Episode 09: "The Christian Quarter" (+)

I didn't know what to expect going into the Old City yesterday, but what I got was yet another memory to treasure. This place has so much to offer.

Corina, my roommate, set up a meeting between our developing Christian Bible group and an elderly nun by the name of Dr. Pederson. Dr. Pederson is a kind, extremely knowledgeable lady that has no end of information to give about religious history. We met her at Damascus Gate, one of the entrances to the Old City. The entrance was abuzz with the noise of the marketplace. People sold all sorts of merchandise, from DVDs to shoes to whatever. Once we passed through the gate and into the narrow passageways of the Old City, the market became crowded, chaotic and even more colorful.

The group waiting at Damascus Gate.

We did the Pac Man thing through the maze that is the Christian Quarter, passing by countless shops selling anything and everything to tourists. Dr. Pederson led us to certain churches and gave soft-spoken history lessons about them, quizzing us on what we knew and filling in the gaps if we couldn't guess. It was strange and reassuring to see crosses around during the walk, on building tops or as store merchandise, after having gone without seeing them for so long.

Dr. Pederson giving us the low-down
on Christian history.

The group prepping to fight crime
after seeing the Christ-signal.

Our first big stop was a Greek Orthodox church. The inside was gorgeous and regal, overdone with paintings of different scenes of the gospels. Being inside was very humbling. You know the kind of place you go into and you automatically start whispering, even though there's no one there to disturb?

This was one of those places.

After hitting up a Christian bookstore (that happened to have one of Dr. Pederson's books for sale...ridiculous...) we made it to a St. Mark's church. The outside was very modest, nothing glamorous.

So I guess I didn't go in expecting anything huge.

We went inside and sat down in the pews. The place was very Catholicized, with a standard Christ-on-a-Cross/crucifix up at the front, if I'm remembering correctly. The nun who was there gave us the regular schpiel (sp?), although it didn't feel like one. She told us that the church had been destroyed in the 70s (as in, not the 1970s) by Titus and rebuilt. She also told us that it was the first church established after Christianity, or after Jesus died and rose. According to the nun, the apostles chose to build the church there because the room below it was where Jesus had his last supper.

She went on discussing two instances in which she experienced the Holy Spirit. (Quick reality check for those not in Christian circles: the Holy Spirit is not simply a "ghost" that compels black people to jump up and down among church pews. During the early days of the church, the apostles saw the Holy Spirit as a force that empowered people to understand foreign languages, heal the sick, prophesy, and truly feel God as a physical presence among them.) In the first story, she talked about how she spoke with a man in English for an hour, only to find out much later that he thought they had speaking in Hebrew. Another story she told was about when she put her hand on a woman's cancer lump, felt the Holy Spirit course through her, and felt the lump dissolve in her fingers. Believe what you will; I was touched by the stories.

We went downstairs to the room of the Last Supper, which is called the "upper room" for when there wasn't a church on top of it. It was another modest place, surrounded by rock, enshrined a bit at the far side with a wooden frame and paintings. I suppose I could have held back from the experience, questioning the historical accuracy of siting the Last Supper here, but I didn't. I believed her. But even then it didn't completely sink in, much like when I saw the Sea of Galilee. I didn't have the time to fully conceive of the room as a place where Jesus had actually been. What would it mean? What should I feel if that were true?


I did have a moment alone in there, though, after the nun and the tourists left. I leaned against a wall and felt like I could have cried for a second, then the feeling was gone. I was left with something like confused awe.

We went to an Ethiopian church afterward and parted ways with Dr. Pederson. She leaves for Denmark soon, and I'm sure she'll take us on more excursions down the line. I guess the question is whether I can handle what I see when I go back to the Christian Quarter, whenever that might be. For the second time on this trip, I felt as though I couldn't fully grasp what was right in front of me.

Maybe next time. Maybe never. I just hope I can keep the meaning behind the room alive.

We'll see.

Shalom,
Eric