I knew we had arrived in Jerusalem because there were
soldiers EVERYWHERE. I found it quite peculiar how they so casually carried
their guns. Once in a while, a soldier’s gun would swing over to their front, and
they would just flip it back into place on their shoulder, without missing a
beat in their stride or conversation. Occasionally, they would scan the crowd
clearly checking for trouble, but we also heard them talking to each other
about things like what their major had been in college, and what they were
doing for the upcoming weekend. There was also plenty of talk about their
personal preferences on weaponry and the upgrades they had done to their rifles
and they sounded to me as excited as young girls talking about what they were
planning to wear for the prom.
My mom, Barb, had come with me to Jerusalem because visiting
there was on her bucket list, and she was determined to see all she could. With
or without me. We were staying at the Crowne Plaza Jerusalem which was just
across the street from the Central Bus/Train station. We walked over there to
figure out how to get to the Old City, and after asking half a dozen people how
to buy a bus ticket we decided that Israeli’s are very unfriendly and disliked
speaking in English. Turns out the hotel has a courtesy shuttle to the Old City
and our driver would drop us off at the Jaffa Gate. Nice.
Jaffa Gate opens up onto the main plaza of the Old City.
David’s Museum is on the right, and the visitor center (which isn’t much more
than a shack) is on the left. We grabbed a map there, and headed towards David
Street with the idea we were just going to orientate ourselves today and walk
down to the Lion’s Gate. We stood there in the plaza, looking at the map, and
looking ahead of us. Surely this couldn’t be right. David’s street, which is
supposed to be a main drag through the Old City looked more like a
cobble-stoned alley to us crowded with street vendors. And of course, it angled down. I reminded Mom
that Lion’s Gate was just less than a mile away, and perhaps it is all
down-hill. But we both knew that also meant we were going to have to come back
UP that hill eventually. But the Old City called our names and off we went
picking our way down the narrow David Street, left onto Beit HaBad Street and
right onto The Via Dolorosa.
“Is that the Mount of Olives?” We were at the Lion’s Gate
now, it’s beautiful stone contrasting sharply with the green of the scraggly
ancient olive trees on the other side. The road had opened up into an actual
street where cars could drive, but it angled steeply down to the main 2-lane
road below and across from that was this huge hill that loomed even higher than
where we were currently standing. There were groves of olive trees on the slope
and the lower portion of the mount was peppered with beautiful church-like
buildings and the Garden of Gathsemane where Jesus often prayed—and where He was
arrested. To the right, a cemetery covered the entire slope of the mount with
the graves of those who want to be as close as possible to the place where the
Messiah is prophesied to come and conquer the world once and for all.
Just to see the Mount of Olives was a thrill. Jesus had
hopped on a colt/donkey at the Mount of Olives on Palm Sunday. He rode down
that steep slope and back up the other side while people placed palm branches
and their coats on that one mile plus some stretch from the Mount of Olives to
the temple. Not one person there on Palm Sunday would have failed to understand
that Jesus was declaring Himself to be the prophesied messiah who had come to
save the world.
I wonder though if Jesus found any humor in passing through the
gate leading to the temple? You see, centuries later, a ruling sultan would
seal up that gate—called the Golden Gate--to try and prevent the prophesied
messiah from entering the city. He would
also build a cemetery in front of it, thinking that no respectable Jew would
ever defile themselves by walking through a graveyard. It strikes me as funny that they did all of
that work to prevent something that had already happened. Sheesh. Ok, I am laughing at the moronic lunacy of it,
but I am sure it breaks Jesus’ heart that they didn’t realize He had already
come.
As Christians, we know that the next time Jesus is on the
Mount of Olives, it will not be to hop on a colt/donkey and ride through the
Golden Gate into the temple of the Old City. No, the next time His toes touch dirt
at the Mount of Olives, it will be the beginning of the final battle to wipe
out evil. According to Zechariah 14:4, when Jesus plants his feet on the Mount
of Olives at the end of days, an earthquake will split the earth east to west. Everything to the north—including all of
Jerusalem—will then be at his right hand.
I love it when science backs up scripture, and this is one
of those cases. Scientists have studied the features of the earth there at the
Mount of Olives, and discovered a major fault line running east to west right
through it. In fact, the original site of the Seven Arches hotel on the Mount
of Olives was moved to avoid being directly on the fault line. Scientists predict
that an earthquake at the Mount of Olives would split the mountain in half
right along that east-to-west fault line.
“Mom. I’m standing on the Mount of Olives! Mom. YOU are
standing on the Mount of Olives! Mom. WE are standing on the Mount of Olives!”
I was grinning ear to ear and practically jumping up and down. Because knowing that
GOD created the Mount of Olives complete with a fault line in preparation for
that great day described in the Bible excites me and lights a fire of hope in
me. He is coming! Hallelujah!
