South West Temple Mount and Christian Quarter

Last Sunday we visited some sites outside the south west corner of the Old City.  The kids all came along and loved pairing up with the students.  After the 1967 war, Jewish archaeologists uncovered homes which date back to the destruction of the second temple in 70 A.D, with charred wood and tiles as evidence of the fire that engulfed the city.  The excavations were covered by public buildings, but can still be seen in these basement museums.   

The basin above is the style a servant may have used to wash his master's feet.  Or vice versa.

  The beautiful mosaics on the floors reveal that these were well-to-do residents, maybe even priestly families.  

High up in the air just under Robinson's arch, an inscription from Isaiah 66:14 can be seen. 

"And when you shall see this, your heart shall rejoice, and your bones shall flourish like an herb." The smooth margin which frames the block identifies this as a stone made under Herod the Great. 

This massive corner stone was likely pushed off the pinnacle of the temple to the stones below.  The inscription reads, "To the place of trumpeting, to..."  Perhaps the trumpeter announced the arrival of the Sabbath as Josephus indicates. 

Impressions from this field trip:  the proportions of the wall are immense!  The temple mount was designed to accomodate huge crowds and to amaze the pilgrims and worshippers with its grand scale and brilliant beauty.  It is hard to imagine the wall being built without labor-saving devices, and it is also hard to imagine the wall being torn down and the temple destroyed over and over. 

Two days after our tour of Jewish sites, we visited several churches in the Christian quarter of the Old City.  Speaking of rebuilding, The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, build under Helena the mother of Constantine, was partly destroyed and rebuilt on a smaller scale.  Helena's clue that this was the right place was the existence of a Roman temple to Jupiter intended to vex the Christians.  

Here are the vaulted windows over the front door.  No one can agree on whose job it is to move the ladder.  Tales of territorialism cast a small shadow on this huge edifice commemorating some of the most sacred events in world history. 

The decor is more elaborate than Mormons are accustomed to seeing in our churches, and it is clear that the outward ornamentation represents the faith and sacrifice of thousands who contributed. Here again, the scale of the building is meant to draw the eye upward in awe at the majesty of God.

The stone of unction, where the Savior's body would have been prepared for burial.

To touch the stone of Calvary, one must kneel and reach into a hole, to feel without seeing the rock that lies beneath.  That may be a good metaphor for visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.  The physical surroundings may force our knees to bow, but it is up to us whether we achieve attitudinal humility, not just postural humility.  The apocryphal book of Manasseh has a relevant image: "And now behold, I bend the knees of my heart before thee."

The earliest stones of Calvary and the tomb have been covered or reshaped in ways that seem to distance them from the mental picture I have of the Savior's death, burial, and resurrection. (For example, waiting in lines, time limits on meditation in a tiny chapel with 5 other people, unfamiliar iconography.)

Yet beneath the external representations and the practical requirements of the pilgrimage, there was a deep feeling of holiness.

  The financiers, the builders, the caretakers, and the pilgrims, all chose to actively do something about their faith in Jesus Christ.  All wanted to show outwardly the devotion they felt inwardly.   Here in Jerusalem, this may have historically been a competitive demonstration, but I have to applaud the principle that faith in Jesus Christ changes us and motivates us to action.   I know the events commemorated here truly happened and have changed me personally. 

We visited other wonderful churches, The Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, the Russian Orthodox Church, the Syrian Orthodox church (I heard the Lord's Prayer sung in Aramaic), and the small tailor shop probably visited by Orson Hyde.  I don't know where those photos disappeared to...

If you still have time, you really oughta click here for Faces of Jerusalem, a photo essay fresh from the cameras of Scot and Maureen Proctor, editors of Meridian Magazine.

Holidays of all shapes and sizes

Last week was eventful with field trips, a birthday, two lost teeth, and two holidays.  I think the tooth fairy didn't have our address in her GPS, because she was tardy for the first tooth but finally delivered the goods.  The second tooth came out a few days later, and the tooth fairy had no problems that time.

We celebrated Christmas on October 31 in Shepherd’s fields (timed to coincide with the class discussion of the Savior’s birth).  But first we toured the ruins of the Herodian, King Herod’s retreat, fortress, and burial site.  In the photo below, we are sitting on an "island" in the middle of Herod's immense swimming pool at the foot of the volcano-shaped Herodian--no water in the swimming pool any more.

