Where Cross the Crowded Ways of Life

It's Wednesday morning, and later this evening we'll be leaving for the airport to head home.  Since I won't have time later today to write anything, I want to take a moment now to bring some of my thoughts together.  Hopefully it won't take too long.

Our group's focus for yesterday and today is the death and resurrection of Jesus.  Today we'll again be visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (the traditional site of the crucifixion and resurrection, located inside the walls of the Old City) and also "Gordon's Calvary" and The Garden Tomb (a site just outside the Old City walls, more recently suggested as a possible site for Jesus' crucifixion and burial).

We visited these sites last week during our initial "familiarization tour", and I must admit that I had a very different reaction to each site.  Like so many other religious sites around here, the traditional site has a large, ornate church built over it and is usually crowded with pilgrims standing in line to catch a brief glimpse of the stone base into which Jesus' cross was allegedly set, as well as the sepulchre (grave) where his body was supposedly laid to rest.  Indeed, on the day we visited there were so many people that while we were able to catch a fleeting glimpse of the stone, we would have had to wait in line for over an hour to enter the sepulchre.  (See photos below)



Pilgrim kneeling at traditional crucifixion site in

the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Pilgrims waiting in line to enter the sepulchre (inside the
large structure on right) -- the traditional site of Jesus' burial

The second site, named "Gordon's Calvary" after Major-General Charles Gordon who described the site in the 1800's and made a case for its authenticity, is a much simpler site.  One of the chief reasons Gordon was drawn to the site was the distinctive appearance of the rock face behind the spot where he suggests the crucifixion could have taken place.  You can see in the photo below (which was taken in the 1800's and is now displayed at the site) the image of a skull, reminding us of Matthew 27:33, 35 -- "And when they came to a place called Golgotha (which means 'Place of a Skull"... they crucified him".

Photo of "Gordon's Calvary", taken in the 1800's

There is also an ancient tomb nearby, cut into the rock and located in what archaeology suggests was once a garden, since an ancient olive press and water cistern have also been found there.  This is consistent with John 19:41 - "Now there was a garden in the place where he was crucified, and in the garden there was a new tomb in which no one had ever been laid."  Gordon also believes that, back in the 1st century, this site would have been adjacent to a busy road, in keeping with the Roman practice of crucifying people in very public places so as to shame the criminal and to serve as a warning to others.

What I find so intriguing about this site, though, is the fact that while some of the "face" of Gordon's Calvary is still visible, the actual flat ground in front of the "face" -- the spot where the crosses would have been erected (if Gordon is correct) -- is now the site of a busy bus station.  (see below)

Bus station at site of "Gordon's Calvary" (note the rock "face" in the background)

Why do I find this intriguing?  Because, in my opinion, it fits so well with the life, ministry and mission of Jesus, who didn't retreat from the world to live a holy life.  Rather, he was constantly out mingling with people, especially the common folk, meeting them right where they were -- not just in the Temple or synagogue, but in market places, in their homes, out on the streets and by the seaside.  And I believe that's how and where he calls his followers to be in ministry today.

I don't know any place where this is better expressed than in the old hymn, written by a Methodist pastor named Frank North back in 1903, "Where Cross the Crowded Ways of Life".  So I close this entry and this blog with the lyrics of that hymn, hoping that they will serve as a reminder to us (especially to me) to take the Good News of Jesus Christ to all people, wherever they may be, even if it's at a crowded bus terminal choked with diesel fumes.

Where cross the crowded ways of life,
Where sound the cries of race and clan
Above the noise of selfish strife,
We hear Thy voice, O Son of Man.

In haunts of wretchedness and need,
On shadowed thresholds dark with fears,
From paths where hide the lures of greed,
We catch the vision of Thy tears.

From tender childhood’s helplessness,
From woman’s grief, man’s burdened toil,
From famished souls, from sorrow’s stress,
Thy heart has never known recoil.

The cup of water given for Thee,
Still holds the freshness of Thy grace;
Yet long these multitudes to view
The sweet compassion of Thy face.

O Master, from the mountainside
Make haste to heal these hearts of pain;
Among these restless throngs abide;
O tread the city’s streets again.

Till sons of men shall learn Thy love
And follow where Thy feet have trod,
Till, glorious from Thy heaven above,
Shall come the city of our God!

