“THE TRIBES OF GOD GO THITHER”
Jerusalem a city is
Compactly built together;
Unto this place the tribes go up
The tribes of God go thither.
The Holy Land is hallowed ground for three great religions of the world.
Jews, Moslems, Christians—all of them worshippers of only one god—do
reverence at its shrines. Jerusalem is the pilgrimage city of the world.
Sacred to the Christians, the centre of Jewish religious devotion and
national dreams, it is also a second Mecca to the Mohammedans. The
Moslems locate the judgment seat upon the walls surrounding the Mosque
of Omar, which stands on the site of Solomon’s great temple. They make
their pilgrimages from all parts of the Mohammedan world to worship at
this mosque, and prostrate themselves before the sacred rock within it
as they do before the holy black stone of Mecca. The prophet Mohammed
himself said that Jerusalem was the holiest place in the world, and that
one prayer here was worth a thousand elsewhere.
[Illustration: Outside of the walls of Jerusalem one often sees flocks of
sheep being driven in to market. Nearly every flock has its goats, which
are usually black. Palestinian shepherds go before their sheep, inducing
them to follow by calling to them]
[Illustration: Lepers beg at the gates of Jerusalem, under the walls of
great stone blocks finely joined together]
[Illustration: Down the hill from under the walls of Jerusalem goes the
road to Jaffa and the sea: to the right is the way to Bethlehem]
The Christians of the Eastern churches are brought up in much the same
faith. They believe that the prayers said within the walls of the Church
of the Holy Sepulchre at the foot of Mount Calvary have a wonderful
efficacy, and they gather in Jerusalem every Easter by the tens of
thousands. From the wilds of Abyssinia, from the flat plains of Egypt,
from the mountain fastnesses of Greece, and from all over Russia, even
to the borders of Siberia, they come to drop their tears upon the tomb,
and to live over the terrible events of Passion Week. They come from all
parts of Asia Minor, and the Syrians and the Armenians jostle the Copts
and the Arabians on their way to prayers.
In recent years Latin pilgrimages from western Europe and America have
been increasing. Bands of Christians come from Italy, France, Spain,
and the United States. I was in Jerusalem when the first pilgrimage
was made by a body of Christians from America to the Holy City. More
than one hundred men and women from all sections of the United States,
under the leadership of the Bishop of Tennessee, took part in the Latin
celebrations in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
Many of these pilgrims are extremely superstitious. Most of them believe
that every spot pointed out by the monks is the actual locality of the
event alleged to have occurred there. They walk over the Holy Land
with staffs in their hands, and kneel down and kiss the places where
they believe Jesus trod. They even kiss the stones of the streets of
Jerusalem, forgetting or not knowing that there have been three or four
Jerusalems buried below the site of the present one.
I have seen pilgrims crawling on their knees through the Church of the
Holy Sepulchre. Creeping into the vestibule, they kiss the Stone of
Unction upon which it is claimed the body of Christ was anointed for
burial.
Near the Stone of Unction is the spot on which it is said the Virgin Mary
stood while Christ was on the cross. It also is worn away by kissing.
Going on into the great rotunda and turning to the right we reach a
church belonging to the Greeks at the front of which stands a column as
high as a chair and about as big around as a four-gallon crock. This is
the centre of the world, and is honoured as such. I saw Russian peasant
girls kissing it, and farther on observed them kissing holy place after
holy place until it seemed to me that their lips must wear out. Kisses
are pressed upon these spots by thousands of mouths every day, and if
every lip leaves its microbes all the diseases of the world must be in
the bacteria here.
It is hard to estimate the value of the offerings the pilgrims lay on
these shrines. Those who come are of all classes, and some bring the
savings of years. The poor lay their pennies in the hands of the priests
and drop them in the slot boxes which may be seen at almost every
corner. There is much gold, and there are treasures in precious stones.
A life-sized image of the Virgin Mary which I saw in the Greek church
was covered with diamonds. The image was made of wax, and was dressed
in satins and silks. Its face was painted. An oval pearl as big as the
end of my thumb hung on the forehead, while on the waxen fingers were
a score or more rings. Some of the rings were set with diamonds, some
with sapphires and rubies, and others with opals. Opals in Palestine are
looked upon as the sign of good luck and not bad, as with us.
