IN THE HOLY
LAND
CHAPTER VI.
MORE
ABOUT JERUSALEM
Incredible traditionsThe Empress Helena and the
Church of the Holy Sepulchre The Latin EasterVisit to the
churchScenes at the entrancePassing tht Turkish guardsThe
stone of unctionDifferent portions of the structureYoung priests as
guidesPiling up of wondersTraditional CalvaryThe rent
rock Description of the empty sepulchreOne of the
worshippersSentiment and superstitionThe various scenes of the
passion enactedTurkish soldiers keeping order- Plaintive
musicProcessionLife-like image of Christ crucifiedDramatic
sermon The taking down from the crossMonsignor Capel exhorting
Protestant hereticsProcession from Calvary to the
sepulchreInfluence of the spectacleGreek Easter as described by
othersDoes this church contain the real scenes of the crucifixion and the
resurrection?Reasons for doubting, topographical and historical
Wisdom of Providence in this uncertainty Visit to the lepers'
tentsHours in Gethsemane.
THE objects within the walls of Jerusalem that can be
identified with certainty as of Biblical interest, might almost be counted on
the fingers of our two hands. The remark is likely to be disappointing; but it
is better to bow at once before the stern fact, than to incur the worse
disappointment of having to give up rashly-formed and romantic beliefs.
No doubt, if you will abandon yourself to unquestioning sentiment and easy
credulity, there are monkish guides who will hang a tradition on the corner of
every street, and make the very stones in the walls vocal with sacred memories.
They will even show you the house where Dives lived, and the spot where poor
Lazarus lay; they will conduct you to a modern Turkish barrack in the Via
Dolorosa, and assure you that this is the old palace of Pontius Pilate; they
will point you to a mark in the wall of the same street, which was made by the
the cross of Jesus when he bent beneath his burden and it was transferred to
the willing shoulders of Simon the Cyrenian ; and if your credulity does not
yet seem strained to breaking, they will venture to lead you to the
roosting-place where the cock crew that brought Peter's sin to his remembrance.
All these, and twenty other "puerilities" and "incredibilities," are seen to be
utterly worthless, and unreal as the baseless fabric of a vision, in the
presence of the simple fact, to which both Josephus and the elder Pliny bear
witness, that "within the first Christian century the Romans so levelled to the
ground the whole circuit of the city, that, with the exception of three towers
left to exhibit the greatness of the Roman prowess in destroying it, it
presented to a stranger no token of its ever having been inhabited; and this
most renowned city, not only of Judea, but of the East, had become a funeral
pile." The structures of modern Jerusalem are built upon the accumulated ruins
of eighteen hundred years; and to find the Jerusalem of our Lord's times you
must dig down to fifty, and sometimes even to eighty, feet beneath the present
surface. It is not without a good deal of lingering regret that one yields
himself up to the consequences of such details, and allows them to sweep away
what it would have been so much more agreeable to retain. When we were
conducted, for instance, to the spacious apartment now called the "Caenaculum,"
we should have liked to believe that it was the actual upper room in which our
Lord observed his last Passover with his disciples and instituted the Lord's
Supper, and in which soon afterwards the great Pentecostal effusion took place
with its cloven tongues of fire and its glorious Spirit-baptisms. We could have
said to modern criticism, with its iron hand making such rude work with the ivy
and the flowers, "At least, spare us this." But it would not do. Not only the
facts we have named, but the architectural style of the edifice, made us feel
that this tradition must go with the others.
But there is one place, at
least, in Jerusalem, which it would be unreasonable to set aside after this
summary fashion. About the year 300, the Empress Helena, the aged mother of
Constantine, believing that she had discovered both the Calvary where our Lord
was crucified and the rocky tomb in which he was buried, and from which he rose
again on the third day, built a church within which she inclosed both these
sacred spots, and which continues to be known to this day as "the Church of the
Holy Sepulchre," When the original building on which the venerable Empress had
expended so much of her enthusiasm and treasure had nearly perished through
decay and violence, it was rebuilt on the same site by the Crusaders; and
though a large portion of it was destroyed by fire near the beginning of the
present century, it was speedily restored, and continues to occupy the same
spot as it did fifteen long centuries ago. During all those intervening ages,
the eye of nearly all Christendom has been turned to it, in the sincere belief
that it enshrines and protects the actual scenes of our Redeemer's crucifixion
and resurrection. When it passed for a time into the hands of the Moslem, the
heart of Christian Europe was stirred and its best blood shed for its recovery;
even in our matter-of-fact days, the contest of rival powers for the honour of
protecting it had something to do with the origination of the Crimean War;
while every year, thousands of pilgrims, with much toil and sacrifice, come
from every quarter of the earth to this world-renowned sanctuary, that they may
gaze, and weep, and wonder, and worship on those very spots where the
redemption of man was accomplished.
