's a short ride from Tantur to the old city of Jerusalem. We rang the bus bell and jumped out at the Jaffa gate like old pros. (Thank goodness Paul knows his way around here!) The "Jaffa Gate" is a four-sided castle archway in the city wall. Its name indicates that this is the exit from the city leading to Jaffa, or Joppa - Jonah's departure port, in one of the oldest books of the Bible. What adventures these storied roads could tell! And who knew Jaffa oranges came from the stowaway's hideout?

Welcome to Christ Church!

We were going into the city, though, not leaving it, and hurried through the wide arches. We soon reached our destination: Christ Church, the oldest Protestant church in the Middle East, founded in the 1840's by a local Rabbi who became a Christian and wanted a place where Jews could discover Christ as the fulfillment of their faith. After training in England, Bishop Michael Solomon Alexander returned. In three years he had established a church and translated both the New Testament and the Book of Common Prayer into Hebrew! He also laid the foundation stone for the building we were heading to, where the service began at 9:30 am. To get there we passed through a nice restaurant filled with breakfasting ex-pats, wandered into the quiet courtyard where violets and cyclamen grew in rock gardens - reminiscent of old England, and at last found our way inside. 

Just like Jesus!

Arches, soaring in sunlight, radiant stained glass, discreet white speakers blending into clean stone walls: welcome was palpable in the air, and we took a seat. A priest who looked like Jesus was conducting a mic check! This really must be the Holy City! As the service began he was joined by another priest, this one older, burlier, darker, a take-charge kind of guy. He reminded us of the disciple Peter! Turned out "Peter" was the preacher, "Jesus" the assistant!  The service lived up well to Bishop Michael's centuries-old wish and contained an interesting blend of Christian and Jewish elements, reading from the Torah as well as from the Gospels, with a cross and menorah on the altar. It was a great starting place for family discussion.

Cross and Menorah on Altar

As we sang "There is a Redeemer," led by Peter's mini-me son on a guitar, a cat ran through the open door and under our chairs toward the front, right at home. Glancing up high, silhouetted in a carved stone window, two white doves cooed and kissed, fitting right in with the day's message of Jesus' presentation at the Temple as a baby, with two turtledoves as sacrifice. Serendipity happens here!

We went forward quietly for holy communion but as I turned to go to back to my seat, there was a burst of cheers and applause, from the front row of blonde American women! I was sure I hadn't suddenly grown a halo or wings, so I continued demurely on, and soon learned that a local man with deft hands had run forward, caught the cat, and borne him out triumphantly! ... He promptly slipped back in before the end of the service! Cats, we were to learn, are everywhere in this land!

After church we left the quiet courtyard, and were plunged into deep, fascinating history. There was the Tower of David, with palm trees waving beside the ramparts. A few steps further: dive into endless narrow streets lined with shops selling rugs, hangings, pottery, jewels, spices, hardware, toys, clothing ... almost anything you could think of! And for you: 30% off! But we weren't stopping. We'd seen the walled city from a distance and could hardly wait to explore it up close!

The Wailing Wall - men on the left, women on the right

We went straight to the Western Wall, also known as "the Wailing Wall". It's the only place where original stones remain standing from the magnificent Jewish temple of Herod the Great, built around 19 BC, and destroyed,  to squash a Jewish rebellion, in 66 AD by Emperor Titus of Rome. This wall used to support the enormous temple platform:  the same temple where Jesus was presented as a baby, and later taught. Now it's a footnote to remembered glory.

Women at the wall

Jews come to the Wall to pray - and pray they do, men on one (large) side of a partition, women on the other. Rocking heel to toe, mostly dressed in black, reading Scriptures, sometimes weeping, they come and pray. I sat quietly on the women's side and prayed too. For peace, for healing, for new life, for hope. It moved my soul to be there, and as I backed away (because people don't turn their backs to the wall), I felt a unity with the longing of the ages for God's kingdom to come on earth, as it is in heaven.

By the wall

I met my smiling guys out in the courtyard where they'd emerged from the men's side, having returned the white kippah hats they'd been loaned for the occasion. There we were in the shining sun of Israel, with flags fluttering and Orthodox families bustling, a small group of pilgrims, not seeking what we hadn't found, but very glad to be here and to connect on many levels, by faith, with the roots of it.

Orthodox Jewish family

(The building at the back is a Jewish learning centre built by "The Dan Family of Canada"!)

Frasier suitably in black!