Saturday Sabbath

Today was Saturday, but because we were in Israel it was observed as the Sabbath for Latter-day Saints, too. After a quick breakfast as the hospice, we walked to the Garden Tomb. This site, just outside the Damascus Gate and not far from where we were staying, was opened a little over a century ago and is believed by some Christians (mainly Protestants) to be the real location of Christ’s tomb. We arrived before the opening, and this time were joined by small tour groups also eager to start their day with this visit. The grounds were nice, and whether it’s really the location or not, I like to believe the tomb would have looked like this.

the Garden Tomb

Walking back up Mount Scopus to the BYU Jerusalem Center, we arrived at church early and were able to enjoy a gorgeous view of the Old City from the windows of the auditorium. Truly this was a unique location for our weekly worship, and it was good to be at church again, even if I was distracted by the view and unused to sitting still for this long (i.e. had difficulty staying awake). It was also where I finally felt the Spirit on this trip. Here I had spent the last few days going to almost nothing but holy sites, and I felt many emotions at each one, but struggled to have the spiritual feelings I’d assumed would almost gush in these locations. Truthfully, I was getting a little worried that maybe I was missing something. Sitting in a classroom for a lesson taught by a twenty-something, I was reminded that hearing true doctrine is what can create those feelings, not simply being in a place. It made me appreciate why all the tour groups had devotionals at each stop, as they created the spiritual memories for the groups. Personally, this was the lesson I needed. Church also gave me a chance to say hello to my parent’s friends, who are serving two years there as volunteers. Their various roles include working with local charities to distribute aid, and trying to make sure that the handful of Mormons in Bethlehem has an opportunity to worship in their own branch. After church we enjoyed that spectacular view of the Old City from the gardens and visited the ancient olive press they recreated on-site. The whole facility is gorgeous, and I can’t imagine having the privilege of living there.

view from the Jerusalem Center

an olive press on the grounds of the Jerusalem Center

the walk down Mount Scopus

 Walking down Mount Scopus one last time, we headed north of the Old City to an olive wood shop we’d heard about from the students: Jimmy’s Bazaar. There are so many places to buy olive wood carvings in Jerusalem it’s easy to be overwhelmed, but Jimmy wisely realized years ago the Jerusalem Center was a niche market. Consequently, walking into his shop we found not only the standard nativities but Captain Moroni, BYU cougars, and other figures familiar to the LDS people. He’s not the only one to recognize this, as you can buy BYU shirts in the markets and I’ve heard of other carvers befriending LDS tour groups. It was great to have the shop to ourselves as we carefully selected which figures to buy for ourselves and our families without feeling pressured or having to bargain—parts of shopping abroad that I have yet to enjoy. It was also nice to learn more about the carving process while I mixed and matched figures for my mom’s nativity. Our selection made, we walked back through the Muslim quarter to the hospice so we could drop off our things and change. It was nice to be off the tourist trail for a moment and see how people actually lived in the city.

not your average olive wood shop selection

Many things are closed on the Jewish Sabbath, so we saved the ones that weren’t for this day, including a self-guided walking tour on the walls around the Old City. It was a fascinating to peer down into their courtyards and look across at their rooftop hangouts, and the semi-birds-eye view helped me put the parts of the various walks we’d taken through the Old City together. We even passed a playground and a soccer field within the Old City, which surprised me given how crowded it felt.

on the walls of the Old City

the walls of the Old City

view of the BYU Jerusalem Center from the Old City's walls

Back on street level, we headed back to the hospice and split up for a bit. Confident in my ability to navigate the Old City, at least if I stayed on the streets we’d walked on before, I walked back the Western Wall to see it in the afternoon sun and people watch again. This time, I walked to the southern corner on the other side of the entrance to the Temple Mount and realized this area was practically deserted. You could walk down on wooden platforms around the excavations right up to the wall, which is where one man chose to pray. If you got tired of waiting in line at the other part, or if you wanted to pray in an area that wasn’t segregated, this seemed like the perfect spot—even if you were a few yards further from the Arc of the Covenant.

the other half of the Western Wall

I’d spent so much time on the northern and western sides of the Temple Mount that I chose to walk on the eastern side just outside the city walls. Across the valley was the Mount of Olives, with all the Jewish graves vying to be first in line at the resurrection. But on the side of the valley closest to the city, all the headstones were in Arabic. Back at the Lions Gate, I started down the familiar path to the Church of the Holy Seplechure for some more pilgrim-watching. 

Lions Gate

This time I found a bench up in the Orthodox area near where they remember the cross, and watched as pilgrims filed past lighting candles. One Asian woman had a fistful of candles, which she carefully lit one by one and prayed over them. Imagine her dismay when the monk came by, as he probably does several times an hour, to extinguish said-candles to make room for the next ones. I had a prime seat to watch as they silently battled it out—monk plucking candles out, woman relighting candles.

Pilgrims at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Damascus Gate, near the Austrian Hospice

As we left the hospice for dinner, I heard the unusual sound of bagpipes. Recognizing what this was from the IMAX film about Jerusalem, I made a beeline towards it with Kara and Danny in tow. Coming down the stairs we’d walked on with the Franciscan monks the day before was an Arab marching band. Their parade included scouts and a small statue of a saint (Mary?), but I’m not sure where they were taking her. Just when you think you’ve seen everything in this city, it throws another surprise at you. 

a surprise parade

 

With the Sabbath ending at nightfall, we headed into a Jewish neighborhood outside the Old City to watch that segment city come to life and start to head out for the night. We were too hungry/tired to wait for them to really open up, but we did find a bakery just opening for the night on our way back to the hospice. Like our last night in Amman, it was great to pick up a selection of breakfast pastries for our next day’s travel.