Episode 21: "The Mount of Olives, Pt. 2" (+)

During one of my last nights in Cairo, I ran into my Hebrew U friends Charise and Toby. They mentioned that their main plans were to see the pyramids. When we were all back in Israel, Charise told me some rough details about how their pyramid trip had gone. Apparently, Charise and Toby saw a young girl trying to sell something on the pyramid grounds. She was physically beaten by an adult male for reasons Charise wasn't sure of. Then she was chased away by the police.

I relayed all of this to Val, my Christian cohort and fellow adventurer. Some of you will remember him from the movie Miami Vice 2: Israeli Vice (production still below):

Some of you won't.

He's been a pretty consistent confidant over here in Israel, whether it's stuff that really bothers me, like Charise's Egypt story, or stuff on the stupider side (he puts up with my "roommates are clogging up the shower drain with their hair" complaints). Over the months we've been able to talk a lot about life, school, and most importantly, faith. I remember him impressing my religious sensibilities when we first met at the airport, as he was going around trying to help people with a luggage situation. And I suppose my religious connection with him was cemented once he told me he was a Christian, and that he'd read the entire Bible (a personal short term goal of mine). As the year has progressed I've found him to be a great friend, someone I can talk to about pretty much anything.

So I had no problem telling him my feelings on Charise's story: that I was uncomfortable with what had happened on a human level as well as a "Christian" level. Not only was it wrong that this girl was being beaten by a grown man, but it was also wrong that no one came to the girl's rescue. From what I understood of Charise's story, the girl was standing in broad daylight, in sight of plenty of adults who could have put themselves between the man and the girl. I'm not saying that the people around that day had the responsibility to play hero: I'm saying that I would have. If I were there, I would have had the obligation as a Christian to do something. But I also know that not too deep inside me is a terrified little boy who's afraid to take action in scary circumstances. I know what some of you are thinking: I wasn't there when that girl was being beaten. It doesn't matter what I would have done.

But it really, really does.

As promised, Val took me to the Garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives. This was about two weeks after I went with Dr. Pederson. To get there, he and I cut through an Arab street called Wadi Al-Joz (I might be spelling it funky). During our walk, I learned a bit more about Val's past before coming here, asking questions about his time in acting school. Our conversation was cut off by a fight that broke out. A group of maybe twenty-something people swarmed together in a parking lot over a smaller scuffle. A guy maybe my age was coming down hard on a boy who wasn't more than twelve.

Val remembered how I felt about Charise's story. "This one's not ours," he said.

One of the younger boys was crying and had run across the street. The crowd followed him across the road, where the fight seemed to subside. Val and I continued walking. Should I have done something? Wasn't this exactly the situation I had been talking to Val about? Yes and no...there were tons more people involved, which made things more complicated to handle.

Down the road, Val and I saw a police car approaching where the fight had taken place behind us. The siren of the car wasn't on, and it seemed stuck in thick traffic, but it would reach the fight group within the minute.

"Maybe we should say something," Val said. We considered it. The traffic had slowed down the police enough for us to approach them easily. But we figured the situation was already handled. The car was so close to the scene that they could definitely handle the fight crowd. Plus, looking back over our shoulders, the fight had seemed to calm down. We let the police car go by, watching to see what would happen next. The police car passed by the crowd without stopping.

We should have told them.

I felt pretty guilty in the immediate aftermath, walking still toward the Mount of Olives. What had stopped me from getting involved? It was definitely an outgrowth of fear--the hope that someone else would handle the situation for me. What was that psychological study? Woman gets stabbed to death screaming for help, no one aids her because everyone assumes someone else will do it. I'm one of the twenty/thirty/forty who walks right on by, assuming.

Anyway. It might have been then that I told Val that maybe helping people in trouble is more than having the courage to do it. It's also about having the presence of mind to help people in the smartest way possible. It's easy to panic and shy away from the situation because of imminent danger. Collecting yourself and doing the heroic thing with common sense (such as talking to the police, in our situation) is the name of the game. It felt natural to count on Val to understand my struggles with stuff like this. He's a Jesus freak too, and being a follower of Christ for him heightens the value of human sacrifice/selfless efforts.