---

In the Depths of the Pit

Today our group spent our time considering the events of what's often called "Maundy Thursday", the day on which Jesus shared a final meal with his disciples prior to his arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane and his subsequent "trial" before the Jewish and Roman authorities.  It was understandably a somewhat somber day as we went first to a place near an ancient city gate where Jesus and his disciples might have entered on their way to the "upper room" that's mentioned in the Bible.  Then we made our way to the Garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives, just across the valley from the eastern wall of Jerusalem. (see photo)




Garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives

We spent some quiet time of reflection there, imagining what it must have been like as Jesus agonized over what was about to happen, then as he watched his closest friends desert him when the soldiers and Temple guards came to arrest him.  We also saw what remains of the first-century steps that ascend from the valley below the Garden up to the part of the city where it's very possible that Jesus was held for trial.  In fact, it's highly likely that Jesus himself walked these steps after his arrest.  (see photo)
 


Ancient steps that Jesus may have climbed from the valley
below Gethsemane to the place of his trial before the High Priest

For me, though, the most moving experience was standing in the pit of a first-century underground prison that some speculate could have been the place where Jesus was held while awaiting trial.  (Even if it wasn't the actual place, he certainly could have been held in something very similar to this.)  The picture below was taken in this pit.

"Holding Pit" in first-century underground prison



While in this pit we read from Psalm 88 -- a psalm that Jesus probably knew by heart and that almost certainly expressed what was in his heart as he faced his trial alone, having been betrayed by one disciple, denied by another, and abandoned by all the rest.  My own heart ached as I heard these words:

 You have put me in the depths of the Pit,

in the regions dark and deep.

Your wrath lies heavy upon me,

and you overwhelm me with all your waves.

You have caused my companions to shun me;

you have made me a thing of horror to them.

I am shut in so that I cannot escape;

my eye grows dim through sorrow.

     

(Psalm 88:6-9)

As I consider what it must have been like for him, I can't help thinking about the question that all of Jesus' disciples asked when he told them at their last meal together that one of them would betray him..  Indeed, it's my question, too:  "Is it I, Lord?"

Getting Away from It All

It's the middle of Sunday afternoon now, and I'm plopped on my bed in the hotel where, in just a few minutes, I plan to catch a nap.  We did all our traveling and teaching by 2 p.m. today, and now we've all been ordered by our leader to rest, not only because it's the Christian Sabbath, but also because, as he said this morning, we all need to unwind every now and then.

In fact, that was the theme of our travels and discussion today -- rest and rejuvenation.  We started out with a brief service of Holy Communion at St. George's Anglican Church near our hotel in Jerusalem, then we got on the bus and headed out into the Judean wilderness where Jesus was occasionally known to retreat when he needed to recharge.  Unfortunately, as soon as we got off the bus to begin our walk to a hilltop that's famous for its stunning view of the wilderness hills and the Wadi Qelt (a normally dry creek bed where Jesus probably walked from Jericho to Bethany before his entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday), we were immediately swarmed by locals who were insistent on selling us fabrics and jewelry. 

They followed us up the trail to the hilltop, and even when they saw that we were trying to have a quiet Bible study, they still hovered around us.  Then, as soon as they saw we were wrapping it up, they shifted their sales pitches into high gear.  At the same time, two other busloads of tourists arrived, adding their own noise to the chaos.  (see photo)

Local vendors in the Judean wilderness above the Wadi Qelt

I know they have to feed their families just like the rest of us; but it did kind of put a damper on the "retreat" aspect of the experience.

Next we headed into Bethany, the hometown of Mary, Martha and Lazarus -- another place where Jesus liked to retreat quite often, probably because he and the disciples enjoyed such wonderful hospitality there.  Little did we know that we would soon get a taste (literally) of that hospitality ourselves.

When we got off the bus, we were once again surrounded by street merchants hawking their goods, only this time our leader recognized one of the men who was standing there.  He was a Palestinian man who, about four years earlier, had driven the tour bus for our leader.  Upon seeing our leader, he greeted us warmly and then invited us to his home for tea.  We gladly accepted, and a little while later we were seated out on the balcony of his hillside home sipping a delicious tea (the name of which I can't remember now) and munching cookies that had been brought to us by his charming little daughter.

