09.11.04
We recently had our third field study which was titled "The City of Jerusalem in Biblical Times." This was, by a wide margin, the most interesting excursion we've taken thus far.
It began at 7:00 A.M., with breakfast starting earlier than usual at a quarter after six. After our less "motivated" students managed to drag themselves to the rendezvous, we headed out the front gate and down the stone street. After only a few hundred meters, we were directed to sit in the shadow of the wall of the Old City. Everyone made themselves nice and "comfortable" on an available rock and out came the pens, pencils, and field manuals as Dr. Wright began to shed light on the historical significance of our current surroundings. The walls were fantastically tall, throwing their proud shadows in the early hour nearly across the valley. While most of the stone dates from the repairs done to the wall by the Turkish ruler Suleiman, some sections still remain from the Hasmonean era of Jewish history (167 - 37 B.C). These older stones are much large than their modern successors, trumping them also in beauty as they are all uniformly beveled about their edges.
After packing away our pens, pencils, and field manuals and allowing sensation to return to our bums, we were on the move again. In keeping with the motif of walls, we were next led to the remains of a wall constructed by King Hezekiah. The remains had been excavated only after the "modern" construction of the city (within the last 200 years) and were a number of meters below street level. Looking down on it from the observation platform, one might be tempted to be rather unimpressed, but at the time of its construction it was certainly a monumental structure. The wall was roughly twenty-three feet…in width. It stood the same distance (eight meters) in the air. The out surfaces of the wall displayed a better cut and polished stone than the interior which was simply filled with stones of haphazard cut and size. This method of wall-construction was very intentional for as time passes and the wall is tested (by rainwater, earthquake, battering rams, etc.), the stones thrown into the center section settle together and become even more tightly packed. This is the type of wall built to withstand a siege. This is the type of wall which laughs at battering rams and war machines of invading armies. This is the type of wall which protects God's chosen people: immense, immovable, and impenetrable by the forces of armies and the passage of time. It stands as a reminder, at least to me, of the promise which we have so gracefully been given.
I was awakened from my revelry by zippers, snaps, and straps as everyone stowed their pens, pencils, and field manuals in preparation for the next leg of our journey. The walk was further this time, leading us through passageways of bedrock and down toward Gihon spring whose waters were diverted in ancient times as a crucial source of freshwater for the city. We were shown a shaft descending roughly thirty-eight feet into which one could lower a bucket and draw water. This shaft was discovered in the late 19th century by a man named Warren. This shaft led Warren to the connecting tunnel below which carried the diverted waters of the Gihon spring. This was Hezekiah's tunnel. After excavating these alluring archaeological finds in the name of the Queen, Warren returned to England and soon had the run of Scotland Yard. Eventually, however, he was forced to resign as he was unable to capture the notorious Jack the Ripper. Some have suggested that Warren simply did not "want" to capture him, as "Jack" was a member of his excavation team during his time in the Holy Land. This is merely suggestion.
After one of our group lost a pen through a metal grate upon which we were standing, we were led finally to the entrance to Hezekiah's tunnel. Hezekiah was a ruler in the Southern Kingdom during the later periods of the Divided Monarchy. He was one of two kings of Judah to attempt to reform the society and reestablish their devotion to God. But his crowning achievement was the construction of this tunnel (1 Kings 20:20). It stretches 1,750 feet from without the city to within, over one hundred feet below the surface. After replacing our pens, pencils, and field manuals in our packs, we cinched and secured any gear that was going in with us and stepped into the cool water. The water ranged from one to three feet in depth, with the latter splashing against our thighs before long. It varied in both width and height with sufficient room to move but not enough to meander and room to hunch over but not enough to stand. Occasionally it would expand to allow turning about, and at times the rock overhead would retreat to perhaps fifteen feet. It was quite an experience, scurrying through that tunnel. It is not every weekend that one finds himself knee-deep in water flowing through a 2,700 year old tunnel with an immense amount of rock above his head, enshrouded in a suffocating black when his lantern is extinguished. I had a great time.
After recessing for lunch and a quick change of knickers, we were off again, this time to the City of David. There was nothing particular inspiring or aesthetic lying about our perch on the southern end of the eastern hill, but one could easily appreciate the ancient picture the vista painted for him (that is of course, if he stopped furiously scribbling in his field manual with pen and pencil long enough to look up). It is, perhaps, only on a roof of a building owned by a Jewish resettlement organization standing where David's citadel likely rested, that one is able to imagine what King David might have seen on his afternoon walk across the ramparts. What he might have seen on the roofs of his peoples' houses below him. What he might have seen, perhaps, on Uriah's roof. Needless to say, the Biblical accounts are lent fresh clarity when the fog of thousands of years and thousands of miles is removed.
