Beyond and above

May 6—Lalibela is remote. Balbila, a bustling village 30 rugged mountain kilometres north, is even more remote. And we kept going, winding through tortuous mountain trails, climbing steep hillsides, pushing deeper and deeper into the heart of the high country. The scenery was absolutely breathtaking. The place looked uninhabitable.

And yet, people by the thousands live on these slopes, eking out a precarious living as farmers. Who could imagine they could stand on that incline, let alone till the soil with oxen. Throughout the countryside the crack of the farmers’ whips resounded as pairs of oxen pulled single furrow ploughs up and down, back and forth, leaving a heaping hint of opportunity for a crop ahead.

We were on our way to visit an ancient church (Yimrahana Kristos) and palace built in a cave. We parked at a small village and hiked 15 steep uphill minutes in the thin highland air before arriving at a large cave sheltered by ancient junipers. A wall encased the entrance.

We removed our shoes to enter through the narrow gateway. Inside the floor is covered with hay. Three stone and wood buildings stand in the gloom of the cave compound—a “palace,” a storehouse and a church. Behind the church in a special enclosure is the tomb of King Yimrahana who made the construction in 1180 A.D. He is one of three Ethiopian kings who have been sainted; each left a legacy of church-building.

The walk to the church and back again is lined with people begging, each seemingly more desperate than the last. On the way up I determined that I would choose one to give to on the way back down. It seems a rational strategy. I gave a few birr (Ethiopian dollars) to a worn out woman and a small child. She is grateful.

Closer down to the village, a two-year-old girl ran forward, grabbed the little finger on my right hand and walked with me. Labourers working on a sidewalk laughed at her effrontery, but she stuck with me. I released her with a blessing and walked along. She came running around to the other side, took my left pinkie and walked further with me. I felt blessed. The workers were greatly amused. Eventually, I asked for a photo. She obliged. Her mother came and picked her up. She cried over her mother’s shoulder as they continued on their way.

More rock churches

May 6—In the afternoon we visited a second group of five churches in the town of Lalibela. Once again we walked through trenches cut into hard rock and encountered a variety of worship sits chiseled from the living stone. My own thoughts resonate with the conclusions of 16th century Portuguese traveler Francesco Alvares.

He wrote: “I am weary of writing more about these buildings, because it seems to me that I shall not be believed if I write more, and because regarding what I have already written they may blame me for untruth, therefore I swear by God, in Whose power I am, that all that is written is the truth, and there is much more than what I have written, and I have left it that they may not tax me with falsehood.”

Ancient Axum

May 7—The Simien mountains in northern Ethiopia are high and rugged. In these mountains Ethiopian armies soundly defeated Italian colonial troops in the historic Battle of Adua. That was in 1896. That victory solidified Ethiopia’s prestigious status as the only African country never to be the colony of a European power.

The drive through the mountains is magnificent, but too time-consuming for most contemporary travelers, including us. We flew over them and landed at a modern airport in the ancient highland town of Axum, the historic centre of Ethiopian civilization. Today it is a bustling town with a rapidly expanding tourist trade.

It is best known for a park full of great steles (obelisks), which mark the graves of kings who ruled before the time of Christ. The tallest of these monoliths (carved from single pieces of hard rock) once stood more than 100 feet high, much larger than any Egyptian obelisk. Today it lies broken on the ground. Another, about 80 feet high, was looted by invading Italians in 1937. They bowed to pressure and returned it in 2004. It is being re-erected. The tallest obelisk rises majestically 75 feet into the air amidst a grove of lesser steles.

Beginning in 270 AD, the ancient Axumites began producing coin currency. After Christianity arrived in the region about 340, Axum imprinted coins with a cross, the first official currency ever to feature the Christian symbol.

The hills around Axum are rife with rocks. Stone walls mark the borders between properties; farmers plough stony fields and build rock houses. The rock foundations of an ancient palace (purported to belong to the Queen Sheba) demonstrate the reality of an advanced civilization in the area hundreds of years before Christ. According to various sources, including the Bible, the Queen of Sheba visited Solomon. Ethiopian traditions maintain that the first king of Ethiopia, Menelik I, is their son. And that he brought the Ark of the Covenant from Jerusalem to Axum.

Indeed, Ethiopian Orthodox believe that the Ark of the Covenant is still here, in a vault below the Church of St. Mary of Tsion. Only the guardian of the ark is permitted ever to see it. It is his life calling. We visited the church and read Scripture about the construction of the ark. We did not see the guardian; we did not see the ark.

Ethiopia is full of surprises. A new museum on church properties showcases antique monarchial robes and crowns, magnificent priestly vestments, well-rendered icons, immense processional crosses of gold and silver, old liturgical manuscripts and much more. Ethiopia is full of treasures.

A lesson in religious devotion

MAY 9—A pilgrimage to understanding takes people out of their comfort zones and demands them to experience the situation of another. This can be very difficult for religious people who deeply believe that the ways we know are the only ones worth following. Not many Canadian Christians have attended a religious celebration to commemorate the birth of St. Mary. Even fewer have participated in the liturgies of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church on that day. We did.

