Day 16: The Life of Jesus... in 12 hours.

This morning, we took a tour to Bethlehem. Before we could get into the city, though, we had to present our passports, have them thoroughly checked. One lady in the tour group ended up not allowed to go into the city because she is Israeli -- even though she holds dual citizenship and is a resident of America now. We all felt terrible for her.

The inside of Bethlehem’s walls are covered in protest graffiti. The Palestinian residents basically reside in an open-air prison. They are not allowed to leave and Israelis are not allowed in. It was eerie going into the city, and yet, I’m so glad I did.

Our first stop was the shepherd’s fields -- the site where archaeologists believe the angels came to the shepherds. It’s completely different now -- with paved sidewalks and churches and fountains built on the sight. But, the cave where the shepherds would have lived is relatively in tact. The floor is a mosaic dating back to the Byzantine church. I was amazed that we were allowed to walk on such a national treasure. And the ceiling of the cave was covered in soot from centuries of fires within the cave. Amazing!

Our next stop was at the Church of the Nativity -- the sight where it is believed that Jesus was born. The sight is actually three churches in one -- a Roman Catholic, a Greek Orthodox, and a Lutheran -- each sight sharing the birthplace in their basements. We first entered the Orthodox church -- the oldest constantly active church in the world, 1500 years!

The doorway is small and narrow -- only small children would have no trouble entering without stooping. Our guide said this was to keep the Crusaders from galloping in on their horses and destroying the place. The nave is adorned with columns with the saints painted on them, incense burners hang down the middle of the room, and sunlight streams in from windows near the ceiling, a good 45 feet above. Trap doors open to reveal the original mosaic floor dating back to the Byzantine era. Orthodox priests were strolling about, blessing people, taking money for prayers. This REALLY bothered me. We then stepped through the main sanctuary of the church -- gaudily decorated with anything shiny and ornate. It made me a bit sick with all the cheap-looking shine.

Down a few steps toward the basement is the sight of the birthplace -- now reduced to a star on the floor of what looks like a fireplace. A few feet away is a small nook with a marbled manger. Sandy was telling me that at Christmas, the churches put a baby in the place... she said it looks like a dead baby. Anyway, pilgrims bend down to kiss and pray at the spot, and the line can be quite long to see the spot.

After finishing in the basement, Kimmie and I went up a different flight of stairs into the Catholic side of the church. We heard singing and saw a procession going through, and within moments, we knew it was a funeral. Our suspicions were confirmed when a group of pall-bearers came by and we saw hands outside the top. EW! From there, we toured another part of the basement with all sorts of caves throughout. This area was dedicated to the children Herod had killed after Jesus was born. It was a very solemn place. Our guide said that the Catholics keep the bones buried, but the Orthodox side leaves their bones as they are -- if dirt comes off them, then so be it. Kinna gross, I think.

After the church, we shopped at a place owned by Palestinian Christians -- apparently VERY much in the minority there and persecuted for their faith. They were wonderful people, and my heart goes out to their situation. Praying for the peace of Jerusalem has a whole new meaning to me now that I’ve seen it.

We didn’t even stop for lunch since there was so much to see in the old city. By 2, we were finished with the tour, and we made our way through the old city toward the Western Wall. The old city is perhaps the COOLEST place I’ve ever been. There are VERY few places for cars to drive, and most of the “streets” are walk ways lined with all sorts of shops -- tourist shops on the fringes, but getting more “every day” the deeper into the city you go. Somehow, we managed to get past the shops without breaking the bank (it wouldn’t be hard there! their wares are beautiful and pricey!)

We got to the Western Wall and Sandy commented that it wasn’t as crowded as it was last time she was there. (She was in Jerusalem over Christmas -- DUH!) The place is SO sacred and I could feel God’s presence there. I approached the wall, found a place to work into the crowd, and I knelt to pray. Many of the women there had prayer books, and they were praying and swaying. I’ve never understood the usefulness of pre-prepared prayers. Wouldn’t God want to hear our heart? Anyway, I prayed and placed my written prayers into the cracks in the wall. They were already brimming with bits of paper -- some very old, others fairly new. I felt part of a family doing that... it was weird... I felt strangely connected to the other prayers in the wall.

After the wall, we wanted to find the Church of the Holy Sepulcher -- one of the sights believed to be where Jesus was Crucified and Buried. While we were looking at the map, we were approached by a guy claiming to be part of the tourist board. He offered to show us around (for a price, of course!) and Sandy allowed him. He took us to this GREAT overlook where we could see the Dome of the Rock and the skyline of Jerusalem. It was beautiful. Then, he took us down the Via Dolorosa -- the 14 stops Jesus made on the way to His Crucifixion. It was interesting, and while I never trusted the guy, I’m glad we did walk the streets where Jesus walked. It helped make the crucifixion real to me. He left us at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, and that was when I KNEW that he was a con artist. He didn’t want anyone to see him walking around a tour group on his day off... Whatever.

We went into the church, and again, I saw the gaudiness of organized religion. The church was dark and foreboding with crowds of pilgrims kissing a rock (that had no inscription??) When crowds were around the cross, we decided we’d had enough of the “Jesusland” insanity, and we left for the Garden Tomb.

The Garden Tomb is an underrated and well-kept secret of the city. In contrast to the commercialized insanity of the other places, the gardens are serene and manicured. From a platform, I saw what they believe to be the Rock of the Skull -- Golgotha -- where Jesus was crucified. It is just outside the northern gate into the city, and beside the road where “passersby” could have easily mocked Jesus. Through the garden, there is a wine press and cistern that can hold 2000 gallons of water, all dating back over 2000 years. Obviously, the owner of the garden was very wealthy. There is a tomb cut out of rock on the far end of the garden. Archeological evidence supports this as the sight of Jesus burial because there is space chiseled out of the rock to make room for a body not originally meant for the tomb. In addition, there are two unfinished burial plots in the sight. On the wall outside, the first Christians carved an anchor with a cross -- signifying this as one of the first places where church services were held. Inside is a Jerusalem cross dating back to the Byzantine era.

This day definitely gave me LOTS to think about. I think the tour guide said it best when he said that we don’t KNOW if this is the correct sight or not. But, what does it matter? Jesus isn’t there! We don’t worship and serve a dead Jesus. We serve a Jesus who rose again and defeated death. So, what does it matter WHERE he was born, died, or rose again? The POINT is that HE DID!

We were starving after not having eaten since breakfast, so after the tomb, we went BACK to the old city for one last round before we called it quits. At the Jaffa gate, we ran into a guy who was smitten with Kimmie the day before. We asked him where to get good falafel, and he directed us to “Falafel Gabbi’s” in the Christian Quarter. He gave us directions and told us to tell Gabby he’d sent us. Once we made it to the man’s little stand, we understood. We walked ALL through the residential areas, and even had some of the locals asked us if we knew where we were going! Sandy and Kimmie are WAAAY too nice, so I spoke up before they had a chance to answer. The falafel was the best I’d ever had, and after I scarfed down my pita, I could have eaten another.