Footsteps in the Promised Land

I know what most of you are thinking at this very moment. You probably assume that I had a remarkably moving spiritual experience while in the holy land of Jerusalem. I for one thought that I would be overwhelmed to stand where Jesus and many spiritual men of the bible once stood. But it wasn’t like that for me. Don’t get me wrong, it was very exciting to finally visualize the settings I’ve read and heard so much about throughout my life. But the religious extremism is what had me bewildered. I stood in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and in front of the Wailing Wall and watched silently as people waved their incense in a rehearsed manner, burned their candles, chimed their bells, threw their hands on important relics, cut their hair a certain way, wore specific clothing to correspond with their beliefs, rubbed intently on the beads, went through prayer rituals, bobbed their bodies back and forth in front of the holy wall, and repeatedly chanted words of prayer and repentance. I simply stood and observed, feeling a little out of place, and questioned in my head whether or not this is what God truly desires.

The narrow streets of the old city are congested with shops and vendors selling every sort of religious trinket or ornament you could ever imagine. The religious rituals of Christians, Jews and Muslims took place within the same vicinity; but were worlds apart. There was one thing they each had in common though and that was that each person carried on as if they had to earn God's favor or forgiveness through their rituals. I always believed that this was the major difference between Christianity and other religions; that Christians were saved through faith and not works. But the Christian denominations I witnessed in Jerusalem proved otherwise. I’m sure there were many who were not so theatrical and ritualistic, but of course they didn’t stand out to my attention.

I don’t want it to sound like I didn’t enjoy my stay in Jerusalem. The initial religious shock soon wore off and I found my place. For me personally, I feel closer to God when I’m away from the organized religious settings; for example: standing on a mountain top, holding the hand of an orphan, fellowshipping with close friends, staring up at a starry sky in the wilderness, helping those that are less fortunate, watching the sunset over the ocean, or simply sharing a Sunday afternoon with my family. We all have our ways of worship and communion with God. It just took me a second to realize that I wasn’t any worse or better than those around me for the manner for which I worship. After touring the main sites and mingling with the heavy tourist flow, I made my way outside of the city walls and enjoyed some time alone. I walked down through the Kidron Valley and up to the Mount of Olives where I stood and looked over the Garden of Gethsemane. I imagined Jesus walking through the olive groves and stopping to spend some time in prayer with his father. This was the piece of Jerusalem I thoroughly enjoyed; the rolling hills and valley where Jesus and his disciples once walked.




By the third day of my stay in Jerusalem it was time for me to move on. The cost of things in Israel was far too expensive for my taste; especially with the ever declining American dollar. A 12 oz coke in the old city nearly cost three dollars. Because of my travel budget, I couldn’t stay in Jerusalem for very long. Also, I didn’t find Israel as friendly as I did its neighboring countries, but there were some exceptions of course. The Palestinian owner of my hostel (the Citadel Hostel) was extremely helpful and kind. He assisted me with directions and itineraries to see Jerusalem without having to sign up for a tour.

While at the Citadel Hostel, I met a couple of young American girls, Nikki and Kim, who were traveling through Israel and Egypt on their two week vacation. The two were headed from Jerusalem to the city of Eilat on the southern tip of Israel and then on to Cairo. This was the same path I was on so we decided to travel together. The Taba border crossing in the south was the only passage open to foreigners between Israel and Egypt. We were warned that we needed to hurry and get across the border and out of the Sinai region as soon as possible. It was Wednesday and that Friday began the week long Jewish holiday of Passover. The border would soon be packed with young Israelis crossing into the Sinai for the holiday. The three of us left for the central bus station in order to catch the bus to Eilat.

I arrived in Eilat at 4am that morning and walked myself to the nearest hostel. After a brief conversation with the night desk clerk of the establishment, I soon learned that I would have to visit the Egyptian consulate to have a new entry visa issued. The Taba crossing does not issue visas at the border; therefore I would have to visit the consulate when they opened in a few hours (which meant yet another night of no sleep). Also, the desk clerk informed me that a travel warning was just posted about possible presence of al-Qaida terrorists in the Sinai region. In 2005 and 2006, terrorists detonated bombs in tourist locations during the Israeli Passover holiday killing numerous people. Nothing happened in 2007, but intelligence recently received information that a couple of terrorists from the Sudan had made it into Sinai, and were planning an attack in the coastal region. The local news and papers warned all Israelis and westerners to avoid the area if all possible. This meant that I needed to get my visa, cross the border into Sinai and quickly head straight for Cairo. This was my plan anyway, since I’d already been to Dahab and Nuweiba, but this alert gave me a little more incentive not to delay.


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Photo Credits Hadar Josh Wandajs Betta Design Epublicist