The venue was Lideta Mariam, a large church in Addis Ababa. Not only were we welcome to be there; we were treated like VIPs. We worked our way through large crowds to reserve seating in the front row.

And what did we see? Lots of colour and lots of religious devotion. We saw great numbers of people seeking the solace of the church. They came to confess sins and give praise to God. They came to be inspired and encouraged. They came to pray and to celebrate. They came to give tithes, and to seek blessing. They came to worship.

A highlight of the ceremony occurred when priests came out of the church carrying Tabot under brightly colored cloths. The Tabot are replicas of the tablets on which Moses presented the 10 Commandments. Every Ethiopian Orthodox Church keeps a set in the Holy of Holies, only bringing them out on special days. They are to Ethiopians what the Ark of the Covenant became to the Children of Israel — a representation of the glory and presence of God.

Amidst music and chanting, people surged forward to follow the Tabot. The crowd swelled as the procession continued. When it completed three trips around the church, a group of young religious students stepped forward to dance with great energy. With their prayer sticks they symbolically represented the Passion of Christ, and with their songs gave thanks to Mary for being the God-bearer.

Pentecost Sunday in Jerusalem

May 11—The cab driver was not happy with the way things are happening in the Middle East. “This is the holy land," he said. "The land and the rocks and the trees are holy. But the people," he continued, “are not holy.”

But many of them try very hard. Our group had the good fortune to arrive in Jerusalem on Pentecost Sunday. And we had the further good fortune to come to the small chapel in Old Jerusalem where Jesus’ early followers gathered to wait and pray after He ascended into heaven; where in the upper room the Holy Spirit fell upon them with power and they rushed into the streets speaking in many languages. And many were saved.

The chapel where this is said to have happened is often open to pilgrims, but services are conducted there only three times a year. The smaller “fire chamber” just upstairs is only infrequently open. We were able to be there to participate in one of the services and to pray in the upper room.

The service was conducted in Latin and led by Franciscans. We sang many Alleluias and prayed along with the monks and priests. It was crowded with many devout worshipers from all over the world. Several were pulled at random to read a prayer out loud, each in their own language. An Ambrose University student, Daniel, was selected to read the English portion.

After the service we went into the upper room to meditate and pray. We did not rush into the streets with new language abilities, but we came away deeply enriched by yet another touching experience with yet another part of the Body of Christ. People all over the world seek authentic encounter with God and yearn for holiness.

Oh, Jerusalem

MAY 12—Today was an orientation day. In addition to a lecture on Islam from a Muslim scholar, we travelled as a group to three sites in Jerusalem. Father Michael McGarry of the Tantur Ecumenical Institute provided expert historical and cultural commentary as he pointed out salient features of the cityscape.

We learned, among many other things, that Jerusalem now has a population of 750,000. About one third of them are Arab, and they live predominantly in East Jerusalem. The remaining two-thirds of the people living in the city are Jewish.

We gazed at the old city of Jerusalem from our vantage on the Mount of Olives, looking down to the spot where Jesus wept for the city of Jerusalem. A group of Orthodox Jews mourned at a gravesite.

We also visited Bethany (Arabic: al-Azariyya), read the story of the death of Lazarus from the Bible and descended into the tomb from which Jesus called him forth. A lovely chapel on the site commemorates the place where Jesus liked to spend time with friends. Although this is very close to the Mount of Olives, the drive was long because a security barrier separates the Arabs from the Jews. Oh Jerusalem.

Layers upon layers

MAY 13—We rose for breakfast at 5:30 in order to be at the entrance to the Western Wall Tunnels by 7:00. This is the nearest that Jewish worshippers can get to the “Foundation Stone,” the traditional site from which the world was created. It became the site of the Holy of Holies, the centre of Jewish pilgrimage and worship until the Romans destroyed the temple in 70 A.D.

Recent excavations have created a tunnel that runs the 488-metre length of the Western Wall of the “Temple Mount,” the special platform built by King Herod to level out the top of the mountain and erect the temple. Today, the Muslim Dome of the Rock mosque stands in the place where the temple once stood. Without a doubt, this is the most hotly disputed piece of real estate in the world.

The tunnel runs under Arab homes just outside the Western Wall; it does not go under the Temple Mount. And what a world exists down there. Succeeding generations have built and modified homes and worship centres. Invader after invader has destroyed, occupied and re-constructed. Layer after layer of old city and ancient quarrel are gradually being revealed.

In one section we were able to walk on paving stones set by King Herod, which means that these are indeed the very stones that the people of Jesus time set foot upon. “To walk where Jesus walked,” as the old refrain puts it, is not as simple as it seems. Many of the places Jesus really did walk are several layers down.

The tunnel exits near the Franciscan Convent of the Flagellation. Two beautiful chapels in a lovely courtyard were built many years ago to remember the condemnation of Jesus by Pilate and the scourging he received. It is the beginning of the Via Dolorosa, the road (with 14 memorable stations) that Jesus followed bearing His cross to His death.