We reserve the question of the
veritable genuineness of these spots for a later portion of our chapter, that
we may first look upon the scenes which are meanwhile being enacted within its
walls. This may help to reconcile us to the conclusion to which it is not
impossible that we may be forced. It so happened that the week spent by us in
Jerusalem was the week of the Latin Easter, which gave us an opportunity of
witnessing scenes within this venerable edifice that filled us with
astonishment, ' shame, and sorrow, but out of which, we are convinced, lessons
of no little value may be evolved.
You approach the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre through an open court surrounded on almost every side by miserable
looking convents. There is a noisy traffic going on in the court, in coloured
beads, fans, spices, carved shells, oil of roses, and sandal wood, all of which
have been made doubly precious by having been taken into the church and made
sacred by a priestly benediction. There are sharp-eyed money-changers also in
quiet corners; while here and there the halt, the maimed, and the blind are
calling piteously for alms. The front, though sombre, and made darker by the
shadow of the neighbouring convents, is imposing and picturesque. One of its
two doors is built up, and has been in this state since the Crusades. Over the
doorway there is a somewhat defaced representation of the triumphal entry of
Jesus into Jerusalem. A company of coarse and dirty Turkish soldiers are
guarding the door, which is not yet opened; and they show the insolent and
contemptuous bearing of those who know themselves to be masters. At length, the
door is slowly opened; and dropping into their foul hands the prescribed
"paras," we pass with strangely solemn feelings within the sacred
house.
We thought of the many generations of pilgrims from every nation
under heaven that had streamed through that gate; and, not least, of those
mailed Crusaders who bore in their bosoms such a mixture of romance and
religion, kneeling on that pavement with the consciousness of having won back
"the precious tomb, their haven of salvation," as a glorious prize from the
Unbeliever's grasp. The first object that arrested our attention was a large
stone slab curiously streaked with veins of red, called "the stone of unction,"
which is said to be the stone on which the body of our Redeemer was laid after
it had been taken down from the cross, for the purpose of being washed and
wrapped in spices; and several pilgrims, as we passed, were bending down and
kissing it with great reverence. Parts of the vast structure were portioned off
as chapels or sanctuaries for the different Churches - the Greek, the Latin,
the Armenian, the Coptic, and others; the Greek and Latin, being the most
numerous and powerful, receiving by far the largest shares. Almost all the
incidents in the last hours of our Saviour's passion have their scene fixed
under this spacious roof. As it was the week of the Latin Easter, young priests
of that communion were busily employed in conducting pilgrims over the various
sacred spots, and repeating to them the narratives connected with them; while
at intervals they chanted Latin hymns. We joined ourselves to one of those
companies. Here was the place where Jesus was scourged, and the pillar to which
he was bound; in this place he was mocked ; here, again, his garments were
divided; and this is the prison in which he was kept while the Roman soldiers
were making ready the instruments for his crucifixion; and so on with much of
the same kind. It seems to have been the aim of the different Churches to pile
up wonders within these walls, and to bring them into a most convenient
proximity. If you will turn aside for a little into the gorgeous chapel of the
Greek Church, they will show you a large round stone which, copying a
well-known heathen fiction, they call the "Navel-stone," and insist on your
believing that it marks the centre of the world; and they will gravely point
you to another place where the skull of Adam was discovered, though they are
puzzled when you ask them how it was identified as having belonged to our great
progenitor.
