WASHING THE FEET OF THE APOSTLES
Two of the great sights of Easter in Jerusalem are the foot-washing on
Holy Thursday and the “miracle” of the descent of holy fire from heaven
on Easter Eve. During my visits to Jerusalem I have seen both ceremonies.
The washing takes place in the open air at the door of the Church of the
Holy Sepulchre. The Greek Patriarch washes the feet of twelve of his
bishops in commemoration of the foot-washing of the apostles by Christ
after the Last Supper.
By dawn of Holy Thursday, at the time I last saw this rite, the court was
packed, and for hours before the ceremony began the streets were jammed
with a crowd of Mohammedans and Christians, of Orientals and Occidentals,
such as you will see nowhere else in the world. Many of the pilgrims
slept in the court all night in order to be sure of places. In the centre
of the court stood an oval rostrum about four feet above the stones.
Around its floor ran an iron railing enclosing a space about eight feet
wide and twelve feet long. Inside the railing and running around it were
seats, and at the back a gold and white armchair cushioned with red
satin. This stage was for the ceremony, and the chair the throne of the
Patriarch. The other seats were for the bishops. Around this platform, to
keep back the crowd, was a guard of soldiers, and back of these, in a
solid mass, were the people.
From my seat on a housetop I looked with wonder at the twenty thousand
people below. The steps leading to the chapel of Mount Calvary were
filled with Mohammedan women in sheet-like gowns with veiled faces, and
every niche and corner of the buildings surrounding the court was covered
by Greek men and boys holding on to the walls as best they could. The
ledges of the convent were filled with Syrians, and even the roof of the
Sepulchre itself had its coping of picturesque humanity.
There was a stir in the crowd. I looked toward the door of the church.
Preceded by two fierce-looking Syrian _kavasses_ with swords at their
sides and carrying silver-headed staffs, came the bishops and in their
midst the stately figure of the Patriarch himself. The grand procession
passed slowly and majestically through the mass of people. A wonderful
silence succeeded the tumult as the bishops mounted the steps of the
rostrum. The Patriarch took his seat on his chair of state and the twelve
bishops arranged themselves on each side. They were fine-looking men, all
of them, with their full silken beards and their gorgeous robes.
Presently a chanting solo was heard from the convent on the courtyard.
There against the wall in an improvised pulpit above the heads of the
multitude a Greek priest in black cap and gown stood with a gold-plated
book open on a rack in front of him. His chant continued during the
greater part of the proceedings. A priest brought to the rostrum a large
golden pitcher in a basin of gold as big as a foot-bath and placed it in
front of the Patriarch. As His Beatitude and the bishops rose, there was
a waving of the crosses formed of candles, a passing of the hands this
way and that, and a great deal of bowing, which was understood only by
the Greeks and the Russians.
[Illustration: The Church of the Pater Noster, on the Mount of Olives,
contains tablets of the Lord’s Prayer in thirty-two languages]
[Illustration: With towel and basin the Greek Patriarch washes the feet
of his twelve bishops each Easter Week, thus commemorating Christ’s
washing of the feet of His apostles. The bishop representing Peter always
raises objections, which the Patriarch overrules]
Then the Patriarch prepared for the washing. Standing in front of his
chair, he first took off his great dome of a hat. As he did so his long
gray locks fell down almost to his waist and his fair, open, dignified
face shone out under the sun. He next laid off his grand gown; piece by
piece the cloth of gold was removed, until at last he stood forth in a
white robe of the finest cream-coloured silk crêpe bound round the waist
with a gold-and-white girdle. In this still grand attire personating
the Saviour, he took a long Turkish bath towel and twisted it about his
loins. Then stooping over he poured the water from the gold pitcher into
the basin.
The twelve bishops, in the meantime, were busy getting their feet out of
their English congress-gaiters and pulling off their white cotton socks
for the washing. Each bared one foot and held it out to be washed as the
Patriarch came around with the basin. The Patriarch did the washing very
quickly, rubbing each foot with water and drying it with a towel. As he
finished he bent over and kissed the foot he had washed and then went
on to the next. The last bishop represented St. Peter, and, after the
example of Peter of the past, he objected to having his feet washed by
the Lord; he rose and gesticulated violently. But the Patriarch opened
the Bible and read to him the admonition of Christ to Peter, shaking his
hand at Peter as he did so. A moment later Peter sat down humbly and
submitted to the washing.