We visited several of the stations on the way, seeing and praying in exquisite little chapels, each with a story of its own.

The way ends at Golgotha, today covered by the sprawling Church of the Holy Sepulcher (or Church of the Resurrection). According to various traditions, within this very space Jesus was crucified, prepared for burial and laid to rest. Half a dozen Christian orders (Catholics, Orthodox, Coptic) have been squabbling over jurisdiction of the holy site for centuries. There methods of accommodation are both ingenious and comical, and much too elaborate to detail here.

Pilgrims crowd through the rooms, chapels and spaces. Many stop to kiss the “Stone of Anointment,” a stone slab where Jesus body was prepared for burial. The holiest site is the tomb itself. However, the lineup was much too long to allow our group to enter that place. And, it must be said, later in the itinerary we will visit the Garden Tomb, which is the place most evangelical Protestants consider the burial place of Jesus Christ. Both, we're told, are empty.

Nothing in Jerusalem is easy.

Food, miracles and faith

MAY 13—When we piled of the bus to begin a long day of touring, we each grabbed a sack lunch out of a picnic cooler and hurried off to follow the guide. We had places to go and things to see. A few hours later I was eagerly looking forward to our lunch break. A long morning of walking, standing, listening and learning can certainly build up an appetite.

At the appointed hour we scattered into small groups and dispersed into a warren of shops and churches. I joined a few friends at a coffee shop, ordered a big mug and watched the others unpack their bags of pita with cheese and ham, a hardboiled egg, cucumber and fruit. Looking great.

But when I opened my bag, disappointment set in. It was full of little packets of mustard, which obviously should have been distributed among the group. Mustard. Only mustard. It’s a great condiment, but a lousy meal.

We laughed at the situation, and then the miracle began to happen. One friend shared her pita and cucumber. Another couple, who had ordered some food from the coffee shop, unexpectedly received two plates of fries and gave one to me. When two other members of our group wandered by, I happily offered them mustard. They accepted. And, by chance, one of them was carrying an extra lunch no one had claimed from the cooler. My lunch, I guess.

As I returned to my table and shared the most recent episode in the case of the multiplying food, someone asked me to share the secret of this miracle. “It’s simple,” I replied. “It just takes faith … faith like a grain of mustard seed.

A little time with Father Tom

MAY 13—Father Thomas F. Stransky is a Paulist priest who has worked very hard for a long time to build unity among Christians. He is a former rector of the Tantur Ecumenical Institute (1987-1999) and a long time resident of the Middle East. Tom is also very articulate and amiable—just the kind of man you’d like to spend an evening with. Lucky us. We got to.

Tom helped us to understand why life in this part of the world is particularly complicated and volatile. He compared it to a magnifying glass that concentrates the sun’s rays with enough intensity to start a fire. The Middle East has long had that kind of impact on world affairs.

“We’re dealing with long histories here,” he began. “When people refer to Iraq, they still talk about Persians as if Darius were about to appear on the horizon.” There are more than 3,000 years of history to deal with.

“The past is always present and it inhibits imagination for the future,” he explained. “We have piled up the past.” Long histories of strife are rarely forgotten. Whenever people begin to set aside the past and build creatively and cooperatively for the future, someone will say: “But remember.”

If history is a problem, so is space. The place is simply too small for all the peoples who lay claim to it. Things are built on top of one another. Encroachment is a way of life. Huge controversies erupt over orchards, property lines, water rights and a host of other space-oriented issues.

A third complicating factor is power. Power in this area is rarely exercised for what is actually in this place. Rather, it is to protect something somewhere else. The British, for example, wanted Palestine in order to protect the Suez Canal. Nebuchadnezzar was interested in the area as a staging point to attack Egypt and a buffer against it.

Each of these dynamics contributes to the complexity of life in Israel and its neighbourhood these days. And we can easily add a fourth: religion. It is the birthplace of the three Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam) and a holy land for all. This adds tremendous passion to an already combustible blend.

Father Tom had us look over the small valley to the town of Bethlehem, standing stoic behind a concrete barrier—a tall wall—just a short distance away. It has a long history. No one disputes the fact that this town has existed for 3,000 years.

And, Tom observed, “it’s the only place in the world with an uninterrupted Christian presence since the time of Christ.” Not even Jerusalem can make that claim. The Church of the Nativity in the heart of Bethlehem is the oldest Christian church in the world. And it’s not a relic. It is still a worshipping congregation—“a living church,” he said.

City of David

MAY 14—After the death of Saul, David became king of Israel. The politics of power in his time were as tortured as they are today. So when it came time to establish his capital city, he made a very astute move when he chose Jerusalem. At that time, the city was home to the Jebusites, not to any of the 12 tribes. So David avoided potential charges of favoritism.

At the time, the city was not built at the top of the hill where the temple later stood and where so much brouhaha continues to this day. It was down a little way, right near a spring. As always, water is an enormous factor in living choices, especially in such a dry and thirsty land.

