Day 3: My First Sabbath

Tianna's corresponding blog: (Click here!)

I thought this would take some getting used to - Not only is Sunday now on Saturday over here but it is no longer called Sunday it is called the Sabbath. Apparently we have been calling it by the wrong name my whole life. I thought I was familiar with the term but apparently Sunday and the Sabbath are not synonymous terms like they are used in Mormon culture. The sabbath has simply been observed on Sunday. In Israel sabbath is observed on Saturday. It was kind of cool to think that the Sabbath was something special and the day it was observed was simply a square on a calendar. It made the day seem special because of what we were doing and not what we were doing special because of the day.

Since proselyting is illegal in Israel the majority of the members that live there are transplants that work for the state or the American Embassy. As a result they wouldn't be able to worship on Sunday since...well, it would in fact be a 'Monday'. The church deemed it more important to worship then follow tradition merely because "that is how it is done." Apparently, in Muslim countries the sabbath is observed on Friday for the same reasons. I have always considered my self a spirit-of-the-law kind of guy and this sentiment hit home with me. "The sabbath was made for man not man for the sabbath." Sorry kind of a detour there but that was my observation. On with the pictures.

If you have followed along with Tianna's blog you will be well aware of my luggage and change of clothes issue. I felt the need to rectify the situation before my sister felt the need to publish any more embarrassing information about me for the entire world to see. Even though this was my first opportunity to truly observe the sabbath I decided I needed to take care of my ox...he was in deep mire. Unfortunately my clothes began to smell like they were in a deep mire too. As we ran around doing errands I got a much better glimpse of what the old city was like. (I had already taken notice of the smell...not mine the cities.)

The fear implanted by media and concerned friends about my cameras being stolen was now officially beginning to wear off so that I could go on living again. Besides people didn't need to be sneaky in trying to steal from you, in fact they were quite open. They would walk right up to you and say something like "Come look in my shop, it costs nothing to look." Fear now aside, the camera began to take an active part in my wanderings. Ok, maybe active is too strong a word. In fact it was kind of a cowardly participant. Basically the camera rested on its neck strap while I had a cable release in my pocket which allowed me to photograph without me looking like I was taking a picture. (I got this idea from a friend from Kodak during the Salt Lake Olympics named Sarah Beerie sp?) It was kind of fun actually, it allowed people to act more naturally since they had no idea what I was up to. Surprisingly I was still able to maintain a fair semblance of compositional control in the process.




Now you understand the reasons for the smell I mentioned earlier. (again not mine, the cities)
And as you can see below I had no reason to fear theft. This was our faithful neighborhood watch on active duty at the end of our street. How could I fear anything going wrong?
This is a really amazing view. That is not cobble rock covering the Mount of Olives. All that stone stuff is in fact above ground stone tombs. If I were to pick a seat for the resurrection I think this would be it. I've always been kind of intrigued by cemeteries. Every marker is a latent collection of stories and I can only imagine seeing that many stories come to life in one place. It is mind numbing to think how much intrigue, laughter and tears now cover that mountain side.