After having nearly completed the circuit, we ascended by a
considerably long flight of steps to the place which is pointed out as Calvary,
where we were shown three holes in a rock, in which, we were told, the three
crosses were inserted, with our Lord's in the middle. We were even pointed to a
remarkable rent in a neighbouring rock, which was produced by the earthquake
that signalized the awful hour of the crucifixion. Descending from this a
distance of apparently about forty yards, we were conducted to the empty
sepulchre of Christ. It stands directly beneath the dome of the church, from
which the light streams down upon it, and makes it more distinctly luminous
than any other object in the sacred edifice. It is a small, oblong,
quadrilateral structure, composed of white marble, that has become yellow with
the age and incense of so many centuries. Many of the lame and blind, mingling
with the pilgrims, were clustering near its entrance when we approached. It
consists of an ante-chamber capable of holding six or eight persons, in which
the stone is shown on which the angel sat when the disciples came in the early
dawn to the empty grave; though a duplicate of this stone, strongly affirmed to
be the original one, is exhibited in the Armenian Convent Beyond this is the
actual chamber of the sepulchre itself, declared to be the veritable "place
where the Lord lay." Putting our shoes from off our feet, we bent lowly and
entered. There was a sarcophagus or stone coffin covered with a simple polished
stone, with eight burning lamps of gold or silver - all of them the gift of
monarchs or princes - shedding down upon it a tranquil light; and this was said
to cover the brief resting-place of that body which "knew no corruption." There
was one who had entered before us, kissing the stone with an almost ecstasy of
devotion. Even with the doubt present to our mind whether this was the real
sepulchre, it was difficult not to be carried away for the moment by sympathy
with such earnestness. We felt how easy it was, in some conditions, to transfer
some of that devotion to localities, which can only lawfully be given to Christ
himself. We were restored by the remembrance, "He is not here, but is risen as
he said." After a hurried glance at the tombs of Nicodemus and Joseph of
Arimathea, which are said to be contained in another part of the edifice, we
departed, intending to return again in the evening.
It was the evening
of Good Friday, when the various scenes in our Saviour's passion were to be
enacted in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. When we arrived, the immense
building was crowded; so that it was with some difficulty we found our way to a
pillar not far from the supposed Calvary, against which we tried to lean for
rest and safety. As we had anticipated, the English Jesuit was there, with the
Scottish marquis holding aloft a lighted candle. The first thing that struck us
was the marching in, and planting at different places in the crowd, of a number
of Turkish soldiers, who had come, as they said with sarcastic contempt, "to
keep peace among the Christians." And no doubt they had too much pretext for
this, for riots were far from infrequent on such occasions; it had even been no
unusual thing for persons to be trampled to death in the crowd. And when the
Greek and Latin Easters happened in the same week, the mutual hatred of the two
rival communions was certain to vent itself in scenes of blood.
After
some delay, the sound of plaintive music was heard in the distance, but
gradually approaching nearer. By-and-by, a great procession bearing lights and
crucifixes, with a multitude of young choristers robed in scarlet, were seen
ascending the steps towards Calvary, one cross of large size carried aloft
having a figure upon it representing Christ. The figure was of the colour of
flesh, nailed to the cross by the hands and the feet with great nails, with a
thorny crown upon its head, and with the appearance of blood trickling down
from the temple and the sides. The great cross with this life-like image upon
it was fixed in the middle of the rock on Calvary, and there it remained for a
time exposed to the gaze of all the spectators. A sermon of an exceedingly
dramatic kind was then preached by a priest, at the foot of the cross; after
which, two persons approached, representing Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea,
who, ascending a ladder, and having hammers and other instruments handed to
them, unfastened the nails, and taking down the body received it into a
winding-sheet. Another sermon was then preached in English, by Monsignor Capel,
in which Protestant heretics, like ourselves, were informed that we were "the
other sheep not of this fold," of which Jesus had spoken on one occasion, and
were exhorted to come into the better and safer fold in which the preacher was.
Certainly the scenes of irreverent superstition, from the midst of which his
appeal was made, were not fitted to make the fold attractive. The body was then
covered and borne in procession, and amid the chanting of hymns, to the stone
of unction which we have already described, where sweet spices were laid upon
it and aromatic incense waved over it; the whole ending in its being carried to
the sepulchre, and placed there as if in burial, from which it was to be
brought forth again, with every sign of exultation and triumph, on the Easter
morning. We confess to our having been greatly shocked and grieved by this
performance. The most sacred events were dwarfed by it and degraded. Instead of
ensouling those facts, it seemed rather to take the soul out of them. It was an
intrusion into an awful presence, in which angels would have veiled their faces
with their wings. It did not appear generally to impress the spectators; but
how great was the danger that even those who were impressed would mistake the
mere temporary excitement of their sensibilities for the working of true
religious feeling! This was the scene at the Latin Easter; but at the Greek
Easter, which follows somewhat later, there is not only superstation, but what
it is impossible to characterize otherwise than as gross and impious imposture.