We were able to see remains and ruins of a several generations of cities on the spot. Here was a Jebusite tower built to cover and guard the water source and a tunnel cut through bedrock to allow access to the spring. There a remainder of the wall built by Nehemiah. Here the possibility of a palace room. There a circular stone with a hole: the oldest toilet in Jerusalem.

Later generations of Israelite kings made improvements to the fortifications of the city and protection of its water source. A long tunnel channeling water from the spring to the city was built during the reign of King Hezekiah in 701 B.C. It winds its constricted way through nearly 600 metres of bedrock, emerging in pool well inside the old city walls.

It’s a must experience for visitors to Jerusalem. We walked through the narrow, unlit passage in water above our knees. At times the ceiling was very low; towards the end it soared quite high. With flashlights off, the darkness is complete. Singing resounds beautifully through the thin corridor. Anyone with claustrophobia is well-advised to take a pass on this 25-minute underground adventure.

At the base of the Temple Mount

MAY 14—An archaeological museum at the western and southern base of the Temple Mount provides physical evidence of countless conflicts that have wracked this region of millennia.

Of special interest is a pile of huge rocks left in a jumble after the Romans destroyed the temple and the city in 70 A.D. It was a scene Jesus had predicted. “When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, he said ‘As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down’” (Luke 21:5,6).

A little further up the mountain along the western wall is an open plaza where Jews from all over the world come to gather and to pray. Signs advise visitors that this is a place “where the divine presence always rests.” It is certainly a place of great devotion, where prayer is fervent and Scripture reading sincere. Minute cracks in the walls are stuffed with papers detailing the petitions of those who seek the presence and power of God Almighty.

"There was a man sent from God ..."

May 15—This morning we immersed ourselves in the world of John the Baptist. He is a fascinating figure, the forerunner of the Messiah, and a much more prominent person in his lifetime than Jesus Christ. We visited two churches in Ein Kerem where he is especially remembered.

One is built on a site that many believe was the home of Zechariah and Elizabeth (his parents). A small grotto in the lower part may even have been his birthplace. Certainly it is remembered as such.

A short ways away is the Church of the Visitation, where a delightful statue of Mary and Elizabeth together graces the courtyard. One wall is covered with ceramic tiles bearing the words of the Magnificat in 42 languages.

Not far away, a very recent archeological excavation on a kibbutz uncovered the “Cave of John the Baptist.”

Down the Mount of Olives

MAY 16—The Mount of Olives is a real place that is mentioned frequently in the Bible. Many references in the New Testament indicate that Jesus often came to the place. It seems to be a favorite, and no wonder. It commands a wonderful view of where the temple stood in Jerusalem. It’s very close to the action, yet somehow creates a bit of distance. It’s just the sort of place where Jesus liked to be.

But he didn’t hang around there forever. In fact, we began our time on the Mount of Olives at the top—and at the end. This is the place, according to Scripture, where Jesus ascended into heaven, leaving his baffled yet strangely comforted followers below. We entered a mosque, which centuries ago was the cupola of a church, to see an ancient rock with an indentation. Tradition maintains that this is the footprint left by Jesus when he disappeared into the heavens.

A short way down the hill is gorgeous church run by Carmelite sisters called the Pater Noster. It marks the site where, according to long tradition, Jesus taught his disciples to pray. The Lord’s Prayer is displayed in mosaic forms in many different languages from throughout the world. It appears over and over again in a beautiful garden, along graceful corridors and within the sanctuary. And while site is commemorative, it is also a living church—a place of continuous prayer.



A little further down the hill is a beautiful chapel called Dominus Flavet—The Lord Wept. The church is constructed to resemble a teardrop, and it is said to be the place where Jesus wept for his beloved Jerusalem (Luke 19:41-44). A fine mosaic on the altar pictures a mother hen protecting her chicks, the wonderful image that Jesus used to describe his love for the holy city (Matthew 23:37-39).



Further down the slope toward the Valley of Kidron we found the Garden of Gethsemane. Another beautiful church with alabaster windows creates a sanctuary on the spot amidst a grove of ancient olive trees. Again, beautiful sculptures and mosaics help to communicate something of the deep agony Jesus experienced on the night he was betrayed.



Not only did Judas betray Jesus; Peter also denied him. Across the valley on Mount Zion stands Saint Peter in Gallicantu (“the cock crows”). The church complex is filled with colourful mosaics and icons, including one that shows Jesus looking at Peter as the rooster crows, and another showing the resurrected Jesus renewing his trust in Jesus.

Christian memory also associates this place with memories of Jesus imprisonment while waiting to appear before Caiphas and Peter’s penitent tears after his denial of Jesus. Deep pits below the church were used as cisterns and dungeons.

Tourists, students and pilgrims

MAY 18—Casual readers of this blog can easily get the idea that we are a group of tourists. This is partly true. The sheer number of sites we’re visiting is overwhelming. Each day brings a new agenda of places to go and things to see. We meet a few people too, but this itinerary is not oriented toward relationship. Nor is it vacation. It is primarily educational, and partly pilgrimage.

