Going up to Jerusalem

The Vitrage Guest House was a nice place to stay, but once again we opted for a super-early departure to drive to Jerusalem. Unfortunately, geopolitics thwarted our attempts to drive there directly (through the West Bank), and we were forced to join the rush hour traffic around Tel Aviv. Turning inland, it became increasingly obvious why they talk in the bible about going “up to Jerusalem” and this part of the drive turned out to be more faith-promoting than we’d bargained for. As we passed the airport, Danny noticed the car was low on gas so we planned to stop at the next gas station. Only it didn’t come. Kilometer after kilometer, there were no exits, and no signs of gas stations ahead. The tank got closer to empty, and there wasn’t even a shoulder on the side of the freeway, should we need to pull over. Adding to our concern, we passed a car on fire along the side of the road. This was actually the second time we’d seen that in Israel—in both cases it appeared to be an issue with the car rather than a violent attack, but it was still disconcerting if that was normal with the cars here. Kara and I started praying, I wondered if this put us squarely with the five foolish virgins in the parable, and after what felt to be far too long we found a gas station. Given the volume of gas we refueled it with, we’d come very close to running out; I attribute it to the prayers of righteous women.

Entering Jerusalem, Danny parked at a place he knew would be free—the BYU Jerusalem Center. I was excited to tour it, but we’d be back on Sunday and only had a short time to reach our destination. The Temple Mount is a holy site to Muslims, Jew, and Christians for different reasons, and the center of much of the tensions there today. Non-Muslims are only allowed up there at certain times, and we had less than an hour from when we arrived before it’d be closed to us. Speedwalking down the steep dirt path from the Jerusalem Center to the Kidron Valley, we made our way directly towards it. The gates, the narrow streets—everything about the Old City was interesting and made me want to stop and observe, but there simply wasn’t time. Thankfully the security line to enter the plaza by the Western Wall was short, and just as we entered the security line to enter the Temple Mount, a bar mitzvah party walked by giving us a glimpse of that cultural tradition. At last, we were on the Mount. It was larger than I’d expected after the narrow streets, with trees and people sitting and reading as if they were in a park. In my desire to soak in the scene I wasted precious minutes not racing to get closer to the Dome of the Rock. Just as we made our way towards it, the guards started herding the non-Muslims off the Mount. They were kind enough to at least let us climb the stairs for a picture with it in the background, but my desire to see the beautiful mosaics up close was not to be. Still, given how close we came to missing it altogether I had to be grateful.

The closest we got to the Dome of the Rock

The rush over, we stopped for a moment at the Western Wall. They welcome people of all faiths, as long as they’re appropriately dressed, and wearing the headscarves provided, Kara and I walked up to it on the women’s side of the partition. We had to wait our turn to actually get up through the crowds to it, and it was clear some women intended to stay there for a while. I was content to touch it, observe all the notes of prayers stuffed into the cracks, and walk back.

the Western Wall

Women's section of the Western Wall

Street in the Old City

We walked a little more slowly back to the car and I finally realized how far we walked—and how steep the valley is. Since this would be our last day with the car, we wanted to use it to visit Bethlehem. Driving out of the Center, Danny parked at an overlook so we could get out of the car and take in the Kidron Valley and the thousands of Jewish graves on the hill side facing the eastern wall of the Temple Mount and its sealed gate. It was an incredible view that didn’t take long to take in, but then we saw something that made us linger longer than planned: Levar Burton. Out of context, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the host of one of my favorite TV shows as a kid. But as he was surrounded by a film crew, I took the time to notice and recognized him. What’s more, he was apparently filming a Reading Rainbow special about Jerusalem, and we had a chance to see him do a few takes including his signature “I’ll see you next time.” After a few minutes of being star-struck, we headed back to the car to tell Danny what he’d missed and resume the real reason we were here. 

