Easter Monday

Ah, my final day in Israel.

I decided to go to one last event with the St. George's Easter Week group and go to the Easter Monday service at the Romanian Orthodox Church. This turned out to be a great choice, as the Romanian church was painted with beautiful frescoes (right) and probably had the most gorgeous liturgy in Jerusalem aside from the Armenians; and solely in terms of music, they're likely the best. I could have stayed for the full three hours, but it was my last day, and I had a number of churches left to get to.

From there I walked to the Ethiopian church hidden in an alleyway near Ben Yehuda St. After hearing about the Ethiopian service at night on Holy Saturday and experiencing their generosity with food on the roof, I had to try and finally find this Ethiopian church I'd heard about. On my way there I ran into a fellow with an Ethiopian cross on (even-sides with an icon imprint) asking for people who speak English. I gave him some directions and information on bus routes, and when I asked him if I was on the right track he pointed out the way to get there. Quite providential, and convenient.

Upon arriving I found of mass of people arrayed in white pouring out of the round, domed church (left). It turned out that it was a wedding! I worked my way through the crowd and into the church, where a few people were still lingering. When I asked whether I could go on, I was told that that was perfectly fine, but that it was custom for me to remove my shoes first.

The interior is a rotunda with an open space for the laity around the rim of the walls, with a central edifice surrounded by veils and an iconostasis; the sanctuary was, as in all Orthodox churches, inside. As it turns out, that's how all Ethiopian churches are set up. The icons I found particularly interesting; just as their worship is deeply liturgical yet unmistakably African, their icons are obviously Ethiopian but affirm the catholic-orthodox traditions of the church. In other words, the style is Ethiopian, and there are many black Ethiopian saints, but the figures in standard iconic scenes are still Semitic and Mediterranean. No radical recontextualization here.

The wedding was held on an elevated platform in front of the primary entrance to the sanctuary, so they'd set up chairs in the rotunda in that quadrant of the circle going round the sanctuary. A single elderly priest was putting them away, so I decided to lend a hand. I ended up putting away the folding chairs, and got a peek into the sanctuary since I was standing at the threshold, handing him some liturgical elements they'd brought outside and now were being put back in their proper place. I wonder just how many white people have ever been able to get an unobstructed look into an Ethiopian sanctuary.

Well, from there I went to the Holy Trinity Cathedral of the Russian Orthodox Church. This church is in the Russian Compound, which was the original pilgrim center for Russians but later evolved into a British police station and notorious prison. The church remains, however, in the hands of the Russians. I hadn't expected to get in, as its hours are irregular on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and this Easter Monday, of all Mondays. But the doors were unlocked, and I wandered in to find the gift stands in the narthex open for business and about four Russian tourists milling about. I didn't let on that I don't speak Russian.

The church has a white interior accented in bright, well-polished gold. After the darkness of most Greek chapels I'd seen, it was a very welcome change in the architecture of Orthodoxy. It also has a beautiful, realistic-yet-Eastern icon of Pentecost on the dome of the northern apse:

Well, at this point I wanted to do some things on the Mount of Olives, since I won't be on pilgrimage for Ascension Thursday and all the ascension sites are up there. In the first case, the Lutheran Augusta Victoria Church is officially the Church of the Ascension, and its tower is the Tower of the Ascension. Alas, it was closed for Easter Monday.

However, from there I walked down the road to the Russian Church of the Ascension. Like Holy Trinity, this is normally only open on Tuesdays and Thursdays. However there was a Russian pilgrim group there for Easter, and they'd opened it specially, so I actually got in.

The church was like Holy Trinity, white with gold, but even more tasteful and elegant. There was also an icon of the entire murdered Romanov family, which was particularly interesting.

On the site was also the Church of the Head of St. John the Forerunner, which I found morbidly amusing. There was some sort of indentation in the mosaic floor, which I assume was a burial place for his head before it was removed and placed elsewhere. That's what I gathered, anyway, but I could be entirely wrong. In any case, the nice Russian nun working the icon-selling stand encouraged me to stick my head in the hole. Well, ok...

From there I hit the rather unimpressive Mosque of the Ascension, unhelpfully called the Chapel or Church of the Ascension. It's basically a squat octagonal building with a dome, with an exposed piece of bedrock inside lit by candles and a mihrab. And I had to pay to see this?

After discovering the Pater Noster Church was closed either until 2:30 or for the day, and unwilling to wait around for half an hour in a bad neighborhood to find out, I headed down the familiar path to the Kidron, past Dominus Flevit and the Basilica of the Agony, to the Orthodox Tomb of Mary. This, of course, is one of two Orthodox Tombs of Mary, the other being a few miles away from where I write this post (the Turkish port town of Kusadasi), just outside Ephesus. It reminded me a lot of the Holy Sepulchre, with its dark icons covered in ecclesiastical silver, hanging Armenian oil lamps, and even an edicule built around the supposed tomb (right).

Well, I spent the rest of the evening taking a final walk through the Holy Sepulchre. I didn't go in the tomb because the line was packed by Russians, but that was fine. It meant my final time in the tomb was with Maria during our lock-in, and that will be a memory I carry with me until the next time I get back to Israel, and forever.

Instead, I walked around to all the smaller, lesser chapels and took pictures of them. The end of my second Holy Week album is a series of wonderful pictures of all these tiny chapels and altars clinging around the church. It was a wonderful way to spend my final hour in the Old City, and I'll never forget it.