Travel Biography - Week 50.

About these Trips to Israel.

All the photos here are my own, taken in 1993.

A biography, whether on Travel or anything else, is usually written chronologically. However, my personal history of travel is repeated. Take the Middle East, for example. I visited Israel four times in my life. They were in 1976, 1993, and 1994, and once more in 2000 with my wife Alex, who was 20 weeks pregnant with our first daughter.

Therefore, writing about each trip, one after the other may bring this biography to the point of becoming monotonous. That is the last thing I want to do! But the changes that had taken place in Jerusalem and Israel as a whole over the 17 years between 1976 and 1993 were worth noting. Yet, each of the remaining three trips, including the current 1993 one, was different. Each of these four trips had an emphasis of its own.

However, this week I would like to focus on Jerusalem, where I was based in 1993. Of all the cities, towns, and resorts I have visited, whether at home or overseas, none compared to Jerusalem in spiritual and historical awesomeness. Even its name I find so appealing. Jerusalem means the City of Peace. Ironically, it has both the status of being the centre of prayer for all nations, and the cup of trembling towards any opposition. No other city in the world could claim such powers. Yet, while the big cities I know or have visited, such as New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, Paris, Naples, Singapore, Brisbane, Sydney and London, are all next to the coast or on a major river, ancient Salem, with just the Gihon Spring as its water source, was Divinely earmarked to be a Cup of Trembling for the whole of mankind!

Panorama of Jerusalem seen from Mt of Olives.

View from Jaffa Gate. The Citadel is to the right.

Its also the centre of three different faiths - Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Each of the three is distinct, each holding its own theology and its own set of rules. Each has its own perception of who God is, and how one can be saved. Yet, only in Jerusalem Old City does each of the three faiths co-exist in relative peace alongside each other for decades, even centuries past. This became obvious when I saw that the Old City has four quarters - the Jewish Quarter, the Islamic Quarter, the Christian Quarter, and the Armenian Quarter. Throughout the time I stayed in the Old City - about 12 weeks in total - I hadn't seen any interfaith scuffles within its walls.

The Old City is built on a range of hills, with Mt Zion, Mt Ophel, and Temple Mount being three I'm familiar with. One of the oldest settlements in the world, the city of Salem was already present on Mount Ophel around the time of Abraham, around four thousand years ago. When returning from a battle to rescue his nephew Lot, he was met by Melchizedek, the King of Salem. However, by the time of Moses, and right through to David, the walled city was inhabited by the Jebusites, descendants of one of Canaan's sons, Jebus. Canaan himself was the son of Ham and the first of Noah's grandchildren to be born, two years after the Flood.

Except in 1976, when a stayed at a home of a Muslim family, in 1993, 1994 and 2000, I stayed at the same venue, the New Swedish Hostel, Souk David, in the Old City. It was at the ideal location, central to all the essentials, such as a minimarket, a currency exchange, and even a post office. It was just a short walk through the Cardio to the Western or Wailing Wall, along with Jaffa Gate, the ornate Damascus Gate, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and into the Kidron Valley where the ascent to the Mount of Olives begins near the Church of the Nations which is next to the Garden of Gethsemane. Down into the valley is Absolom's Tomb, and across the road, Gihon Spring with the entrance to a 2,700-year-old still-functioning water conduit.

One of the main features is the Temple Mount, a huge near-rectangular platform on the east side of the Old City, which once the Temple of Solomon was sited, followed by the Second Temple, built under the guidance of Zerubabbel, a descendant of King David and ancestor of Joseph, the husband of Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ, and embellished by Herod the Great by 19 BC. After its destruction by the Roman army under General Titus in AD 70, the area remained desolate until the Kokhba revolt in AD 135, when the site was occupied by the Roman temple of Jupiter Capitolinus until the present Dome of the Rock was completed by the Caliph Abd al-Malik in AD 692.

The Dome of the Rock is seen through some porticoes.

Resting on a ledge at the Dome of the Rock.

Both in 1976 and 1993 as well as in 1994, I had not only the privilege to stand outside the beautiful edifice, full of awesome wonder that I was standing in the precise spot where Solomon's Temple once stood with the Ark of the Covenant housed inside, but I was also able to enter the Dome itself - to be faced by a huge natural rock - the summit of the original Zion on which Abraham was willing to offer up his son Isaac.

Witnessing the Two Sabbaths.

It was a Friday morning when, as I was walking towards the Damascus Gate, the narrow street leading to it was thronged with young men, all heading in one direction, that is, towards the gate to exit the Old City. The crowd was dense and I had to pace myself with them, as the crowd moved slowly. With my journalistic instinct aroused, I started to ask a couple of men closest to me what was going on.

One of them explained that it was the Muslim Sabbat, and they were all heading for the Haram al-Sharif, or the Temple Mount, for prayer. I imagined a huge congregation spread out around the Dome, with the nearby El Aqsa Mosque, also on Temple Mount, to be packed full. The Islamic Sabbat was the day of the week the Mount was closed to the public, that is, non-Muslims. Also, unlike the Jewish Sabbath, the souks of the Old City didn't shut for the day, but most of the shops stayed open.

Damascus Gate, seen from outside the Old City.

Friday evening, just before and after sunset, was when the Western Wall and the plaza in front of it became alive with a crowd of happy Orthodox Jews assembling to celebrate the Sabbath. It was very different from a Christian church service with its formal liturgy. It was in 1993 that I first watched such an event, and how I was taken in by the electrifying atmosphere.

