by Thelma Nisly
The morning air was crisp, the sun was bright, as we wound through the curving streets of Jerusalem. Traffic was thick – large tour buses rounded corners and squeezed past each other in what seemed impossibly tight spaces. These bus drivers were certainly skilled at their job! Winding up a rather narrow street in stop and go traffic, suddenly to our right the famous panorama of Jerusalem burst into view: the well-known Temple Mount with Jerusalem spreading out to right and left and stretching on beyond. Awed we exited the tour van and stood at the Mount of Olives scenic overlook. We gazed silently at this well-known stretch of historic landscape. Our guide waited to begin pointing out the significant landmarks, giving us time to look and ponder.
Travelers coming to Jerusalem those many years ago would have seen this view as they neared the city: instead of the Dome of the Rock, the temple would have gleamed in the morning light. Their excitement echoed in our hearts.
We tried to absorb the significance of this spot on the globe: a city that three major religions consider the essential piece of real estate of all time. At this distance, all was quiet, but this has been the scene of much joy, overwhelming disaster and grief, promise as well as pain, a place inspiring volumes of historic writing as well as announcing Jesus’ return.
As we wound our way up the traffic- filled ascent to this overlook, we noted chapels and minarets crowding one after another. Two religions vied for visibility. I wanted to find the Jerusalem I read of in the Bible. The crowded religious landscape sounded a dissonant chord: is peace possible in this collision of belief systems?!
A city of contradictions: side by side exist evidence of Hebrew history and present life as well as obvious clues of Christian and Muslim presence. At the Garden Tomb we experienced the contradictions sharply. The guide sincerely and convincingly explained the likelihood of this being the actual site of the Resurrection morning miracle. At one vantage point the probable Golgotha, the Place of the Skull, was in full view – a Muslim cemetery is now located above the rough cliff and at the base is a bus station. Pondering these 
incongruities, I noticed two minarets a little to 
the right. (Note the red roof appearing in both photos.) An inner voice (mine) demanded, How dare “they” encroach on these sacred Christian spaces?! But another thought interjected, Would Jesus not have wanted this? – that people from anywhere and everywhere would stumble into the arena of His greatest work: the cross and the resurrection? Actually, not at all improbable, knowing Him. He would welcome them all.
In the Garden of Gethsemane the olive trees were a powerful reminder of the message of fruitfulness and perseverance. Not a tree that would be considered “beautiful,” yet they were majestic, regal in the truth they revealed, and I was stretched and comforted. To bear fruit is to forget one’s self – to set aside cultural notions of success and beauty and give one’s self to reproducing life in new branches; of enduring what centuries (for these trees, at least) of weather, drought, and staying on task may require. I was awed by their age and the continuing life evident in their gnarled appearance still sending out new shoots. These seemed most nearly authentic of the Jerusalem Jesus would have known.
A visit to Jerusalem is not complete without a visit to Yad Vashem: The Holocaust Museum. The museum is a large complex of structures, plaques and memorial venues, all bearing poignant symbolism. Its message is huge. It was as though we walked with the Jewish people through a brief segment of their millennia-long history as God’s chosen people. It was a “walk” allowing us to enter into their story, their emotional experience of that terrible time. The expressions on our faces and our intent posture in these first photos tell a bit of how in a small way we began to understand the plight and hopelessness of those years.
Gathered around this model of the grounds, we listened as our guide (on the left) gave brief comments about the historic setting and explained how to work our way through the long building containing the artifacts, videos, testimonies, documents and photos of the story of the years of World War II, told from the perspective of the Hebrew people.
My reflections here cannot be called a “report.” I seek to share some of the message stamped deeply on my heart of this unique and eloquent place. The Hebrew name Yad Vashem means A Land and a Name, expressing the hope realized when Israel was granted recognition as a nation state in 1948.
The carefully chosen architectural style of the museum proper is symbolic. Constructed as a long, triangular tunnel, it speaks of the desperation of that time that offered no escape. Each day moved
the Jews inexorably toward a destination they had not chosen, an end point that could not be avoided. The walls slanting inward gave the sensation of something ominous closing in. At the apex of the triangle, glass let in natural light. Only eyes of faith that looked to God could discern light and hope in all the horror that surrounded them.
