Israel--the Third Quartet

“Jerusalem, O Jerusalem,” the lament spoken by the Master, Yeshua, rang through my soul as we crested the mountains into the ancient City of Peace (lessness).

We entered the third quartest, Israel, in a dramatic fashion. Our bus and guide from Israel met us in the depths of the Jordan Valley, at the Alleny Bridge, and we climbed and climbed through the Judean desert into the mountains of central Israel. It was very dramatic visually, a steep ascent, and as we climbed the mountains grew green and vibrant. Just as we entered the City and our bus made its final turns into the City, our guide pointed out the window, “Look, the wall,” and there like a scar, a knife edge the high concrete barrier being built by the Israelis to separate the Jewish population from the Palestinians marched across the landscape. It hurt to see it. It really hurt—the barbed wire topped barrier, so reminiscent of an earlier Berlin Wall cut across the hills—the wall, a he scar, a knife-edge, not only tears the landscape and beauty of Jerusalem, it tears my soul. I carry it, somehow, inside now.

Jerusalem, our center for three days is beautiful, but troubled. It is a vortex, a swirl, and tense. Joe Bidden had just been there when it was suddenly announced that new buildings were going up on the Palestinian side to house Jews. A new synagogue in the old city was being dedicated the days were there, and security was everywhere, in particular, because a group of extremist Jews had also applied to lay a cornerstone on the Temple Mount for the rebuilding of the “Third Temple” (a project that evangelical Christians are egging on so that, in the end it too can be destroyed in the final battle of Armageddon so that Christ can then return).

So Jerusalem is like a lens, a microscopic lens—forces and theologies are all focused magnified on this one small spot on the earth, where tensions are high, and agendas of every kind swirl around challenging each other.

Despite everything we enjoyed what we saw and experience which was quite a lot. We spent a precious day in Galilee, visiting the home-sites of Jesus, which I will tell about later. We ate by the Sea of Galilee. We visited Nazareth, and Capernaum, and in Tiberias the tomb of the Jewish Philosopher, Maimonedes. We traveled back to Jerusalem that evening down the long miles of the Jordan valley, the ancient pathway taken by pilgrims and Jesus on their journeys to Judea and Jerusalem.

We toured the “the Holy” (al Quds) as the Arabs call Jerusalem, the next day, and got to know its ancient pathways, streets and quarters around the Temple Mount. We visited holy sites for the three Abrahamic faiths. We were swarmed with other pilgrims from around the world—Africa, Asia, South America, North America and Europe. It was a true United Nations experience on one small piece of land and intense.

The next day we left the swirl of the city and its pressures and tensions and went South into the Judean desert past Jericho, to the Dead Sea and the archaeological site of Qumran. At last it felt quiet and peaceful—I knew why our ancient ancestors left the populations and made their home in the peace of those wilds. We could feel our monastic roots there and the reasons for them. We, took, of course, the requisite swim in the briny and bitter waters of a shrinking Dead Sea. Making our way then, back up into the Mountains again, and to the wondrous outdoor market of Jerusalem, Mahane Yehuda, to feast our way through its falafel stalls and fruit sellers. Jerusalem, O Jerusalem!