With no formal beginning or end as with a church service, instead, as the sun reached the western horizon, groups of Jews began to fill the plaza. Some went straight to the Wall and prayed there. Others sat on chairs arranged neatly in one corner near to where I was standing, like an open-air classroom, and Scriptures were read out and possibly a sermon delivered from the front.

The Western Wall, general view.

The "outdoor classroom" at the Western Wall.

As more and more Orthodox Jews assembled, those who were in the open-air classroom blended in with the rest of the crowd, singing and dancing the Conga, forming long lines, each one standing behind the other and holding on as the lines snaked around the plaza. At the same time, crowds of more older Jews with their distinct black yarmulke covering their heads gathered at the wall in chanting and prayer. All of the men, and I mean every one of them, wore a skullcap or yarmulke, and many, but not all, wore a white shirt and black trousers. Some of the older men even wore ties. The sight was rather extraordinary. It was as if a uniform was mandatory for ushering the Sabbath or just to be at the Wall. In turn, the women were dressed in normal everyday clothing and therefore lacked the distinct uniform crowd appearance of the men.

The whole atmosphere was more of a street party than a solemn religious service. It was a time of rejoicing, a time for thanksgiving, praise and worship. The inner plaza was divided into two sections, the men's section, which was up to two-thirds across the Wall. The remainder was the women's section. 

Orthodox Jews dance the Conga, Western Wall.

I was standing in the outer plaza and leaning on the fence that separated the two spaces, hence enjoying a front-row view. Then, sometime after dark, I made my way to the narrow entrance to the inner plaza where I picked up a black paper yarmulka which was free to collect from a tray located there, and mingled freely.

It wasn't long before I found myself receiving attention from a nearby all-male Jewish family. They kept on gazing at me with a degree of hostility, and I began to feel disturbed by their stare. This was Israel, and particularly at the Western Wall, the situation can become explosive almost immediately, starting a riot. Fortunately, a young man was passing by and he didn't look too bothered about my presence. I stopped him and asked whether I was posing any problem in the gathering. He turned to the troubled family and asked them in their own language if there were any issues. The father spoke to the intercessor, who told me that I was "working" during the start of the Sabbath. When I asked what work I was doing, he pointed to the camera strap that was slung across my shoulder. He then explained that on the Sabbath, to carry a camera - even if not in use and the lens covered up - was considered "working."

I said to all who were there that I was non-Jewish and a visitor from the United Kingdom. After my words were translated, the family looked relieved and wandered off. Once again I was alone. Phew! That was close!

The Citadel, Jerusalem.

Hasmonian Doorway, C. 100 BC, Citadel.

A little later, I took a stroll out of the Old City and into the Jewish New City west of Jaffa Gate. I was taken in by how strict the Sabbath was kept here in Israel. All the streets were deserted, including Ben Yehuda Street, the traffic-free thoroughfare that thronged with life during the rest of the week. All the shops were closed and all public transport ceased operation. All was still, quiet. Nothing moved and the street sidewalks were as deserted from pedestrians as the roads were from vehicles.

And that was how it was until sundown on Saturday. After sundown, traffic began to move, and the sidewalks became busy once again as the shops re-opened for a few hours to come before all shutting down for the night. Indeed, as for Sunday, what was considered a special day for us, to them, it was just another working day.

It was while I was visiting the Citadel Museum at the Tower of David one afternoon that set me thinking: Why is the Dome of the Rock standing right on the spot where the Jewish Temple once stood? Why were the Jews blocked from ever rebuilding their Temple after nearly two millennia? Could this be proof of God's grace? So I asked myself. Supposing, just supposing, that the Jews rebuilt their Temple, say, in the Second Century AD. Would that have ushered in the ideal moment for the Return of Jesus Christ to set up his Kingdom here in Israel? Food for thought. Had all that happened back then, then you and I would never exist, for the culmination of history would have occurred long before our time. However, it would mean that Heaven would have had a much smaller population than it does at present. In other words, the ongoing presence of the Muslim Dome on the site of the Jewish Temple enabled many to be born, and then to turn to God during the last two millennia - and populate Heaven.

This is one prime example of what I wrote last week: That if I listen carefully enough, the land would speak to me. And yet, there was one evening in Jerusalem when something very odd occurred. 

The Mount of Olives with the Church of All Nations.

In the Garden of Gethsemane.

A Troublesome Incident.

I was in the outer plaza in front of the Western Wall one evening when I heard a crowd of youths in the distance chanting England! England! Football fans? What the heck were they doing here? As far as I know, Israel does have a national football team, but they had never succeeded in competing in either the European or World Cup contests. Neither had I heard anything about an international game played here, either. Football was never Israel's forte. So why were these fans here? Christian tourists or pilgrims? I doubt it. I doubt that very much. Chanting like that was no way to show respect for the host country. To this day, I never could figure that one out. Fortunately, the chant came and quickly went, and I never heard it again in Israel or any other land overseas.

After arriving home, I shared this incident with a couple of Christian friends who were devout England fans. They answered that it was okay to chant in a foreign country. I then asked, Had any Jews chanted "ISRAEL! ISRAEL! in London's Trafalgar Square? No? But if they did, how would you have felt?

To this day, no answer ever came.

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Next Week: Israel outside Jerusalem.