Church of the Holy Sepulcher Why our Lord was not there Kester K. EleanorCollins Collins - May 25, 2017
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Theodore Herzl who is considered a national hero and godfather to the citizens of Israel, wrote in his epigraph to Altneuland, (Old-New Land) “If you will it, it is no dream.” In it he envisions the Jews’ return to Zion by the creation of a Jewish State in Palestine, and fortysix years after its publication in 1902, the dream became a reality on May 15, 1948. In much the same way, my journey to the land of Israel began with only a will and a promise. Twenty-one years later I was standing on a hotel balcony in Jerusalem looking out at the sunrise on the Sea of Galilee. The ministry of our Lord Yeshua began some 2000 years before in a small Judaean town known as Bethlehem, led to death and resurrection in Jerusalem, and by 2017, the news of Salvation had moved across all borders and nations of the world. I wanted to absorbed every inch of Israel during my brief visit, but more importantly I wanted to leave with a deeper understanding of faith and what it truly means to have a relationship with God. Upon arrival at the Ben-Gurion International airport, we were met by bus captains for our group and briefed on the itinerary for the next few hours, then proceeded through customs. Thankfully, the process was very welcoming. I wasn’t searched, interrogated, or partially de-robed and left frazzled as is customary in the US, and only 30 minutes after landing in Tel-Aviv, I was bathing in Israel’s glorious sunshine. Though tired and lacking sleep from the ten-hour journey, we were like wide-eyed inquisitive children ready to explore. We settled on board the busses and were greeted by our tour guide. “Welcome home,” he said. Stating that all religions of the world began in Israel. “It is as much my home as it is yours.” It certainly felt like home. It was a place I had heard about since I was a child and read about in scripture, a place I began to view as almost mythical because I never imagined I would actually be there to plant my feet on the very ground our Lord tread upon, or sit beneath the olive trees in full blossom as he did. I was taken in by the calm atmosphere, the hush that came with the breeze and the rich green landscape as we drove along the open road beneath the hills. The sun was so close. I felt if I could lift my hand up to the sky I'd be able to touch it, yet it didn’t burn or hurt my eyes to look at it.
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Our guide led us in the Lord’s Prayer spoken in Hebrew. On the way up to our hotel in Jerusalem, the first stop was the Elah Valley where David rose to victory in the 40-day battle against Goliath. We were invited to take two smooth stones with us to commemorate the visit. When we came to the Haas Promenade, the southeastern side of Jerusalem overlooking the old city from beautiful Mount Scopus, the reality of where I was finally hit me. Words can’t describe that moment. But I remember looking up at the sun, feeling immersed in light from the top of my head to beneath my feet, knowing above all else that God loved me. He gazed upon me with the sun and tapped my shoulders with the rain. I was invited to come and see his Israel and the absolute splendor of the Mediterranean. There were many experiences like this one on our various stops throughout the city and during moments of spiritual reflection. There were times when water filled my eyes for no other reason than pure happiness. Unfortunately, much of the talk in the media surrounding Israel these days include words such as “terrorist plots,” “suicide bombers,” “peace talks,” and my favorite: “Palestinian Islamic Jihad.” However, according to our guide there are only two places in the world where Israel is considered dangerous—the highways, and CNN. If every major power country in the world sees it fit to arm themselves against imposing threat, why isn’t Israel allowed to do the same? If history wasn’t enough to teach the Jews how to defend themselves, being situated between enemy nations like Syria and Lebanon would surely give reasons to be prepared for anything. I never felt afraid, anxious or saw anything that caused me to be concerned for my safety. I experienced calm in every corner. The Sea of Galilee is enormous and the sun rising above it is breathtaking. The Mount of Beatitudes feels like pure heaven. If such a place existed on earth, it would be on that mountain. There was nothing but peace and happy Israelis who felt blessed to own and preserve their land. They work six days a week yet never appear to be overworked or stressed. Shops are closed on Shabbat and people remain mostly indoors quietly commemorating the day with rest and prayer. The end of Shabbat is traditionally celebrated with a family dinner. Israelis introduce themselves by telling you their names and its meaning. I met a lovely young man by the name of Osher, which means happiness, and Aur (pronounced “Orr”) which means, Son of God. He showed me childhood photos of himself and joked about having big ears. Jerusalem is alive with activity. Tel Aviv is as vibrant during the day as it is at night and is fast becoming the new, New York or Paris. Some of the people from the tour met in the