Even the Roman Catholic Church reprobates and ridicules it, though she can
scarcely do this with clean hands while she continues to sanction the annual
liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius at Naples. Then the Greek bishop or
patriarch, descending into the Holy Sepulchre, pretends to receive fire from
heaven, such as that which came down at the first Christian Pentecost. At a
particular juncture, a sudden noise like the rumbling of distant thunder is
heard; instant cries follow, "The fire, the holy fire, has fallen!" and soon
after a light is thrust through an opening in the tomb - a supply of the
miraculous flame having first been secured for the monks in the Convent of Mar
Saba. The numerous pilgrims, frantic with excitement, rush with their candles
to the entrance and catch the sacred fire, and soon the whole place is in a
blaze of illumination. To gain this one prize, we are assured, to bathe in the
Jordan, and to carry away a dress that has been dipped, in its waters, which is
to be afterwards used as a winding-sheet, has been the object for which
multitudes have come from far-distant countries, and travelled with incredible
hardships over thousands of miles. The candles are soon extinguished, and
carried home to their villages far away, as the most precious trophies. From
that time, we are told, they appear on every important occasion in their
history. They are lit again, and held over the man's head and over that of his
bride, when he is married; they serve as tapers at the baptism of his children;
when extinguished, they are hung over the threshold of his door, and serve as a
safeguard against all intruders, and goblins, and ghosts. And when eventually
he sets forth on his last earthly pilgrimage, and sickness, and pain, and
trembling, and sorrow are the sole companions of his dread journey, then the
priest will hold up the remains of these relics before his already half-glazed
eyes, and they are expected to cheer him through the valley of the shadow of
death. The last service they render is, when once more lighted, they are placed
at the feet of the dead man, with his rigid form and closed eyes, and here they
burn on lower and lower through the long hours of night till they
expire.
How strange and saddening it is that that edifice which, beyond
all others, claims to enshrine the spots on which occurred the great events of
human redemption, should be the chosen scene in which superstition, imposture,
and jugglery play such foul and fantastic tricks as are a scandal to the world!
But is there evidence to convince the unprepossessed mind that this church does
contain the actual scenes of our Lord's crucifixion and resurrection? We
suspect that modern inquiry will prove this old and extensively-credited
tradition to have been a mistake and a delusion. When we were in Jerusalem, we
were convinced on this matter against our will; the old cherished tradition
died very hard within us. Our process of doubting was this. We knew from the
Gospel narratives that our Lord was crucified and buried outside the walls of
the city. But when we stood on the roof of the Protestant bishop's house, and
took in at a glance the whole look of the city, we were astonished to observe
how very near the Church of the Holy Sepulchre stood to its centre. It was next
to impossible for us to believe that when Jerusalem contained a population
perhaps fifty times greater than it now does, its boundaries were narrower; and
this in the only direction in which it was possible for the city to have
greatly extended - that is, towards the north-west. All topography then is
against the supposition that the tomb of Jesus was here. But when we examine
the evidence of historical tradition, we find that the links in the chain are
weakest where they need to be strongest, and that they dissolve into sand while
we handle them. The apostles do not appear to have given any heed to the scenes
of those events. Those earnest, suffering men were concerned with the facts,
not with the localities. Paul visits Jerusalem once and again, and he does not
even once speak either of Calvary or of the empty grave. Then when, at the
destruction of Jerusalem, the Christians fled from it to Pella, they did not
return for more than sixty years, during which intervening period the whole
city had been reduced to ruins. And if it be true, as Jerome says from mere
hearsay, that Hadrian, in order to insult the Christians, built over the place
of Christ's sepulchre a temple to the Paphian Venus, how was it that when the
Empress Helena came eagerly searching for the sepulchre, she did not find her
information in this circumstance, but was obliged to draw it out by torture, in
her own imperial way, from a few unhappy Jews who were ready to purchase their
liberty and their lives by an easy falsehood, which the credulous old Empress
was even more ready to swallow than they were to invent!
