Come Away With Me: Jaffa Gate and The Cenacle

Reflections from our first trip into the city:

What a day, what a day!

I feel energized and totally wiped all at the same time.

There's something about navigating a foreign city that makes me feel "together."  Though my zany outrageous personality might lead one to believe I'm a bit spacy about navigation, be not fooled.  I like to know exactly where I'm going and exactly how I'm going to get there.  Outside of that, I can be spontaneous.

We embarked late this morning on our first journey out of Tantur.  Tantur is the arabic work for hilltop, and as you can guess, it sits atop a huge hilltop, providing gorgeous views of both Jerusalem and Bethlehem.

Just as Tantur itself sits between two different world, so I feel I do.  Now I'm not going to even feign knowledge of the intricate political realities that are deep-running in this ancient land.   I know absurdly little considering we have chosen to live here.  In acknowledging this lack of knowledge, and quite possibly sounding trite, the division is a painful reality.

As we arrived at the bottom of the [very] steep hill, there was an accident clean-up taking place.  Of course Jacob was astounded by the whole situation, and kept remarking on how they should be doing things, and laughed when they drove the tow truck away with the front bumper dragging on the ground.

After a few minutes of waiting, bus 124 pulled up, which would take us right to the Old City.  There are Arab buses and Israeli buses, and this particular one is Arab.  (This segregated bus system is just one of the sad realities of the cultural division).  Basically, it's kind of a cross between a minivan and a bus---the size of a mini van with a bench in the back and 3-4 rows of double seats aside a TEENY aisle.  Being both a large woman and a bit claustrophobic, it is quite uncomfortable to try to squeeze between the tiny middle row with backpack and children in tow.

We are certainly an oddity among the normal bus folk of women going to market and men going to work.

We are white.

              We are American.

                               We are large.

                                             Jacob is chatty and Ceci is flirty.

 I'm sure we provide much fodder for  dinner conversations.  :)

After a 20-25 minute bus ride, we got off at Jaffa gate, one of the many entrances to the Old City.

  It is called such because it used to be the heart of the city until they began expanding beyond the walls in the mid-19th century.  There is a huge stone wall surrounding the Old City which is remiscent of a castle.  People stream, push, run, scoot past us as we saunter a bit slower than the general crowd.

We have arrived.

Kevin has Ceci in the Beco carrier on the front, with a full backpack on his back.  I have a full backpack on my back and Jacob shuffles between the two of us.  We move as quickly as we can, though Jacob's dawdling tendencies become complicated on ancient stone streets with narrow passageways.

Walking through the bustling Old City evokes memories of my time in India---crowded, colorful, stimulating, fragrant (for good and for bad),with many people selling their wares and curious about the strange visitors.



The streets in the Old City are narrow, stone, ancient, well-worn.  One often feels that walking about is like a game of Hopper, navigating around corners praying that a compact car or scooter isn't zooming around the corner.  All in all, we did quite well, only having to stop a few times to remind Jacob that lollygagging and silly walking weren't a good idea in such a bustling place.

After a short walk, we made our way to the Cenacle.

 For those of you who are wondering, this is the place traditionally attributed to the Last Supper, and it was one of the sites I most looked forward to visiting.

You see, I have this thing about the Eucharist. 

When I present the Cenacle work to the children in Catechesis of the Good Shepherd, I almost always start crying, talking through my tears as if they're not pouring down my face because---in giving of His very Body and Blood, we have life within us.  Forever.

In some ways, I have been nervous about visiting these places, these places about which I've heard my ENTIRE LIFE.  One of my earliest memories is of going to the atrium as a child and learning about the places Jesus walked.

Would it be anti-climactic?

Would I be disappointed?

There was certainly a bittersweetness walking into the Cenacle.  It's a room.  Just a room.

But that's just it----it's a real room, where I believe a real person sat.  And offered His real self, His Body and Blood for me. 

It is a simple room, stone with beautiful stained glass and the gorgeous sun filtering through.

Jacob was super excited to see the Cenacle, walked in looked around and said,

"Okay, let's go to the next thing."

Classic 5 year old.

So Kev generously took the kiddos out to the courtyard area and left me to wander a bit.

...and I began to take pictures.  I started in one area of the room and just shot and shot and shot---different settings, diferent angles. 

 And all of a sudden I realized.

I was alone.

There was not one. single. person. 

No one but me.  

In the Cenacle. 

It was as if God blessed me with this moment, 

this annointed moment in a place where hundreds of thousands of people visit and hundreds of thousands more wish to.

Just little ole me in the Upper Room.

A Body given, Blood shed, and the gift of eternal life.

 




**For those who so desire to see the insane amount of pics I have taken thus far, you can go to:

http://picasaweb.google.com/danielamuse/TheOldCityPartIJaffaGateTheCenacleAndKingDavidSTomb?authkey=Gv1sRgCIqwwJbb0JvhSQ#


and for pics from before we left:

http://picasaweb.google.com/danielamuse/BeforeOurDeparture?authkey=Gv1sRgCLTU7Naks9nNHQ#