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evenings and went out to nearby shops. My roommate Sabrina and I were paired together for the tour and had a lot in common. One night we went for a stroll and walked by a restaurant where an enthusiastic young man was standing outside, trying to entice customers to come in by offering samples of wine. Sabrina and I politely declined, opting instead to have tea at the sidewalk coffee shop across the street. When he saw us a few minutes later, he teased that we were like two old women having tea before bed instead of wine. We laughed of course, but that is just what Israelis are like. They are lighthearted, easygoing, and fun. They have a carefree way about them that says—life is good. On our second day in Jerusalem we visited The Garden Tomb which was within walking distance and only a short drive from our hotel. I was most excited to see it. Every pilgrim makes the journey for this very reason, and no visit to the Holy Land would be complete without it. It receives over 1/4 million visitors each year from over 60 countries. Though only a part in the telling of Jesus’s story, it is by all accounts the most pivotal. From out of the darkness of a tomb came the birth of Christianity, when on the third day our Lord arose from death into eternal glory proving that nothing could sever the love of a Father for his children, and that salvation was ours to claim. Upon entering through large green doors, there was an immediate stillness that went untouched by the busy streets outside. The trees created a cool shade and settling breeze over the garden. There were beautiful flowers everywhere, plants along the stony walkway, scripture verses etched in stone, and signs leading to the tomb. It was like uncovering a hidden paradise tucked away behind the walls. A special part of the world that God kept for himself. We walked for a few minutes until we came to a viewing platform and seating area under a large tent constructed near the base of a cliff. The first thing that stood out to me before our instructor said a word, were two eye sockets impressed into the side of the cliff. The surrounding rocks formed the outline of the forehead and bridge of the nose. I recognized it immediately. It was the Place of the Skull presented exactly the way scripture describes. In Hebrew and Aramaic it is, Golgotha. In Latin it is known as Calvary. In John 19:17-18 it says: “And he bearing his cross went forth into a place called the place of the skull, which is called in Hebrew, Golgotha: Where they crucified him, and two others with him, on either side one, and Jesus in the midst”.
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An informative discussion was led by a volunteer of The Garden Tomb association in which he dispelled several myths revolving the crucifixion of Jesus, and shared some key facts regarding what happened here two thousand years ago. One of the most widely accepted myths for which we have many Christian songs and hymns to remind us, was that Jesus was crucified on Calvary. However, crucifixions occurred along the roads, just outside the old city gates of Jerusalem. Remnants of an ancient Roman gate dating back to Jesus’s time was found beneath the Damascus gate that now stands. Allowing crucifixions to be visible on entering the city was meant to serve as a warning to those who would oppose Roman law, else they suffer the same fate. Another minor detail perhaps changed to nullify the harshness of crucifixions, was that prisoners remained partially clothed when in fact they were stripped of clothing before they were mailed to the cross, shame to their suffering. Victims were then hoisted mere inches from crowds that gathered to throw insults or mock them. Joseph of Arimathea in part, was offering a kindness to our Lord by wrapping him with linen cloth to give him back his dignity. And when they had crucified him, they parted his garments, casting lots upon them, what every man should take. (Vs 29-30) And they that passed by railed on him, wagging their heads, and saying, Ah, thou that destroyed the temple, and build it in three days, save thyself, and come down from the cross— Luke 24 According to our instructor, the rock hill was discovered in 1842 by Otto Thenius, a German Theologian, but it was General Charles Gordon, a British military engineer and biblical scholar who—because of his high-society influence at the time—brought interest and much needed research into the Hill’s significance. After General Gordon’s death in 1883, the land was purchased by Great Britain in order to preserve the site for further study. A nearby garden containing an ancient Jewish tomb cut from rock, probably built around 1st century A. D. was uncovered in 1867, and the water cistern in 1885. Thanks to the fundraising efforts of Charlotte Hussey and Louisa Hope, the Garden Tomb association was officially established in 1893. But it wasn’t until 1924 that the wine press was also found indicating that the land was owned by a wealthy man who used it to water his vineyard. There are several distinctive features about this particular tomb. As mentioned, it was cut from rock—not a cave, and it had never been used. It was a rare single-family tomb containing three stone platforms and a weeping chamber. There were only two of its kind during the time of the Crucifixion, one of them which was located a short walk from Golgotha belonged to a rich man, Joseph of Arimathea.