I wish I could say that it was all pleasant conversation, but it wasn't, because as soon as we asked about his family and his work, he began telling us about all the changes that had taken place in the last five years since the Israeli government, in response to attacks by some suicide bombers who had come from other areas ("not Bethany", he was quick to say), had erected a massive concrete wall separating Bethany from Jerusalem, which lies only a mile or two beyond the wall.  In fact, the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane are just on the other side of the wall. (see photo)

Wall separating some of the nicer homes of Bethany from Jerusalem

He told us that, because of the wall and all of the security checkpoints that Palestinians now need to pass through, many of the residents of Bethany -- which is an entirely Palestinian city -- can no longer get to work in Jerusalem.  Or, if they can, it often takes them 1-2 hours to make a commute that used to take only 10-15 minutes.  (The picture below shows the traffic we encoutered as we approached the checkpoint at the edge of Bethany.)  Another impact of the wall is that tourism and commerce in Bethany have suffered badly in the past few years.

Traffic jam at security checkpoint at edge of Bethany

I'm not trying to point fingers at anyone.  I know very well that history runs deep here, and that no one person or party can be saddled with all the blame.  Today's experience was one more reminder, though, of how important it is for us to pray that a just and lasting peace may soon be achieved in this land -- the land that we often call "The Holy Land", but which the Anglican priest this morning referred to as "the land of the Holy One". 

I like that. 

May all in this place -- indeed, may all in this world -- come to know Him, the Holy One... the Prince of Peace.

A House of Prayer for All Nations

As I begin to write this entry it's about 5:15 on Saturday evening here in Jerusalem, and the Muslim call to prayer has just begun sounding over loudspeakers throughout the city.  Yesterday I was walking near my hotel when that call began to sound, and suddenly a Muslim man who was walking just ahead of me stopped, unrolled a prayer mat on the sidewalk, and dropped to his knees, facing toward Mecca and bowing repeatedly as he prayed.  Earlier this morning our group returned to Western Wall of the Temple Mount where we had been a few days earlier, only this time it was much different, because this time it was the Jewish Sabbath and literally hundreds of devout Jews were gathered there to pray, sing and remember. 
(see photo)

Jewish faithful praying at Western Wall on Sabbath

As they prayed, many of them moved, too -- some bobbing forward and backward, some side to side, and a few moving their arms and hands in repetitive motions.  At its best the Temple Mount is a place of prayer, a place where people of all backgrounds can come and bow in humble worship.  That was God's design from the founding of the Temple hundreds of years before Jesus, as we're reminded in Isaiah 56:7, "...my house shall be a house of prayer for all peoples."  Unfortunately, like many of us today, God's people forgot that central purpose and, as a result, God allowed the first Temple to be destroyed in 586 B.C.

Six-hundred years later, Jesus felt compelled to remind God's people once more of what they seemed to have forgotten yet again, as he saw what was happening in the Temple.  He saw the money changers charging unfair exchange rates to those who needed to convert their local currency into the proper coinage for the Temple tax.  He saw those conducting business in the Court of the Gentiles (non-Jews), which surrounded the central area of the Temple where only Jews were allowed, in such a way that it created an unnecessary distraction for the Gentiles who had come to worship God.

So, when he entered the Temple early in his last week, he took matters into his own hands, driving out the merchants and turning over the tables of the money changers as he shouted, "Is it not written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations'?  But you have made it a den of robbers!"

This morning, after visiting the Western Wall, we again walked past the ruins of the ancient Temple where archaeologists have uncovered a series of four stone cubicles (see photo below) where, from all indications, merchants and money changers of Jesus' day would conduct their business. 

Stone cubicles in Temple ruins where merchant and money changers used to conduct business

Later, as we walked through a crowded market area nearby, I couldn't help but notice a small shop housed in a stone alcove about the size of those I had seen in the Temple ruins.  Above the entrance to the shop was a sign that read, "MONEY CHANGER" (see photo), and I thought to myself, "Is this what it was like back then?"

Stone cubicle in present-day money changers shop

Today there is no longer a physical Temple.  It lies in ruins.  Yet 1 Peter 2:5 reminds us that WE are called to be "living stones... built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ."

I guess it raises the question:  Are WE "a house of prayer for all nations"?

Two Remarkable Experiences

This morning we started the second week of our Israel experience, and what a start it was!  The intensive, fast-paced touring is over, and now only six of our original sixteen group members are here for a one-week seminar designed to help us apply what we've seen into our teaching and preaching.  So this morning we went back to the Mount of Olives to begin taking a closer look at the events of "Holy Week" -- the last week of Jesus' life from Palm Sunday to Easter.

