So after waiting in line for about an hour to get access to this computer I feel as if I should have a lot to say.. but now I’ve kind of lost most of it. Anyhow…. I’m currently at a hostel just outside of the Damascus Gate (in the Old City) of Jerusalem. We arrived this afternoon without much fanfare… getting through the border was realllly simple and quite efficient actually.

The painful disparity between Israel & the West Bank was terribly real as we drove through areas with dirty tents & shacks in one valley.. while on the next hill was a settlement with beautiful houses looking like a snapshot out of any American suburb. Carolyn asked, “Where do you think those people (in the tents) came from?” … and Liz answered, “Well ..they bulldozed part of two villages recently.. maybe thats where they’re from.”

Once we got to town the day became mostly a time of wandering around the Old City’s souqs (markets) .. and just hanging out seeing different holy sites.

We walked the Via Delarosa (the route Jesus took while carrying the cross).. and found the world in which he lived so far removed from all the vendors and noise and calls to prayer .. that it was hard to imagine the scene that is so emblazoned on my mind from the Passion.

Being here is such a strange experience… its just like I imagined, and yet nothing like it, all at the same time. Having been around Jordan & Syria I’ve realized that seeing ancient sites is much different than I’d thought before… most of the time its just a bunch of rocks and you have to use a wild imagination in order to conjure up any resemblance of what it was once like – and Jerusalem is no different. …. and yet it is different….

I went to the Church of the Holy Seplucre .. and was fairly overwhelmed by it all. At the end of the Via Delarosa is the church .. standing where other more ancient churches once stood to honor the site believed to be the location where Jesus died .. and the rock that tradition says his cross sat on is able to be seen and touched (or kissed) by pilgrims.

The church is mostly maintained by the Greek Othodox, although there is a small portion controlled by the Catholics…. the sheer number of icons is not even fathomable. As soon as I walked in my breath was taken away by all the hanging lanterns, shrines, alters, candles, paintings, mosaics, etc.. its a crazy place to be honest. Somehow it just doesn’t even feel like a place Jesus died (not to say it isn’t true)… its just hard to even picture a hill, or the tomb,.. or anything without all the ornate furnishings that are now there.

I noticed one thing that seemed a bit strange, not necessarily bad, but just kinda unbalanced.. Granted it is the place people think he died and there should be solidarity… but there is nothing in the paintings or in the demeanor of the huge church that shows the resurrection – which was the highlight of the whole story. I duno.. I guess thats something I’d wanna change if I worked there. =)

Anyways…. onto another topic… I also visited the Wailing Wall (the remnant wall of the last temple, and part of the temple mount: on top sits the Dome of the Rock & al Aqsa mosque).

I really hadn’t expected much… and I’m not sure quite why, but the thought of seeing a bunch of hasidic Jews praying didn’t really do much for me. I figured it’d be cool to go see though. However, I was extremely moved… in fact… to tears which is fairly out of character.

While standing in the women’s quarter I hopped up onto a chair in order to get a better look of the men’s side, which seemed much more active & vocal in their prayers. One man in particular stood out to me… in greyish sackcloth he was fervently rocking back & forth, leading a group in prayer… literally wailing & crying out to God for his people. I became mesmerized and couldn’t stop watching this man… so fervant .. so unfaltering .. so passionate.. and so broken. It was as if he could not stop if he had wanted to – his sorrow rooted in the deepest part of his being. What he was praying specifically about I do not know… but I know seeing him really touched me – as if for a brief moment I was able to feel some of his agony.. his pain.

What does that mean? I don’t know… .. it was so unexpected… yet remarkably moving.

I think its really easy to become hardened to the situation here between the two sides of the river.. but right there I suddenly saw the humanity – the reality that both mourn for their people.. both cry to God for help, for an end .. for peace.

There were soldiers all around … it seems most Israelis I saw today were soldiers in fact… all young, maybe 18-20yrs old .. carrying huge machine guns .. and part of this ugly, brutal cycle. Here at the wall they stood… machine guns and all.. rocking… praying .. and reading Torah.

It was all just so strange.

It feels as is the world has gone mad sometimes. We talked amongst ourselves as we left the wall that neither side is willing to recognize the other as fully human .. always depicted as monsters. Yet line them all up – the Jews, the Christians & the Muslims from this part of the world … and they all outwardly look the same. Often looking like they could be from the same set of parents – yet totally unrecognizable to one another.

I often wonder if I say too much .. I wonder if my thoughts are too hard to follow as I recount them & write them here… I really want people to see the struggle.. the process I’m going through trying to understand this situation, as well as myself as I encounter all this. I wanted to change my banner to say “Real Life: Unscripted” as a way of explaining what this blog really is for me. Its a way to let you in to a very real journey – my life – without borders ..

So thanks for reading and for trying to keep up with this crazy ride. =)