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Joseph besought Pilate for the Lord’s body in secret for fear of the Jews and permission was granted. When Jesus was taken down from the cross, Joseph and Nicodemus wrapped the body of our Lord in clean linen and took him to the nearby tomb. “Now in the place where he was crucified was a garden and in the garden a new sepulcher, where never a man was laid. There laid they Jesus therefore because of the Jew’s preparation day; for the sepulcher was nigh at hand”— John 19:41 Jesus was placed on the third platform to the right, where Mary Magdalene and the other women after reaching the tomb and finding the stone rolled away, saw two angels sitting. One at the head and the other at the foot of the place where they laid him. (John 20:12) The tomb had a low entryway, but unlike others, this one allowed a person to see inside the tomb from the outside. “Peter therefore went forth and that other disciple, and came to the sepulchre. So they ran both together and the other disciple did outrun Peter, and came first to the sepulchre. And he stooping down, and looking in, saw the linen clothes lying; yet went he not in. Then cometh Simon Peter following him, and went into the sepulchre, and seeth the linen clothes lie. And the napkin which was about his head, not lying with the linen clothes but wrapped together in a place by itself”—John 20: 3-7: Now, the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, appear to differ slightly regarding what the women saw, the number of angels and where they were seen when they arrived at the tomb. For in the first instance, Matthew 28 records that there was an earthquake at dawn where an angel came, rolled away the stone and sat upon it. In Mark 16, the women arrive and see a young man sitting in the tomb who tells them that Jesus is risen and to tell his disciples. In Luke 24, the women arrive, see that the stone is moved, then two angels appear beside them and one of them asks: “Why seek the living among the dead?” In my interpretation, this is what happened the morning of the Resurrection and may explain the differences in the three accounts: The soldiers who were guarding the tomb were awoken by the earthquake, witnessed an angel whose face was like lightning and his clothes white like snow, descend from heaven and roll away the stone. Jesus comes forth from the tomb and the men being terrified by what they saw “became like dead men” and ran to the chief priests to tell them. They were then paid to say the disciples came in the night and took the body of Jesus.
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The women, now on their way to the tomb talk among themselves about how they would move a large stone by themselves. When they arrive the stone is already moved, and an angel tells them that Jesus is not here, that he is risen, to go and tell his disciples. But I believe they did not go to the disciples right away because they thought no one would believe them, just as it says in Mark 16:8: “And they went out quickly and fled from the sepulcher; for they trembled and were amazed: neither said they anything to any man; for they were afraid.” The gospel accounts tell a story of the women who went to the tomb at least three times that morning. They were trying to find answers as to how the stone was moved and why the Lord wasn’t there. Each time an angel tells them that he is risen, but on the third occasion, the angel perhaps slightly confused by their repeated visits to the tomb asks, “Why seek the living among the dead?” The angel goes a bit further and reminds them of what Jesus said during his mission, that he would rise from the dead after three days. It was then they believed and told the disciples. The Gospels as they are written are not minute-to-minute accounts of what happened that morning, but rather individual summations of what the disciples were told by the women, and what they themselves witnessed. The Garden Tomb bears other interesting features. A channel runs across the front where the stone would have been and the platform on the far right was cut or chiseled a few inches deeper into the wall, perhaps to hold someone other than the person it was intended for. In later years the tomb was used as a chapel for Christian worship. There are