The following morning it was raining. We went to the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus was arrested by the Romans and taken to Caiaphas house to spend the night in the pit before His crucifixion the following day. There was a catholic church in the Garden called the Church of All Nations. Due to the rain we stayed under the front porch of the church and listened to Susan paint a story in our heads that took place in this very location two thousand years ago; donkeys braying instead of cars honking, the sound of soldiers coming, the moment that Judas Iscariot could not take back. Since we were standing under a porch instead of sitting in a spot in the Garden, I was struggling taking the moment in. There were several olive trees in an area beside the church. Susan told us that olive trees are the only kind of tree that does not grow rings as it gets older; they become hollow and shoot new sprouts. There was only one tree that was estimated to be around when Christ was in the Garden with His disciples.
We were dropped off by the bus and walked the streets of Old City Jerusalem. We stopped at Saint Anne’s Church. Not sure what was so special about the location, but the acoustics in the church were incredible! Due to its shape of the auditorium, there was a twelve second echo after singing. We walked to the place where Jesus was beaten before He was hung on the cross. This location was below street level – as centuries went by, civilization had built on top of the old. There was a carving in the stone floor. It was a game that the Romans played when it came to crucifying their prisoners. The streets were ridged, giving traction to the horses so they would not slip on the stone.
We walked to the bus, and then took a brief ride to Caiaphas house. This is where Peter denied Christ three times then the cock crowed, just like Jesus promised. We walked down steps that were placed in the pit. It was believed that the pit was used as a water cistern in the past. There was a small whole at the top, where Jesus was lowered through. This is where it got me. I traced my hands on a spot on the wall, imagining my Savior tracing His hands on the very same spot and thinking of me, an unworthy sinner and yet everything He was about to go through was for me. We sang hymns that echoed in the tiny pit.
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