Let us notice
in connection with these reasonings the fact that those travellers who have
done so much to cast doubt upon the genuineness of the traditional scene of the
resurrection, are quite as much at variance with each other in their attempts
to associate the all-important event with some other spot. Dr. Robinson
conjectures that it must have been on the road leading from the Damascus or the
Jaffa gate; more recent travellers give their reasons for preferring an open
space outside St Stephen's gate, which is to this day a place of burial, and
looks down towards Gethsemane. Do not all these facts lead to the conclusion
that it was the intention of Providence, for the wisest and most beneficent
ends, to withhold from us this knowledge? He who "knew what was in man"
concealed the place where he had buried Moses, that the Israelites might not be
tempted to turn it into a scene of superstition. And on the same principle, it
appears to have been ordered that the spots on which the most momentous events
in the life of Christ occurred, should be veiled in uncertainty. Great natural
objects in Palestine, such as mountains, and rivers, and lakes, and valleys -
the knowledge of which helps to confirm our faith, and to illustrate the
Scriptures - are capable of being identified; but minute objects which would be
almost certain, if known, to be abused to purposes of superstition, are left
undiscoverable. We know Mount Olivet, but we cannot tell where are the very
spots on the mountain where our Redeemer retired to pray. We can identify
Bethany, but not with certainty the green sward near to it from which Christ
ascended to heaven. We are no more able to declare with confidence where was
the tomb of Christ, than where was the grave of Moses. God would cut us off
from temptations to superstition. Moreover, he would prevent us from localizing
a religion which was designed to be universal - from attaching that kind and
measure of interest to places which can only properly belong to the facts of
which those places were the scene, from materializing the spiritual, and from
in any degree enchaining, as it were, in a temple made with hands that religion
which is destined to turn the whole earth into a temple of God.
How
different from all the gaudy tinsel and tawdry finery and unreality of which we
had witnessed so much in that house of superstition, was the spectacle which we
beheld on a following day, when, wandering a little way outside the walls of
the city, we came upon the dwellings of the lepers? It is quite near to
Zion-gate, and within an arrow-shot of the traditional tomb of David. There was
no terrible reality which we saw in Jerusalem equal to this. The place is
separated from all other human habitations, and consists of a rude court or
inclosure, containing about twenty miserable huts or kennels. At the sound of
our voices and footsteps the lepers came out into the sunlight, clamouring,
with most unearthly sounds, for charity. It was a horrid picture that unhappy
band, looking as if a triple curse had fallen on them. Death was visibly eating
them away. Some were of a liver colour, others white as snow - all deformed.
Handless arms were held out to us; half consumed limbs were obtruded;
countenances wofully defaced and eyeless were turned up to us; and cries came
out from palateless mouths that were wildly imploring and inhuman. The old law
which prohibited the leper from touching or drawing near to a clean person was
scrupulously regarded by them, so that, even when they begged, they stretched
out to us little iron cups, into which we might drop our alms. There was no
possibility of resisting the appeals of such wretchedness as this. Various
reflections occurred to us as we looked on those rotting wrecks of our
humanity. We were struck anew with the wisdom of the Levitical law in its
provisions for the isolation and treatment of lepers, being evidently adapted
to restrict the disease within the narrowest limits. We saw, with deepened
impression, with what instructive fitness leprosy has been employed in
Scripture as the emblem of sin - hereditary, contagious, ever tending to
increase, and incurable except by the power of God. And we bore away from the
spectacle a deeper sense of the infinite compassion and power of Christ. One
look at a leper assures that no power but God's can cure such ingrained and
malignant disease as this. But Jesus did it, not disdaining even to touch with
his gentle hand the loathsome sufferer, and sending him away to the temple to
give God the praise.
But there was one place in Jerusalem which we had
yet to visit, "the most sacred spot in the Mohammedan world next to Mecca, the
most beautiful structure for Mohammedan worship next to Cordova" - the Mosque
of Omar, known in Moslem speech as the "Dome of the Rock," or the "Noble
Sanctuary." We shall not minutely record those accurate measurements of its
size which are to be found repeated by so many writers, or attempt to play with
the phraseology of architecture. We shall be satisfied if, by a few sentences,
we succeed in conveying a clear impression of its position and appearance,
though every picture that one sees of Jerusalem makes him more or less familiar
with it. On the summit of Mount Moriah, which has been artificially levelled,
there spreads the noble inclosure of the Haram, consisting, it is believed, of
thirty-five acres more or less. This inclosure is the most beautifully green of
any spot in or around Jerusalem. Its beauty is much increased by solitary
olives, planes, and cypresses, by graceful fountains, and praying-places
exquisitely adorned in the peculiar style of Arabian architecture. Nearly in
the centre of this Haram is a raised platform, to which entrance is found by
four richly ornamented gateways and on this platform, with a pavement, in some
places of marble and in others of white polished limestone, rests this grand
cathedral of the Mohammedan faith. In shape, it is an octagon, each side of
which measures sixty-seven feet Its walls, rising in successive storeys to a
height of more than a hundred feet, are adorned with variegated marble of
elegant and intricate pattern. Above, there rises a beautiful bulbous-shaped
dome of blue, surmounted by a glittering crescent There is a gracefulness of
proportion and a light airy elegance about it, to which we saw nothing to
compare in all the East. This was our impression even when near it. But our
admiration of the whole picture was deepened when we afterwards gazed upon it
in an afternoon from the distance of the Mount of Olives. Every sound was
hushed, and there it seemed to rest -
"In undisturbed and lone serenity,
Finding itself a solemn sanctuary
In the profound of heaven."
