We arrived yesterday in the afternoon and, after having settled ourselves into our room at the American Colony hotel (lots of Americans, perhaps understandably, but a very pleasant bolthole nonetheless) we set out for the old city to find the church of the Holy Sepulchre, deep within the great walls of the ancient citadel.
It was about 6.30 in the evening when we arrived; all the coach parties had thankfully receded, leaving us almost alone to wander in its great colonnaded spaces and sacred tombs. We went inside the tiny chapel which sits directly under the great dome, marking the exact spot (allegedly) of Christ's crucifixion. it's so small you can only get a handful of people in at any one time, and I'm told the crush around it on holy days is anything but holy. Finally we went into the underground, innermost sanctum to see the exposed volcanic plug upon which the church rests. All in all I would class it among the most potent emotional experiences I have ever had in a church. Marvellous stuff!
Today we went to the Dome of the Rock. Initially we were forbidden entrance to the mosque itself, the guard explaining slightly apologetically that this was a political, rather than a religious axiom, a form of protest at the Israeli's lack of respect to the holy site back in 2000 which triggered the 2nd intifada.
But a German woman wouldn't let it go and kept at the guy relentlessly. I had already had my attempt, and gone over to a shaded space nearby to watch her efforts, which I was sure would be fruitless, but then I saw I him him wave her in at last. I rushed over and tried my luck once more, protesting my support of the Palestinian people and my wife's work in the west bank. Now, his position somewhat weakened by his earlier concession to the German, which he knew I had witnessed, with a little reluctance, he let me in. But only me. My wife remained on the proscribed list for some reason.
Then I discovered for myself why the mosque receives its name. Directly beneath the great golden dome is indeed a huge rock, unpolished, uncarved, around which the mosque is built. It was a tremendous moment for me to see it. There was just time to get a couple of quick photos before I was spotted as an unbeliever and unceremoniously hustled out. But I still felt I had been privileged (for a tourist, at any rate) to an unusual and highly affecting experience.
Allah Akbar! God is indeed great, and likes, apparently, to put his holy places on the tops of extinct volcanoes. Well, can you think of a better place?
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