April-May, 1933
T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
131
As we slowly approach the Church of the Holy Sepul chre, our ears are assailed by the cries of the Oriental ven ders, of types such as Christ Himself must have known here in Jerusalem. Young girls from Bethlehem are selling olive-wood rosaries and altar candles. Moslem men in flow ing headdress offer Turkish delight and roasted peanuts; a tall, handsome, fezzed Syrian pours cooling drinks of iced red lemonade from a huge bottle swung by straps over his left shoulder. Two Greek money changers elide together English shillings and Egyptian piastres as they sit cross- legged before little glass cases which contain the money of thirty nations; an old Bethlehem shepherd wearing a yel low sheepskin stops to change a handful of small local coins for a United States dollar bill. T he C hurch of the H oly S epulchre Pressing on, we enter and travel in the perpetual gloom of the bazaar until we reach a narrow arch which leads to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, a great, domed struc ture which is shared by many of the Christian churches. The open forecourt here is regarded as the place where the multitude stood to watch the crucifixion of Jesus. Across the court, and within the Church of the Holy Sepul chre, is the traditional rock of Calvary. In step with the endless procession which daily enters throughout the year but which is increased a hundredfold at Easter time, we move through the high door of the church, the great dome of which covers the traditional spot hallowed by Christ’s martyrdom and burial. The Christian Emperor Constantine raised this church; the Crusaders battled long years for it; the mighty kings of the earth have sent here rich gifts for all to behold. Under the high rotunda of the church itself, there stands an aging ornate marble structure about thirty feet high, twenty-five feet long, and half as wide, covered with colored candles, gold and silver lamps, and glass globes between which are paintings of Scriptural scenes. This is thought by many to be the tomb of Christ. The space within the tomb is so small that it will barely hold our party of three persons at one time. It is dimly lighted with candles; a Greek priest explains the meaning of the place. Set into the wall, there is a white marble slab resting upon another slab, forming a box or ledge. This box represents the sepulchre of Christ. E aster C elebrations In describing the high points of the Easter celebrations in Jerusalem, one begins with Palm Sunday, when solemn patriarchs of the various Eastern Christian churches bless and distribute fresh palms cut from the newer plantings about Palestine. These branches are eagerly grasped and waved by the people to form a heaving sea of green in the court of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and in the near-by streets. Holy Week sees daily ceremonies at the various churches, between attendance at which the pilgrims flock to places made sacred by association with Christ’s life in Jerusalem and vicinity. Groups of the faithful hold ser vices among the shadows cast by very ancient olive trees in the Garden of Gethsemane; they pray on the Mount of Olives and at the various stations in the Street of Sorrows, or Via Dolorosa, along which Christ bore His cross. Others visit the temple area on Mount Moriah or wander through the monastery which now stands upon the foundation stones of the house of Pontius Pilate. The fervent wor ship continues over the city from dawn until well after sunset; each night sees a host of tired pilgrims ready for slumber under the Judaean stars. The ceremonies on Easter Sunday itself are simple in comparison with the services of Passion Week. The day [Continued on page 139]
berias, Cana and Nazareth, and the hill towns of Samaria into Judaea may enjoy perhaps a hundred miles of Pales tine’s rolling country all painted in the rainbow hues of springtime. And no matter where one may turn, one hears the urge of the Master to “consider the lilies of the field, how they grow.” Scarlet poppy, purple lupine, pink ole ander, gay anemone, and other flowers bloom everywhere to the accompaniment of sweet lark song out of blue skies. One rejoices with the psalmist who writes: “And the hills are girded with joy . . . The valleys . . . they shout for joy, they also sing.” At the beginning of Easter week, large groups of pil grims coming by land and sea from many directions con verge upon Jerusalem to live again the events of Passion Week. I have met them en route from Persian mud vil lages, from far Russian steppes, from wild Abyssinia, from Europe and the two Americas, and the islands beyond the sea, each group wearing its “Sunday best” in national costumes. By railroad they come from Cairo, and by tour ist steamer landing at Jaffa and Haifa. From thirty to forty thousand Christian pilgrims come annually. They fill to overflowing khans, hospices, automobiles, donkey and camel caravans, ships, and trains en route to the Holy City. Many of these people are very poor, but they go on foot the length and breadth of Palestine, carrying with them their family Bibles, prayer books, and icons. Jerusalem is always interesting, but never more so than at Easter time. For then both the narrow, arched-over streets within the old walled city and the broad thorough fares outside the historic gates are thronged with humanity. These people fill the hospices and monasteries; they crowd into the various churches and shrines; they wear colors in greater variety than those in Joseph’s coat; and they speak dozens of languages which blend to produce the sound which must have been heard at the Tower of Babel. A F ull C ity Now let us consider the aspect of Jerusalem, a city which covers less than a square mile of uneven ground, strongly walled in and at first glance built solid with flat- topped stone houses, but through which somehow run streets too narrow for vehicles to pass. The old city contains perhaps twenty to thirty thousand persons, and even these citizens, when astir with everyday visitors and their goods, sheep, goats, and donkeys, crowd the streets. Then consider the result of bringing in an ad ditional fifteen or twenty thousand souls, the majority of whom are packed along the Via Dolorosa and in Chris tian Street which leads to the Church of the Holy Sepul chre. You may be sure that extra police are needed to keep crowds moving in order that “business as usual” may go on in market place and bazaar. As early as the day after Palm Sunday, the crowd be gins to swell within the Holy City. We enter by the popular Jaffa Gate, going down David Street, from which we turn into Christian Street which leads us through the bazaars of the “unchanging East” to ward the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Even now the crowd is so dense that headway is slow. Today in Jerusalem (to mention a few of the peoples 'in the town) we shall rub elbows with whiskered blond Siberian peasant men wearing coarse boots, with Ethiopian priests in tall black caps, with soldiers of many nations, with a Mexican villager and his good wife who wears the shawl of her mothers, with groups of veiled Mohammedan women carrying head-burdens, with well-tailored English men, Frenchmen, Germans, and Italians, with desert Bed ouins wearing camel’s hair coats, with head-shawled sheiks of Damascus and Bagdad, with Polish Jews garbed in sol emn black, here for the Passover, with Greek, Latin, Ar menian, and Coptic clergy in their splendid gowns of office.
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