markings of a cross made by early Christians during the Byzantine and Crusader periods. One is painted on the inside wall of the tomb and the other is etched on the outside. But why would early Christians be drawn to that location? What made this tomb in this garden in Jerusalem so special? We concluded the discussion and it was time to see the tomb firsthand. I was nervous. Only six people were allowed to go in at a time. I hadn’t made up my mind whether or not to actually enter the tomb. I felt just being in Israel was more than I could have hoped for. That standing outside the place where the angel came and rolled away the stone, the place of our Lord’s resurrection, was beyond a dream come true. It was a gift and a miracle. I decided not to enter the tomb, thanking God instead for delivering his promise and for allowing me to be alive to look upon the tomb of Jesus with my own eyes. A dream perhaps unfulfilled in many hearts around the world. There were no words, only gratitude and joy. I observed others from the group patiently wait in line for their turn to enter the tomb. All of them with bright, happy faces and taking pictures at the entrance. There were many other Christian groups from different countries and cultures peacefully gathered throughout,
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and no more than 150 people per half hour could enter the garden. Allowing each individual to have a more relaxed and intimate experience. Our visit to the Garden Tomb came to an end but the memory will stay with me forever. We proceeded to visit other sites on the day’s agenda. But there was about to be a drastic, unexpected shift in energy as we came to The Church of the Holy Sepulcher. We spent some time at the Pool of Bethesda reading scripture and singing hymns then moved further upward on the Via Dolorosa. We passed each of the three places where Jesus falls under the weight of his cross then came upon the supposed site of his burial, entombed inside the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. I hadn’t known until that point that the site was endorsed by the Catholic Church. The structure itself was very ghostly and the exterior wall had a redness that looked like it had been washed with bloody water. There was a weird kind of doom dripping from the windows. They looked mean and seemed to say, "Come in if you dare." I stood outside with my group, listening as our guide talked about all the tragedies, murders and uprising that took place over the centuries. The story up to now has been that Roman Emperor, Hadrian destroyed the “cave” in 2nd century A.D in which Jesus was buried (already established in scripture that his tomb was cut from rock) to construct a temple on the site to a pagan god. Constantine the Great demolished the temple and replaced it with a church in 326 in honor of his new found faith in Christianity. His mother Helena, finds the tomb and the cross of Jesus during the church’s reconstruction. There are many drawings and theories as to how they managed to destroy a rock hill, a vineyard and a tomb all in one sweep. But thanks to modern technology, along with the testimonies of pilgrims and visitors to the holy sites, many are beginning to question this story. How anyone could promote an uncorroborated, undocumented, not backed up by any geographical logic or doctrine surrounding the “rock enclosures,” “believed caves” and hunches of one woman is, to be blunt, crazy. Especially considering that this was no dog and pony show. It was the most important event in human history. Yet no one bothered to investigate Helena’s findings, nor have they uncovered any facts since then to support her claim. Yet the more time passed as new discoveries of the truth were made, the Church found ways to incorporate those facts into the story they originally told. The Church’s history alone was plagued with violence. After reconstruction in 326, it was again destroyed in 614 by the Persian army. Then the cross was stolen in 614 but emperor Heraclius, retrieved it seventeen years later in 631. The building was severely damaged by an earthquake in 746, and the dome destroyed by fire in 966. In 1009, Fatimid caliph al-Hakim ordered the church to be completely destroyed. Thirty-nine years later reconstruction begins P a g e | 8!
