Read Isaiah 2.1-5
“In the days to come,
the mountain of the Lord’s house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains…
All the nations shall stream to it….
‘Come, let us to up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the house of the God of Jacob;
that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.’” (Is. 2.2-3)
If you are reading this in the morning, it is already late afternoon in Jerusalem. Today, all day long, pilgrims have been streaming into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre; the only time there is no crowd there
is at 6:00 am, just after the doors are unlocked. By 8:00 or 9:00 the courtyard in front of the church is filled with people from all over the globe—groups of Africans in their colorful caftans, sturdy-looking older women from Eastern Europe, and groups from Asia and Germany and America. Cameras around their necks, they cluster around their tour guides to hear about this odd-looking building, which looks like two churches stuck together like mis-matched Siamese twins. The two churches fight for space over this place where it is believed that Jesus was crucified and buried. According to the tradition of the Jerusalem community of the followers of Christ, this is the place where Jesus was crucified. In the first century, this area was outside the walls of the city, near an abandoned stone quarry, where tombs were carved in the rock. Pilgrims have been coming to this site since the first century. Photo shows today's pilgrims entering the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is in the heart of Jerusalem. Last summer, as the sun rose over the hills to the east, I stood on the terrace of the guesthouse at the convent of Ecce Homo, and looked out over all of the city. Jerusalem is built on a cluster of hills—the Old City is on one of the highest hills; across to the east is the Mount of Olives, to the west the new city with its highrise apartments. The sun reflects off the white stone and the city shines. As I looked to the south I could see, just a block or two away, the Temple Mount. In recent years, the Temple Mount has gained notoriety as the site of protests, where rock-throwing young men protest Israeli restrictions on Palestinian movement, or the killing of Palestians by the Israeli military. But the Temple Mount is more that that; it is the mountain of the Lord where the house of the God of Jacob was built; it is the mountain Isaiah sees in his vision. Photo is the Temple Mount from the Ecce Homo convent.
Touring Jerusalem, I have seen the fulfillment of Isaiah’s visi
on—a holy mount where “all nations” come to hear God’s teaching and walk in God’s path through the streets of the Old City. Each day thousands of pilgrims walk Jerusalem’s streets—walking the cobblestones through the suq to reverence the first-century pavement in the Antonia Fortress where Jesus was brought before Pilate, to see the cells hewn out of the stone beneath the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu where prisoners were held before being brought before Herod. Everywhere I walk in Jerusalem’s Old City, I see people of all nations—here Jews walk by the Arab shopkeepers’ stalls on their way to the Western Wall for Friday Shabbat; Muslims stand in line to go through security so they can pray at the Al Aksa Mosque, on a walkway built above the Western Wall where Jews rock as they pray with their prayerbooks. Christians from Senegal and Ghana and Italy and the U.S. pray with the Jews at the Wall and walk the grounds on the Temple Mount as Muslims gather for prayers.
That’s on a good day—when there are no rock-throwing groups of young Muslim men protesting the closure of the Temple Mount by Israeli soldiers, when there are no barricades blocking access to the streets of the Old City for fear of violence.
But every day, always and everywhere, there are the green-uniformed soldiers of Israel’s army and the blue-uniformed Israeli police. One time when I was walking back to our tour bus after praying at the Western Wall, I was watching a line of Jewish schoolgirls who had been praying with me. They, too, were walking in single file back to their bus, lined up with the other buses at the Lion’s gate. Suddenly I noticed a young man with a machine gun strapped to his backpack, following the girls. What was this man doing? Was he going to attack the girls? Shoot at the crowd? It was a big gun and I began to panic. I looked around and no one else seemed concerned. Why wasn’t anyone paying attention? Luckily, I didn’t scream or run over to the police, but I did keep watching the man, as he continued to follow the girls….to their school bus, where they filed onto the bus as he stood guard by the door.
There it all was—everything in Isaiah’s vision….the power of the sword, but also, in this holiest of holy places, the power of God’s holiness and God’s goodness, that power of God, which will ultimately prevail, to bring us all—Christians, Muslims, Jews, Africans, Europeans, Americans, Asians—from all the corners of the globe to “the mountain of the Lord’s house.” Isaiah’s vision has not fully been realized, but in Jerusalem it is possible to get a glimpse of what God’s future will look like….a reminder to us that what seems impossible is possible for God—hope for us in this season of hope. Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord…..consider traveling to the Holy Land to see the places where Jesus walked.
God of all hope, in this season of waiting, you remind us that our reality is not the last word. Help us to hold fast to Isaiah’s vision of reconciliation between the nations; give us energy and courage to work for reconciliation, so that someday we can take our unused swords and beat them into plowshares for the feeding of the world. Amen.