What do I mean by that? The educational component is straightforward. We listen to lectures from resident experts and visit many historic sites. We did a lot of background reading before we came. Many on the trip are students who will receive university course credit (once they satisfactorily complete their papers, of course). There is much to learn. We are being exposed to a considerable amount of information and we trust that our brains are absorbing important facts and ideas.

But this Journey to Two Holy Lands is much more than a study trip. For many of us it’s a journey of the heart as well. It is a religious venture. It is an expedition of personal discovery. It’s an opportunity to be in places where pilgrims go, to worship in various locations in ways that are new to us. We seek greater context for familiar texts. Many of us also aspire to fresh encounters with the living God.

Can we properly embrace this pilgrim spirit in the brief minutes between bus rides and information dumps? Can a few precious moments in the nave of a church or the quiet of a garden satisfy the searching soul? Can the rich resonance of pilgrim prayers pierce beneath the tourist’s veneer and touch the heart with the things of God? Will sacred texts come startlingly alive in the very places they describe?

The answer is “sometimes.” Sometimes in the midst of a busy day in a noisy place the calming Spirit of God touches deep within. Sometimes the words of the Bible explode with new meaning. Sometimes the beauty of the art and the devotion of the caretakers of holy sites impress a sense of deep significance for those with eyes to see and ears to hear.

Tourists, it’s often said, pass quickly through places. But places and peoples pass slowly through pilgrims.

For me this venture is billed a pilgrimage to understanding. I want to learn as much as I reasonably can about the geography, history, politics and culture of these places. But that’s not enough. I also want a greater appreciation of the places and the people, and I nurture an ardent desire to experience more fully the glory and the power of the living God.

Church of the Nativity

MAY 19—If there is an “A” list of sites to see in the Holy Land, the birthplace of Jesus is right at the top. Everybody goes there. We paid our visit today.

Manger Square stands at a highpoint in the little town of Bethlehem. “Little” in this case means 30,000-40,000 residents, 70 per cent of whom are Muslim and the remaining 30 per cent Christian. It used to be the other way around; those percentages have flipped in the past few decades. (I’ll write a short piece about the disappearing Christians of the Middle East later on the journey.)

The Church of the Nativity is the focal point of Manger Square. Actually, there are a couple of churches and a convent and a monastery (nothing is simple). The church is administered according to very detailed sets of regulations by the Greek Orthodox, Armenian and Latin (Roman Catholic) churches. (It’s actually more complicated.)

One reaches the presumed birthplace of Jesus through a small door (low lintel to obstruct aggressors), which opens into a large room with a very high ceiling. Ancient Byzantine mosaics are preserved in some areas of the floor. Further ahead a sanctuary strung with crosses and censers. Icons and gilding abound.

Pilgrims (or tour groups) from all over the world crowd through a small doorway and down into a grotto to be at the place where Christ was born. A silver star, much kissed and caressed, marks the spot.



People have different reactions to this place. For some, the experience is overwhelming. They burst into tears, or feel shivers of glory, or …. They want the moment to last forever. Some feel nothing but the press of the crowd and the closeness of the quarters. They want out.

Understanding more (and less)

MAY 19—One of my primary goals for this trip is to cultivate a better understanding of the social, cultural and political circumstances of the Middle East. That certainly is happening. But the key word is “better.” Real understanding requires a lot more than a trip can provide; a lot more than a whole lifetime, for that matter.

Certain phrases are often repeated because they express a particular truth. Some of these overused statements are forever arising in my mind these days. “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing,” for example. Or, “the more you know, the more you realize that you don’t yet know.” True, so true, so frustratingly true.

I’ve heard a few new ones that also describe the Holy Lands today. Today I was told, “If you’re not confused, you don’t understand the situation.” Our guide then shared another: “Stay a week, write a book. Stay a month, write an article. Stay a year, write nothing.”

Well, I’m in the area for a little less than three weeks and halfway through my visit I’ve already produced an avalanche of words. What’s written on this blog is accurate as far as it goes. But it does a very poor job of communicating the stupendous complexity that various races, religions, branches of religions, historical understandings, landscapes, nationalisms, ethnicities and a host of other factors contribute to life in and around Jerusalem.

And I haven’t even begun to talk about politics. I won’t start that conversation in this place just yet, but the political situation here is beyond understanding.

So, what are we coming to understand? We understand better than we did the grip that this land has on the people who inhabit it or simply use it. It’s somehow special. We have a better idea of how power is used by those who currently wield it. This happens at the micro-level in the conduct of priests at shrines and churches; at the large-scale level in the way the West Bank is being settled.

We have more knowledge than we used to about certain Bible characters and the land they lived on. Today we saw the village of Tekoa, once home to a shepherd named Amos, a prophet, whose oracles we read in the Old Testament. Today there is an Arab village of Tekoa, and nearby some new Jewish settlements that bear the same name.

At Shepherds’ Field in Beit Sahour (just west of Bethlehem) I gained a richer understanding of the social status of those who announced the birth of Jesus (despised, impure, illiterate). And it helped to see the lay of the land, to learn how they kept sheep in caves and to survey the hill they had to climb in order to see the baby born in Bethlehem. They’re steep.