The whole day was great as we began at Bethphage (pronounced Beth'-fuh-gee), on the Mount of Olives, directly across the Kidron Valley from the eastern wall of Jerusalem.  It's here that Jesus began his Palm Sunday ride into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey.  Then we walked down through the Kidron Valley and up again into Jerusalem, where we again went to the massive scale model of Jerusalem as it probably looked back in Jesus' time.  All along the way we stopped to talk about the events of Palm Sunday and how they reflected a drama that was probably very carefully scripted by Jesus himself.

In the photo below you see a view of present-day Jerusalem as it looks from the Mount of Olives.

View of Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives

As I said, the whole day was great, but the way it started out was incredible.  Before we ever started down the Mount of Olives our leader wanted to have some time to talk with us, so he asked a caretaker of some of the property there if we might be able to use a certain patio for teaching.  The caretaker agreed, so we talked there for about 30 minutes.  Then, just as we were about to leave, the caretaker pointed to a 3'X4' metal plate on the stone patio floor and asked our leader, "Have you ever seen this?"

Our leader asked what it was, and the caretaker responded that it was an underground Roman tomb, dating back to the time of Jesus.  A little skeptical, our leader asked if we could see it.  So the caretaker took a small tool and pried up the metal plate, revealing a deep shaft cut down through the rock with a couple of steps carved into the side of the shaft.  (see next photo)

Shaft leading to ancient Roman tomb

He began to describe to us the layout of the tomb, but my curiosity got the best of me, so I asked, "Would you allow someone to go down in there?"  Long story short... a minute later I'm about 10' underground in a 1st century Roman family tomb, completely carved out of the rock, with three separate burial areas joined by a small center "aisle".  Picture a three-leafed clover and you'll get the idea.  Each leaf of the "clover" tomb has three places hollowed out into the rock floor, each of which is 5-6' long -- big enough to contain the body of a normal sized adult -- and the roof is so low that I had to squat to get in it.  (see photo)

Inside of ancient Roman tomb, showing spaces for each body

After looking around and taking photos I climbed back out.

Pastor Dave coming up from the grave (ancient Roman tomb)

It was a strange, but exhilirating experience to connect with ancient history like that, to imagine who the tomb might have belonged to, and to picture what the area might have looked like back then.

Now, onto a totally different experience...

A couple of nights ago a few of us decided to take a walk to an area on Ben Yehuda Street that's sort of like an upscaled strip mall.  While walking the mall we kept noticing young men and women in regular street clothes -- they looked to be no older than twenty years of age -- with automatic weapons slung over their shoulders. 

Puzzled, one of our group members asked one of the if they were with the Israeli army, since all Israelis, upon reaching the age of eighteen, are required to serve at least two years in the military.  They replied that they were.  So this same group member asked if he might take a picture of them.  Well, they did him one better:  They invited us to dance with them!  So the next thing we know they have us circle up and then they lead us in a traditional Israeli dance, right in the middle of the open mall area!

I got a video of the event (see still photo below) that I think I'll make into a movie entitled, "Dances with Soldiers".

When a young Israeli woman carrying an automatic weapon asks you to dance, what's a guy supposed to do?!

A Study in Contrasts; A Lesson in Priorities

Well, when I started this blog I had every intention of adding a new post every day, but between a very full schedule and a bout with illness I just haven't gotten it done.  So here's a quick summary of the last three days, before I head out for another adventure.

On Sunday (as you know if you've read my previous entry) we went south to En Gedi, then the Dead Sea and the Qumran site (where the Dead Sea scrolls were discovered), then to Jericho.  At the Dead Sea I was one of only two in our whole tour group to take a dip -- or maybe I should say "a float" in the water.  You've probably read that humans can't sink in the Dead Sea; there's just too much salt and other minerals to make it possible.  An upside of this is that the mud at the shore of the Dead Sea is so laden with minerals that it's harvested and marketed as a beauty treatment known as (this is creative!) "Dead Sea Mud".  Of course, you don't have to buy it if you can just smear yourself in it right at the seaside, as several enthusiastic tourists were doing when we were there.  (see below)

Dead Sea mud bath

The downside to all this is that nothing can live in the Dead Sea because, being 1,200 feet below sea level, it has no outlet.  What a contrast to the next day when we traveled north to the Sea of Galilee, now known as Lake Kinnereth. 

