Mounting the Mount - In a Purely Spiritual Way

We rose early this morning to try and beat the crowds to the Temple Mount, site of the Dome of the Rock.  The Rock is Islam's 3 most Holy Site for it is the place of the "Binding of Isaac" aka the site where Abraham, Father of All, almost sacrificed his son.  We arrived just after it opens at 8am.  The line was unreal.  Bus after bus lined the street in front of us and our leader, Fr. Andrew, was just a teensy bit annoyed.  But we turned the other cheek and saw this as an opportunity for fellowship and cogitation on the experience we were about to enjoy.  One reason Fr was frustrated and we were not is because we were oblivious to the fact that the temple mount closes to Gentiles (non-believers i.e. non-Muslims) at 10am and since the line was probably over an hour long, I can understand his dilemma.  Around 9:20 we passed through the bottleneck of security and made it inside the Holy Mount.

The temple mount is a bit of a misnomer because there is no temple there.  The Dome is a protective covering and a place of Holiness but it is not even a mosque.  The mosque is on the south side of the mount and at one time in the Ottoman history was the furthest mosque from Mecca.  As guests in this Muslim controlled, Israeli protected area we began our quick tour around the grounds.  The space is a stark contrast from the rest of the old city because it is wide open.  Space abounds in the white tiled plaza and before the real praying began it was relatively devoid of Muslims.  We were instructed not to bring Bibles with us as it might imply that we were trying to hold a service there and according to many signs that is "Strictly Forbidden."  Clearly not fully understanding the situation, one of my most memorable moments begins...

First, a note about this sacred and holy space - Jews are strictly forbidden from the temple mount at all times.  Incidents in the past have led to the current situation, such as a Jew bringing a rock into the temple mount and placing it on the ground in a form of dedication ceremony for the new temple that will be built.  Jews believe that the Messiah cannot come until there is a temple built for His reception and since the temple has been destroyed a new one must be built.  Such instances have led to the closure of the mount to all Jews.  Of course, this can be challenging because, "What does a Jew look like?" They could certainly be amongst the thousands of tourists and pilgrims that enter the mount daily.  So without getting too involved in the politics (too late, I know!) it's a bit ironic that Israeli's are "guarding" the mount from Jews for the Muslims, but that is the status quo for now.  Back to my moment...

Not realizing the full extent of our "guest" status in this Holy place, but knowing that it is Holy for me, along with everyone else in the religious world, I wanted to "make a memory" in this place.  In the other places we've visited this has taken the form of kneeling on stone and focusing on being present.  I was aware that I was not allowed to worship formally so I tried to maintain an upright posture and not move into the typical prostrated positions Muslims assume in their ritual.  However, as soon as I got on my knees, I saw a man clad in a black police uniform start to move in my direction.  He was about 500 feet away and I thought perhaps he was just on a routine round, but I knew.  As he came to my side he asked, "Where are you from?" Before I could respond, Fr Andrew, who must have been seeing the scene unfold stepped in immediately.  Pulling me to my feet he said, "He's not praying.  We're not here for that." And the Israeli officer gave me a nod and kept walking.  A quick and simple exchange, but already I could feel anger and frustration building within me.

The closing hour was upon us and we moved out of the temple mount and down to the Western Wall.  It was a blur for me because I could not stop thinking about this exchange.  Was Abraham not the father of all?  Is the Old Testament not part of my history as well?  Can I not be reverential in this Holy place?  These thoughts stayed with me until I was at the foot of the wall, as close as God's Chosen People are allowed to be to their most sacred place.  It was there at the wall of lamentations or "The Wailing Wall" that I realized the gift God had given me - and I was grateful.

So easy is it to forget the blessing of freedom, especially for a man like me who has never experienced even the slightest bit of religious persecution (not that you could even call my experience persecution).  It did serve as a crystal clear reminder to me though about the true persecution that has happened for thousands of years and still happens to hundreds of thousands if not millions or even billions of people still today (pardon my hyperbole).  

As I stood with people who pray at a wall for it is the closest they can get to their Holy place, those same people who still hold the memory of seeing their temple viciously destroyed and can only look in from the fringe, I am grateful.  I have prayed and said aloud the name of Christ in places across this country in the past week without any sort of judgement at all.  I live in a land that is founded on the very principle of freedom.  Just later this same day I would walk the steps of Jesus and dwell in the prison that held him and consider those places just as sacred if not more so then the rock under the dome.  I had no right to be frustrated or angry at all.  I am blessed in so many ways and yet I still forget and take them for granted.  We all need reminders like that and I am thankful for mine.

After the wall we went and saw the ruins of the old temple itself and those feelings were even more affirmed.  We walked up the actual steps to what would have been the old entrance to the temple that Jesus, on His yearly pilgrimages would have ascended.  We saw an animated video that described the history of this land and all who have conquered and then ultimately been thrown down, which is as much a part of this place as the humus has been with every meal!

We continued our journey to St Peter in Gallicantu or Peter the Rooster (Cock), where Peter's denial of Jesus three times is remembered and is on the site of the jail that held Jesus on the night before His crucifixion.  The cell was quite remarkable and powerful and the sanctuary is simply stunning.  As with so many of our pictures this one does not do it justice, but it's a start.

The rest of the day unfolded in a restful way with shopping and ultimately we were able to find a gift for my mama (not telling you what it is is, mom!) and a censer to use in our last Eucharist.  Being a professional thurifer it was something that I was very keen on, fortunately I had JJ with me to do the negotiating - not one of my strong suites nor is it something I enjoy.  The censer (a lantern of sorts that holds lit charcoal on which you burn incense, used on high Holy days in the church) is a beautiful gold and silver plated lantern with Armenian ceramic crosses baked onto the sides.  I'm excited to break it in with some solid figure 8's!

What a wonderful day, like so many others, filled with challenged assumptions and reminders of how blessed I am for all the freedoms, relationships and abilities I enjoy daily.  Thank you Lord!