Its
beautiful green-sward, dotted and shaded, here and there, with some solitary
tree of darker hue, its exquisitely carved marble fountains, its praying-niches
and places for reading and meditation, its veiled women in dresses of pure
white moving over the scene, and appearing and disappearing like creatures from
the spirit-world, its turbaned men bending or laid prostrate in the various
acts of Moslem worship, the noble dome of the Mosque rising grandly in the
centre of all, and giving back in many-coloured glory the splendours of the
western heaven, altogether presented one of the most unique pictures in the
world.
We were admitted to its interior, but it was not equal in
furniture or in majestic proportions to the Grand Mosque at Cairo, which we had
already seen, or to the Church of St. Sophia at Constantinople, which we were
yet to see; and it contained nothing of special interest, unless some of our
readers should find an exception in the mark of Mohammed's footsteps, or in the
finger-prints of the angel Gabriel!
In the south-west corner of the
Haram there is another mosque of much smaller dimensions, El.Aksa, which is
approached from the Dome of the Rock by a paved footpath passing through an
avenue of cypress-trees. Originally a Christian church built in the sixth
century by the Emperor Justinian, it passed into the hands of the followers of
the false prophet at the period of the Saracen conquest. When the Crusaders
conquered and recovered Jerusalem, it again became a Christian church, and,
designated by them "the Temple of Solomon," gave its name to those military
ecclesiastics, the Knights Templars. It would be more admired were it further
distant from the overshadowing Mosque, which keeps it under perpetual eclipse.
It is like a violet growing beside a sun-flower.
It was not, however,
the Mosque and its attendant beauty which gave to this inclosure in our eyes so
profound an interest, and made us wish to linger on it for hours; but the
belief, which there seems no good reason to dispute, that it really covers the
site of the ancient Jewish Temple, with its appurtenances. The thought of this
made us turn our back upon the Mosque, and wander again and again in silence
over what had once been holy ground. As we sought shelter in the shadow fontied
by a venerable cypress-tree, our attention was turned to a mass of unhewn rock
of great size rising above the surface, and which had evidently remained
through thousands of years, amid all the signs of human art and exquisite
ornament everywhere around it, untouched and unchanged. No mallet or chisel had
ever fallen upon it. Why was this? There must surely have been some mighty
reason for leaving it thus unchanged, when everything else was changed, -
remaining to this hour the highest natural point on Mount Moriah. It seemed
reasonably probable, as some have suggested, that either on this very spot, or
near it, Abraham had reared the altar and kindled the fire for the sacrifice of
Isaac, when his uplifted hand was stayed and arrested by the angel's voice. Nor
could it be far from this that Oman the Jebusite had his threshing-floor, and
was engaged in threshing wheat when the plague was desolating Jerusalem. "Then
the angel of the Lord came and stood by the threshing-floor, having a drawn
sword in his hand, stretched over Jerusalem." From the hill of Zion on the
opposite side, over the Tyropaean Valley, David beheld the vision, and
prostrating himself with his elders before the Lord, hastened, under the
direction of the prophet Gad, to build an altar and to offer sacrifices. " And
David bought the threshing-floor for six hundred shekels of gold, offered
burnt-offerings and peace-offerings, and called upon the Lord; and the Lord
answered him from heaven by fire upon the altar of burnt-offering. And the Lord
commanded the angel, and he put up his sword again into the sheath thereof."
Around this memorable rock Solomon afterwards erected his Temple; and
some have ventured the bold conjecture that on this unhewn mass, so rich in
sacred memories even then, he reared the altar of burnt-offering. If there is
any truth in these conjectures, then it rises to something more than
probability that this very inclosure on which we now stood, was trodden for
many a century by the feet of prophets and men of God; and that at length it
witnessed many of the miracles and echoed many of the lessons of the great
Teacher himself, as he walked upon it followed by groups of wondering
listeners, and "spake as never man spake." Few scenes, therefore, in all the
world, cluster with so many hallowed associations. We felt that this spot
belonged especially, and by a kind of inalienable right, to the Christian
Church. And as we turned round and saw the gilded crescent on the top of the
Mosque, or looked forth and beheld the crescent-ensign waving from the Turkish
citadel, we cried out in spirit, " How long, O Lord, how long?"