Most of the rings were costly and each was presented to the Virgin as
a love offering. On the silken lap of the image lay a great golden
heart as thick as my fist and about six inches in width. It was studded
with emeralds and diamonds. The heart was a present from Franz Josef,
Emperor of Austria, who made many costly gifts to the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre. In the grotto of the Church of the Nativity at Bethlehem is
a similar statue, even more gorgeously decorated, although some of the
jewels are said to be paste.
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is a hotbed of superstition. It is
supposed to stand on the spot where Christ was crucified. The Bible tells
us that this was outside Jerusalem, but the Church of the Sepulchre is
to-day far within the walls. This, however, is not a proof that the
location is incorrect, for the walls of Jerusalem have been thrown down
and rebuilt again and again, especially those on Mount Zion where the
great church stands. The hill where Christ was crucified was made up
of terraces of rock, and that is the nature of the foundation of this
church. The place was located by St. Helena, the mother of Constantine
the Great, who came here about three hundred years after Christ died, and
found what was said to be the true cross among the rubbish on the side of
the hill. She had the cross dug out and carried to Constantinople, whence
later on some pieces of it were sent to Rome. One section as long as
your arm is said to be in Jerusalem, and there are so many other pieces
scattered over the world that I venture you could build a house with them.
Shortly after this discovery, a church was erected on the spot, and since
then others have been built, destroyed, and rebuilt, until we now have
this great edifice which covers, I should say, an area of several acres.
It is surmounted by a cross rising from a dome as big as that of our
National Capitol.
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is not beautiful and its position in
the heart of Jerusalem, surrounded by bazaars, convents, monasteries,
and hotels, is by no means imposing. The front of it is covered with
carvings, some of which are from ancient temples, and over the doors are
bas-reliefs of scenes from the Bible. One of these represents the raising
of Lazarus, with the Saviour standing at the front and Mary at His feet.
At the command of Christ, Lazarus is seen rising from the dead, while in
the background are spectators, some of whom are holding their noses as an
evidence, perhaps, of the corruption which had begun to take place before
Lazarus was brought to life.
Under the dome of the church lies the tomb of the Saviour. It is enclosed
in a chapel of an ivory-white marble, which stands in the centre of
the rotunda. This chapel is perhaps twenty feet high, twenty-six feet
long, and seventeen feet wide. Entering through a door so low that you
have to stoop to go in, you finally come into a chamber six feet square
and lighted only by candles. This is the alleged tomb of the Saviour.
Over it is a marble slab covered with glass to keep the kisses of the
pilgrims from wearing the stone. There are always priests here, and all
who come in are sprinkled with holy water. Every worshipper brings with
him rosaries, beads, and holy pictures which are laid upon the tomb to
be blessed. I saw one old woman totter in with a half bushel bag full of
rosaries on her back; a frowsy-bearded man came with her, bearing all
he could carry. Spreading these out on the slab, they knelt, while the
priest sprinkled the beads and gave them his blessing. Before leaving
they dropped some coins into his hand. They were Russians and will
probably carry these rosaries back home to their friends.
[Illustration: The modern American oil can competes with the ancient
water bottle. The small boy scorns, like his father, to be seen carrying
a little water at a time, though he may proudly stagger along with a
heavy skin holding several gallons]
“GOING UP TO JERUSALEM”
[Illustration: These Russian pilgrims carry their food and cooking
utensils with them. Undismayed by poverty and difficulties they press on
upheld by their unquestioning faith]
[Illustration: A donkey ambulance is provided in case a pilgrim falls ill
on the march]
For years more Russians have made the pilgrimage to the Holy Land than
almost any other people on the globe. Fifty or sixty thousand of them
come here every season. They are brought in by the shipload at Easter
time and during the whole spring bodies of pilgrims can be seen going on
foot from shrine to shrine throughout Palestine.
Many of the pilgrims land at Haifa, the most northern port of the
country. From there they walk over the mountains of Galilee, stopping at
Nazareth and then going on to Tiberius. They stop and pray at every holy
spot and often kiss the ground where they think Jesus or the saints have
trod. From the Sea of Galilee they make their way back to Nazareth, and
thence go across the plain of Esdraelon and through Samaria to Jerusalem.