At this moment the bells of the Greek churches all over Jerusalem burst
out in a chorus of rejoicing. The preacher against the wall chanted
louder than ever, while the great crowd surged this way and that in their
efforts to get nearer the platform. The Patriarch descended, the bishops
followed, and in double file they marched out through the crowd, with the
_kavasses_ clearing the way. A priest carried in front of the Patriarch
a vase of the holy water in which the feet were washed, and into this
His Beatitude dipped a great bouquet of roses with which he sprinkled
the water over the crowd. The people held up their faces to catch
the purifying drops and rushed to the platform to wipe up with their
handkerchiefs what was spilled on the floor. Those who succeeded in thus
wetting their handkerchiefs then pressed them over their faces.
The “miracle” of the holy fire also takes place in the church in front
of the tomb two days after the foot-washing ceremony. The Latin churches
have not taken part in it for more than three hundred years. The Roman
Catholics protest against it, and it is now managed entirely by the
Greeks and the other sects of the Orient.
The Greeks say that the “miracle” has been celebrated ever since the days
of the apostles. It is mentioned in theological literature as far back
as the ninth century, and in the twelfth century it was made use of to
arouse a religious fervour against the enemies of Christianity. Most of
the pilgrims of the Eastern churches believe that the fire actually comes
down from heaven and that they are able to ignite their candles from
flames sent by God.
This sacred fire appears in the tomb of the Holy Sepulchre precisely
at two o’clock in the afternoon of the Saturday before Easter. On the
morning of that day all of the lights of the church are put out, and the
people stand for hours and wait for the great event. There are holes
in the walls of the Sepulchre itself, and through these the candles of
believers are passed to the Patriarch of Jerusalem, who is inside. He
lights them with the sacred flame as soon as it appears and hands them
out burning. Other candles are lighted from these, and runners carry the
holy fire all over Palestine, to Bethlehem and to Nazareth, and to the
Sea of Galilee.
The night before the miracle hundreds sleep in different chapels and in
the rotunda, in order to hold good places for the morrow, and during the
day the churches are thronged to such an extent that people are often
injured by the crush. In the morning everyone has a bunch of candles in
his hand. There are ten thousand dozens of candles in the crowd, and all
are to be lighted within an hour with fire from heaven, as they believe.
When the ceremonies begin, the Greek Patriarch and his bishops in
gorgeous dresses march three times round the Sepulchre with banners,
praying. They ask God to send down the fire, and their march is preceded
by a flag and a cross. There is chanting and crossing, and then the Copts
follow their Ethiopian Patriarch, gorgeous in his gold cap and gown. Now
there is silence, and the only sound is that of the squeezing mass as it
breathlessly watches.
The Patriarch has entered the Sepulchre, and the fire is expected from
heaven. No one seems to suspect that it comes from his matches, and the
scratching, if there be any, is not heard. It appears to be all dark
within the walls of the Sepulchre. Suddenly there is a great shout. A
faint light shines out through the holes. The soldiers struggle to keep
the crowd back. Men with whips push this way and that, making roads
through the mass which the soldiers try to keep clear. The priests stand
at the holes in the walls, and great bunches of candles are passed in.
They are handed out lighted, and fleet runners seize them and dash to the
various chapels. The Copt chapel at the back of the Sepulchre flames with
lights, and in less time than it takes for me to write this sentence,
the whole of the mass below me is a blaze of fire. Every man, woman, and
child holds a lighted candle, and many are hauled up by strings from one
gallery to the other. A priest creeps along the roof of the chapel of the
Sepulchre. He lights the hundreds of lamps and candles upon its edges;
and as I look over it I see that the Greek chapel beyond now blazes with
thousands of coloured lights. The lamps over the whole of the great
church are burning. The smoke comes up in great clouds, and the air is
perceptibly warmer.
It is just seven minutes by my watch since the first candle was lighted,
and in fifteen minutes the sacred fire will be all over Jerusalem.
[Illustration: Ready-mades have not yet arrived in the Near East.
Jerusalem tailors sit at the doors of their tiny dark shops on ledges two
feet above the street level. Customers must stand outside to bargain and
be measured]
[Illustration: The Greek Church has the finest collection of religious
paintings in all Jerusalem. This has long been the richest and most
powerful of the Christian sects in the Holy City and has roused much
antagonism in the other churches]