Setting out one afternoon with no fixed destination in mind, I found myself climbing a steep hill, in sweltering heat, to Mount Zion, which is situated outside the city walls of Jerusalem, though it was the site of King David’s City, and recent excavations have revealed traces of it.  The first  place I visited was an Armenian Church, built upon the alleged site of Caiaphas’ house.  It is a claim which has nothing much to support it, but much to contradict it, the main one being, that within a few hundred yards is the House of The Last Supper, and it seems highly improbable that Our Lord would have chosen this spot, so near to those who wished to harm Him.  Well anyway, I went inside and was shown around by an Armenian priest who, only speaking broken English, couldn’t tell me very much. Like lost Armenian churches, it was in a sad state of repair, though there were some good oils upon the walls (at least, I thought they were good), of events in the life of Jesus.  There was a courtyard outside this quaint church, paved with old gravestones with hieroglyphics carved in them, and around the sides under little arches were tombs of some prominent priests of this church, some recent, but others dating back some time.

Leaving this building, I went on and came to the most magnificent church I have ever seen.  It is the German Church of the Dormition, built upon the site where Our Blessed Lady spent her years after the death of Jesus, till She finally joined Him in heaven. It is built as close as possible to the place where the Holy Ghost came down, the actual site being in the possession of the Muslims.  I had seen this church from a distance a number of times, and admired it, and when at last I saw it in all its glory it was, as I say, magnificent.  When this site was acquired from the Muslims to build the church, it was stipulated that the church was not to be built with a tower like most churches, so it was erected as a clock tower, and has clocks upon each face, to overcome this difficulty.  It is a beautiful tower, too, and adjoining it is a monastery which houses the monks, also a lovely edifice.  Knocking upon a door, it was answered by a grand little monk, who went to great pains to give me all the information I wanted, in very quaint English. The mosaic floor was worth travelling the whole world to see, as were the side altars, with beautiful mosaic which had been done by one of the monks!  I stood there feasting my eyes upon the very best of workmanship, and count myself very fortunate in having the opportunity of seeing such a beautiful church.

A light touch upon my elbow by my guide reminded me that there was more to see, so following him down some winding stone stairs, I found myself in the crypt, in the centre of which was a most beautiful figure of Our Lady in gold lying in state.  Surrounding it were altars, the work on which was endowed by various countries, with more mosaic, the finest I ever saw.  I realise as I write this, how impossible it is for me to do justice to such a grand work. I cannot find the words to describe it as I saw it, it was so impressive.  One has to see it to appreciate it, even then one needs hours to visit such a place, to realise the beauty it contains.

Taking leave of the little guide, and regaining the open air once more, I felt as if I were in a different world altogether.  I was much impressed by my visit.  Continuing along the road I came to a house, through which I passed, up some steps, and into a chamber, which was obviously a Mosque. This is the site of The Last Supper, called the Coenaculum, and is in the hands of Arabs.  This opens into another room in which there is a large cenotaph, according to tradition the Tomb of David.  This monument is covered with a green cloth on which a quotation of The Koran is worked.  The Jews flock here at certain times of the year, and there are numerous Hebrew inscriptions upon the walls.  Being in the hands of Muslims, it is only in recent times that the Jews have been permitted to visit the Tomb.  It seemed to me such a pity that this mosque should have been built on the site of The Last Supper, which means so much to us, whereas it means little, if anything, to the Muslim.

Leaving here I retraced my steps till I reached the wall of Jerusalem, which at this point looked almost impregnable, and passed The Lion Gate, which for some reason is not opened these days.  At last I reached a church built on a promontory of Mount Zion, overlooking the Kedron Valley to The Garden and The Mount of Olives rising behind it.  It was a beautiful site, and so very peaceful too, that it seemed hard to believe that this was the scene of bitter pain to Our Blessed Lord, for this was indeed the site of Caiaphas’ Palace.  Looking over the parapet, I was transported back to that day 1900 odd years ago, and in my mind I lived over the events that took Our Lord to this place.  Over in the distance was The Garden of Gethsemane where He suffered His Passion and betrayal, to be led, over the Valley of Kedron, along the path, possibly the one I could see now, skirting the walls of the city, up those rough stone steps to this very spot, where He came before Caiaphas the High Priest, and the scribes and ancients.  This then is the place where some bore false witness against Him, and where Peter denied Our Lord thrice.  There can be little doubt as to its authenticity as methodical excavations have revealed many ancient marks of pilgrims’ veneration.  This work had been carried out by Assumptionist fathers before the Great War, and the church they built upon this site is quite new, and called The Sanctuary of St. Peter’s Tears.  It is a beautiful building, with exceptionally fine mosaic work executed inside and outside.  It has been built over some excavated dungeons, which contained relics which proved that it was the prison of Caiaphas’ Palace.  I descended these excavations, and was thoroughly engrossed in my exploration, when at last I came to a little cavern which contained an altar.  It was here that Our Lord was kept prisoner, and where “the men that held Him, mocked Him and spat upon Him.  They blindfolded Him and struck His face” – St. Luke XXII.  The next morning He was taken, bound, to Pontius Pilate.  Throughout the centuries that have passed since that time many churches have been built upon this historic site, and have been demolished.   The one that stands there now is, as I said before, a beautiful church which marks the spot where Jesus, by a look of mercy, wrung from Peter tears of true contrition.  This visit concluded my tour of Jerusalem, though there are still many more places I must visit at a future date.  Walking back that evening, I could not help thinking how lucky I had been, to have such an opportunity afforded me to visit the Holy Land and to be able to tread in the footsteps of Our Lord.  Just think, I have walked over the very roads that He did during His short life here on earth.  It is surely a great grace, and people would give thousands for the same tour as I have been able to make, seeing the historic sites, and visiting the sacred places associated with the life of Jesus Christ.  It would have been perfect had you been with me to share my joys. Needless to say, I was constantly thinking of you during those days, and I prayed hard for you all.