5: Mount of Olives
The Mount of Olives is my favourite part of Jerusalem. This was where Jesus would make his home when visiting the Holy City, where he was arrested, and from where he ascended.
Many scholars suggest, with good reason, that Jesus’ domicile during his visits to the Holy City was with Mary and Martha in Bethany, a place we visited the day before we explored the richness of those beautiful and holy sites on the Mount of Olives.
Bethany is just on the other side of the mount. Today it is a Palestinian town, cut off from Jerusalem. My friend Asad, a Palestinian Christian, told me that he lives in the area around Bethany. His office is in East Jerusalem, and he holds an Israeli ID card. To reach his workplace (and his little daughter’s school), he must pass through an Israeli checkpoint—one of those which our group was made to go through on leaving Bethlehem—that separates the two cities. Often, even his Israeli ID card won’t assure access to the city of his birth and work. So he must make a huge detour via Hebron to reach his work. A short trip of ten minutes now takes two hours. Every day.

Jesus and his hosts in Bethany had no such concerns. At Mary and Martha’s the disputes would centre on who would do the dishes. The gospel’s account of Mary being positioned “at Jesus’ feet” has some relevance even today. Mary did not physically sit at Jesus’ feet; that position is a code for being instructed by a master. So Mary was Jesus’ pupil, a disciple. This was quite revolutionary at a rampantly patriarchal time when women were regarded as being of little worth. Jesus was, for the standards of his time, a radical feminist. By teaching women — there is little doubt that he also instructed Mary Magdalene — he elevated their status in the nascent Christian sect.
Alas, the traditionalist Peter did not approve of women’s raised status, and Paul much less so. The role of women in the Church steadily diminished. The Church has not always succeeded in treating women as it ought to. The question today is whether the Church is beginning to succeed.
And so back to the Mount of Olives. We started on top of the mount, where a tiny former chapel, now a mosque, marks the supposed spot from where Jesus ascended. A foot imprint in a stone is said to be that of Jesus as he lifted off.
From there one descends on foot towards Paternoster church, where Jesus reputedly taught the disciples the Our Father. It is a lovely place, maintained by the Carmelites. The Lord’s Prayer is represented on plaques throughout the church and courtyard walls in all sorts of languages and dialects. On previous visits I had found the Zulu, Sotho and Afrikaans plaques. This time I also saw the Our Father in Ndebele and Swazi.
I was pleased to see my old friend the blind beggar again. He has been working the gates to Paternoster church each of the five times I have been there since 1999.
A little more than halfway down the mount is Dominus Flevit church, where the Lord wept for Jerusalem. The location provides a magnificent panorama of Jerusalem’s Old City, dominated by the golden dome (literally 24 carat golden) of the extravagant mosque on Temple Mount. When Jesus gazed at the city, he would have seen the imposing temple of the Jews.
We had Mass at Dominus Flevit church. Being so close to the Garden of Gethsemane and the mental anguish Our Lord suffered there, I offered a prayer for those suffering mentally, that their torment may be eased; for those who are contemplating suicide, that they may find hope; and for the souls of those who have committed suicide, that God may forgive and embrace them in his loving arms.
After a brief visit to Mary’s tomb and the Garden of Gethsemane, we visited the Temple Mount, which we had looked at earlier from Dominus Flevit church.
The Western Wall, holy to Jews, and the mosques on Temple Mount, both holy to Muslims, are virtually on top of each other. With so much prayer in such a little space, why can there not be peace in the Holy Land?
In the evening we returned to the Garden of Gethsemane, and to the church of All Nations, for Holy Hour. There are many reasons why I love the church of All Nations (or the church of the Agony, as it is also called). A very personal and intense experience on a previous pilgrimage is one. The extraordinary, richly symbolic architecture by the genius Antonio Barluzzi is another. But above all, it is the place that commemorates the tormented prayers of Jesus before his arrest, trial and execution. It is here that we encounter Christ at his most vulnerable, most human. It is here that he prayed in desperation, asking God to be spared his suffering, and where he accepted his Passion. Should there be only one place for Christian prayer in the Holy Land, it is here. So it was appropriate that we had Holy Hour here, gathered around the reputed rock on which Jesus sat as he despairingly prayed to the Father.
Members of our group prostrated themselves on the (now worn down) rock, bringing to God their innermost concerns, hopes and fears. For many, this was a deeply emotional exercise. Several later told me that to them, Holy Hour at the church of All Nations was the highlight of their pilgrimage. May God have heard their prayers.
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