“In the days to come,
the mountain of the Lord’s house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains…
All the nations shall stream to it….
‘Come, let us to up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the house of the God of Jacob;
that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.’” (Is. 2.2-3)
If you are reading this in the morning, it is already late afternoon in Jerusalem. Today, all day long, pilgrims have been streaming into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre; the only time there is no crowd there
is at 6:00 am, just after the doors are unlocked. By 8:00 or 9:00 the courtyard in front of the church is filled with people from all over the globe—groups of Africans in their colorful caftans, sturdy-looking older women from Eastern Europe, and groups from Asia and Germany and America. Cameras around their necks, they cluster around their tour guides to hear about this odd-looking building, which looks like two churches stuck together like mis-matched Siamese twins. The two churches fight for space over this place where it is believed that Jesus was crucified and buried. According to the tradition of the Jerusalem community of the followers of Christ, this is the place where Jesus was crucified. In the first century, this area was outside the walls of the city, near an abandoned stone quarry, where tombs were carved in the rock. Pilgrims have been coming to this site since the first century. Photo shows today's pilgrims entering the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is in the heart of Jerusalem. Last summer, as the sun rose over the hills to the east, I stood on the terrace of the guesthouse at the convent of Ecce Homo, and looked out over all of the city. Jerusalem is built on a cluster of hills—the Old City is on one of the highest hills; across to the east is the Mount of Olives, to the west the new city with its highrise apartments. The sun reflects off the white stone and the city shines. As I looked to the south I could see, just a block or two away, the Temple Mount. In recent years, the Temple Mount has gained notoriety as the site of protests, where rock-throwing young men protest Israeli restrictions on Palestinian movement, or the killing of Palestians by the Israeli military. But the Temple Mount is more that that; it is the mountain of the Lord where the house of the God of Jacob was built; it is the mountain Isaiah sees in his vision. Photo is the Temple Mount from the Ecce Homo convent.
Touring Jerusalem, I have seen the fulfillment of Isaiah’s visi
on—a holy mount where “all nations” come to hear God’s teaching and walk in God’s path through the streets of the Old City. Each day thousands of pilgrims walk Jerusalem’s streets—walking the cobblestones through the suq to reverence the first-century pavement in the Antonia Fortress where Jesus was brought before Pilate, to see the cells hewn out of the stone beneath the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu where prisoners were held before being brought before Herod. Everywhere I walk in Jerusalem’s Old City, I see people of all nations—here Jews walk by the Arab shopkeepers’ stalls on their way to the Western Wall for Friday Shabbat; Muslims stand in line to go through security so they can pray at the Al Aksa Mosque, on a walkway built above the Western Wall where Jews rock as they pray with their prayerbooks. Christians from Senegal and Ghana and Italy and the U.S. pray with the Jews at the Wall and walk the grounds on the Temple Mount as Muslims gather for prayers.That’s on a good day—when there are no rock-throwing groups of young Muslim men protesting the closure of the Temple Mount by Israeli soldiers, when there are no barricades blocking access to the streets of the Old City for fear of violence.
But every day, always and everywhere, there are the green-uniformed soldiers of Israel’s army and the blue-uniformed Israeli police. One time when I was walking back to our tour bus after praying at the Western Wall, I was watching a line of Jewish schoolgirls who had been praying with me. They, too, were walking in single file back to their bus, lined up with the other buses at the Lion’s gate. Suddenly I noticed a young man with a machine gun strapped to his backpack, following the girls. What was this man doing? Was he going to attack the girls? Shoot at the crowd? It was a big gun and I began to panic. I looked around and no one else seemed concerned. Why wasn’t anyone paying attention? Luckily, I didn’t scream or run over to the police, but I did keep watching the man, as he continued to follow the girls….to their school bus, where they filed onto the bus as he stood guard by the door.
There it all was—everything in Isaiah’s vision….the power of the sword, but also, in this holiest of holy places, the power of God’s holiness and God’s goodness, that power of God, which will ultimately prevail, to bring us all—Christians, Muslims, Jews, Africans, Europeans, Americans, Asians—from all the corners of the globe to “the mountain of the Lord’s house.” Isaiah’s vision has not fully been realized, but in Jerusalem it is possible to get a glimpse of what God’s future will look like….a reminder to us that what seems impossible is possible for God—hope for us in this season of hope. Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord…..consider traveling to the Holy Land to see the places where Jesus walked.
God of all hope, in this season of waiting, you remind us that our reality is not the last word. Help us to hold fast to Isaiah’s vision of reconciliation between the nations; give us energy and courage to work for reconciliation, so that someday we can take our unused swords and beat them into plowshares for the feeding of the world. Amen.
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