Palm Sunday in Jerusalem

The call to prayer rang out over the Kidron valley at 4:10 this past Sunday morning. I dozed, until after the call to prayer was repeated by two more nearby mosques, once at 4:30 and again at 4:50. After three calls to prayer, how could a Christian not arise? Besides, it was Palm Sunday, and I wanted to be at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the Old City by 6:30.

An hour later, as I walked down the Mount of Olives and past the Garden of Gethsemane, the sun began to light up the western portion of Jerusalem. I had the road to myself, as I reached the Kidron Valley, and then walked up to the Lion’s Gate, which faces the Mount of Olives.

Walking into the Old City from the west brought me into the Muslim Quarter. As I proceeded toward the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Haram al-Sharif was on my left, and the Church of St. Anne and then other Christian buildings on my right. Almost immediately, I was on the Via Dolorosa, where on this coming Good Friday thousands will walk the path that Christians remember today as the route taken by Jesus, as he struggled to carry his cross to Golgotha.

But at 6:20 on this Palm Sunday, I saw only a few persons, as I first went down to El-Wad, the main street coming from the Damascus Gate, and then followed it briefly to the left, before turning right along the narrow path of steps leading west and up, which Christians know as the Via Dolorosa and Muslims call El-Khanqa.

There are two ways to enter the courtyard in front of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The last time I came, I went through the Muristan. But this time I followed the signs that took me above and behind the Church, before bringing me into the main entrance off the street known as the Christian Quarter. Then I came down a flight of steps, before turning left into the courtyard.

Christians were gathering, and with some of them I entered the Church, as bells began to ring, calling us to worship. One or two women were kneeling before the stone slab just inside the entrance of the Church where tradition holds Jesus’ body was anointed, but most of those entering continued into the main section of the Church.

Three Services in One Church

Between 6:30 and 9:30 at least three different Christian services were held, in adjacent sections of the Church, and at times the voices of the three worshipping communities could be heard simultaneously. Though not always harmonious, the mixture of Greek, Coptic, and Latin chants was fascinating, for each is quite beautiful and distinctive.

The Latin (Catholic) service was the dominant service for the morning, because the Greek Orthodox and Coptic Churches were not celebrating Palm Sunday. These communions follow different calendars (for the Orthodox Palm Sunday will not arrive until April 24th). So, there will be at least another chance to rise early on a Sunday morning and make my way into this catacomb of a Church in the heart of the Old City.

All three services I saw took about three hours, although people were present in varying numbers and only a few stayed for the entire Greek Orthodox and Coptic services. The Greek Orthodox service took place in the large central room directly to the east of the tomb of Christ. The priests were decked out in golden robes, and a few lay people dressed in black stood along the sides of the room. In a corner a small group of cantors chanted the service.

The Coptic service began with just a few persons, facing the small Coptic altar, which is located at the back of the tomb in the center of the rotunda. Priests came, were blessed, put on their robes, and then joined the service. They were forced to step out of the way, however, when the Latin service processed around the tomb three times. But the Coptic Christians seemed happy to wait for the procession, and I saw Coptic priests greeting Latin priests warmly as they passed by.

The Latin service began on the western side of the tomb, between the room where the Greek Orthodox service was held, but facing the door into the tomb of Christ. Priests, novices, nuns, and lay people gathered around, as the priests and novices sang Gregorian chants, and the Latin Patriarch blessed palm branches, which were then distributed to the crowd.

During the procession around the tomb the organ in the Chapel of St. Mary Magdalene, which is on the north side of the rotunda, filled the entire Church with glorious sounds, making it hard to hear the chanting of the Greek Orthodox priests. But once the Latin procession had led everyone into the Chapel of St. Mary Magdalene, the organ ceased, and the Coptic priests reassembled at the back of the tomb, in front of their altar. Then, for an hour or so, for anyone standing in front of the tomb, as I was, the Coptic and Greek chants were loudest.

As the various services took place, half a dozen men in brilliant blue uniforms and wearing red hats directed the swirling human traffic in the rotunda. These men are members of the Muslim family that under the Ottoman rulers of Jerusalem were given responsibility for the security of the Church and its fractious Christian communities. They keep the key to the Church, and they are present (at least on the major Christian feast days like Palm Sunday) to ensure that there is no conflict in the Church among its sometimes contentious occupants.

There were also Israeli security personnel in the Church, but they were carrying only pistols rather than the automatic rifles the police and soldiers have slung over their shoulders at the Western Wall and at the entrances to the Haram al-Sharif. In addition, I saw one Jewish family, a woman and two teenage boys. One of the boys was wearing a kippa on his head, and the other a T-shirt with the slogan, "100% KOSHER," on the front. She was taking photographs.

It may be that the Syrian Orthodox Church was also having a service elsewhere in the building at the same time as the other three communions, because occasionally I heard chanting but could not see where the sound was coming from. Several Armenian monks arrived in their distinctive back robes, as the other services were ending. Greek Orthodox priests black wear hats with a round top, whereas Armenian monks have a pointed hat underneath a black scarf that covers their heads. Coptic priests cover their heads with what looks like the hood of a sweatshirt, although sewn to fit the shape of the head and woven with various colors of wool or thread.