View from the Mount of Olives

"I'll see you next time"

Bethlehem is in the West Bank, and as we entered the no-man’s land before the wall, I couldn’t help but notice that the barbed wire posts looked exactly like the ones I’d seen at the concentration camps in Europe. How could the Jewish people not see the similarity in what they were doing to the Palestinians to the ghettos they’d endured during the Nazi regime? It made me angry to see the towering concrete wall and all it represented, but as I was a guest in this country I kept these thoughts to myself. Instead, we tried to focus on the Christian sights, including the Church of the Nativity. It was undergoing some renovations inside but the Orthodox had hung beautiful hanging lamps that looked like Faberge eggs. Again, the smell of incense filled the church, and this time the church was packed. A large group of Russian tourists was slowly making their way down to the small, narrow area that is believed to be the spots where Jesus was born, and where he was laid in the manger. Part of the pace resulted from their need to touch every icon, but one woman in particular needed to linger even longer to take multiple pious selfies. You could see her tour guide was growing impatient with the possibility of throwing their itinerary off, and I realized that being a tour guide would involve more cat-herding than I’d probably enjoy. We quickly paid our respects to the spot where they believe He was born, and where He was laid in the manger, and went out to the square. 

the Church of the Nativity

the star marks the spot where Jesus was born

the manger

Lunch was delicious at a traditional place that Danny had visited before, and the décor included locks and keys from the homes the Palestinians had been forced to leave. Clearly, the right to return was still alive and well for them, however impossible it now seemed.

On the way back to the car we visited the Milk Grotto. Apparently some of Mary’s breast milk was believed to have dropped on a stone (awkward) and that touching it was supposed to help with infertility (didn’t know about that until afterward). We tried to find the church commemorating the “shepherds abiding in the field” but it was walled off and appeared closed. I wanted to see the Banksy art on the Wall and visit an olivewood carver my friend connected me with, but both proved impossible to find. Driving back out, the line of cars moved very slowly and Danny warned us about how long it could take. When it was finally our turn, I suppressed everything I’d just seen and Shalom-ed the guards for a quick exit. If only it was that easy for the residents there.

the hillside around Bethlehem

driving along the wall in Bethlehem

The rental car dealership was in an orthodox neighborhood, and driving there gave me more of an opportunity to observe them. It was then I realized I’d had no interaction with their men, and probably wouldn’t. Their dress was so uniform: white shirts, black slacks and blazers, black hats. The Hasidic were an exception, as some sported knickers and fur cylindrical hats that had grown bigger with each generation. Taking a taxi to the Damascus Gate, we entered the Old City again and checked into our accommodation: the Austrian Hospice. It was a bit of a splurge, but so worth it to be staying in the Old City on the Via Dolorosa. Here’s a bit of the background: during the reign of Napoleon, the French built housing for their citizens making pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Not to be outdone, Emperor Franz Josef built one for his subjects (he was the Holy Roman emperor, after all, and one of his titles was King of Jerusalem). The world wars affected the Holy Land and the Austro-Hungarian Empire, transforming the hospice into a British-run military hospital during WW2 that was only returned to a hospice in the 1990s.

At street level it was pretty non-descript, but climbing up the stairs to it you were suddenly transported to Vienna. It was built in the style of the buildings on the Ringstrasse, complete with its own café. The rooms had the simplicity you’d expect from a hospice, but it still felt like we were staying in a palace of sorts. From the balcony you could overlook the street below, and the view from the roof was fantastic.

entrance to the Austrian Hospice (photo from the web)

We capped off the day visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Only the Christians consider this site sacred, but the six different sects “fight” among themselves over it. They each maintain their own area, and it was interesting to see those differences play out in their respective areas. The funniest example of this is the “immoveable ladder” outside an upper window above the entrance. No church can move it without agreement of the other 5 churches, so it’s remained there for well over a century! The church is a massive, dark, ancient, cavernous, relatively plain, and incense-filled church containing the areas believed to be where Christ was nailed to the cross, where they laid his body right after he was taken from the cross, and the tomb. Demonstrating the power the Orthodox appeared to believe came from these areas, we saw women rubbing the stones with their necklaces and even wiping their baby on one. Not sure how the priests felt about that. After grabbing a quick dinner nearby, we returned to see the official closing of the church for the night. It was pretty quiet by this time because most tourists stay outside of the Old City, but a handful of excited-looking twenty-somethings chose to remain inside the church overnight. Because the sects couldn’t agree who gets to hold the keys to the building, it’s actually a Muslim family that’s been does this for a few generations. Seeing the priests from each sect standing there and laughing with each other during this, though, it appears the tensions (if any) only exist at the higher levels. There wasn’t really a ceremony, but it was interesting to see that the lock was so high it required the man to bring out a ladder to climb up to it, followed by sliding the ladder back inside through a slot in the door. Not a bad start to our stay.