The Sea of Galilee as seen from the Mount of the Beatitudes

Unlike the Dead Sea it's teeming with life, which makes me think of a poem I first read many years ago entitled, "Two Seas in Palestine".  The version I found today is attributed to Gayle Erwin.  In case you haven't read it before, here it is.

There are two seas in Palestine. One is fresh, and fish are in it. Splashes of green adorn its banks. Trees spread their branches over it and stretch out their thirsty roots to sip of its healing waters. Along its shores the children play, as children played when He was there. He loved it. He could look across its silver surface when He spoke His parables. And on a rolling plain not far away He fed five thousand people.  The River Jordan makes this sea with sparkling water from the hills. So it laughs in the sunshine. And men build their houses near to it, and birds their nests; and every kind of life is happier because it is there.

The River Jordan flows on south into another sea. Here is no splash of fish, no fluttering leaf, no song of birds, no children's laughter. Travelers choose another route, unless on urgent business. The air hangs heavy above its water, and neither man nor beast nor fowl will drink.

What makes this mighty difference in these neighbor seas? Not the river Jordan. It empties the same good water into both. Not the soil in which they lie not the country about.

This is the difference. The Sea of Galilee receives but does not keep the Jordan. For every drop that flows into it another drop flows out. The giving and receiving go on in equal measure.  The other sea is shrewder, hoarding its income jealously. It will not be tempted into any generous impulse. Every drop it gets, it keeps.  The Sea of Galilee gives and lives. This other sea gives nothing. It is named The Dead.  

There are two seas in Palestine.  There are two kinds of people in the world.

* * * * * * * * * *

Yesterday (Tuesday) we went to the Temple Mount, where I was overwhelmed with the convergence of Jewish, Muslim and Christian influence.  Again, there's a fragile co-existence there that's hard to describe, so right now I won't attempt it.  Nor will I try to put in words what I experienced as I prayed at the Western Wall, which is the only part of the original Jewish Temple wall still in existence (actually, it's called "The Second Temple"), at least above ground.  The rest of it was all destroyed by the Romans when they moved in to crush the Jewish revolt in 70 A.D. 

As I joined with people of many faiths in praying at the wall, then moved to the other part of the Temple excavations, where a massive pile of stones that were thrown down by the Romans are still lying in silent witness, I couldn't help but hear Jesus' response to the disciples when they were walking on the Temple grounds one day and one of them blurted out, "Look, Teacher, what marvelous buildings and stones!"

Jesus responded, "You see these stones?  I tell you not one of them will be left upon another."

Perhaps every building committee meeting ought to start with those words, lest we get our priorities tragically out of place.

Praying at the Western Wall of the Temple

"Not one stone will be left upon another."

The Fifth Gospel

Last night (Saturday), after a long day of walking around Jerusalem and Bethlehem, we had a very interesting lecture by the dean of the Jerusalem Center for Biblical Studies.  One thing that really caught my attention was a quote he shared from Saint Jerome, a Catholic priest who, in the late 300's A.D., took up residence in a small room of a monastery in Bethlehem, where he spent many years translating the Bible from Greek and Hebrew into Latin.  (By the way, we visited the below-ground room where supposedly he did his work, and where his body was interred until his remains were apparently stolen many years later.)  Anyway, in this quote Jerome referred to the land of Israel/Palestine as "the fifth gospel", meaning that in order to fully understand the story of the Bible you have to understand how the land has helped shape the story.

I thought I had a good sense of that truth before, but being here in person has really driven the point home.  Indeed, it doesn't take long here to realize how profoundly the terrain and climate in the region affect everything from occupations to politics to religion to literature and more.

Speaking of terrain, what a powerful experience it was today to hike some of the wilderness in the region known as En Gedi, near the Dead Sea.  It was here that David (before he was King David) hid in a cave out of fear of King Saul who, in his jealousy, was hunting David down in order to kill him, as told in 1 Samuel 23 & 24.  The only way for David and his men to survive would have been to drink from the waters of the natural spring that cascade down the rocks from the jagged ridges above.  (See photos of the rocky En Gedi hills with caves, and of the lower waterfall)

Rocky ridges of En Gedi showing caves

Waterfall from the spring at En Gedi

One other key understanding about the geography of the area is the fact that Israel/Palestine is located precisely at the point where the ancient trade routes connecting Europe, Asia and Africa all criss-crossed.  This meant that the area was constantly being invaded and sometimes settled by people of different races and cultures, resulting in a "mosaic" that sometimes didn't (and, in many ways, still doesn't) seem to fit together very well.