The Latin priests and novices were without head covering, although bishops and cardinals often wear what looks very much like a red Jewish kippa (which American Jews often call a yarmulke, using the Yiddish word). The priests were dressed in red robes and the novices in white robes. Nuns attending the service were wearing habits of various colors, depending on their order.

I must say that all the pomp and splendor of these services was a bit overwhelming for an American Protestant, especially after three hours of standing. Moreover, the church was dark and cold. So, I was happy to make my way out into the courtyard, where the sun was shining brightly, and families were gathered around, laughing and talking.

Procession from Bethphage

Although feeling a bit weary after at least empathizing with the three worship services of the morning, because I hardly understood a word that was said, I didn’t want to miss the Palm Sunday procession in the afternoon from Bethphage to Jerusalem. So, from the Augusta Victoria guesthouse on Mount Scopus, I walked south and then down the road on the east side of the Mount of Olives to the Church in Bethphage.

I had expected perhaps a few hundred pilgrims to gather for this afternoon journey, but instead found a crowd of thousands. I squeezed into the church for a quick look, and then waited beside the road outside as hundreds of scouts of all ages, both boys and girls, came out from behind the church, as if in an unending stream. Each troop had a distinctive uniform and flag, and soon they formed up on the road and then led our procession back up the hill toward Jerusalem.

People were lined up along the sides of the road, and kids were running around trying to sell palm branches, olive branches, and bottles of water to those in the procession. Groups sang songs, and at several places along the road there were a few young people with guitars, singing to us as we made our way up the hill.

Israeli army trucks were stationed at intervals along our way, with soldiers carrying automatic weapons, but there was no trouble that I saw. In fact, I saw Palestinian children standing beside the soldiers and talking with them. A more troubling scene, however, was the view from the road further up the eastern side of the Mount of Olives, as I looked back at the procession. Looking towards the south, the massive "Separation Wall" that cuts off Abu Dis and other communities from East Jerusalem was clearly visible.

The procession moved slowly up and over the Mount of Olives, following the road to the south, and then we turned west in order to descend using the stairs next to the large Jewish cemetery facing the Old City on the eastern slope of the Kidron Valley. About half way down the hill, we followed the road as it turned north above the Garden of Gethsemane, and then west again to reach the road in the Kidron Valley. The crowd then made its way up the hill and on through the Lion’s Gate, also known as St. Stephen’s Gate, where everyone was invited into the grounds of the Church of St. Anne.

This lovely Romanesque church dates to the Crusader era in the 12^th century. The Bethesda pools beside it were created two millennia earlier, when a river was blocked to capture water. At the time of Jesus these pools were used as a healing sanctuary. When Hadrian transformed Jerusalem into the pagan city of Aelia Capitolina, a temple dedicated to Serapis (Asclepius) was built on the site. But by the fifth century, a Byzantine church stood in its place. Today the archeological ruins revealing this history may be seen from the much higher level of ground on which the Church of St. Anne stands.

Through open garden gates, which have been closed when I have previously visited the Church of St. Anne, the crowd of celebrants poured into a broad garden behind a three story church property to the south. A group of young musicians, with amplifiers no less, began to fill the air with music quite unlike my morning experience in the cavernous Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The crowd stood and clapped, as the young musicians belted out one song after another, while the garden filled with many of the thousands who had made the procession from Bethphage.

Remembering

I was told by friends in the garden that later the Latin Patriarch would come to speak to the crowd. But when I went to the north side of the church building and along the driveway that led back to the street, I could see that there were masses of people who had yet to enter. So, I decided it was time to end my Palm Sunday pilgrimage. I turned right, and then walked north and up a long set of stairs to Herod’s Gate, near the northeast corner of the Old City. From there, I turned east and walked back down through the Kidron Valley (for the fourth time that day) and up the slope of Mount Scopus to the Augusta Victoria guesthouse on the crest of the hill.

After a full day of walking to and from the Old City of Jerusalem, I must admit that I was grateful for a shower and a chance to put my feet up. But I was saddened to learn from colleagues at the guesthouse that the Palm Sunday procession, which began around noon from the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, had not been allowed by Israeli soldiers to pass through the Bethlehem checkpoint on the road to Jerusalem. So, unlike our procession from the Church in Bethphage, the pilgrims from Bethlehem were unable to reach the Old City and the garden beside the Church of St. Anne.

When stopped by Israeli soldiers at the checkpoint, some Christians in this procession sat down in protest, and prayed and sang hymns, before ending their pilgrimage. They returned to their homes less weary than I was, but perhaps more vividly reminded of the difficulties and dangers that confronted Jesus as he walked with his friends to Jerusalem, on the day almost two millennia ago that today Christians remember as Palm Sunday.

I am writing as a participant in the Ecumenical Accompaniment Program in Palestine and Israel, which is sponsored by the World Council of Churches. The views expressed above are personal and do not necessarily represent the World Council of Churches. If you wish to publish or disseminate this letter beyond personal friends, please contact the EAPPI Communications Officer (eappi-co@jrol.com) for permission to do so. Thank you.

For photos taken during the events described above, go to photos10 and photos11

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