Entrance to the Church of the Holy Sepulchure

Altar of the Crucifixion

Nazareth and Cesarea

Every morning of this trip my body insisted on waking up around 5 AM, but this morning that was rewarded with a view of sunrise over the Sea of Galilee through the window. We were determined to make an early start for Nazareth, and as we drove there the homes and scenery reminded me of the older parts of Newport Beach. Arriving in Nazareth, we found a place to park our car in the city center and found a restaurant for breakfast before hitting the sights. First stop: Basilica of the Annunciation (1). The roof was designed to resemble a lily turned upside down, and the massive church was filled with depictions of Mary from countries around the world. It was cool to see the different cultures represented, but the American submission was too modern for my taste--it made Mary look like a robot that could shoot lasers. As we entered with the crowds, a Polynesian group was having their worship service and it was beautiful to hear their singing. Down below, pilgrims filed past what was believe to be Mary’s home when the angel Gabriel appeared to her. It was so small and plain compared to what had been built around it. Next door, we visited the church built to honor Joseph’s home. It was tiny and ignored compared to what we had just visited, but it was nice to see his role was at least acknowledged.

Church of the Annunciation (1)

 

 Polynesian pilgrims singing in the Church of the Annunciation (1)

Examples of the depictions of Mary from around the world

Church of St. Joseph

Getting to the next church involved wandering through the narrow, winding bazaar, which was a sight in itself. While there were a few shops selling souvenirs, it was obvious from the selection and the people that this catered to locals doing their regular shopping. I still wasn’t feeling the need to start my souvenir shopping, but when I spotted apricots I couldn’t resist—plus it gave me a chance to show off one of the few Arabic words I know. Munching on my mish mish, we arrived at the Synagogue Church. This clearly received very few visitors despite the importance of its location: it was built by the Crusaders on the site believed to be the synagogue where Jesus worshiped as a youth, and first taught. Given all the Christian tourists we’d seen at the Church of the Annunciation, how did we manage to have this place to ourselves? I can only chalk it up to the inability for tour buses to get too close. 

Wandering through the bazaar in Nazareth

Church of the Synagogue

There’s actually two Annunciation churches in Nazareth, because the Orthodox Christians believe Gabriel appeared to Mary at a well near her house, and that’s where they built their church. It was as ornate and incensed-filled as you’d expect from our Orthodox friends, and climbing down the stairs you could hear the running water below. Pilgrims consider the water to be sacred, and I enjoyed my sip. The fresh juice guy was even harder to resist than the apricots and we all enjoyed some grapefruit and orange juice before continuing our walk.

Church of the Annunciation (2)

I didn’t expect Nazareth to be so steep and hilly, so we only wandered up and down a bit more before going back to the car to drive to some of the other churches. Looking at the guide book, we decided the “Church of the Fright” was worth visiting. Apparently this commemorated the event when those upset with Jesus’ teaching wanted to throw him off a cliff. Mary was below, and frightened. Finding it was easier said than done, though, as we drove in circles trying to find it. Stopping to ask for directions didn’t help either, as there was a language barrier and clearly not everyone shares an interest in visiting it. We later learned it was the church on top of a hill that we’d seen several times, though it didn’t look like it was accessible by road. The last church we visited in Nazareth commemorated Jesus’s youth. It was a beautiful church attached to a school on top of a hill overlooking the city and was worth seeking out.

the elusive "Church of the Fright"