The juxtaposition of King Herod and Jesus Christ made a vivid contrast:  The first, a monument builder whose paranoia and excesses destroyed the lives of his kinsmen and subjects, was buried in an elaborate tomb of his own design, which was later defaced by vandals; his infamy has outlived all his beautiful buildings.  On the other hand, the King of Kings came to earth in humble circumstances, served and saved all mankind, and lay in a borrowed tomb until His glorious resurrection.  His life changed the world, and His life continues on. 

We shared testimonies and sang Christmas carols (Lisa sang Guard Him, Joseph) until well after dark.

The other holiday was Halloween, which we celebrated on November 2 after the students' exams ended.  So for once in his life, Frank's birthday was actually after Christmas and before Halloween! His students surprised him with a party, complete with an original song and a framed photo of a shepherd with sheep by Kevork Kahvedjian (He may sell his photos in Utah next conference.  Mr. Kahvedjian is pictured in the Faces of Jerusalem link below).

   After trick-or-treating and a dinner of cornbread and chili, we enjoyed a carnival with facepainting, veggie carving, and a cakewalk.  

We visited the Kotel Tunnel, "Kotel" referring to the Western Wall, which is the beginning point of the tour.  The tunnel goes north along the west side of the temple mount, passing through ancient arches, cisterns, excavations, and even a reservoir full of water.   One cool feature was to see the massive stones that support the foundation of the temple mount.  Lisa is pointing to one end of the monolith, and the stone extends just as far in the other direction!

Here the tunnel is at the level of the ancient street.  Lisa and Amanda are sitting on a rock that should have been fitted into the street, but construction suddenly stopped for some reason, even leaving the rock behind them partially chipped away.  We followed the tunnel all the way to the reservoir at the north end, then we returned the way we had come back to the Western Wall.

Modern Olive Processing

After seeing our ancient olive press, you might be wondering what modern inhabitants of the Holy Land do with their olives. 

My friend Sahar shared photos from her family's 2009 harvest.  First of all, picking olives is not an hour-long novelty, like it was for me, but a week-long endeavor for the whole family.  The best olives are tapped with a rock, packed with peppers, lemon or lemon leaves, and salt water, and stored for 10 days before eating. My friend Samia helped me pack two bottles of olives using this process, and I get to taste them in a few days.

 The rest of the olives are taken to a state-of-the art olive processing machine. "Within half an hour, about 119 kgs of olives were pressed into 18 liters of extra virgin olive oil."

Treasures

I haven't been an avid yard-saler since my North Carolina days, but some friends were heading to the Association of American and Canadian Expatriates yard sale, and I tagged along.  Actually the story is more complicated than that.  Our yard sale expedition was nearly cancelled due to rat poison.  But after some tense moments and medical consultation, we headed off, prepared with a wad of shekels and a GPS. 

Listening to the  GPS narrator mispronounce Hebrew and Arabic street names would be quite entertaining, if we weren't straining so hard to read street signs, anticipate lane changes, and recognize landmarks among the buildings made of uniform local stone.  As my friend and I were heading into the city to retrieve a lost cell phone from a helpful stranger, I asked the lady to describe her apartment building.  She said, "What can I say?  They all look the same."  Even GPS didn't help because we were spelling the street name Betsal'el instead of Bezalel. 

Anyway, back to the yard sale: it was in an open courtyard deep in the Jewish area of West Jerusalem, and people milled about just as at any other yard sale, except with more headscarves and hats.  I was on the lookout for Christmas gifts, some wardrobe variety, and shoes.  My Ecco shoes have been disintegrating faster than I can duct tape the soles back together.  I didn't find any shoes that fit, and I have no comment at this time about the Christmas gifts, but I had a great time looking at merchandise and hearing English mingled with Hebrew, Russian, and Brooklyn.

 At one table full of beautiful greeting cards, I saw a what I thought was a magnified photograph of a snowflake, but as I looked closer, I could see it was lace.  I stopped to talk to Ruth Guthrie and her husband, and she told me the story of the lace. 

"This lace belonged to my great-grandmother, and she wore it over a black shirt.  She always dressed like she was rich.  She came from Bosnia-Herzogovina, my grandmother brought the lace with her, not the first time she came to Israel (1954), but much later.  I kept begging her for it, but she said, 'Not for little girls.'  But when I got older, she gave me some of her laces little by little.  She loved me, and she was very good to me."  I asked Ruthi if she had written down her grandmother's story, and she said she hadn't yet.  But she has been telling them to her children and grandchildren. 