This understanding helps to put in perspective the seemingly endless tensions between the Jews and the Muslims, or some would say Israelis and Palestinians.  You see signs of this fragile co-existence everywhere around here (and I mean "signs" in a literal sense, as well as in other ways, as you can see from the road sign in the photo below which points the way to Bethlehem in English, Hebrew and Arabic).  This is especially true in Jerusalem, but you see most everywhere else, too, including Bethlehem, where we visited yesterday.

I never realized until this trip that Bethlehem (which is no longer the "little town" referred to in the beloved Christmas carol, but a large and bustling city) is now almost totally under Palestinian/Muslim control and that, because of an order by the Israeli government that's meant to protect its Jewish citizens, Jews are no longer permitted to enter Bethlehem.  For this reason our Jewish tour guide had to get off the tour bus just outside Bethlehem and be temporarily replaced with a Palestinian guide.  And as if that didn't surprise me enough, I was really caught off guard when we got off the bus at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem and I noticed that right across the street from the church, which marks the traditional birthplace of Jesus, is a large Muslim mosque, complete with its tall minaret from which the Muslim people are called to prayer several times a day. (see picture)

Minaret on mosque across from Church of the Nativity

I have another comment I want to make about the geographical location of Israel/Palestine, but I think it had better wait until my next post, since it's very late and we have to be on the bus at 7:30 a.m. for a long day around the Sea of Galilee.

One more quick note, though...  Some of you have asked about the safety of tourists around here.  Well, as our Jewish tour guide emphasized very strongly yesterday, the area is very safe for tourists, because they represent such a major source of income for the local people.  Indeed, we've found all the local people to be very friendly and accomodating.

Thank God for Safe Arrival

Well, it's 3:45 a.m. Jerusalem time, and my internal clock is really messed up.  It's still on Indiana time, where it's now 8:45 p.m.  So a few minutes ago I left my roommate snoring loudly in his bed and sneaked down to the internet lounge at the Olive Tree Hotel in Jerusalem where we checked in last night around 6 p.m. local time.

There are 18 of us in the Educational Opportunities "gold group" and about 15 others in the "blue group" all staying here at the Olive Tree.  Apparently we all came over on the same Delta flight out of JFK International Airport, though I didn't know that until we all arrived at Tel Aviv International.  It was a decent flight over, with only a couple pockets of turbulence, one of which we encountered while I was in the lavatory at the rear of the plane.  I'll not comment any more about that. 

It was about a one-hour bus trip from Tel Aviv, on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, to the hotel in Jerusalem.  During most of that short trip our tour guide, Lillian(?), talked most of the time, but I didn't hear all of what she said, because I kept nodding off.  After getting one an hour of sleep on the trans-Atlantic flight, I just couldn't keep my eyes open.

Anyway, I'm thankful that we got here safely.  Unfortunately, my roommate's luggage didn't arrive when he did, so he's hoping it shows up today, because all he has is the jeans and shirt he wore on the way here.  I'd loan him some of my clothes, but he's about 6'3" and 250 lbs., so I don't think that's going to work very well.

[10 minutes later]

Hmm... I was just about close this post by saying, "That's all for now," when a woman came in to the internet lounge--unable to sleep like me--and began ranting about how she had come here expecting to "find God" in Jerusalem, but how (after less than a day here) she hadn't seen "a manifestation of the Holy Spirit anywhere."  Then she looked at me and blurted out, "I thought this was supposed to be the holy city, and here it ain't nothin' but another plain old city!  I'm so disappointed."

I asked her name, then said, "You know, God says if we look for him, we'll find him.  Maybe you need to look for him in some different ways and in different places.  Maybe you'll find him in somebody who needs a listening ear or a little bit of help.  Remember what Jesus said in Matthew 25--'As much as you did it to the least of these, my brethren, you did it to me'?  I believe you'll find him here, just as you will anyplace else, if you're open to seeing him in places you hadn't expected."

"Well, I hope you're right," she said, "because I just can't believe how disappointing this is!"

Then she left, mumbling all the way.  I guess that's my cue to head back to my room and see if I can get more sleep, since in a few hours we'll be back on the bus, headed for the Mount of Olives, Bethlehem, and the Dead Sea.

You know... I sure hope I am right in what I told that lady.