Once again, we’d travelled faster than expected and with the extra time, decided to drive west to the coast. Our first stop was the Roman ruins of Caesarea. It was surreal to see the remains of an aqueduct sticking up out of the sand and running parallel to the ocean, but the geography nerd in me was most excited by the ability to stick my feet in the Mediterranean Sea. Four seas in one trip! (even if one of them is really a lake). My favorite parts were the hippodrome where the chariot races were held and the amphitheater. As we sat in the hippodrome stands imagining what it was like to be a spectator anciently and channeling “Ben Hur,” we overheard a nearby group’s devotional about Paul’s epistles that mention the race of life (2 Timothy 4: 7-8). He was imprisoned here, after all. And in the amphitheater, a Korean group got up on the stage and started singing “How Great Thou Art”. The acoustics were great and their singing was sincere.

Cesearea's aqueduct, running parallel to the sea and just yards from the water

Dipping my feet in the Mediterranean

Where Paul was tried before Felix

The amphitheater is still used for performances.

The Hippodrome, scene of chariot races

Deciding the fate of imaginary competitors at the Hippodrome from our stadium seats--Danny was far more merciful.

We had just enough time to drive up to Haifa before sunset. High on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean was a church commemorating the cave where they believed Elijah hid. Reflecting on the episodes from his life, particularly when he challenged the priests of Baal, confirmed that he’s one of my favorite prophets of the Old Testament. Bold and not afraid to mock some false priests, he clearly had some sass (1 Kings 18:27).

Elijah in his chariot of fire at the church believed to contain his cave.

By this time it was too late to visit the other site in Haifa, the Baha’i gardens, but given all that we’d squeezed in I couldn’t complain. That was one of the sights that fell into the category of “things we’d never heard about before planning this trip”, but as we drove by it I can understand why it’s a popular sight. The Baha’i have built a beautiful terraced garden that while narrow, goes all the way up a large hillside.

Driving back to Nazareth, we began the challenge to find our guest house. We’d picked a convenient location to the city center, and while we had a GPS app on our phone to help with the navigation, it was no match for the increasingly narrow alleys. Finally, we gave up and tried finding it on foot, only to discover some overhead signs we’d walked by earlier in the day that clearly pointed the way. Upon our arrival, the son went with Danny to properly park the car and we settled in. The owner and his wife were incredibly hospitable, and when we mentioned wanting a light dinner, she provided a home-cooked meal that could easily have fed a group twice our size. We were almost the only guests there, and in a small-world coincidence the only other guest was a guy from Japan who’s also LDS. What are the odds? 

Before calling it a night, we ventured out to find a place mentioned in Kara's guidebook, arriving shortly before it closed. Abu Ashraf specializes in katayef, a sweet traditionally made during the holy month of Ramadan. It's like a sweet crepe stuffed with either nuts and cheese and was fantastic! The decor was a collection of eclectic antiques, so distracting it was hard to focus on the owner making these sweet delights to order. Another great end to a great day.

Welcome to Israel

Today Kara and I had to fend for ourselves (barely). Leon dropped us off at the bus station to take the earliest bus from Amman to the border crossing, where the plan was to meet Danny on the other side. Riding to the crossing, it was fascinating to look out the window but I also hatched a plan. I’d heard horror stories about border crossings into Israel, and the internet confirmed that we should expect to wait several hours and for it to be an ordeal. Praying for patience and the ability to hold my tongue, I’d intentionally worn my nicest outfit. Using the bus ride to look as presentable and non-backpacker as possible (while carrying backpacks on my back and in front), I busted out the earrings and lipstick.