Yes, our understanding is improving in myriad miniscule ways like this. But I’m fairly convinced there are no real experts on the Middle East. These lands have baffled the best of minds since the very foundation of the world.

Remembering horror, evil and death

MAY 20—Our senses and spirits were assaulted today. A visit to the Holocaust Museum (Yad Vashem) will do that to you. This spare but unsparing chronicle of the stupendous atrocity against Jews in World War 2 is intended to horrify. It’s an effort to proclaim to the world: “Never again.”

Presented unabashedly from Jewish viewpoint, the museum leads visitors through a chronological and thematic record of events from the Nazi rise to power, through the darkest years of the Holocaust and into the brighter promise of a homeland for the Jews.

The longest and hardest part is the bruising voyage into the heart of darkness as images, artifacts and survivor testimonies document the brutality and terror of the worst years. Grainy black and white movies show great cruelty in dreadful action—bodies bulldozed into mass graves or corralled into gas chambers. We witness the death industry in high gear.

We see the faces of the desperate, including children. We see skeletal bodies being put through brutal paces and hard work. We walk on a glass floor over a sobering collection of thousands of shoes. Survivors recount stories too horrible to imagine. We hear of the neglect of the rest of the world, which one observer described as “the icy Arctic indifference of nations.”

We also see instances of the kindness of strangers, of non-Jews who helped at great risk to themselves. They are honoured. But they were too few and far between.

Liberation did come—eventually. By then 6,000,000 Jews were dead and those who remained faced insurmountable difficulties. The museum leads visitors inexorably to the conclusion that an independent Jewish nation state is the only way to solve the problem of the Jews. It came to pass. The refining fire helped to forge the national identity that formed the state of Israel 60 years ago.

Moonset and sunrise

MAY 21—Morning came early, at about 4:30 a.m. to be more precise. Why? To satisfy an urge to stand on the Mount of Olives while the sun's early rays light up the Old City of Jerusalem and gleam off the Dome of the Rock on the Temple Mount. Very enlightening.

Temple Mount

MAY 21—The most hotly disputed piece of real estate in the world is in Jerusalem. Suffused with historic and spiritual significance for more than 3,000 years, Mount Moriah is the holiest site in the holiest city in the world.

It is the place where Abraham came to sacrifice his son, Isaac. It’s the place where Muslim prophet Muhammad was transported to heaven in a night vision. It’s the place, many Christians believe, where Jesus Christ will return in his full glory—the Second Coming. Muslims, Christians and Jews all expect the Messiah to make a spectacular entrance to earth on Mount Moriah.

Many years ago, a level plaza was constructed on the summit of this holy mountain in order to build a mighty worship centre, what the prophet Isaiah called a house for all nations. The platform is called the Temple Mount.

Solomon’s temple stood at this place. The Babylonians destroyed this magnificent destination for pilgrims and worshipers in 586 BC. The Jews rebuilt it 70 years later when they returned to the city.

Shortly before the time of Jesus, Herod the Great built a magnificent temple renowned for its splendor. But it too was destroyed, this time by the Romans in 68 AD.

About 700 years later Islam became the dominant religion in the region and the Dome of the Rock has stood on the Temple Mount ever since.

In the holiest of places in the holiest of cities in the holiest of lands, religious passions run very deep. Zealots of all three Abrahamic religions have threatened the peace in this place. Any provocation to the status quo erupts into humungous religious and social unrest. Tread carefully on the Temple Mount. It is at the very heart of the conflicts in the Middle East; it is the key to any solutions.

“Death gives freedom to our souls”

MAY 22—Masada is many things. It is a place, a rugged freestanding mountain near the very bottom of the world. Herod the Great built a winter palace here, a place to stay warm and stay safe in the cool Judean winter. It was a bastion of comfort and security for a paranoid ruler.

Less than 100 years later, it was the last rebel stronghold. In recent generations it has served as a rallying cry to Jewish nation-builders.

Masada’s walls rise steeply from the floor of the ancient Dead Sea, a mountain carved by the powerful floods so it stands alone from the surrounding highlands.

Masada has long been a name on the map. It took the first century historian Josephus to propel it into the popular imagination with his dramatic account of the great battle there (The Jewish Wars). When the Jews revolted against Roman rule in 66 AD, Rome moved to crush them. The Romans utterly destroyed Jerusalem and scattered its peoples throughout the earth.

Some fled to the wilderness. Rome pursued. They retreated to the impregnable Masada. But some 8,000 troops of the Roman 10th Legion, led by Flavius Silva, laid siege to the mountain. They built base camps around the wall and set about the hot and tedious task of building a ramp up the western escarpment in order to bring a battering ram into position to crash a gate.

In the early 1980s, Hollywood produced a blockbuster movie picturing the epic confrontation of a determined zealot leader and an equally determined Roman commander.