As we
returned from this great scene, and looked down to note the north of the Temple
area, we noticed a deep chasm, which, we were told, marked the ruins of the
ancient pool of Bethesda. If it be indeed this, how has its glory departed?
Only a few of the porches can now be traced where the sick were laid, and in
one of which Christ healed the impotent man who had been afflicted "for thirty
and eight years." There are no gurgling waters now, or descending angel to
impart to them healing virtue; but nettles, and weeds, and rubbish, cover and
pollute the hospital in which God himself was the healer. The pool of Hezekiah,
which we also visited, does credit to this day, after the lapse of more than
two thousand years, to the engineering skill and patriotic energy of that pious
king whom commentators usually describe as pliant and passive, but who was
really one of the most active monarchs that ever sat on the throne of Judah. In
its uninjured state, that immense reservoir could have held water for the
supply of half Jerusalem. At this hour the principal baths of the city are
filled from it.
We have now noticed the chief places that were visited by
us within the walls. But there was one place without the walls to which we made
frequent visits during our city wanderings, and which exercised over us, during
the whole time of our stay in Jerusalem, an irresistible fascination. We refer,
of course, to the Garden of Gethsemane. Let us describe our first visit to it.
Going out of the city by St. Stephen's-gate, we passed through the midst of a
Mohammedan burying-ground, which comes up almost to the gate. It was a Moslem
holiday, and multitudes of women and children were sitting at picnics among the
tombs; for this people have no sensibility or awe at the neighbourhood of
death. They are merry and festive with their dead sleeping a few inches beneath
their feet. Not many steps forward brought us to the brow of a precipice; and
looking down a few hundred yards, we saw, at the foot of that part of Olivet
which comes nearest to Jerusalem, the solemn garden stretched out before us. We
had no inclination now to advert GETHSEMANE. ill to the fact that the
traditional scene of Stephen's martyrdom, was almost at our side. Our eye was
rivetted on the one spot beneath. Descending by a winding rocky path, we
crossed the empty channel of the Kidron by a little bridge; and then, going up
a few paces, and knocking at a door in the lofty gray wall by which the garden
is surrounded, we were received by one of the monks to whose care the garden is
committed. Flowers are assiduously cultivated within the sacred inclosure, -
the wild-rose, the passion-flower, with rosemary, wormwood, and other
symjaolical herbs; but those eight old olive-trees, with their enormous girths
and fantastically gnarled branches, were really the only objects that we looked
upon. They can be historically certified as twelve hundred years old; and as it
is one law in the natural life of the olive that it sprouts again after it has
been cut down to the level of the ground, on the supposition that this is the
real Gethsemane, there is nothing improbable in the imagination that those
patriarchal olives may have grown from the very trees which shaded the place of
our Redeemer's ineffable soul-agony and sweat of blood. And is the supposition
unlikely 1 It is surely possible on these matters to doubt too much. The strong
acid of modern criticism sometimes tries to consume real gold. The limits of
the original garden must have been a good deal more extensive; but many things
combine to favour the belief that this inclosed portion of Olivet formed a part
of it.
The evangelical narrative 'distinctly indicates that the place was
reached by our Lord and his disciples almost immediately after they had crossed
the Kidron; and the chain of clear, unwavering tradition from the days of
Eusebius downwards, links us to the same locality. And there are two facts
which so exactly fit in to this opinion as not a little to confirm us in the
belief that this was indeed the veritable garden of the agony. Does it not seem
obvious from the Gospel histories, that on the evening of his mysterious
soul-conflict, when " it pleased the no POOLS OF BETHESDA AND OF HEZEK1AH. the
north of the Temple area, we noticed a deep chasm, which, we were told, marked
the ruins of the ancient pool of Bethesda. If it be indeed this, how has its
glory departed I Only a few of the porches can now be traced where the sick
were laid, and in one of which Christ healed the impotent man who had been
afflicted "for thirty and eight years." There are no gurgling waters now, or
descending angel to impart to them healing virtue; but nettles, and weeds, and
rubbish, cover and pollute the hospital in which God himself was the healer. -
The pool of Hezekiah, which we also visited, does credit to this day, after the
lapse of more than two thousand years, to the engineering skill and patriotic
energy of that pious king whom commentators usually describe as pliant and
passive, but who was really one of the most active monarchs that ever sat on
the throne of Judah. In its uninjured state, that immense reservoir could have
held water for the supply of half Jerusalem. At this hour the principal baths
of the city are filled from it.