As we arrived at the Jordanian side of the crossing, the bus arrived at a small and plain building and we went inside to begin the process. We had a funny moment when after waiting for quite some time by the first window with no signs of progress, I noticed an employee sitting in another booth with no line. I approached it, thinking she could also help process us, and was informed “this is window 2” (in case the “2” above her didn’t tell me that). That was all. What she didn’t tell me was whether everyone regardless of citizenship had to go through window 1 (they did) to pay at window 3. Eventually we boarded the crossing shuttle to drive across the no-man’s land between the two countries to the Israeli side. This included several stops to have the vehicle inspected (including mirrors underneath), the passports of all passengers inspected, etc.. At the Israeli building, we had to stay on the bus until we were granted permission to get off, grab our bags, place them on a trolley, and begin waiting in line to be processed at the windows outside the building. This gave me time to admire the landscaping and the nicer building than their neighbor’s. Despite the linear appearance of the line, once you made it to the front it was a chaotic jumble of people going up to the multiple windows, and I swear some people figured out a way to bypass this step altogether. Once we did, we then had to traverse the chaos with all of our luggage to drop them off at another window and go inside the building, where we were greeted with an airport-style security check, and another window. This was the one where I sprang my plan into action. The one thing these countries shared were grumpy border staff, and this woman looked determinedly surly. Forcing my biggest smile, I gave her an enthusiastic “Shalom!” in the most obnoxious American accent I could muster and acted like this window was the highlight of my day. When she asked the purpose of our visit, I happily told her about our plan to visit the Christian sites. In a matter of minutes, our interview was over and we were through! Total time to traverse the crossings: about 3.5 hours. Picking up our bags and heading outside, I was so relieved to see Danny. Apparently he was just as relieved to see us, as they wouldn’t let him drive the rental car to the building, and assuming he meant to make the crossing himself, they kept trying to make him enter Jordan. Eventually we made it to the car and were on our way, driving due north to the Sea of Galilee.

The Israeli side of the Jordan River valley was much greener than the Jordanian side with all the agriculture, which aside from the banana plants reminded me a lot of driving through central California. We also saw several Israelis trying to hitchhike, which Danny explained is a fairly common practice. It wasn’t long before we encountered a checkpoint, and I decided to use my “trick” again. A friendly “Shalom” goes a long way, but we were surprised when they didn’t even ask to see Kara’s passport. Soon we arrived at the Sea of Galilee and after a quick lunch in Tiberius, started our “tour de churches.” There’s a church built to commemorate the possible site of everything Christ did there, including the Sermon on the Mount, the miracle of the loaves and the fishes, and telling Peter to “feed my sheep”. 

Church of the Loaves and Fishes

On the shore of the Sea of Galilee

Attempting to walk on water at the Sea of Galilee

 

We also saw the remains of Capernaum, with a large church built over what was thought to be Peter’s house. The outlines of the houses were all small and nearly identical to me, so I’m not sure how they decided which was “the” house. The gardens at the Mount of Beattitudes church were lovely, with young olive groves surrounding the property, but I had to smile at contradictory signs.

Signs at the Mount of Beattitudes: on the left, "Let anyone who thirst come to me and drink...." but on the right "water not for drink"

Garden at the Mount of Beattitudes

Almost all the other tourists were there with a tour group, and at each site at least one group was either holding a devotional or a worship service in their language. Not doing either, we got through them much faster than I would have expected. With this extra time, we headed north to Nimrod Fortress in the Golan Heights. I’d never heard of this crusader fortress, but was impressed with the view and the effort it must have taken to haul the stone up to it. We practically had it to ourselves, and stayed until the park closed.

Nimrod Fortress

Water storage at Nimorod Fortress--it can still hold water!

As we drove through the hilly countryside of forest and cherry orchards afterward, Danny explained what he knew of the history of that area and the Druze he researched in grad school. With the exception of a small village of pockmarked buildings that was abandoned, you’d never guess how recently this area had seen conflict. The years of conflict and moving borders have created a bit of a conundrum/limbo for some of the residents here, though—they ended up in a country that doesn’t want them, and they in turn don’t want to acknowledge that country’s potential legitimacy. Not sure how long I could live like that. There was a scenic lookout overlooking the border with Lebanon, and a machine played a recording explaining the Israeli perspective of the war and the UN-run demilitarization zone we were seeing while enjoying the cherries we’d purchased roadside.

Driving back to Tiberius, our long weekend and Danny’s jetlag started to set in. After checking into our hotel and finding a nearby pizza place for dinner, we called it an early night.

(kk update: just a few weeks after our visit, a radical Israeli group attacked “The Loaves and Fishes Church.”)