Our early morning began to whisper in our ears as we walked on, feet moving more slowly and eyes not quite as wide, some still holding their pens, pencils, and field manuals at the ready. We passed through a security checkpoint and into what days long past would have been the plaza and street dwarfed by the [Second] Temple of the Lord. We stopped for lecture in the shade of some massive stones. Looking down on our group were the remains of Robinson's Arch, who originally thought that the stone fragments extruding from the wall were part of a bridge spanning the distance between Herod's palace and the Temple. It has since been concluded that the protrusions and their broken remains (in whose shade we were comfortable lounging) formed a large, three-tiered staircase leading up to the plaza surrounding the building which housed the Holy of Holies. The stones planned and laid by King Herod's workers lie untouched and unrestored. Unrestored for they have no need of restoration. Herod likely viewed himself too great a king to be limited by such a small city as Jerusalem. He deserved majesty. He deserved splendor. He deserved recognition. And if he wasn't given it by the Roman emperors, then he would build it. Herod's grasp for greatness yielded the Second Temple: the largest building ever built for the express purpose of worshipping a single deity. At its time, it was the pinnacle of religious edifice. Constructed with stones of enormous bulk, three, four, and five times the mass of stones used to build the pyramids of Egypt. Rising abruptly from the street below, its walls command your eyes to scale their height and consider their import. At union of the southern and western wall at its apex was the spot from which the trumpeter gained the attention of the entire city. It was likely at the peak that Christ was tempted by Satan. It was a structure without parallel. The main street of the city ran along its broad should, thus everyone who entered Jerusalem would have done so with his vision full of the Temple. Requiring forty years to complete, it would have been brand-new in Jesus' day, the pride of the people and the redemption of the Jewish heart. And it would be destroyed and rebuilt in three days? (John 2:18-19)
When Dr. Wright had spoken his part and everyone had dutifully archived his words, we meandered for a few minutes, marveling at the ruins on the street beside the Temple wall. Some were slow to gather their pens, pencils, and field manuals and join the rest of the group, but we soon thereafter came to the steps leading up to the Temple. The steps. Not a reproduction. Not a restoration. The steps that lead up to the Temple. It was customary for Pharisees and rabbis to stand on these steps as their disciple and followers would gather about them and preach their doctrine to all who would hear. This is where this took place. These are the steps upon which Saul (Paul) would have been instructed. These are the steps upon which Christ taught (John 7:14).
By this time I had long since abandoned fumbling with my pen, pencil, and field manual and instead contented to sit and listen, absorbing as much as I could of the lecture and my surroundings. Hence, I was the first one prepared to move to the next site, and the last one to leave, as I was forced to suffer the slow pace of those members of the group who were muddling up my photographic composition. The sinking sun welcomed our arrival at our final point of historical significance: the pool of Bethesda (John 5). It was here that in Jesus' day the blind, sick, lame, and all other physically unable people would come and lay beneath the five porticoes. Jesus upon one of his visits to Jerusalem happened upon a man here who had been ill for thirty-eight years and asked him if he desired to be well. At the command of Jesus, the man rose up and walked. (The healed man subsequently made his way to the Temple, where we just were). Also on the grounds of this ancient pool is the Church of St. Anne. This is the traditional place of the birth of the Virgin Mary. We made our way into the church, quietly and respectfully. The building was constructed during the time of the Crusades, and the soaring columns and lofty arches pay great tribute to the noble aims of that era. After we were all seated, save for Cami who stood at the front with Dr. Wright, he explained that the church was designed with a slant to acoustics. It is known for its seven-second resonance. Cami led the group in several songs, all hymns, as they best fit the majestic ambiance. Once the final voices ceased, the ending pitch continued on for a full seven seconds. Count them: one…….two…….three…….four…….five…….six…….seven…….It was an incredible sound. Upon our exit, Cami was consoled in her future absence at the choir's performance at Carnegie Hall, for the grandeur of the old stone walls and the glass-like clarity of voice render quite diminutive the best efforts of modern architecture.
We all returned to the school and rapidly retired to our dorms, our classes the next day already tugging on our eyelids. I removed my pen, pencil, and field manual from my bag and set them on the desk. I forewent their regular storage in the drawer for I would need them first thing in the morning. With a full day behind me, one of which few people of my culture and class ever dream, I slipped into bed and quietly surrendered to the dreams of fantastic places I've yet to be.
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