The Religion of Soccer

For those of you who have known soccer as a "religion" at some point in your life, here is something for you.

Today, on the eastern plaza (which would have been the front and largest part of the Temple area, including the entrance and the main gathering areas) of a relatively unoccupied Temple Mount, young children were playing soccer within feet of the site of the old Temple, or the current Dome of the Rock. Kicking a ball around. Boys and girls playing, laughing, screaming, shouting, completely oblivious as I took pictures of their game.

Years ago, a magnificent Temple was being built right here. The back of the Temple was so sacred that no Jew was allowed to enter the portion known as the "Holy of Holies". Back then, animals of all kinds were brought here and killed and burned as sacrifices, right here, in what would have been the central area of the temple where the eastern section of the stone plaza now is. Right where the kids are running in the picture above. Babylonian warriors under Nebuchadnezzaar rampaged right here, capturing and carrying off the Jews, then knocking down the massive Temple in what must have felt like the equivalent of a "9/11" back in the year 586 B.C. An Old Testament "Ground Zero" if you will, right in the frame of these pictures you are looking at. Jesus was presented here as an infant, likely in the space right in front of what would be the front door of the gold dome you see, right by the small grey-domed open "shelter" to the right side of the picture. Again, he preached right in the space of the pictures you are looking at and confronted authorities and more or less sealed his fate here. The Romans burned the second Temple later, that also stood right here on the site where you see the current Dome of the Rock, turning it into a giant torch for a day and night back in 70 A.D. and altering Jewish worship to this very day. The area saw battles rage over the centuries, the last being the 1967 Arab-Israeli Six-Day War.

An amazing amount of plotting, fighting, blood, death, war, anger, polarization, destruction, shouting, debris, fire has occurred in the relatively small space you see in the pictures right in front of you.

Today, children just played soccer under a summer-like sun. Carefree. Playing fair and having fun. No fighting, no arguing over rules, no making up new ones. No referees. Just passing the ball at times. Sharing the ball. Right on top of the very ground where all of the events of past centuries transpired and now lay silently calm.

Soccer. Not a bad religion to follow, I'd say.

My College Paper

Thirty years ago during my last year of college, I had to write a thesis paper for my degree. I did it on a selection from the Gospel of John, where Jesus showed up at the Temple and "cleansed" it, angrily chasing away the money-changers and other functionaries. I still remember the paper well, and have it somehwere at home in a box.

Based on a bunch of details I won't bore you with here, it most likely would have happenned somewhere within the frame of these pictures I took this afternoon and that you are looking at, at the edge of the plaza, or just slightly down where the current steps are in the last picture. (Keep in mind that there are twenty centuries of historical debris here, and this pavement today would definitely not have been the surface it would have occured on. But I'd be standing on top of where it all happenned.)

I thought this was.......well, quite good, quite satisfying, as I took pictures and thought about it all.

NO Entry

The Islamic folks have forbidden access to the Dome on the Temple Mount to non-Muslims. Too bad. It sits on the site of the original Jewish Temple, and the site that would have been inside the Temple known as the "Holy of Holies". Would have been nice to see. Or just to respectfully visit the inside of the current shrine.

But, I suppose just like Christians forbid entry to the churches and shrines in Jerusalem to all Musl ---- oh wait, I forgot, that's not the case. But, I digress.....

I went up and asked if I could go in.

The Doorkeeper looked at me as if I was ignoring the blatantly obvious. (He must communicate with the nun from a few blogs ago.) "No", he said, apparently quickly sizing me up as no Muslim.

I could have told him I really enjoyed the music of Cat Stevens. Instead, I said I would just like to see the shrine. He looked at me again, and said "No. Muslims only."

I was really hoping to see inside, and said it seemed unfair. With maybe just slightly more ire, he looked straight at me and half-spat out the words, "George Bush." Of all things to say, huh? That was an answer? To what question? Now, OK, I did get the drift of where he was coming from, but looked at him and said, "He's not president anymore.....so can I go in?"

He said something in Arabic, and while I wasn't sure what it was, I guessed it wasn't an invitation to go inside. While there is part of me that would have loved to keep the verbal dialogue going with Mr. DoorKeeper, I'm just smart enough to know this was most definitely not the time or location or era to do this. I do get it. To a point.

So, I went on my way. Asked a Japanese tourist to take a picture of me, unclean infidel, I am. At least he wasn't afraid of touching my camera, so maybe there's hope.

(For any Muslim readers of this blog, of which there are likely none, I do have a little more knowledge and understanding and sensitivity than comes across.....to a point. In the meantime, I am happy that Moshe Dayan and the Israelis decided to allow Muslims to retain the Temple Mount/Haram es Sharif after the 1967 war, and if that should once again change, as it has time and time again over the centuries, I'll be the first one standing up arguing that Muslims should absolutely have equal visiting privileges as well.)

Temple Mount (Haram-es-Sharif)

Spent a few hours walking around the Temple Mount (Haram-es-Sharif to the Islamic world) this afternoon. I could write volumes. But, will keep it short and simple.

The Golden Dome sits prominently on top of the Temple Mount plaza, middle-left. It is not the Temple Mount itself (that refers to the entire rectangular elevated plaza), but is the most prominent and focal structure on the large plaza. It is not actually a mosque, but an Islamic memorial structure. There is a mosque at the far south end of the Temple Mount plaza, and a few trees here and there, a few series of steps, but otherwise……………a broad stone block promenade made from centuries of landfill.

The tile is pretty on the upper panels, and has been there for centuries.

The Dome has not always been there. In fact, it is relatively “modern”, being built after 638 A.D. by the Muslim conquerors.