At another table I saw a beautiful silver plate not unlike the one above.  The Hebrew letters identify this as a Matzah plate for a passover meal.  I asked the lady behind the table if there was a story behind this plate.  She turned to the man next to her and said, "Is there a story behind this plate?"  

The man said, "Of course there's a story behind this plate.  The children of Israel were in Egypt, and they were in bondage and having a terrible time...." 

Elah, Elah, Goliath's Back

This weekend we took a trip with the Muhlestein and the Lewis families.  Kerry Muhlestein is the other BYU Religion professor here and Glenn Lewis works for the US Consulate.  Both Kerry and Glenn are counselors  in the Jerusalem Branch Presidency (Frank is the Branch Clerk).  Between our three families there were 16 children.  We left our home in the hill country of Judea and drove southwest to the valleys of the Shephelah (the low hills between the Judean hills and the coastal plain).   First we visited Sampson's neck of the woods in the Sorek Valley.  

We stood on Tel Beth-Shemesh overlooking Zorah, the birthplace of Sampson not far from where he burnt his enemies' fields with the help of 300 foxes (Judges 15).  This was also the location where the ark of the covenant was returned to the Israelites after the Hophni and Phinehas incident (1 Sam 6) .

Next we drove to the valley of Elah where the young shepherd boy David slew the mighty giant Goliath.  Between Azekah and Socoh you can still see a streambed, and you can still pick up stones, although the smooth ones are long gone, and if you bring along your sling, you can try to frighten the grasshoppers in the dry field to the left.  Or you can frighten your mother when the stone flies toward your sister instead of the grasshoppers. 

The hill behind Amanda is where Saul's armies would have encamped when they left the fortified city of Azekah and advanced toward the Philistine camp.  The Philistine chariots had a hard time penetrating to the hilly valleys of Judea, but they clung tenaciously to their territory on the plains. 

We thought about Uncle Mark and wished he were here to lead us in slinging.  (He returns home from Iceland in a month!)  According to Jeff Chadwick, the history teacher at the BYU Jerualem Center this year, a rock can reach 90 mph or more as it leaves the sling of an experienced marksman, which David certainly was.  From that perspective, the miracle was not that the stone killed Goliath, but that David hit his target on the first attempt.  David had perfect faith that with the Lord's help, he would succeed within five tries.

Notice how far apart everyone is standing.  There were no direct hits on each other, thankfully, and we all learned more about trusting in the Lord to overcome gigantic obstacles. 

The next valley south is Guvrin.  We explored some cool man-made caves at Beit Guvrin National Park.   The first cave complex was an ancient mine for soft chalky limestone, which could be mixed with water, heated up, and then applied to homes or cisterns to waterproof them.  This method of waterproofing cisterns was a crucial development in the region's history, allowing the winter rains to be stored for summer use and enabling people to live farther away from springs and rivers. The plaster was not permanent however, and the cisterns needed to be constantly repaired to make sure they did not leak.  Jeremiah told the wicked inhabitants of Jerusalem before the temple was destroyed that they had forsaken the living water of the Lord and were trusting in broken cisterns that could hold no water (Jeremiah 2:13).

   

The circular mining operation left behind bell-shaped caves with a circular opening at the top, and the bell caves eventually connected.  We walked from one cathedral-like dome to another.  In the soft limestone walls we could see carvings such as a Byzantine cross, the name of Allah in Arabic, and a reindeer!  We sang together, explored the rooms, and got dusty climbing on ledges.

Another cave complex contained empty Hellenistic tombs (built around the 3rd century BC), some of which were elaborately painted. 

These empty tombs provided for a fun game of sardines for the kids.  I'm not sure that those whose bodies anciently found a resting place in these tombs envisioned children one day "dancing" on their graves. 

The last place we visited on this trip was a Hellenstic dovecote with thousands of holes for birds to nest. The birds were raised for food, for fertilizer, and for sacrifices at the Temple of Herod (Luke 2:24).  Some of the doves raised here may have been used for the temple in Jerusalem.  The majority of the holes were twenty feet up on the walls, but there were a few holes lower down for some cute little turtle-doves.

We drove past eucalyptus trees imported from Australia to drain a swampy area, then we stopped for ice cream cones at a McDonald's before heading home up the Bab el Wad.

The weather is getting cooler, and the cloud cover made for a beautiful sunset.

Some strange creatures must have followed us home from the caves.