Tales of two cities: A postcard from Jerusalem and London



We recently led a group of 20 or so friends on an enthralling visit to Israel and England. Travel is always valuable, but these two nations seem so crucial for American folks to visit because they contain the roots of American national life and the Christian faith. The places of dreams suddenly appear before your eyes, offering an altogether new perspective. This is a postcard from our trip: of course, we hope you'll enjoy it so much that you'll want to join us on the next trip!

Our first stop was a layover in London, where we used the time to attend a service at the venerable All Souls', Langham Place, the former pulpit of John Stott and still one of the pillars of the Evangelical Christian movement. Church of England fashion currently dictates that clerical collars are passé, so it was with surprise that we beheld the Rector dressed more for an afternoon stroll than for presiding over Holy Communion. Yet it was a gentle, user-friendly event and provided a welcome punctuation mark in our journey from Washington to Jerusalem. After the fun of finding our way around a British supermarket to buy some lunch, it was off for a rest and back to the airport for another airborne night. As we flew through the darkness, place names floated by, one by one: Germany, Austria, Yugoslavia, Croatia, Bosnia. Could such dreadful battles really have been taking place in those pretty little villages twinkling below us?

With the first light came the Greek Islands, a left turn into the Mediterranean and a deepening sense of awe and excitement: the Orthodox Jews on board stood and, having checked a compass to ensure they were facing Jerusalem, began bowing as they started their dawn ritual of Shachrit, Morning Prayers. Before long, the Holy Land was in view: it is always thrilling to catch a first glimpse as the Mediterranean Sea comes to an abrupt end on the beach at Tel Aviv. The warm Middle East sun was soon warming our backs as we made our way to Cesaerea. Here, where Peter visited Cornelius and the first Gentiles became believers, it was interesting to reflect that, at one time, all Christians were Jews, as we tucked into a hearty brunch of fluffy omelettes, enormous, warm, fresh pita bread and peach juice, while taking in an uninterrupted view of the harbor from which Paul set sail on his missionary journeys and beyond it, the sparkling, azure blue of the Mediterranean Sea. The weary travelers left refreshed!

We headed northeast across the Valley of Jezreel to Har Megiddo, crossroads of the world and the place where it is all supposed to end. We can't say it isn't the end of the world if you miss it, because that's exactly what it is! Less than 40 hours had elapsed since we had left Washington but as we arrived at our hotel by the Sea of Galilee, it felt like several weeks. The food in Israel is excellent and plentiful, and we were grateful for a comfortable hotel, a fine meal and a good night's sleep - horizontally!

As dawn broke just after 5:00 am, the enchanting Sea of Galilee slowly gave up its dark mystique and the outlines of the Golan Heights, the hills of northern Israel and the shore of the ancient lake became tinged by the pink, silent light of early morning. Just over there is Capernaum, where Jesus taught in the synagogue, Peter's house, Tabgha, where He fed the five thousand, and just to the left, the Mount of the Beatitudes, where He preached the Sermon on the Mount. Gazing out of the hotel window, the Gospel springs to life before one's eyes. An early morning devotional by the Sea of Galilee was quite marvelous: the places about which one has read so much, were right there. You blink, thinking it can't be real, and they are still there, seeming larger than life. It is all so very beautiful, so peaceful, so breathtaking.

It isn't necessary to guess whether the Sea of Galilee is the place where Jesus lived and taught: we know it is. And its quiet spiritual beauty seems to transcend everything else, as indeed it should. We sat on the hillside where Jesus gave the Lord's Prayer (a condensed version of a well-known Hebrew prayer of the time) and read it aloud, and marveled at the unspoiled setting for about two-thirds of the Gospel.

Two Galilee excursions will never be forgotten: winding through the narrow streets of Nazareth, including our surprise at seeing a Benetton fashion store there, and the hairpin ascent of Mount Tabor, believed to be the Mount of the Transfiguration and the place where Jesus appeared to the disciples to give the Great Commission. Neither is to be undertaken without an adequate degree of preparation and a strong stomach! While near Nazareth, we dropped in on some Jewish believers who farm there, a difficult, plucky existence but one undertaken with panache and resolve. We sampled their blueberry-flavored sheep milk ice cream (delicious!) and learned about their struggle for acceptance in a nation that actively discriminates against Messianic Jews and which urgently needs our constant prayers in so many ways.

