Jerusalem Of Gold

As our train rumbles through the Judean hills to-wards Jerusalem a tremendous sense of anticipation wells up inside of me. After all, it’s not every day that you go to the city which housed the temple of Solomon, in which Christ died and Mohammad ascended to heaven.

At the sides of the tracks the countryside is barely green and the hilltops are covered by small oak and olive trees. Now and then we pass Arabs working the land, using hand tools that probably haven’t changed in centuries.

Occasionally we pass by a lazy Kibbutz, nestled into the distant landscape.

Names seem to get more biblical as we approach the city, lending to the atmosphere of anticipation.

Approaching Jerusalem, I can make out the walls of the old city in the distance and the hills on which the various suburbs of the city are perched. All the buildings are made from the white Jerusalem stone, giving the city a shimmering effect in the intense sun.

I think of the garden of Gethsemane and the mount of Olives. Would they actually be as I had envisaged them to be from the Gospels?

Thoughts move over to the Holocaust Museum at Yad-Va-Shem, would the sights of torture and suffering be too much for me to bear? I almost dread the Idea of visiting the memorial to the six million Jews who were murdered in Eastern Europe by the Nazis during the second world war.

Eventually the train pulls into the Station and we step out onto the platform. Soldiers, many of them carrying their rifles scurry passed on their way to their army bases. Once through the gates are met by our tour guide.

Courteously opening the car door for us we get into the V.I.P. tour Mercedes. The windows are covered with blinds. I open one of them but am immediately asked by our driver to close them. “It will ruin your surprise”, he explains.

We see nothing of the city as we hurry through it but it doesn’t seem to matter because the anticipation of the surprise and the complimentary soft drink quenches our thirst and keep us going.

Climbing a large hill we begin to become aware of a whole range of strange smells that are new to us. Smells of the orient!

Eventually we pull up and are asked to close our eyes. We comply, now very excited by the prospect of what is to come. We are led carefully from the car to a spot where we feel the warm air whooshing up from the valley below.

“Welcome to Mount Scopus” said our guide.

“Please now open your eyes”.

The intense sun blinds the view momentarily but my eyes soon adjust.

Sucking in the hot air at the sheer beauty of Jerusalem in all its glory make my eyes well up with tears.

The view is absolutely astounding. Nothing had prepared me for it. Nothing could.

Four Thousand years of MY history are standing right before my eyes.

A picture with a hundred million words.

I am finally home!