Jerusalem is many things. It is the City of David, the Abode of Peace, and is known in Arabic simply as "The Holy." Arrive into the Old City on a Friday--especially on Good Friday--and you can see why. Tens of thousands of Christian pilgrims clogged the Via Dolorosa--the path Jesus took while carrying his cross--to pray at the sites of the Passion (Stations of the Cross).
At several intersections along the Via Dolorosa we were met by a veritable wall of humanity. At the fifth station of the cross, where Simon helps Jesus carry the cross, dozens of African pilgrims in traditional garb choked off the narrow cobbled street while singing a song of lamentation. This posed a problem to an American group being filmed by Fox News. That group included thuggish Roman soldiers, a bloodied Jesus crowned with thorns, and a group of wailing women. Israeli police were on hand to keep all the groups moving...a truly unenviable task. With the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox calendars in sync only once every four years (yep, this year) the crowds were legendary.
But the Christian community is only a fraction of this holy city's inhabitants. Friday is also the Muslim holy day, and most of the stations of the cross along the Via Dolorsa are found in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City. In fact, while Jen and I were attending mass in the catacombs beneath the Church of the Condemnation (the site where Jesus was condemned to death) we could hear the Muslim call to prayer from two distinct Muzzeins (person who calls the faithful to Friday service from the Mosque tower). As the service ended and we walked back up to street level the chime of church bells and the calls of the Muzzeins left no doubt--we were in Jerusalem.
The tapestry of this city would not be complete, of course, without the Friday Shabbat (Sabbath) service of observant Jews. And while the Jewish community does not have bells or loud speakers to call the faithful to service, they do have something equally attention-getting. Check out these hats! Jen, Aron, and I were enjoying Turkish coffee near the Damascus Gate and we witnessed countless ultra-Orthodox families rushing towards the Western Wall for service at sun-down. I had never seen hats like this before, but I later found out that ultra-Orthodox men wear these hats to Friday services. It is a tradition carried to Jerusalem from Eastern Europe where I suppose is is a bit colder and fur hats are more common.
Jerusalem is no melting pot, but a beautiful--if frayed--tapestry of holy people. It may not be the City of Brotherly Love, but on this particular Friday one could not help but delight is peace and passion of its holy inhabitants.
To be in Israel on Good Friday!!! Wow, what a special time to appreciate the holiness of that place. You captured the essence of it all. Thanks for sharing. Lois/Grandma
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