in 1042, and completed in 1055. In 1077, it is rumored that Christians were being denied access to the church by Seljuk Turks. This led to the first crusade in 1096 for the rights of Christians to visit holy sites. These are only a few in a long line of events involving the destruction and political tug of war that lasted for centuries over the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Perhaps all of this instability means that God has been trying to tell us something from the very beginning—Jesus was not there! Of all the sites I visited in Jerusalem, this Church was the only place where the presence of our Lord was not in the least bit present. The air itself was evil. People were praying to a concrete slab, rubbing themselves and items of clothing or merchandise on it to be sold as “blessed” in the shops. Pushing each other and quarreling over who’s turn it was to get inside the holy hole, trying to squeeze into it because they believed that this was the way to salvation. It was idol worship—pure and simple. They had turned our Lord and his Mother into pagan gods. But if the sight of these things weren’t enough, the story gets worse. The group was given 25 minutes to see as much as possible. I expected this church to look the same as all the others—pews, statues and stained-glass windows. The major light source was filtering in from outside through the doorway, the only way in or out. There were hundreds of hanging lamps and lit candles in various places, but the church is almost covered in darkness. It wasn’t difficult to lose members of the group because the crowds were thick and dispersed into different directions. Upon entering, the first thing that became visible was a group of people kneeling in front of what is known as the Stone of Unction, that supposedly Jesus had been placed on as Joseph wrapped him in linen cloth. The one they happened to salvage in spite of the many demolitions and centuries of war. Considering that it was more than 2000 years old, and aside from the obvious cracks, the slab itself seemed fairly new and looked like it had been washed in the same bloody water as the outside walls of the church. As I walked further in, there were long dark tunnels, mini chapels and streets that apparently had no end. The air became hotter the further I went and realized that this could turn dangerous very quickly, so I headed back towards the entrance. I decided to join one group of unknowns that were walking up a curious and very steep flight of stairs to the right of the entrance leading to the Chapel of Calvary. In hindsight, I should have left the church at that point because what happened next was disturbing.
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There are no hand-rails along the first few steps so you literally have to use the crowd of people surrounding you to pull yourself up the stairs. It took several minutes of crawling to get to the top. When I finally got there the line paired off into a number of directions. There are many paintings and images of Mary and Jesus on the walls. In the few minutes remaining, I was only going to take a few pictures then leave. There were dozens of long lit candles in the center of the room guarded with velvet ropes. I took a few shots with my camera then followed a thick line of people off to my right. The lines moved very slowly and I could not see where I was going. When I was finally close enough to see what people were doing, a Russian woman in front of me turned around and looked me, smiling at first but then it disappeared. She said something in an angry voice to the man next to her, who I presumed was her husband, and though she spoke in Russian, I understood what she said. “She’s touching me. I don’t want her to touch me!” Her husband who was a big man about three times my size, began to push me with his back. I fell on the people behind me but because the crowd was so thick I was pushed forward again. Then another man who was part of the same group also started to push me. I was now being pressed between these two men and the crowds. An argument broke out and suddenly, I felt a strong tug on my jacket and tipped sideways. When I turned around there was a woman pulling so hard on my jacket that the right sleeve came completely off my shoulder. I didn’t respond to her yet because I was still dealing with the two men who were pushing me. I asked the first man if he was a Christian and he answered, "I am Slovenian." By the third tug on my jacket I was ready to go all out Brooklyn. But in the second before I turned around something happened. I remembered the Garden Tomb, and the peace I recalled from a few hours earlier flooded my mind. I turned around and said to the woman, “Please don’t touch me.” Then she let go. I took myself out of the crowd and that’s when I saw where they were headed. They were fighting for a chance to crawl in to touch the rock of Calvary. My limbs were a little shaky, so I found a place to sit and took a moment to catch my breath. There was a woman sitting next to me and we struck up a conversation. Her name was Elizabeth, an Ethiopian Jew who lived in Jerusalem. I told her how fortunate she was to live in the same city as our Lord, but she began to share some not-so-fortunate things that were happening to her. She said that the Jews did not treat them well and kept all the wealth and privileges for themselves. More concerning was that the Israeli government threatened to deport her teenage son, a born Israeli, back to Ethiopia. I reassured her that the Lord would not allow that to happen. I talked to her about what had just happened, that I didn’t understand it. She said, “It was the color of your face.” Elizabeth asked me to pray for her and I said I would.