Eventually, we made it to the Garden of Gethsemane. For those of you who don't know, this is where Jesus prayed that he would not have to die, just before he was arrested for crucifixion. That aspect of the synoptic gospels is one of my personal favorites. Reading his prayer proves to me that he was a human being who, while divine, felt fear just like I do.


Check out the English verse at the top of the picture, where Jesus asks not to die, but ends the prayer with, "Nevertheless not as I will, but as thou will." Never gets old. He felt fear like I do, but I can overcome fear like he did.

The Garden was a small patch of land that was gated off. Beautiful, very well kept. Right by it was the Church of Nations, named so because it was founded by several countries across the globe.

Val just outside Gethsemane's gate.

Val again, the Garden of Gethsemane,
and the Church of All Nations.

(And since I know how to put videos amidst the text now, I'm gonna drop the [V] thing at the top of entries. No use in notifying you of a new entry in the video bar if the video's right here for you to see.)

I sat for a minute, contemplating/praying. Val and I noticed the gardener open the gate to let a group of people see the Garden from the inside. After they left, we asked the gardener if we could come in. He said that the group before had gotten permission from a church father.

"How can we get permission from a father?" I asked.

Soon, we were in. The gardener hustled us a little bit, but I was so glad to have actually made it, even if it was for a minute. The trees were rough, ancient-looking. The plant life was simple, not too extravagant. To think that Jesus actually prayed there was really exciting.

The inside.

Afterward, we briefly went into the Church of All Nations. It looked like a Catholic service, being done at least partially in Spanish. The inside was dim, the ceiling was high, and the tiled art was wonderful, if I remember correctly. I also think the priests were singing prayers while Val and I were inside. It was fantastic, as expected.

The Church of All Nations.

Outside the Garden again, Val and I saw a group of people, maybe pilgrims, entering some gate. On impulse, Val and I decided to follow the group inside. Our efforts to play it incognito were thrown out the window by a nun who immediately realized we weren't part of the group. But she didn't give us any beef about it. We followed the group up a pathway and found ourselves in front of a building I'd seen a few times from far away:

The Convent of Saint Mary Magdalene.

Our group was led inside. As we came in, we heard a woman singing in prayer. She was on the right side of a dark room. At the back of the room was an enormous painting of Mary Magdalene in front of some European king, although I had no idea what legend or oral tradition the picture was depicting. Val and I roamed around the room with the group, checking out the room as the woman continued to sing. There were religious icons hung up on one side of the room, which was cool. There were two candle-holders in the middle of the room, holding a ring of burning candles. Val got us a couple candles to light and put among the other lit candles.

Although I hadn't understood all of what was inside, I appreciated seeing the convent. And even more so with Val there. It's been really, really good having a friend to share my faith with. One of those priceless things I cherish most here.

Shalom,
Eric

Epilogue:

I was in a cab, on my way to a dance club with four of my friends. Just a minute before our drop off spot, I saw something happening through the window. Two, maybe three guys were standing by a dumpster. Another guy was on the ground, being kicked by one of those standing. They disappeared behind the dumpster as our cab passed them by.

I tried to describe what I saw to everyone as fast as I could. I asked the cab driver for his help in reaching the police. No one believed what I said at first. But I insisted that I knew what I saw, and that we get help. Responding to the urgency in my voice, I guess, the cab driver said that there was a police station nearby and turned the cab around.

As the cab looped, we I saw the same group of guys--except all of them were standing up this time. I think one of them threw something to the other. And if I remember correctly, one of them pushed the other. It still didn't look ideal, but it did seem a lot less dire than a few seconds ago. The cab driver even suggested the situation looked playful. Whatever the case--there didn't seem to be the need for police anymore. I don't know if things were spic-and-span, but they didn't look as life threatening as we passed those guys the second time.

There was a sense of relief in the cab. My friends applauded me on being so willing to save the day. I told Val what happened later. And now I'm telling you:

I hope I've got what it takes if there's a next time.