MY CHRISTMAS DAY IN JERUSALEM

All the shops and restaurants are open and bustling.

When we lived in Haifa, with its Christian Arab population, there were Santas and sleighs on balconies and a Christmas tree in the town centre made of mineral water bottles (!) None of that, here in Jerusalem.

No sign at all that it is Christmas.

We were here last Christmas, too— tourists then— sitting drinking cappuccino in Aroma Café at the heaving Bus Station among pony-tailed soldier girls in beige fatigues, sporting machine guns as they rejoined their units after shabbat.

MY CHRISTMAS AT THE WESTERN WALL

This time, after a late lunch out, we strolled into the Old City and, for the first time since we arrived on October 9^th, dared to penetrate its windy alleyways.

In the video below which husband Butch took at the Western Wall, I went forward to pray. It was school coming out time and I was surrounded by schoolgirls in uniform. These Orthodox young ladies all seem to have the same long, dark hair and very long, dark skirts. They come to the Western Wall to pray after class.

You will see some of them bowing rhythmically like the men as they recite their prayers.

When they are done, they walk away backwards, indicating that God’s Presence is perceived to be right here, in his Temple. At first, I thought this strange, but then I considered that Jesus Himself called it, “My Father’s house.”

A NOTE IN THE CREVICES

In the video, Butch mentions how he gave a message to his sister to slip into a crevice between the great stones of the Western Wall. That was quite a while back— 17 years this coming March! She and I were visiting Israel together.

In point of fact, she gave me Butch’s note because I was going to the Wall that day and she had chosen to do something else. I slipped it in between the bricks.

I had not yet met Butch, but I suppose you could say that our paths first crossed then…

MOMENTOUS TRIP

I had come to Israel seeking meaning and purpose for my life after five years of cancer, the demise of my business and my marriage. To say I was at a low point would be an understatement!

Butch’s sister, a long-standing Canadian friend, and I had been all over the country together. I had hoped for some spirituality and had been disappointed.

My coming to faith journey began totally unexpectedly at King of Kings’ Jerusalem Congregation. I had not been happy to go and was only there because my friend had graciously come to synagogue with me… I could hardly refuse to go to ‘church’ with her.

And Jesus claimed me that evening.

Like Ruth, He led me to meet my Boaz, (which happened when I visited his sister the following September). We were married the following year.

MY CHRISTMAS OUTSIDE THE CITY WALL

The video above shows the perimeter of the Old City from the outside on Christmas Day at dusk.

And the video below is of the evening call to Muslim prayer at the adjacent Arab village. This is how everyone in Jerusalem lives, cheek by jowl with one another.

Of course, there is unavoidable suspicion as we rub shoulders, sitting on the bus beside one another. There have been several unexpected terrorist attacks on the public and on police here since the October 7^th massacre.

A SEARCH

We had started our Christmas Day walk in the Old City at the Jaffa Gate, passing two soldiers who were carefully examining the sleeves and wrists of a young Arab man, presumably checking him for knives. He was cooperative and seemed at ease, as did they: as if this were an everyday event, like friends who were going through the motions…

Yet this country is at war. Machine guns are everywhere. Thousands of called up reservists go around with them slung over their shoulders— on the bus, in the café, in the stores and on the streets, as they go about their day.

I find their presence reassuring.   

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