The long desert road along the River Jordan to Jericho and Jerusalem is less traveled these days, now that parts of it are administered by the Palestinian Authority. It still offers dramatic views of the Jordan valley, Mount Nebo and the remarkable transformation of the desert landscape into fields producing strawberries, avocados, oranges, apples and almonds. The Israelis have constructed a by-pass around Jericho which saves the bother of having to deal with passports and papers. Before us, near the lowest point on earth, shines the Dead Sea. It isn't what it seems: it appears an idyllic oasis where one might easily pass a day in quiet comfort, but a few minutes in the salty water is enough to make the nearby showers seem a gift from heaven. It is time to begin the five thousand feet climb to Jerusalem. As the Holy City is approached, dozens of brand-new white apartment buildings make their rather incongruous presence felt against the desert sand. These are the settlements about which there has been so much argument. Palestinians claim that this is their land, but they have never made any use of it. While we were there, the Israeli government reached a compromise with them: they will build 2,000 apartments at Har Homa for the Palestinians as well as those for Israelis. All seemed peaceful again.

How can words describe the first sight of Jerusalem? From the Mount of Olives, we gazed out across the City of Peace, the gleaming golden Dome of the Rock standing in the midst of the Temple Mount, at the very center of Western history, the city's sights a mixture of ancient and modern, its sounds an astounding fusion of the religions represented here: the ringing of church bells, the siren for the start of the Sabbath, the call to prayer from the Mosques. How can anyone not be fascinated by this place? As the Sabbath approaches, the fragrant bakeries of Mea Shearim, the orthodox quarter, shut up shop, and as darkness falls, observant Jews emerge from every nook and cranny to pray at the Western Wall, the last remnant of the Temple. It is a deeply moving sight. About these folks, Paul wrote "They are zealous for God, but their zeal is not based on knowledge." (Romans 10:2). One day, they shall know their Messiah. And we who know Him already, must prepare for that great day. For our Sabbath meal, it was off to a delightful open-air restaurant in Ein Kerem, the enchanting village where John the Baptist was born. We explored the last few chapters of the Gospel, read aloud the Seven Woes speech (Matthew 23) in the plaza in front of the Wall, and munched our way around the excellent coffee shops and bakeries of Jerusalem.

Halfway down the long stone steps that lead from the Jewish Quarter to the Wall, there stands a vendor of yarmulkes, the ritual skull-caps traditionally worn by Jews while praying to remind them of God. In the past, one could select from a small but tasteful range of designs: small knitted ones for Zionists, large black ones for Orthodox and assorted colors of satin for everyone else. Yet today, those on sale feature the Power Rangers, Disney characters, the Grateful Dead and Led Zeppelin among other secular attractions.

By contrast, just outside the city walls, there is a remarkable place towards which more and more people are directing their attention: the Garden Tomb adjoins Golgotha, the summit of Mount Moriah, the hill on which Abraham offered Isaac to God and on which the two Jewish Temples later stood. Here there is no commercialism, no priests, no candles nor any religious trappings, just a tranquil garden, an oasis of calm in the bustling city. In one corner, there is a first-century tomb; a great deal of evidence suggests that this is the place in which the Prince of Glory died and rose again. Whether it is actually the place or not seems almost irrelevant. It feels like it and what happened here is so much more important than the precise location. Here the promised Messiah came to die to take away our sins. All this is totally beyond the comprehension of the Orthodox Jews rushing to and from the Wall a few hundred yards away.

The astounding truth of Paul's words hits home when one surveys the Power Rangers skull-caps with one eye, and the wondrous cross of Calvary with the other. Israel's National Anthem is called Hatikva, The Hope, and the yarmulke best demonstrating the true Jewish hope was worn by Jewish New Testament translator, our friend, Dr. David Stern. On his is woven the words "Yeshua HaMoshiach". As C.S. Lewis wrote: "Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in; aim at earth and you will get neither." We must encourage Jewish folks to set their minds on things above, for beneath the secular, there is a thirst for spiritual truth, a thirst which can only be satisfied by the living water of the Messiah, a truth they will discover as they refocus from the trivial to the events that took place here twenty centuries ago which make it possible for all of us, Jews and Gentiles alike, to enjoy God's peace in the fellowship of Y'shua, God's salvation. Here He was born, came as boy and man, lived and died, and most importantly, rose again from the dead. "I am the Resurrection and the Life.", He said (John 11:25). And in Jerusalem, one can still retrace His footsteps and relive every moment of that final week of His life on earth.