I have seen thousands of them at Bethlehem and have met them tramping the
weary road to the Dead Sea and the Jordan.
These Russians belong to the Greek Church, which owns most of the
monasteries and convents of this country, and which has, all told,
property amounting to millions, including some of the best real estate
in Jerusalem. It has a great hospice outside the walls of Jerusalem as
well as a magnificent church on top of the Mount of Olives. It has other
similar institutions elsewhere, and is a great factor in the religious
life of the Holy Land.
The Russians have here what is perhaps the largest hotel of the world.
Ten thousand people can sleep there in a single night, and it has,
besides, separate buildings for families. It is known as the Russian
Hospice and lies at the west outside the city wall. It covers a space of
ten acres or more and has a high wall about it.
Entering the gates of this hospice, one finds himself surrounded by
Russians and Russian scenes. It is a slice of the land of the White
Bear dropped down in Judea. There is nothing Syrian in sight. The men
dress in caps, long coats, and trousers tucked into high boots. They are
long-bearded, long-haired, and fair-faced. There are many red heads among
them and none seems to know of the razor. The women are clad in coarse
gowns ending at six inches or more from the ankle. Most of them wear
boots, but some wear straw shoes, and wrap cloths around their legs in
place of stockings. They have handkerchiefs tied about their heads, and
their features are usually as hard and rough as those of the men.
But suppose we go into the women’s quarters of this mighty hotel. The
building is cut up into stalls which run from one side of it to the
other. These tunnel-like rooms are lighted at the end, and standing in
a central hall it seems as though the windows were at least two hundred
feet distant. Each vault, which is eight feet wide and fifteen feet
high, is filled from end to end with rough bunks of pine boards. Upon
the boards is straw matting, and a space six feet square forms the bed
and home of each woman. At the back of this she piles up the bread, tea,
and other belongings she has brought with her from Russia. She sleeps
stretched out on the board in the clothing she wears in the daytime. The
quarters devoted to the men are of similar nature while those for the
families differ only in that the spaces are larger.
These pilgrims bring their bread and tea with them from Russia. In
addition to this they have a few vegetables which they buy of the
natives. They cook with oil stoves. When on the march each carries some
bread along with her and a pan out of which to drink and in which to
make tea.
In some parts of the inclosure we can see families at their meals. The
men, women, and children sit on the ground around a pot of soup. Each has
his own piece of bread and a spoon. They wash their own clothes, using
dishpans as tubs. The pans are as big as a bicycle wheel and four inches
deep. The washing is done with cold water, which is free in the hospice,
but which outside would cost two cents a gallon.
These Russian pilgrims are very religious. They are mostly poor, and
many have been saving a lifetime in order that they might make this tour
to the Holy Land. They undergo all sorts of hardships and spend their
time in fasting and prayer. They have a church inside the hospice where
services are held twice a day. I have attended the church several times.
It is always full of people standing or kneeling. They cross themselves
again and again as the service goes on, and now and then get down and bow
their heads to the floor. There are similar services in the other Greek
churches. I attended one on the Mount of Olives where the reading of the
Scriptures and the singing were done by Russian nuns dressed in black
with stove-pipe hats without brims crowning their heads. The hats ended
in a cape or veil which fell down the back. The faces of the nuns were
uncovered and spiritual looking. Their singing was exceedingly sweet, and
the service was impressive. The pilgrims who listened knelt and now and
then kissed the bare floor.
At Easter time the water of the River Jordan is blessed by the high
priest of the Church, and there are many priests to baptize the Faithful
in the sacred river. The women and men dress in white garments and go
into the water together. They change their clothes on the shore. The
garments they wear in the water are usually shrouds, which they have
brought from home with them for this purpose, and which they intend to
take back to be used at their burials.
The scenes of these baptisms make one think of a picnic. The men, women,
and children rush about, some laughing and screaming, and others quietly
talking. The priests dip each three times in the Jordan, giving their
blessing as they do so. After baptism some soak other shrouds in the
river to consecrate them that they may carry them home to their friends.
They also drink of the dirty water and bottle it up to take home. Some of
the pilgrims are old and have to be lifted in and out of the river. The
current is swift, and frequently men are drowned.