Free Chasing the Divine in the Holy Land by Ruth Everhart

understanding, the essential unity of the spiritual and physical realities. We are not just souls housed in bodies. All of creation truly is shot through with the presence of God. Yet I was taught that this truth borders on heresy. No wonder we Calvinists walk through life blind to the Spirit that lurks everywhere.
    The bus pulls up to the Dumb Gate. As we unload, I say toJoAnne, “I’m struck dumb. What a perfect name! Do you know why it’s called the Dumb Gate?”
    â€œNot ‘Dumb,’ ” she replies. “ ‘Dung.’ As in poop.”
    â€œPoop?” I repeat.
    Kyle laughs. “All those animals — remember? For Temple sacrifice. This gate leads to the town dump.”
    â€œOh,” JoAnne says, like she’s just putting things together. “Gehenna.”
    â€œRight you are,” says Kyle. “Oh hell.”
    I don’t say anything. I’m busy thinking how truly dumb I’ve been. For all my years of Bible studies, it has never occurred to me just how much dung the Temple would have had to deal with. Funny. The whole point of sacrifice is to make one clean. Yet the process is anything but sanitary.

    At the Temple Mount we pass through our first security checkpoint. Men and women must separate into two lines. Unsmiling guards with automatic weapons examine our passports, then gesture for our water bottles. As we go through a metal detector, each water bottle receives the same treatment: cap unscrewed, contents sniffed, cap replaced. The contrast between the unused deterrent slung over the shoulder — a high-powered rifle — and the deterrent actually used — a human nose — strikes me. Incarnation yet again. Despite all the technology of violence, security comes down to olfactory glands. On the other side of the checkpoint we women and men rejoin the same stream. I wonder why the nose brigade is concerned with gender, though certainly gender matters everywhere in this Holy Land.
    We ascend a long, covered ramp to a plaza which is surprisingly quiet, park-like. Two men in blue uniforms collect garbage with a rolling cart as they chat. Hearing an occasional belly laugh, I suspect that they’re comparing weekend stories on this Monday morning.
    Our group leader, Stephen, explains why this site is significantto both Jews and Muslims. To the Jews, the Temple Mount is their holiest site, the location of Solomon’s Temple, which was destroyed by the Babylonians in 586 BCE and later rebuilt by Herod. Because the exact whereabouts of the Holy of Holies is unknown, many Jews feel they shouldn’t enter the area at all — it is too revered.
    To the Muslims, the Temple Mount is the third holiest site, where Muhammad ascended to heaven. Islam’s two more sacred sites also concern Muhammad: the most sacred is Mecca (where he was born), and the next most sacred is Medina (where he died). The Muslims built the Dome of the Rock as a pilgrim shrine in 691 CE and later built a place of worship, the Al-Aqsa Mosque, which is not as grand and beautiful a building as the Dome.
    The rock inside the Dome commemorates another essential story: Abraham binding his son before sacrificing him to God. The story of the binding of Abraham’s son is foundational to all three faiths, though there are important differences, such as which son is bound, Isaac or Ishmael, and on which mountain. The profound truth remains the same: Abraham was tested by God. Does it matter where, exactly, the mountain was located? I’m glad that theology trumps geography in this moment.
    â€œYou’ll find,” Stephen says in his understated way, “that in the Holy Land, holy places move.”
    The Dome before us was gilded in the 1990s, the gold paid for by the King of Jordan. Now the Dome is under the control of Israel. Stephen says that there have been “incidents” here, so security is high. When he puts quotation marks around a word with his voice,