The Way of the Cross

Perhaps the most anticipated moment in our recent trip to the Holy Land was our trek down the Via Dolorosa, the "Way of Sorrow." This well established route through Jerusalem seeks to retrace the footsteps of Jesus as he carried his cross from the trial before Pilate to the place of his crucifixion, burial, and resurrection.

Our journey began at one of the gates into the Old City. This gate is called St. Stephen's gate, being the traditional site of the stoning of the first Christin martyr. Of course whatever gate may have existed at the time of Stephen is now well below ground, perhaps awaiting future excavation. The gate we now pass through is "new," dating to the 1400's.

Just about a block inside the gate is St Anne's church. Anne is the name traditionally given to the mother of Mary, mother of Jesus. The same tradition holds that Mary was born on the site of this church. Like many other Holy Land traditions, this one is strictly extra-Biblical. The present site was not identified in any particular way until the time of the Crusaders, who were known to warp geography a bit to place extra bits of holy history within the walls of Jerusalem.

Still, Mary had to born somewhere, and this spot probably serves as well as any to celebrate the human lineage of Jesus. On a more authentic note, St. Anne's is also the custodian of an ancient archeological site believed to be the Pool of Bethesda.

This site exemplifies what greets the modern visitor to the Holy Land in general, and especially within the walls of Jerusalem. One is confronted constantly with a half-dozen, intertwined layers of history presented in a single site.

The area on which the pool was built had been recognized as a place of healing for generations before Jesus. The Greeks erected a shrine to Aesculapius here, perhaps because of a natural mineral spring. Later, the Pool occupied this site near the "Sheep Gate." Sheep were brought to the pool for bathing before they were used in the sacrifices at the Temple. This ancient reputation as a place for healing and its new association with the Holy Temple made the Pool an ideal location for local superstitions to crop up. In John's golspel, we read of a beggar who, lame from birth, awaited the "stirring of the waters" in hopes of being healed. Somewhere along the edge of this pool, he received his healing at the hands of Jesus.

Conseqequently, later genrations built churches over the spot. As one looks over the site today, it is almost impossible to divine where the ancient Greek gives way to the first century Roman. The pool from the time of Jesus is difficult to discern from the foundations of the later Byzantine era and early Crusader churches. One is alwys straining to find remnants of Jesus' passing beneath and between the layers.

Another example stands a few yards away. Roman ruins mark a spot that Crusaders assumed must have been the palace of Pilate, and thus the "pavement" on which Christ was tried by Pilate and presented to the crowds(See the photo of the "Ecco Homo" arch.) We now know that the Roman remains date to the time of Hadrian, well after the time of Jesus, even though many of the stones used in constructing his edifice may have been part of the original Antonia Fortress.

Nor are these "layers" limited to the archeology. The Via Dolorosa itself takes a course through the city on streets that, at the time of Jesus, probably didn't even exist yet. It stops at stations that celebrate events found nowhere in the Biblical narratives. The very idea of walking the Via Dolorosa is relatively new, dating only to about five hundred years ago.

But people do walk it. By the hundreds. It is one of the most travelled of walking routes in the world. As such, it has also become a great commercial location. Merchants along the Via Dolorosa inhabit prime real estate and compete heavily for the dollars in the pockets of visiting pilgrims. The closer one draws to the traditional site of Golgotha, the more intense the commercialism becomes. It actually becomes difficult to thread one's way between the clamoring merchants which line the narrow streets.

Finally, the Via Dolorosa empyes into the courtyrd of the church of the Holy Sepulchre, for many Christians, the holiest site on the face of the Earth.


The current church embraces both the traditional site of the crucifixion and the traditional site of the burial and resurrection of Jesus. Pilgrims stand in line to bow at the altars placed over these sacred spots, to reach through small gilded openings in the floor and actually touch Calvary or the temporary resting place of Jesus' body.

Most scholars believe the site is authentic. Christian worship on these sites dates back to eras in which Christianity was illegal, and to gather on these spots was life-threatening. Both the weight of tradition and the archeology of the place support its high claims.

For this reason, the church has become something of a battle ground. Six different ancient denominations have some claim over the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and they coexist within the builing so uneasily that government authorities were forced to intervene in the 1800's and declare an edict of "Status Quo," making it illegal to make any further changes within the church and basicly "freezing" the borders within the building. Different denominations now control different chapels within the building and guard their turf jealously. A ladder stands in the entry to the church which was in place at the time of the edict and has not moved since.

The line which leads toward the Golgotha altar winds past chapels of breathtaking beauty. At last, the pilgrim reaches a marble altar over the spot where tradition holds that the cross was lowered into an indentation in the rock. The chapel is gilded with gold leaf, the altar area adorned with life sized paintings of Jesus, Mary and Mary, decked out in three dimensional siver garb. The ceiling supports enough oil lamps (though on this day they are unlit) to illuminate Wrigley Field.

To approach the spot of the crucifixion, one is forced by the architecture to kneel. There, beneath the altar, a circular opening encased in precious metals affords just enough space for the pilgrim to insert an hand and touch the stone.

The decorum of the altar is guarded by a priest, who also encourages pilgrims to move along if he feels they have lingered for more than their alotted time. Behind cordons, those who have already knelt pause for a moment longer, many praying, a few weeping, but most quite honestly gawking and snapping photos.

Somewhere beneath all of this pious decor is a spot which was touched in a way that changed the history of the world. For some, perhaps, the architecture heightens the sense of holiness. For many, though, it becomes another layer, another obstacle between present day life and somehow enaging the world in which Jesus walked. The challenge of praying in this spot is to strip away the layers until only Golgotha remains beneath the outstretched fingers of faith.

As I passed from the church into the brutal heat of the Palestine sun, I reflected on these layers. I wonder how may layers our own churches place between genuine seekers of truth and a potent, life-changing encounter with Jesus of Nazareth. How much of what we do makes Jesus more real to the world around us, and how much of what we do obfuscates and blurs his countenance? How can we be sure that those who enter our doors touch... and are touched by... Calvary.

And when I squint back through the doorway of the church and see the 150 year old ladder, I can't decide whether to laugh or cry.