In the words of a much-loved hymn: "I stand amazed in the presence of Jesus the Nazarene, and wonder how He could love me, a sinner, condemned, unclean. He took my sins and my sorrows; He made them His very own; He bore the burden to Calvary and suffered and died alone. O how marvelous, O how wonderful, is my Savior's love for me!" In Israel, in both Galilee and Jerusalem, one is conscious of the presence of the Lord, an astounding feeling. I hope you'll come along next time. I promise that you will be tremendously blessed!

Perhaps you can try to imagine the dimensions of the culture leap that took us from eating a splendid early morning buffet breakfast in our Jerusalem hotel to enjoying a relaxed outdoor supper in the garden of a 300 year-old pub on top of Hampstead Heath in London, just a few hours later. Britain was marvelous; we had not a single day of rain, and were blessed with warm, sunny weather during our entire visit.

Prime Minister Tony Blair acts as if he has always been Prime Minister and always will be. Even Margaret Thatcher has advised him, a move warmly welcomed by all, even those who pretended to despise her.

If London is any guide, it is an era of great wealth and great spending: the shops and restaurants are bustling. London still swings, and it does so with grace and charm.

We enjoyed an excellent day trip to Oxford, which competes with Cambridge for the title of Britain's oldest university. The facts appear to be on Oxford's side, but only by about six years: their first college was founded in 1232. After a stop at Blackwell's, the most complete bookstore one can imagine, we made a short but intense tour of several of the 35 colleges that make up the university, and then repaired to The Bear, a 765 year old pub in Woodstock, a few miles north of Oxford, for a light lunch and another sample of Britain's finest drinks.

An afternoon tour of Blenheim Palace and its magnificent grounds, laid out by Capability Brown, included visits to Churchill's birthplace and his grave, after which we returned to London for delicious, crispy fish and chips taken out and eaten in deckchairs by the lake in Regents Park, and a delightful performance of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' at the Open Air Theater, to end another sparkling day. London is 52° north, and in summer, the sun does not set until about 9:30 pm, giving long, bright evenings that never seem to end. It also means sunrise at 4:00 am, and more than once I can recall leaping out of bed at that hour before checking my watch!

The next morning, we were blessed with a special treat: a tour of the Houses of Parliament courtesy of a Member. We stood on the floor of the House, just where the Prime Minister stands during Question Time: back came memories of those who had stood there before us as they delivered their historic remarks: Thatcher, Macmillan, Eden, Churchill, Lloyd George and many others. A pub lunch is always fun, but never more so than when enjoyed at the historic Sherlock Holmes pub near Trafalgar Square, where Conan-Doyle wrote many of his famous stories, and where we sampled the huge servings of home-made dishes with mouthwatering desserts. We saw Churchill's wartime bunker, and St. Paul's Cathedral and Westminster Abbey, where many of the great and famous are buried. We watched the Queen's Birthday Parade rehearsal and took in the third performance at Shakespeare's newly-rebuilt Globe Theater, an amazing experience. I won't tell too much, but I'll look forward to taking you there myself!

Sunday was spent in Windsor, visiting the Castle, attending worship, and viewing the restoration after the 1992 fire, which is now almost complete. A glorious day in Hampshire and Sussex featured the Royal Naval Dockyard at Portsmouth, a visit to a 1000 year-old church and some time in the historic city of Chichester, and completed the arranged part of the trip. A day was left free for visits to relatives, for shopping and of course, for one more visit to Fortnum and Mason, the Queen's grocery store, where the Soda Fountain dispenses with its ice cream the best chocolate sauce I've ever tasted.

Our last evening brought us to Horse Guards Parade. Just after sunset, we were privileged to watch Beating Retreat, the annual ceremony by the Massed Bands of the Household Division, the Coldstreams, the Grenadiers, the Scots, Irish and Welsh Guards. On they came, marching up and down, playing familiar tunes. It was a glorious sight. We even noticed a curtain pulled back over at 10 Downing Street, so we may have had some distinguished companions! After an hour of inspiring pageantry and music under floodlight, the Scots Guards came marching proudly on, bagpipes ablaze, as the whole area filled with sound, even drowning out Big Ben! And at the end, the hymn, Lead Kindly Light, the drum roll and the silence as all stood to attention for 'God Save The Queen', a fitting end to a magnificent trip.

A final glimpse at the Jewish Prayer Book reveals one prayer from the morning service that seems to stand out: "Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who givest strength to the weary." After this trip, I can certainly say 'Amen' to that, but after a short rest, I feel encouraged to start planning the next trip. And next time, perhaps you'll come along too. Steve Myers © 1997, 1999, 2006