It began in Hell. That dark fiery place where our young ones are consumed by its devious lure.
In Hebrew we call it Ge’henna, that ravine below Mount Zion where furious flames flashed from the ravenous jaws of the giant Molech consuming day and night our babies that even Israel, God’s Children, tossed into its voracious belly.
It is close to midnight as we gradually ascend the eastern slopes of Zion daring not look over the edge of Ge’henna perchance we slip into its fathomless pit. On this night we hear not the screams of our mothers and children, nor the stench of their burning flesh, but the voices of David, Abraham, Moses and Jesus gathered to join us with songs and dance enjoined by the sweet-smelling aromas of forgiveness, and in hope we climb together with our boys and girls and mothers and fathers with a Divine Burning in our hearts for the Redemption that has come upon us.
We have joined the throngs going up to the Mountain of the Lord for Slichot, a chance to forgive and be forgiven in preparation for the Ten Days of Awe before Tishre and the final festivals of the prophetic year.
We reach Mount Zion and it is midnight, and sleep and Hell are now a distant memory. Surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, we throw off every encumbrance and the sin that so easily entangles. But we are not ready to run the race ahead of us just yet, our souls too engrossed to hasten from here where time has lost meaning, tears are dropping – change us, O Lord, we pray.
For we have come home to Mount Zion, the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem with myriads of angels in joyful assembly, to the congregation of the firstborn, enrolled in heaven. To Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.
We cross the ridge and approach Mount Moriah and stand before Arunah’s hallowed threshing floor purchased by a bright-eyed David unwilling to come before the one true God without cost. We descend 3,000 years deep to touch the rock where Abraham bound his firstborn, to the newly uncovered level of Solomons Temple just beyond the Holy of Holies and we remain as still as the time that has stopped. My jaw drops in awe, but what words can I express, what feelings should I feel in the presence of our Fathers, our Prophets, our Messiah, our God? These stones are crying out, but I hear only the beat of my heart bursting with reverence, worship and wonder. I can see the High Priest prepared, our blood, Yeshua’s blood, on His hands.
Slowly we gather with the throngs to the plaza before the Western Wall of the Temple feeling tiny against its enormity that cannot shadow the Holiness of this moment.
From here, beyond space and time, I can see Isaiah’s dream unfolding as the wolfs and lambs of Israel and the nations embrace weeping, laughing, dancing together with the trees of the field facing the Mount of Olives clapping their hands as we go out with joy. Come Messiah!
But alas we must wait and suddenly from a high platform raised above us to the level of the Temple Mount songs of Psalms are magnificently chanted through loudspeakers encompassing the crowds. We sing along to the familiar texts and as the joy increases so does the volume and with it even as we reach the imprecatory prayers invoking judgment, calamity and curses upon our enemies and the enemies of God.
Still the joy does not waver but seems to build with these proclamations as the lions of Judah roar to let it be known not only to the Heavenly Hosts and those below in the Valley, but to those just over the Wall on the Temple Mount mosques that judgment is coming on them. I could not help but wonder if the Arabs of East Jerusalem just beyond the Hinnom Valley are not trembling in their beds at the terrible power of these joy-filled songs of deliverance. What bravery, what boldness, what uncompromising endurance of faith my people sustain.
The proximity between Ge’henna’s hell and the Mountain of God is but a minute from this vantage point. A short Sabbath’s stroll close. The City of David is even closer along the ridge of the steep making David’s military prowess crucial as worshippers went up to make offerings to the Lord while others were going down to the Devil. What chutzpah, the gall it took for these men to build their city and the Temple just meters from Hell in view of the blood lust orgies, their stench and screams rising up the valley. And we remembered that up here too, on a nearby hill, our Lord was crucified.
As we descended around three o’clock in the morning we talked about what kind of courage it takes to live in God’s Kingdom, and that perhaps it is the very proximity of Hell that keeps us planted on this Rock.
