Israel: Part 2
Different Fences, Different Faiths, Same Inspiration

by Pastor David H. Brooks
May 2009

One of reasons people travel is to experience customs, cuisine, language and lives that are different than what one might find at home. Of course, the further from home one goes, the differences can become profound, to where the most simple of activities can have vastly different meanings. This truth became real to us as we stood in the parking lot of a small café outside Banias National Park, the site of ancient Caesarea Philippi in northern Israel.

My wife Sharon and I were part of a tour group traveling through Israel. Most of our travel experiences, including trips overseas, had been with little more than a plane ticket and a guidebook. But for this trip a local guide brought vast amounts of both historical and local knowledge to his task. Included in the local knowledge was which restaurants, shops and other side venues he had "made arrangements" for our arrival, oftentimes through the exchange of cash. A full tour bus is a potential bonanza for many people. We were scheduled to be at another restaurant, and when our guide saw that several of his charges were on the wrong side of a fence of a different restaurant with no immediate way out, his negotiating position was severely compromised. After a heated discussion with much arm waving and pointing, an agreement was reached, and we were reunited for a local lunch beside the cool headwaters of the Jordan River.

After our lunch, we headed deeper into the Golan Heights and came to a tourist pull-off on a ridge, with Syria across a verdant valley and a United Nations post in between. It seemed to be the summary snapshot of this land: armies all around a valuable (and valued) piece of earth.

The next morning we were up early and drove south away from Tiberius to the ruins of the city of Beit She’an. The ancient city is an archeological treasure trove, and contains some of the best preserved Roman ruins in the country, including an intact amphitheater still used for performances and a nearly complete Roman bathhouse.

After an hour of exploration, we boarded our bus and continued south along the Jordan Valley to the city of Jericho. Jericho is thought to be one of the oldest continually inhabited places on the planet, with archeologists uncovering human settlements from as far back as 11,000 years ago. Now a principal city in the West Bank, Jericho and the surrounding countryside bears the scars of the continual conflict between Palestinians and Israelis that has marked this land for the last sixty years.

We did not stop in Jericho, pausing only to reflect for a moment on the New Testament story of Zaccheus and his sycamore tree; we then turned west and began the climb out of the Jordan Valley to the city of Jerusalem: a climb from 850 feet below sea level to nearly 2500 feet above in just a few miles. As we climbed, it is not hard to wonder at those religious pilgrims who would have traveled through the barren Judean desert up and up to the city of their fervent hopes.

Arriving in Jerusalem in the late morning, we drove through non-descript suburbs to the city of Bethlehem, which required an involved process of leaving and entering two sovereign zones — concrete and guns were everywhere. For the tourist to Israel, this is one of the essentials that must be navigated: it is a place that is under competing and contradictory claims where security is a constant priority. It is not necessarily onerous, but it is always present. The highlights of our time in Bethlehem were our visits to the Church of the Nativity and the Shepherd’s Field outside the city. The Church of the Nativity is a fourth century Byzantine basilica built over a grotto: in the floor is a silver star that marks the place tradition identifies as the birthplace of Jesus. The basilica is a surreal mixture of the worst of tourist experiences (i.e., stand in line for the attraction with hundreds of hot, impatient people) and the sublime mystery of divine encounter.

The Shepherd’s Field (the story is told in the Gospel of Luke) has both a Roman Catholic and Orthodox version a little ways from each other. We visited the Roman Catholic site; it is an open, airy place, and features caves that would have served as ground floors of homes built upon them, and evokes how people of the first century might have lived.

We spent the night in Bethlehem, and rose early the next morning to begin a walking tour of Jerusalem. We entered the city through the colorfully named Dung Gate and proceeded across a wooden footbridge to the Temple Mount. Again, it was one of the peculiarities of the tour: intense religious activities all around (the Western Wall was below us to our left, the Dome of the Rock just ahead) mixed with the life of a city like any city (construction scaffolds and work zones) leavened with ever-present security.

The Temple Mount is controlled by a local Muslim Council and is a key point of contention. The peaceful atmosphere of the site itself belies the tension that the Mount raises for Muslim Arabs and Jews. As you stand in the plaza, you are again struck by the sheer weight of religious longing, historical antiquity, and contemporary struggle that is this place; yet even as you seek to collect your thoughts, local boys and men come offering postcards, jewelry, quick tours and photos for sale. A visit the next day to the Western Wall meant more of the same: a rabbi offered to pray for a cash donation, even as intense and heartfelt appeals were happening all around. It is one of the many strange tensions that mark this place.

From the Temple Mount we went north to the Church of St. Anne and the Bethesda pool, and from there we stepped onto the street that marks the beginning of the traditional walk of the Cross, or the Via Dolorosa, which would have begun at the Antonia Fortress built on the edge of the old Temple complex. As we walked along that ancient way, the contrast this city provides again pressed in: contemplation mixed with merchants selling t-shirts, cookware, linens, vegetables and the like. Our walk ended at the Church of the Redeemer, a Lutheran church nearly at the center of the city. Welcomed by the local pastor, we were invited to climb the bell tower, where a breathtaking panoramic view waited.

We finished the day touring the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, built over the traditional spot for Jesus’ crucifixion and burial. The church is a mix of several architectural styles and has been built, destroyed and rebuilt over the centuries. It is a scene of intense rivalry between the several Christian groups that share control of its environs, and its main entrance is stewarded by Muslim families that have had this responsibility for nearly a thousand years. While it is hard at times to escape the contrast between religious faith and commercial fervor in this fascinating city, the awe this place inspires is beyond description.

As our tour concluded, the highlights were our visit to the Mount of Olives, and a journey to Masada and Qumran (source of the Dead Sea Scrolls) on the coast of the Dead Sea. Everywhere one goes, you cannot escape the powerful press of the ancient and the modern on this place, for even in such remote places there are signs of modern life — irrigation, fruit plantations, seaside resorts. So if you go, pack all you can of your history lessons, but leave your preconceptions at home: It’s the only way to travel in Israel.

David H. Brooks is the Associate Pastor at Christ the King Lutheran Church in Cary.

Back to Top