The story ends tragically. Roman might inevitably prevails, but before the Legion can finally enter the fortress and finish the job, the Jewish defenders kill their families and themselves. “Death gives freedom to our souls,” said Zealot leader Eleazer Ben Yair. “Better to die, than to live a slave.” All but two women and five children died, according to Josephus.

In the past century Masada has become a strong symbol for Zionism. As Jewish people emerged from the shadow of the Holocaust into the dangers of establishing a nation in the midst of hostile enemies, this story from the past provided potent inspiration to fight to the end. The people of Israel still feel beleaguered and surrounded by enemies who wish to drive them into the sea. Masada speaks powerfully to them.

Just call me Bob

MAY 22—The Dead Sea is a strange and wonderful and terrible place. It’s very hot down in the Dead Sea valley. The water looks very inviting. And it is. But, be careful. Do NOT get any in your eyes. Don’t shave for a day or two before taking a dip. The water is incredibly salty and buoyant. You cannot sink. Anybody can float.

Qumran and the Dead Sea Scrolls

MAY 22—For about two centuries around the time of Christ, a religious community committed to purity and Scripture practiced an austere form of spirituality and created libraries in the barren landscape in the hills near the northwestern shore of the Dead Sea.

They were dispersed in 68 AD after the Romans cracked down on the Great Revolt of the Jews. But they managed to stash many of their scrolls into jars and tucked them away in many of the caves that dot the hills of the Judean desert.

The scrolls, which came to light in the late 1940s and 1950s, were remarkably well preserved in the arid climate. Subsequent scholarship has shown the Dead Sea Scrolls to be a remarkable find, containing books of the Old Testament, the Apocrypha and the sect’s own works.

Weekend in Jordan

MAY 25—This is a short post about a long weekend. I could write about the many miles we traveled in a bus, or about the process of crossing the border from Israel to Jordan (and back again), or about the long and late meals we enjoyed along the way, or about the fine hotel we stayed in Madaba, or …. I could write about a host of things, but I won’t. Instead, I’ll touch on a few highlights.

Highlight number one was Bethany Beyond the Jordan. This is the site where Jesus was baptized with John the Baptist, where the Holy Spirit descended upon him with a voice proclaiming Him to be the beloved Son of God. It’s the place from which He was driven into the wilderness. And wilderness it is—hot and inhospitable, dry, dusty, barren and foreboding.

It’s also the place where Elijah was taken up to heaven in a chariot of fire. Elijah, John and Jesus converge in this place on the banks of the Jordan River. Powerful.


Mount Nebo was next. This is reputed to be the mountain where Moses stood to take in a panoramic view of the Promised Land he would never enter himself. And what a view it is. Below us are the plains of Moab (Jordan Valley). We can see the Dead Sea, the Jordan River and the city of Jericho. Beyond the valley are the mountains rising to Jerusalem. On a clear day the Holy City is visible, perhaps even the Mediterranean beyond.

Nebo is near Madaba, the city of mosaics. A Greek Orthodox Church in the heart of the city contains the oldest known map of the Middle East, a floor mosaic dating back to the 6th century.

Not far away are the remains of another mountaintop fortress built by Herod the Great. This one fell to the Romans a few years before Masada. It too commands a remarkable view of the Dead Sea and Jordan Valley, and was situated to protect the trade route up the historic King’s Highway linking Egypt to Mesopotamia and beyond.

On Saturday we headed north, past the capital city of Amman to the Roman Decapolis city of Jerash. Along the way we crossed the Jabok River, the place where Jacob had a midlife crisis moment, wrestled with an angel and emerged with a new name—Israel—and the fortitude to face his brother, Esau.


Jerash is phenomenal. The large site contains a vast collection of fairly intact ruins from Roman times. Great gates, an amphitheatre, various temples and shopping streets can be walked and observed. Huge columns from a temple to Artemis stand straight and tall in the blistering son. These are sites to be seen.


Our agenda for the day also included a visit to Pella, where early Christians fled persecution and insurrection in Jerusalem. Then it was on to Gadara, another city of the Decapolis and home of the demoniac from whom Jesus cast out multiple demons, who entered a herd of swine who stampeded down a slope into the sea (Mark 5:1-20).

On Sunday we attended parts of a Greek Orthodox worship service in Madaba, where we were staying, and then conducted a city tour of Amman.

Negev Desert journey

MAY 26—The drive south of Jerusalem winds through the Judean hills. It’s a good place for a busload of learners to take on a truckload of history. These are ancient lands, and we are following ancient paths.

Much has changed, of course. The stone-cutting industry dominated the modern city of Hebron, site of the grave of the patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac and Jacob). We rolled along asphalt roads through David country, hills and valleys he knew well from his days as a shepherd, fugitive and monarch. We saw traces of an early road traversing the spine of the hills that run the length of Israel.

As the hills began to flatten, we visited Tel Arad and wandered the ruins of a village on rocks put into place by human hands more than 5,000 years ago, a thousand years before Abraham made his way into the area. On the hill above us stood portions of a fortress built in the time of King Uzziah a mere 3,000 years ago.

