We find the city perched, like an eagles nest, among the hills of Judea. “As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about them that fear him.” It stands 2,650 feet above the level of the Mediterranean, and 3,800 feet above the Dead Sea. Imagine two ravines, deep and narrow, coming together so that the table-land between them forms the letter V, the sharp point of the letter being to the south, while the open part extends northward. Jerusalem is built on such a V, though it does not run down into the sharp point of the letter. The ravine, or brook, on the east is Kedron, that on the west is Hinnom. We find the city surrounded on all sides by massive walls of stone, rising forty to sixty feet above the ground. The east and west walls run close along the edge of the chasms, so that, coming up out of the valley to either one of them, one would find it steep and difficult. The south wall cuts off the sharp part of the V. The north wall is much stronger than any of the others, because that part of the city is not protected by ravines, as are the other three sides.
We have now completed the circuit around the walls of Zion, and in so doing we have walked two and a half miles, and compassed an area of two hundred and nine acres of land. These walls, some portions of which probably date from the time of our Lord, are pierced by four gates; the Damascus gate, on the north; Stephen’s gate, on the east; on the south is the Zion, and on the west, the Jaffa gate. Each one of these gates is guarded day and night by Turkish soldiers.
Until recently there was another entrance to the city—the Golden gate. This “gateway of glory” entered the sacred enclosure from the east. It was through this, supposedly, that our blessed Lord made His triumphal entry into the Holy City. This gate, a work of art, has been closed up. And why? Because the Mohammedans fear Christ. The Jews say that He is soon to come out of the East, across the Mount of Olives, through the Golden gate, into the Mosque of Omar. Then He will overthrow the Mohammedan government, proclaim himself king of the Jews, and, subsequently, of the world. These Jewish prophecies have aroused dread suspicions in the Mohammedan mind, and to keep Christ out of the city, the devotees of the false prophet have actually barred up the gate with great stones. These are fastened together with bolts and bars of iron, steel, and brass. I am told that the Mohammedans, especially during Jewish feasts, even station guards at the Golden gate to prevent the Messiah from entering the city.
I am rejoiced to know that I worship a Christ who, when His time is fulfilled, will come. But, blessed be His name, He will come no more as the Babe of Bethlehem; no more as the lowly Nazarene; no more as the despised and rejected of men. He will come as the glorified Son of God, as Judge of all the earth. He will come crowned and sceptred; robed in splendor; seated upon the clouds, as a chariot of fire drawn by angels of light. It was He of whom it was said: “He openeth, and no man shutteth; he shutteth, and no man openeth.” So, why need they try to keep your Lord and mine out of His own city?
Before entering the gates, it will be well for us to cross the brook Kedron, go over to the Mount of Olives, and from there get a bird’s eye view of the holy city. On the left, just after crossing the Kedron, we come to the so-called tomb of the Virgin Mary, over which has been built a Catholic cathedral. In the cathedral, and around this tomb, many candles and lamps are kept burning day and night. By the flickering flame of these tapers, turbaned monks constantly count their beads and swing their censers. A hundred yards down the valley, to the right, are the tombs of Absalom, James, and Hezekiah.
From base to summit, the Mount of Olives is garnished over with olive trees. Now, as through past ages, the olives are gathered and poured into a rock-hewn vat in the mountain side. The vat before me is well filled. In it are an old, gray-bearded man and a sprightly young maiden, walking round and round, side by side, treading the olives with their bare feet, pressing out the oil. This is rather a homely sight, but it suggests a holy name. A name around which cluster many tender and sacred associations. The word, Gethsemane, means oil-press. Lifting my eyes from the vat, I behold, about half way up the mountain side, and a hundred yards to the right of the road, the garden of Gethsemane, or the garden of the oil-press.
This garden of prayer is at present surrounded by a substantial rock wall ten or twelve feet high. The entrance is through the upper or eastern wall. The door, or gate, is scarcely three feet high; but one is willing to bow and humble himself on entering a garden so filled with holy memories. Here Christ suffered and agonized and prayed until “his sweat was, as it were, great drops of blood falling to the ground.” Here Judas betrayed the Master with a kiss. This garden, which is 150 by 160 feet, is laid out in six large flower beds, beautifully designed and well kept. There are a dozen, or more of fir and olive trees enclosed within these walls.
The superstitious monks, keeping the garden, assure us that these are the identical trees under which the Lord knelt and prayed. But my incredulous mind entertains serious doubts on this subject. In the first place, we are not sure that the present garden is identical with the one that our Lord frequented. We know, however, if the two are not identical, they certainly are not far removed from each other. Ever since the days of Constantine (330, A. D.), the present garden has been recognized as the place of agony and betrayal.
OLD OLIVE TREES IN GETHSEMANE.