Experiencing Holy Land sites.
Truly experiencing. The good and the not-so-good.
Came away from today with a surer sense of holiness. And unholiness.
That's what happens when you have to bribe the guard, to skip the line of 500 people (which would have taken 2 hours especially because others were skipping ahead too.)
PS I have heard that a visit to Bethlehem's Shepherd's Field is good. And to Rachel's Tomb.
Israel Museum was a dream. Mike and I skipped the Holocaust Museum ( I would be too emotionally drained I thought), and joined the group via taxi at the Israeli Museum.
New visiting exhibit on Herod the Great was extremely worthwhile. This guy, local Iduean Jew designated by Roman to be the government, hugely expanded the Second Temple, built massive fortresses such as Masada, and also Herodian, a city to himself.
Then we walked through the outdoor sculpture garden to the large model of Jerusalem at the time of the Second Temple (Jesus' time.) Loved it.
Mike and I sat in the shade waiting, happily, for our group to join us for about an hour. Figured out what each part was. Listened to tour groups come and go, with the high school kids trying out their English on us. "Hello, How is your trip? Do you like Jerusalem? I love you (girls to me). Where are you from?"
Then to the Dead Sea Scrolls. Wow. Dynamite. Thank you Essenes. Scrolls from 100 BC to 100 AD of all OT books but 2, and many many of Isaiah. How cool.
After that, to Bethlehem. Mass chaos. Crowded, pushing, unorganized. Not by our tour guide, but the entire system. I guess if we were supposed to get the feel of Bethlehem, was it this way? Was it crowded, I couldn't figure out the structure, you could pay to get ahead in line, what were we seeing, was this really what it says it is? Fluid, flexible. Not efficient in my engineering / American view. But that wasn't their point.
This is what Jesus stood against.
We entered the Church of the Nativity. Short door. Our guide told us it was short because the Crusaders built it that way, so horses wouldn't storm in . I believe that. It's a St Helena Church of the 325's, with a Crusader Church built over it. Now it is split into Greek Orthodox with the stone Jesus was born on, and Roman Catholic next door with the Grotto Jesus was born into.
So, we are lined up on the right, in a massive fluid line of 500 people, about 5 people wide. No structure. Every once in awhile the police and guards yell to us to SILENCE. Chanting, reading is happening at the altar. We are in this line 20 minutes.
Our Bethlehem guide, Esus, tells us for 20$ he can get us cut into the front of the line. Wait here. He comes back, moves us all to another spot. Wait here. He comes back, says we will need to break up into two groups. Some stay there, some follow him. Then we regroup closer to the altar, we are through one door. Then he takes 6 of us (Mike) across the altar to the other side, truly to the front 50 people of the line.
What is the goal of this line? To go downstairs, to see the altar over the rock on which Jesus was born. There's also an altar to the 3 wise men.
So Mike descends, pushed by crowds. Stinky crowds I might add. He is helping Margo, who has a broken shoulder. There are no guard rails and these steps are slippery rock, twice as high as those at home. It's treacherous. Mike and Margo almost go down pushed by someone behind.
I stayed on this side of the altar. Esus tells us, 2 can come first. I go. He takes us to the top of the exit stairs, tells us to go down. Hurry Hurry. So I do. And there's the little altar. There I am, with at least 30 other people in a low ceilinged room, walls ringed in overlapping Oriental rugs, hot and steamy and smokey. It's about as big as a lady's bathroom with 4 stalls. We are packed in, can't raise your arms even.
So Esus tells me, do you want to be alone? I look at him and say, Yes. He puts out his arm, gets the woman kneeling at the altar up and then holds his arm out, keeps everyone back. Says, 'she needs to be alone.' He then says, let me take your photo. So I hand him my camera, quickly, and kneel down. Right inside that star is the rock Jesus was born on.
As I touched it, I was pushed and pushed. I heard grunting and irritated growls. It was hot and sticky.
Nothing spiritual.
If this were the rock on which Jesus was born, I want it to be by itself, inside the stone cave of the grotto He was born in.
I want it to be peaceful. Revered. Holy and uplifted as precious beyone words.
But it is just a rock. Even if this were the rock on which Jesus was born, it is just the rock.
He is the light coming into the world.
Up I get, he says Hurry Hurry. Up the exit steps I go, again. And into the massive church to wait for the others.
Seeing people in line who waited, are still waiting. Tired. Not knowing/ not willing to pay the extra money and get scooted the wrong way down the exit steps
This is NOT what Jesus would have wanted. It is truly symbollic of all that is wrong with some parts of the church.
I come away with the strong feeling of thankfulness. That God isn't contained on a rock, or in a temple, or a church. He is everywhere, so big nothing can capture Him. He is spirit. He is not things.
We focus so much on things.
There is a neat feeling that my faith is built on the shoulders of others who came before me.
But really, my faith is alive and fresh and renewed by the Spirit of God. These places we visit can help us understand Him. But it is God who blesses us, not His shrines.
Today I thought about what is 'Holy.'
'Holy' as being separate and set apart for God.
Set apart to show forth God's glory.
Set apart to show the goodness and outpouring of grace and love and power of God.
The thing is, to be holy in the midst of a sea of humanity.
Thinking on this.
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