One can spend hours – even days – taking it all in. The walking tour winds back and forth through the “tunnel,” advancing year by year. We were shown the starting point and given the time for meeting at the exit. Then we were on our own to explore, ponder, look again and meditate.
When I checked my watch, I was startled to see that our meeting time was approaching, and I was only half way through the displays. With the sudden urgency to rejoin my group, I became disoriented. Which end of this long, enclosing tunnel was the way out? For a few minutes I kept circling back through the same displays. I calmed myself and tried again to advance through the maze of crisscrossing walkways. But again, the same displays met my gaze as I rounded yet another corner. It is impossible to walk straight to the exit; the structural layout does not permit a fast get-away. The guide I found did not speak English; I tried to pantomime my difficulty. She found another English speaking guide who set me on course. I pondered, tasting the sense of mild panic, the frustrating struggle to overcome the maze of twists and turns. This is how they felt, I realized. I had marveled at one display of an authentic section of railroad embedded
in the floor, complete with a train car on the rails. The display spoke sharply of the desire to flee the closing net and hurry to safety – but, to where? Escape routes for Jews were quickly closed off by the governing powers. The train track that ended at each wall was a sickening reminder of their plight.
I finally reached the rendezvous point and my traveling companions. What a relief! And what a marvelous view met our eyes as we exited the long tunnel of scenes we may never forget. The message of hope was easy to perceive. After the long, long years of “captivity,” this open scene spoke freedom, opportunity and welcome. We looked and better understood.
Sculptures and other sites throughout the grounds were sobering reminders of what this nation had endured, bearing the identity of “God’s chosen people.” The human heart’s capacity to produce horror or manifest courage was a sober message.
This bronze sculpture tugs at my heart every time I see the photo. It honors one Boris Saktsier Korczak, a grade school teacher who took in Hebrew schoolboys and sheltered them. When the Nazi soldiers came to the school to “clean house,” the teacher said, “If you take them, you also take me.” He did not abandon the boys and they died together, so our guide related. The various sculptors captured well the desperation of the times.
To borrow the words of the writer of Hebrews 11: “And what more shall I say? Time would fail me to tell of…”
(Right) Our tour group in front of the Church of the Nations beside the Garden of Gethsemane, opposite the Temple Mount and the Golden Gate.
(Below) The Western Wall: we joined those who prayed, and tried to fathom the heart longing of Israel for their homeland to be fully restored.
And what else formed this adventure, this time of learning and pondering? Well, the amazing food! – tasty grilled vegetables with that distinct Mediterranean flavor, served – surprise! – cold. Yummy falafel – mashed garbanzo pea burgers – in pita bread wrapping.
And all the shops whose colorful contents inspired eager shopping! At least with a few photos we could bring along home those sights that dazzled the eyes.
Sights, sounds, smells, flavors, textures and sensations of every kind reminded us that this was a place to savor, experience and remember. Narrow streets did not translate into narrow rewards.
The Jerusalem Adventure offered an experience of discovery, rich blessing and refreshment. Though each day in Israel was packed with so much to learn and absorb, God provided for time to stand still so my wonderment could “catch up” while I scribbled in my travel journal and pondered and treasured things in my heart.
The Jerusalem Adventure reminded me that life in my own world offers glimpses of God’s activity – if I watch! and whispers of His voice – if I listen! These often come in unexpected ways and places, like rounding a corner in the Old City and discovering a surprise worth the trek to find it. Each facet of “knowing” opens our eyes and our hearts to His message today. Truly, any city can be a holy city.
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Thelma Nisly lives in Cuenca, Ecuador, where she and Clayton work with locally-led churches, participating in leadership development and shaping vision for continued outreach. Their three children with their families live in three countries: Duane and Liliana with their four sons live in Mexico; Marcia and Cade and their daughter and son live in Nashville, Tennessee; and Bethany and Saulo and two daughters live in Cuenca. Thelma’s hobbies include reading, writing, art and the outdoors. Thelma’s greatest joys come from relationships with her family, with fellow disciples of Christ, and with God on the daily path.
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