A few miles further south and the Negev truly begins. We spent several hours at Mamshit learning about the rise and fall of the Nabateans, the masters of the desert who filled a strategic role controlling trade across the deserts linking East with West. Long before the Suez Canal, camel caravans kept Egypt in touch with Mesopotamia and connected India and other worlds with the countries of the Mediterranean.

The Nabateans are the people who built Petra in Jordan. Mamshit was an important crossroads on the caravan route. We saw remnants of an early shopping mall and well-preserved traces of its religious and social history. Most of it dates from Roman and Byzantine times.

A highlight of the journey was a short walk down a canyon adjacent to the site. Here we gathered under an overhang to simply sit still and sample a taste of the vast silence of the desert. Then we read a few Bible passages about the dangers of the desert environment, as well as those seeing it as a spiritual reservoir. The spare surroundings wonderfully concentrate the mind on the things of God.

Our final stop on a long desert day was at Beer Sheva, where an ordinary looking hill reveals a fascinating world of history and human development. This is the place where Abraham settled, from where he sent Hagar and Ishmael packing and from whence he took Isaac to offer him as a sacrifice.

It’s where he established a covenant with neighbouring peoples and dug wells. A well on the site is very, very deep. It’s where Rachel and Isaac fell in love. It’s where Jacob tricked his brother and the place from which he fled. It’s the only location where all three of the patriarchs had direct communication from God.

Wadi walking

MAY 28—We got up early to go monastery visiting and wadi walking. By 7 a.m. we were in the hills above Jericho, walking the Judean desert on an asphalt road that was inexplicably closed. About 40 minutes of walking later, we arrived at the descent into the Wadi Qilt, home of the cunningly tucked away St. George Monastery.

A steep and winding walk downhill brought us between towering cliffs to the bottom of the wadi, where it was surprisingly green and water flowed through an open aqueduct. After a steep climb uphill, we were denied entry to the monastery, although monastic hospitality did provide us with cold water to drink.

Then we set off down the canyon in self-imposed silence. For more than an hour we wended our quiet way along a hardscrabble path that hugged the edge of the incline. The wadi bottom fell away beneath us; the mountainsides rose high above us. The scenery was spectacular, the environment desolate and foreboding.

We walked and looked and sat and pondered. The desert is a hard place, full of rocks, dust and dryness. And then Jericho became visible below us. The path gentled and we found our way to a meeting place with the bus. A vendor mysteriously appeared with fresh oranges and a squeezer in hand.

A short bus ride and rest stop later, and the group of nearly 30 piled onto cable cars, opting for the easy way up the steep Mountain of Temptation to a Greek Orthodox monastery carved into the side of the cliff. It’s a beautiful place dedicated to the memory of Christ’s temptation in the wilderness.

These are the kinds of places where Jesus and countless other prophets forged key elements of their character and message. In places like these, humanity shrivels to nothing and the divine looms large.

Garden Tomb

MAY 28—Near the Damascus gate in Jerusalem, just outside the city wall, is the site of the Garden Tomb. It’s a very pleasantly preserved place tucked serenely away from the cacophony of a couple major bus stations just outside its walls.

From the backside of the compound stands a small hill. If you look at a couple of caves just right, it resembles a human skull. This is Gordon’s Calvary, Golgotha, the place of the skull.

A pleasant guide leads us through the garden paths, efficiently explaining five key biblical descriptions of the place Christ died, was buried and rose again. He makes the case that the site before us meets all the biblical criteria to be the very place. He believes it is, but cannot finally prove it. “At the end of the day,” he says, “it’s only an empty tomb.”

The empty tomb is indeed a powerful iconic symbol of the God who conquered death with the power of love and invites us to abide with Him forever. In the end, the historicity of the site is largely incidental. But what it signifies is immensely important. This place provides a beautiful reminder of an incredibly ugly incident, which turned out to have a great outcome.

Megalomaniac builder

MAY 29—Herod the Great never ceases to amaze. He was a phenomenal builder who constructed palaces, fortresses, aqueducts and temples all over ancient Palestine. He also built a seaport at Caesarea, a strategically located town on the Mediterranean coast half way between modern Tel Aviv and Haifa.

Herod was a servant of Rome and master of the lands he governed. Even in ruins, the site at Caesarea is magnificent. It includes a theatre (for Roman dramas), a hippodrome for chariot races, an amphitheatre for gladiator games and a temple to honour the divinity of the Roman emperor.

It also used to feature an artificial seaport. Using innovative techniques and cement that hardened under water, his builders constructed a series of protective walls large enough to hold 100 Roman ships. Caesarea under Herod became a great centre of commercial trade. It was the place where Roman troops arrived; the footprint of Roman military, political, religious and cultural domination in the holy lands.
While most of Herod’s maritime masterpiece now lies invisible under the waves, it was the height of engineering achievement when people like the Apostle Paul, and later Peter, walked along the jetty to board their boats to Rome.

There’s an amazing irony in the fact that the very entry point of Roman power into Palestine also proved to be the gateway for a new religion. Within 300 years, Christianity “turned the world upside down,” totally transforming the mighty Roman Empire.