For centuries before that, this was the site where the Jewish Temple stood. THE one temple. In fact, when Solomon built the first temple (the Babylonians destroyed the first one in 586 B.C., and it had to be rebuilt later, only to be subsequently destroyed by the Romans in 70 A.D.), it was almost twice as tall as the current Dome, and supposedly even more breath-taking. Incredible to imagine. One of the Ancient Wonders of the World and the focal point of all Jewish worship.

You might remember that it originally housed the Ark of the Covenant (remember, Harrison Ford, the movie “Raiders….", and what were they looking for….?)

Babyloinans were here. The earlest Jewish people saw this as the center of their world. Jesus came here as an infant, then preached here as a young boy and as a man. He was confronted by the Jewish authorites here. There are scriptural references aplenty referring to issues and events at the Temple. And it was right here.

So on a Tuesday afternoon, I found history to be powerfully overwhelming as I walked and looked and thought about where it was I was standing.

"Farewell Falafel!"

I must say goodbye now, after coming to learn that I could easily live on the scrumptious falafel from Abu-Shukri's, supposedly one of the best in town according to local residents and several guidebooks.

The hummus is the best in town, the falafel balls are crunchy and mild, the hearty and fluffy pita DOES NOT resemble anything you have ever bought at Cub Foods -- at all, and the tahini sauce.....ahhhh, it is magical. It has to be a closely guarded Arab secret passed along the Mideast merchant trade routes of old, incorporating spices and herbs from exotic locations.

Eating one at lunchtime, while enjoying the view of the stone wall of the chapel across the street, was developing into a favorite midday ritual. (TIDBIT: the chapel is also the official traditional stop of Station #5 along the Via Dolorosa, in the Catholic ritual of the Stations of the Cross, "Simon of Cyrene Carries Jesus' Cross".)

I also will miss the two guys behind the counter who helped me practice Arabic every day at lunch while they made my pita. They never laughed, and were patient and helpful teachers.

“ شكراً Shuhk-ran.”

Heavenly

Due east, across the Kidron Valley, literally within a stone’s throw of the walls of Jerusalem, sitting just feet above the Garden of Gethsemane on the steep lower slope of the Mt. of Olives, I discovered what I believe to be the most beautiful spot in all of the city. Hands down. No question. It may indeed be God’s way of offering a glimpse as to what other-worldly beauty and peace may be like.

It is the gold-domed Church of St. Mary Magdalene and its convent. Passing through its gates and walking its grounds gives the experience of leaving this world and entering another realm, far from noise and distractions and the feel of the world. Strolling on the sidewalks and up narrow small hill paths, it creates a wonderful sense of peace and serenity. Maybe the pictures will convey some of that, but beyond that, you will just have to imagine.





Twenty-five feet after passing the Garden of Gethsemane, the natural ridge in the mountainside angles to the right and steeply up. It is the path that everyone would have taken upon leaving Jerusalem and beginning the steep climp up the tall hill. I assume Jesus and his disciples would have traveled it (no paved road then, obviously). No more than a hundred paces past Gethsemane are a pair of green iron gates leading into the Church of St. Mary Magdalene property. It is a difficult place to gain access to, as it is only open for an hour-and-a-half, twice a week, perhaps due to the fact that it serves as a convent for Russian Orthodox nuns who must not desire a constant parade of tourists. I had been told by one of our professors that it was worth trying to time a visit. I now see why.

The multiple gold, onion-domed spires of the church are visible from many places in Jerusalem.



And while the church is attractive, it is the tranquility and beauty of the area that I found so appealing. It was like a private little garden. There was no noise, only the quiet of the sounds of the calm of nature, and the smells of a variety of flowers and shrubs lightly sweetening the air.

Nuns strolled the grounds going about chores, all of them in full black habit, most of them older. (I did spot an older nun walking slowly down a path, holding and reading a plastic CD case, which offered a moment of pleasant dichotomy.)

Just outside the front door of the church, the balcony area offers a window “across the street” to the city of Jerusalem, so close and yet feeling miles and miles away from the quiet of this place.

I spoke to a few of the nuns, and while their mother tongue would be Russian, they seemed to know English. I told one of them, “This is a beautiful place, Sister.” She didn’t really smile, but looked at me as if I was stating the blatantly obvious (“Geeez, this water is wet, Sister”) and simply said, “Yes, very good.” Of course, she was right. What more needed to be said.

It was a day full of gold domes, as I will write about later. A day when they all sparkled in the blue Jerusalem sky.

I stayed as late as I could, then headed down the steps to leave. There were almost no other visitors on a day that was so warm it felt like late June. As I left, I thanked a nun standing at the gate for letting me visit. With much more of a smile, she looked at me and said, “Yes, yes, you go now. Goodbye”, then closed the gate behind me.

As I walked away, I considered whether the nuns of the world have a file on me going back to third grade in Minneapolis. I did get scolded once or twice, and I wondered whether that got recorded somewhere in a database for all of them to reference. Then I figured that would be rather improbable…..and just kept walking.

Armenian Pizza

Went to the "Armenian Tavern" in the Armenian Quarter of Jerusalem for a light dinner this evening. An elegant little place that I had heard about and wanted to check out. For 12 sheckels (about $3.00 US), you get their version of a "personal pan" Armenian pizza.

Ever hear about Armenian Pizza? No? Read about how wonderfully delicious it is? No? Do you know why that is?

Come here and try one. You'll see why. Dominos and Pizza Hut have no need to worry about losing market share to these folks. Better that the Armenians should stick to what they are known for and are good at cooking. You know, the........the........ummmmm......their famous........food thing........hmmmm.

It came with a side plate of sliced lemon and cucumbers. Hmmmm. Cucumbers. Was Kramer working in the kitchen back there?

Well, it was a nice atmosphere, and the Israeli beer was cold.