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I left the church and looked around to locate my group but couldn’t find anyone. I used the portable radios we were given but there was no sound, indicating they were out of range. Luckily, the group behind ours had just arrived so I decided to join them. I stayed with this group as they entered the church but did not go upstairs. When I looked over to left staircase, I saw Elizabeth sitting at the foot of the steps with two men in uniforms holding her arms. She had a look of agony on her face. She saw me and called out, “Sister!” I went to her and asked what happened. She said she had fallen down the stairs and showed me her leg. I saw that it was broken. “You see what happened?” I touched her face as she cried and told her that everything would be alright. The emergency crew was on the way and I opted to stay with her until they arrived, but she knew I had been with a group and told me to go. “Please pray for me,” she said, and I promised her I would. I felt relieved to be out of that church. The energy inside was so incensed that I don’t believe that Elizabeth slipped at all, someone pushed her. I had an odd feeling that the church was cursed and would not stand another ten years. God will destroy it. When we got back to the hotel later that day, I told Sabrina everything that happened. Not surprisingly, she too had had a negative experience. Now, I’m not sure why the Vatican would endorse the site but I do know that the Church of the Holy Sepulcher receives millions of dollars in donations for the “upkeep” of a 1700-year-old church with no electricity, no pews, and no facts to present that this was the site of our Lord’s tomb. Especially considering that there is a giant rock with two eyes just down the road. It was painfully obvious to me and to those who stood at the Holy Sepulcher, that there was nothing holy about it. Even before you enter something in your spirit says that this is not the place. The Garden Tomb on the other hand was serene, enlightening, and fit biblical description. Earlier I mentioned that after leaving the Garden Tomb we walked in an upward direction down the Via Dolorosa, where Jesus would have carried the beam of his cross. It was a long and tiring walk through the old city. Though the Bible does not tell us which path Jesus took to the crucifixion, it would only be logical for our Lord, weakened because of his injuries and carrying his cross, to fall going downhill, not up—in the direction of the Garden Tomb, and not the Holy Sepulchre. Adding to biblical significance, Golgotha is situated on the north end of Mount Moriah where God instructs Abraham to take his son Isaac to be offered as a sacrifice. He also instructs Moses in Leviticus 1:11, that sacrifices are to be brought to the “northward” side of the altar, the locations of both Skull Hill and the Damascus Gate.
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But maybe there is another perspective, a divine one that actually makes sense. Given the volatility of the world after the time of Christ, with numerous wars and religious battles waging over one territory or another, perhaps it was God’s will that the site of the Holy Sepulcher serve as a distraction, to protect the actual site of Jesus’s tomb. At least until a time the world would be ready to receive it. God used Helena for his own purpose, so that today millions of people all over the world could “come and see” the site of his Son’s resurrection that they too might believe. Israel brought a deeper understanding of faith and a renewed spiritual connection with the Lord that is stronger than before. The Scriptures came alive in Israel, yet they were never dead. Religion to some degree has hardened or boxed-in our understanding of God in a time when people are searching elsewhere, desperately longing to make connections in a disconnected world. The journey answered many of my lingering questions about life and what it is that the Lord is asking us to do in these despondent times. When I returned from the trip, a friend of mine asked how I manage to keep it a secret from everyone except my family. I said that it was so special to me that I wanted to keep it to myself. But Israel is not mine alone and too beautiful to be kept a secret. I believe that the whole purpose of God’s invitation was so I could share what I learned with others. No. 1—Israel is no more dangerous than your backyard. The media has abused its advantage to cause division and to plant fear in people’s minds; No. 2—Warn others about the Holy Sepulchre; No. 3—God wants us to be extenders of his goodness and love and to not lose hope in these times. Above all, there is only one God. He is not a church, or a tomb, or a sacrament. The universe alone cannot contain Him, far less for inanimate things. It is only through an awakened spiritual consciousness, and one-to-one communication with the living Christ Jesus that we find sustainable life. Until this becomes the only life there is, we will lose every battle. It would take a lot more than the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to delude the Lord’s followers. As Jesus said, he knows his sheep and his sheep know him, and many will continue to proclaim that he wasn’t there until the walls crumble. But when it comes to rule and power we all know how the story goes. Even if evidence mounts in favor of the Garden Tomb from here to kingdom come, it will be a cold day in Gehenna before the Vatican will admit they made a mistake.
The Holy Bible (King James Version). Thomas Nelson, 1989 Gordis, Daniel. Israel. HarperCollins, 2016 The Garden Tomb/Brief history, 2017. Retrieved from www.gardentomb.com/ Missler, Chuck. A Textual Surprise: The Empty Tomb, Koinonia House, www.khouse.org/articles, 2002
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