|
 JUST
AS THE SUN was rising,
I briefly woke up and peeked
outside. It was an incredibly
awesome sight, the old city just
beginning to light up, with very
few sounds. I savored it for a
few moments and then put in my
earplugs and went back to sleep
until 7:30.
 After
a cup of Nescafé and reading a
little in the Urantia Book, I
took a shower. Joy wanted to
wash her clothes and hang them
out to dry from one end of our
balcony to the other, ruining
our stupendous view, and we had
a slight disagreement about
that.
Today
we were a little out of sync
with each other. I went down and
ate breakfast alone while she
showered, and she barely made it
before the 9 a.m. cut-off. We
had agreed to go sightseeing
together, but just as I was
ready to go she decided to sit
on the balcony, read the UB,
meditate and pray. Figuring this
would probably take another hour
or so, I went off alone.
* * *
Walking through the old city, I
stopped in a few stores, buying
a beautiful book, Paintings
of the Holy Land, by David
Roberts, done in 1839.
I also
shopped around for a pair of
earrings, since I'd lost one of
the only pair I'd brought
along—a task which gave my
stroll through the streets
meaning and purpose. At the
Jaffa Gate I ventured into the
new city to find the Internet
café mentioned in our guide
book. Once there I discovered it
was gone but someone pointed me
to another one, called the
Netcafé.
An
hour later I was caught up with
my email and returned to the
hotel, where Joy was waiting
with a bicycle that someone in
reception had loaned her. (Her
foot had been bothering her when
she walked long distances, and
this seemed like a great
solution.)
 Deciding
to explore the Mount of Olives,
we took off and exited the Old
City through the Lion’s Gate.
The
road went steeply downhill and
from here we had our first view
of the Mount of Olives, a
regular mountain with olives
groves, churches, and an
assortment of ancient and
latter-day structures. Joy
zipped down the hill on her bike
and I followed behind on foot,
weaving in and out of cars and
tour buses until I found her
waiting for me at a road
purportedly leading to the
Garden of Gethsemene. We entered
an area that was highly
cultivated and landscaped, with
olives trees that looked at
least two thousand years old. It
was hard to tell if this was the
real thing or not, but it was
nice to know that Jesus had
spent time in the vicinity.
From
there we continued to the to the
top of the hill. It was an
incredibly steep climb and a
very hot day. Joy’s bicycle,
which had been such a godsend
for going downhill, now became a
major encumbrance as she had to
push it all the way up the hill,
and with a sore foot to boot!
Every now and then we stopped to
rest under some shade and gather
our bearings.
At the
very top was the “brow of
Olivet,” where Jesus had looked
out over Jerusalem and wept.
They pressed
on, soon standing on the brink
of Olivet, and Jesus saw for the
first time (in his memory) the
Holy City, the pretentious
palaces, and the inspiring
temple of his Father. At no time
in his life did Jesus ever
experience such a purely human
thrill as that which at this
time so completely enthralled
him as he stood there on this
April afternoon on the Mount of
Olives, drinking in his first
view of Jerusalem. And in after
years, on this same spot he
stood and wept over the city
which was about to reject
another prophet, the last and
the greatest of her heavenly
teachers. [1375]
Early next
day Jesus was up and on his way
to the temple. On the brow of
Olivet he paused and wept over
the sight his eyes beheld—a
spiritually impoverished people,
tradition bound and living under
the surveillance of the Roman
legions. [1381]
At the
very top was a village from
where we walked over to the
Seven Arches Hotel, along the
way pausing to take in the full
view of Jerusalem and trying to
pinpoint the spot where Jesus
must have stood weeping so long
ago. Inside the hotel, where we
went for a cold drink, the lobby
and hallways were full of
exhausted, glazed-eyed American
tourists and their luggage,
draped over chairs in the
lounge, apparently waiting to be
taken to the airport.
When
it began to grow dusky we split
up, Joy riding her bicycle down
the hill. Out of curiosity I
wandered into a Jewish cemetery
near the hotel from where I had
a view of Bethpage and Bethany
in the distance, two villages
Jesus loved and often walked to
from Jerusalem.
Here I
encountered a local vendor
selling rolled-up full-color
panoramas of Jerusalem. He acted
as my guide, pointing out spots
of interest, and I returned the
favor by buying one of his
posters from him.
As it
grew dark a bus came along and I
caught it, riding all the way
back to the Lion’s Gate for two
shekels.
* * *
Back
at the hotel we sat on the
balcony and discussed what we
had seen that day over a glass
of wine, then went for dinner at
a cozy nearby restaurant that
had tablecloths and tourists (a
lone Asian guy and a small group
of Americans). As Joy ordered
yet another falafel dish, I
wondered how many more she could
eat before getting sick of
falafel! We wrote postcards and
in our diaries, then read and
marked passages in our Urantia
Books to line up as much about
Jerusalem as possible for the
next day.
|
previous
