While I was in Jerusalem....
About two months ago, I went to really explore the Old City. I had gone to the Western Wall with a good friend, but hadn't had a chance to yet immerse myself in the City. I got off at the Central Bus Station, but I must have gotten off-track because I missed the big, tourist-friendly Jaffa Gate and ended up at the Damascus Gate outside of the Arab Quarter.
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| The Damascus Gate |
Knowing this wasn't the best area for lonesome single girls with blondish hair, I kept my head down and tried not to look worried. But the sky was so beautiful, I couldn't turn back now. I had to see more and more of it. It was like looking at clear blue water, but up in the sky. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. I couldn't get a picture of it--not one that could portray how saturated and brave a sky it was.
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| The Tower of David |
Passing stone after white stone hewn together, I walked around the perimeter of the Old City hoping to find a better gate to enter through.
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| The Lion's Gate |
On my way around, I passed a Herod’s Gate and then a Lion’s Gate. I wanted to finish my circuit around all the Gates, but just couldn’t pass up entering through such a sweet-sounding name. I imagined 14th century horsemen galloping through with black Arabian stallions. I had the luck of walking in with two Arab women and their children.
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| Noble Arches |
I had just passed through the Lion’s Gate when the most peaceful of secret gardens caught my eye. The crowded alleyways were loud with people selling their wares. I ducked in for a breath. It opened up into a beautiful flowering oasis. There, a palm tree and wading pool-sized potted plants of ivy and pansies burst forth in the middle of nowhere. It was a paradise I wish my mother could see.
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| A Garden Pavilion |
Ten steps outside of that garden was another botanical garden. I looked in and an Arab boy beckoned me to come closer. (Now, if that doesn't sound like a bad idea...) But I did, and he was such a nice boy. So hospitable. It was a Franciscan church. It was called the Church of the Flagellation. I kept thinking to myself, Those Franciscans are so hard on themselves! You see, this Church was also located next to The Church of the Condemned. Another testament to Franciscan asceticism?
However, I found out I had happened on The Stations of the Cross. What crazy luck--or Providence? This was where Jesus was sentenced to die by Pilate. My demeanor immediately quieted. Imagines from ‘The Passion’ rose to my mind. A few steps to my left was where Jesus would have been beaten before He was crucified. Oh, what a sacrifice.
I felt so grateful to the Holy Spirit. He was showing me all these places that my Lord had touched and changed forever. He was like a heavenly tour guide; bumbling as I was, subtly leading me this way, directing my feet that way, making me want to look over there. I didn’t realize how precious was my path until I looked up and saw this sign.
So many years longing to come here! So many thoughts about this moment. And here I was. ....walking where Jesus walked.
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| The Via Dolorosa |
I wanted to get an impression of what Jesus might have been feeling when He was here. Nothing came to the surface. But as I looked up to a tower in the distance, I felt a surge of intense victory!
He would have seen this same view, and would have known He was almost finished with His horrendous task. (The Via Dolorosa was a very long path!) And He still had love in His heart for those who were going to kill Him. He would save the good and the bad, the kind-hearted and the hateful. It was Victory and Love!
While I was on this path, I got swept up into a group of Russian tourists. I stopped at all the Stations of the Cross with them feeling all their passion even though I didn't understand a word.
When they all headed into a souvenir shop, I lost my familiar guide with the black and white zebra shirt. It was getting cold and dark. I should figure out where I was and how to get home again.
At that point, I made my way out of the Old City trying to find a landmark before the sun went down.
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| The Square outside of Jaffa Gate. |
Amazingly, the alleyway I was on in the Arab Quarter shot me out by the Jaffa Gate into the Christian Quarter--the Gate I had tried to come in that morning.
It was sunset now. The sun was playing with different shades of orange and pink on the white stones of the Citadel of David, making it a tantalizing backdrop for a photograph of the Jerusalem sky.
It was getting chilly and I really needed a place to sit down. Just the day before, I had bemoaned to the Lord how I only had enough money for a bus ticket to/from the Old City--which would be great! But...not even some extra for a cup of coffee. Later one night, there! shining on the dark pavement was a 10-shekel coin! I never find money!! It was such a sweet answer to my little prayer.
He Cares! Now my first day in the Old City could be punctuated by a cup of warm coffee in a café if I needed a place to take a break and warm up. Winter in central Israel is cold, y'all!
Just inside the Jaffa Gate was this 'Samara Bar 'café with a 10 shekel coffee on the menu. Perfect. It was a month past Christmas, but Christmas music floated up from the loudspeakers anyway. It was a playlist of Pavarotti, Christmas carols sung by cartoon characters, the Chant Album and John Denver. I wouldn't have imagined that combo in a million years. Laying down my burdens, I went back in time.
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| It's Christmas all year long here at The Samara Bar! |
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| Friar Tuck would totally have been at ease here if this was Sherwood Forest. |
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| Is this the coolest picture for a nation's tourism industry, or what? |
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