Christ Experience in Jerusalem

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This day I awoke bright and early at 4AM. Actually, it was more like pitch black and early. I spent the time until breakfast listening to music, thinking, and praying. Thinking always leads me to pondering my present and unseen future. All of a sudden, I felt compelled to stand up and dance in the dark to the song “Through Heavens Eyes” playing on my ipod. Pouring all my emotions and prayers into it, hoping God would see me and be pleased. “So how can you judge what a man is worth by what he builds or buys. You can never see with your eyes on Earth. Look through Heaven’s eyes.” With those lyrics hitting home I finish with a perfect flourish and stand there spent. The room felt full of God’s presence. At that very moment, my room phone began flashing bright white, silent, and persistent. He saw! Overwhelming.

It still wasn’t even 6AM so I settled back into my bed and awaited breakfast. Today was the day when I would be moving into the heart of the Old City and finally visiting the most holy site in all of Christendom, The Church of the Holy Sepulchre. After a breakfast, in which I amazingly deshelled a hardboiled egg all in one quick motion, it was time to move on.

I walked through the Damascus Gate and into the next stage of my Jerusalem journey. Quickly I came upon the Via Delorosa, the street where Jesus Christ carried his cross to his crucifixion. Somewhere a Russian pilgrim group was singing a mournful hymn. When you are actually at a spot like that it is hard to go on about your business like it is just another day. I trudged up the alleyway with my heavy bag on my back and got the barest and briefest of inklings of what it had been like for Christ. Having not been beaten, jeered at, nor facing my own death I still would not be able to even come close to comprehension.

After receiving a gracious early check-in from the pilgrim house, I made my way up to my room. It was sparse, yet homey with stone walls. It was on the top floor with an excellent view, first of a minaret of a local mosque and beyond it the iconic golden dome of the Temple Mount shrine. Just being in that room where countless pilgrims had stayed before me made my pilgrimage feel more real and purposeful. I knew what I had to do next, head for the Church of the Sepulchre.

With helpful sign posts pointing my way it was relatively easy to find my way through the narrow alleys of the Old City. Along the way the hustle and bustle of local daily life was apparent. Sweet shops, food stalls selling shawarma and falafel, souvenir shops, and countless other businesses lined the way. Finally, I turned a corner and the alleys opened onto a large open courtyard. I was here and the holiest of destinations awaited.

I stepped through the doorway of the ancient church, out of the light and into the reverent darkness. Immediately, a slab of stone lay before me. It was where Christ’s body had been lain directly after his crucifixion. There were female pilgrims ritually washing the slab in an act of devotion. I put my hand on the stone, said a prayer, and turned my attention to the nearby staircase.

Climbing the stairs I was in actuality climbing up onto Calvary, the site of Jesus’s crucifixion. It indeed was all there in that sprawling church. When I reached the top I saw it, a life-sized crucifix with Jesus hanging over the very spot where he died. It was all so real and immediate. These events were not just legends or parables. They actually happened. Nothing could have been holier. I joined a short line and waited my turn. Everyone was there was silent in a funereal reverence. You could see the actual rocky outcropping on which the cross was placed. Ducking under the shrine I pressed my forehead against the rock in an act of supplication. What I felt at the moment was intense gratitude. I moved aside to let other pilgrims have their own precious moments. I sat nearby trying to contemplate what had happened on that day two thousand years ago and what meant for me in the present day.

After death I was ready to experience resurrection. I made my way down from the crucifixion in search of Christ’s tomb. There was a lot of scaffolding and wrong turns, but I found it. Interestingly, the line to the tomb was much longer than the line for the crucifixion site. I must have spent about thirty minutes in line behind a Russian church group with a couple of restless boys moving about and playing tag. It did however provide me with a nice break in order to segue and get my thoughts together between the two major holy events.

After the long wait, I finally was able to see the entrance of tomb. The unexpected spine-tingling moment that got me was watching people emerge from the tomb. Christ went in dead and then miraculously walked out alive. He had fought death and won. I got a clear vision in my mind of him striding out confidently and ready to get to work. Not only that but the image of his mischievous grin will stay with me always.

Christ’s tomb is in a small chapel called the Aedicule. When you step inside the small enclosed chapel everything becomes silent and spiritual. I waited outside the entrance to the tomb itself, the first in line. People were ushered into the tomb together in groups of four or five and then give a few minutes to spend in the tomb. The group in front of me filed out. I was just about to enter into the tomb, the most momentous goal of my pilgrimage, when a Greek orthodox monk called out and I was stopped by the guard. The priest had cut the line and brought two followers with him.

Initially, I was taken aback, but then I realized how lucky I was. I was able to spend more time at the very entrance of the tomb. During this time, I began to sense the power and the otherworldly forces that seemed to emanate from the tomb’s dimly lit interior.

Finally, it was my turn. I entered first and slid all the way to the far wall. The interior was warmly lit and glowed with an embracing aura. I put my head on the stone slab and began to pray a prayer of deep thanks and gratitude. The overwhelming feeling that I got while I was in there was that this had been a space of a deep spiritual struggle. I could imagine it quite like trying to wake up from the deepest most horrifying nightmare you could of have, only if it took three days and the entire hopes of all humanity rested upon your success. It was the residue of this struggle that I unexpectedly sensed while in there.

After leaving the tomb I sat on a seat near the entrance, but out of the line, and tried to sort through what I had just experienced. I eventually left the holy church. I saw other sites that day, but nowhere near the impact. I made my way back to the pilgrim house to rest, think, and prepare for dinner.

I wasn’t quite sure how dinner would work at the pilgrim house. Unlike breakfast, it would not be a serve yourself kind of deal. Would I sit by myself and be served? Would I be sitting with others? If so, who with? I walked into the dining area and immediately was confused. There were tables dedicated to certain groups. There were empty tables without any dinner settings. There were still others of uncertain groupings. So typically, I walked straight through to an ancillary room. Luckily, I ran into a volunteer who I had met working the reception desk and asked her where I should sit as I was a solo traveler. She led me back to the main dining area and showed me to a table where three people were sitting marked with a small sign that read “Pilgrims”. I sat down only to discover that they were all speaking French.

However all’s well that ends well, because they could all could speak English. They kindly for the most part spoke English for the rest of the dinner for me. One was a volunteer on her day off from Canada. Another was a French girl in Israel to study Hebrew and the final one was a former volunteer from Croatia who enjoyed his time at the pilgrim house so much that he had come back for a repeat visit.

I found it really enjoyable talking to all of them and by the end of the dinner it felt like chatting with old friends. The dinner was massive and delicious. My tablemates warned me about the midnight and early morning calls to prayer of the nearby mosque. They also told me I would not be able onto the Temple Mount the next day as I had planned because non-muslims were not allowed up there on Fridays. I was glad to have received such useful information. After dessert, it was time to retire to bed. After a shower, I fell into bed and into a deep soul satisfied sleep.

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Comments

[Ron]

Christ is ascended ! Bliss hath invested Him, — Woes that molested Him, Trials that tested Him, Gloriously ended

[Chekeitha]

Powerful!
Loved your detail in telling this story.