Tombs and Taboons

I have left the Old City behind me and have returned to the tiring task of excavation. Today was a particularly exciting because in the general area I work in, area Q some significant finds were, well, found. Q found some whole pieces of pottery, decorated ivory, and a new taboon (others had been found in the previous seasons). For those who are not so archeology savvy, a taboon is a circular stone depression where ancient peoples would cook or generally keep a fire for warming an section of a house. It's exciting because it means there are probably a lot more artifacts near the taboon... like the large pottery found today. Unfortunately, I was six feet below all the action in the next square over scraping the dirt in hopes of finding a surface/floor. A very tedious venture. Nothing is more frustrating than to watch someone else get lucky so close to home. The long days of manual labor and hot sun are starting to mess with my head. *Sigh* If only I could find the post office. (What? Yes, that was the next thought in my head.)

But my thoughts return to Jerusalem and some of the many supposed tombs I saw. Up on the Mt. of Olives, I went to the tomb of Mary, mother of Jesus (aka Virgin Mary). It was a bit creepy to be honest. It was dark and dank with several tarnished lantern and other decor hanging throughout. Then there was a very gold plate on the front of a glass encased stone tomb with a faded painting of the Last Supper. (I don't remember Mary being there, but what does a Divinity student know?)

What were my thoughts about this spiritual mecca?
The tomb could have been articulated better and I wonder if they took micro-fauna samples. Yes. I have been an archeologist for a whole week and I am examining a venerated tomb like a lab specimen. It didn't seem as sacrilegious as the Asian tourist taking  pictures of the prayerful devout or the Russian breaking out the vodka, but it was another complicated layer on my battle against the strange over tourism of once sacred spaces.

I walked next door to the grotto of Gethsemane--the place where Judas betrays Jesus with a kiss-- and was struck full force by a New Testament episode. If you know me, you know that Hebrew Bible passages are more likely to strike than New Testament, but what could I do? And I will confess it took me a while to actually track down the passage in the Gospels. It was like a narrator's voice turned on in my head reading the passage, in NKJV...  blah blah WAIL blah WAIL... ... did you catch that? The passage was Jesus weeping over Jerusalem. Tourists excitedly and robotically taking pictures at a ridiculous chapel commemorating the place where Jesus was betrayed set me off in a very wrong way. What the hell were church leaders (who hold 'services' regularly in these places) thinking when they decided to make a chapel and a church every two feet down the side of the Mt. of Olives? Let's not even mention the 5 to 10 shekel entry fee to most places. God forbid if someone stopped to meditate on whether they SHOULD commercialize another site for gullible tourists.

The air of Jerusalem is certainly thick and not always pleasant, but as soon as one is away from it the great Lion City lures you back with its rich past and present. I know I will find my way back to Jerusalem again.

Wandering Woman

Another road to wander. This time it is a worn and crowded cobblestone road tread upon for a thousand years instead of a lonely desert path........

I have been in Jerusalem for officially 24 hours and Israel for over a week. Immigrants aren't aliens, but pilgrims, and a huge diversity of culture is forced to lived in tight quarters. Most of my possessions are caked in dirt from Tel Megiddo and I was denied entry into a church today because I did not have a skirt. What? I am dirty and skirtless which surely has some metaphorical connection that my tired brain just can't connect right now. This adventure is exciting and unique, but it is also outside of my area of expertise. So I quietly watch and absorb my surrounding hoping to learn. 

Today I took the Via Dolorosa, the Way of Sorrows, and saw sacred places to a form of Christianity that is largely foreign to me. I also saw historical places to Judaism and Islam... and by 'saw' I mean getting caught in massive movements of Orthodox Jews and Muslims during holy times when I had to travel against the flow of traffic. A difficult way indeed. 

It is amazing how I feel like a stranger in a place where I am supposed to connect to ancient parts of my religious identity. Alas, I am still waiting for a spiritual connection to this place. Unfortunately, it feels a lot like an Orlando theme park rather than a site of religious pilgrimage. I will return to dig up an eschatological playground and hope the next time I walk the Old City something new will be excavated in this amazing experience.