We have now noticed the chief places that
were visited by us within the walls. But there was one place without the walls
to which we made frequent visits during our city wanderings, and which
exercised over us, during the whole time of our stay in Jerusalem, an
irresistible fascination. We refer, of course, to the Garden of Gethsemane. Let
us describe our first visit to it. Going out of the city by St. Stephen's-gate,
we passed through the midst of a Mohammedan burying-ground, which comes up
almost to the gate. It was a Moslem holiday, and multitudes of women and
children were sitting at picnics among the tombs; for this people have no
sensibility or awe at the neighbourhood of death. They are merry and festive
with their dead sleeping a few inches beneath their feet. Not many steps
forward brought us to the brow of a precipice; and looking down a few hundred
yards, we saw, at the foot of that part of Olivet which comes nearest to
Jerusalem, the solemn garden stretched out before us. We had no inclination now
to advert GETHSEMANE. Ill to the fact that the traditional scene of Stephen's
martyrdom, was almost at our side. Our eye was rivetted on the one spot
beneath. Descending by a winding rocky path, we crossed the empty channel of
the Kidron by a little bridge; and then, going up a few paces, and knocking at
a door in the lofty gray wall by which the garden is surrounded, we were
received by one of the monks to whose care the garden is committed. Flowers are
assiduously cultivated within the sacred inclosure, - the wild-rose, the
passion-flower, with rosemary, wormwood, and other symbolical herbs; but those
eight old olive-trees, with their enormous girths and fantastically gnarled
branches, were really the only objects that we looked upon. They can be
historically certified as twelve hundred years old; and as it is one law in the
natural life of the olive that it sprouts again after it has been cut down to
the level of the ground, on the supposition that this is the real Gethsemane,
there is nothing improbable in the imagination that those patriarchal olives
may have grown from the very trees which shaded the place of our Redeemer's
ineffable soul-agony and sweat of blood. And is the supposition unlikely \ It
is surely possible on these matters to doubt too much. The strong acid of
modern criticism sometimes tries to consume real gold. The limits of the
original garden must have been a good deal more extensive; but many things
combine to favour the belief that this inclosed portion of Olivet formed a part
of it.
The evangelical narrative "distinctly indicates that the place was
reached by our Lord and his disciples almost immediately after they had crossed
the Kidron; and the chain of clear, unwavering tradition from the days of
Eusebius downwards, links us to the same locality. And there are two facts
which so exactly fit in to this opinion as not a little to confirm us in the
belief that this was indeed the veritable garden of the agony. Does it not seem
obvious from the Gospel histories, that on the evening of his mysterious
soul-conflict, when " it pleased the 112 THE TRUE GARDEN. Father to bruise
him," our Lord sought for darkness as well as silence] And as it was then full
moon, this was the one place over which the neighbouring rocks on the Jerusalem
side of the Kidron gorge would cast a long and deep shadow, and aiding that of,
the olive-trees, would make the awful retirement complete. Then, when Jesus is
represented as saying to his disciples at the entrance to the garden, " Arise,
let us be going : see, he is at hand that doth betray me," it would appear that
his expectant eye must have seen from that point the exit of-Judas and his
ruffian-band, bearing lanterns and torches, jjom one of the eastern gates, or
their coming round the corner of the wall; and it is remarkable that the same
view can be commanded from the midst of those aged olives now. It was natural
that with these convictions we should abandon ourselves for a time to the
influence of the religio loci - the sacred associations of the scene. We kept
ourselves carefully aloof from the good-natured monks, with their puerile
legends, and sitting down alone, under what seemed the oldest of the
olive-trees, took the evangelist Luke for our only guide. We thought of that
most memorable and momentous of all nights in the history of human redemption.
We thought of the prostrate form of the Son of God, of his " strong crying and
tears," of his intense soul-anguish, of his sweat of blood, of that most
glorious triumph of resignation to the will of his Father which earth ever
witnessed, and of that love to his people, which many waters could not quench
or many floods drown. We entered into the spirit of those words of the hymn, -
"Go to dark Gethsemane,
Ye that feel the Tempter's power ;
Your
Redeemer's conflict see,
Watch with him one bitter hour :
Turn not from
his griefs away;
Learn of Jesus Christ to pray."
Many a time
afterwards, we came to the brow of the precipice before St. Stephen's gate, and
gazed silently down into the garden. May Gethsemane be green in our memory for
ever !
Go To Chapter Seven
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