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.