Time Machine

1700 BC

1550 BC

1468 BC

1270 BC

1269 BC

1230 BC

1224 BC

1000  BC

961 BC

950 BC

922 BC

918 BC

853  BC

732  BC

722 BC

701 BC

640  BC

609  BC

586 BC

537 BC

520 BC

444  BC

430  BC

332 BC

270  BC

198 BC

167  BC

164  BC

63 BC

38 BC

31 BC

 20 BC

 4 BC

 6 AD

10  AD

26  AD

66  AD

70  AD

73  AD
135 AD

180 AD

324 AD
500  AD
638 AD

1099  AD
1187 AD

I can tell you something significant that happened in the Holy Land in each & every single one of these years.  

(to be sung to the rhythm of "Saudis in Audis") 
In the 12 &69, Rameses treats with the Hittites, 1270 was the Ex-O-dus, Israel led out by Mah-O-ses.
 

180 AD - The Jews changed their stance on writing the Oral Toral 180 degrees & wrote it down. This was called the Mishnah. 

1230 BC- Joshua crossed into Canaan--just in time for lunch.

586 BC- Nebudchadnezzar went after Jerusalem with sticks (big ones) & destroyed the First Temple, which, incidentally, was built by Solomon in...

950 BC.  BAM.

I'm like a timeline ninja! (taken at Galilee)

Go ahead. 

QUIZ ME.

Hardcore Parkour

I post this as a tribute to our awesome boys that have taken up Parkour here in Jerusalem. I found this graffiti last week and had to pose & show off my wrapped up foot.

happiness: noun

a : a state of well-being and contentment : joy

b : a pleasurable or satisfying experience 

It's a simple definition for a simple feeling of bliss and contentment--a feeling that I've become rather accustomed to here. There are so many things that I would add to the definition of happiness. Friends, can I tell you a bit more about what defines happiness in my mind?

Happiness is singing hymns on the Sabbath at the Garden Tomb.

Happiness is hiking through fields laden with wildflowers in Galilee.

Happiness is poking jellyfish while collecting seashells and sea glass along the Mediterranean waterside (despite the look of disgust on my face).

Don't worry--it was dead & I only touched the top anyway; I learned my lesson from Finding Nemo.

Happiness is looking out across this beautiful ocean.

Happiness is discovering that your suitcase's handles double as straps & that you must have been a Sherpa in a previous life. 

This was even more impressive when I was carrying my backpack in front of me & holding the bus doc bag.

Happiness is blue skies smiling down on fields of gold.

Happiness is climbing trees in Chorazin.

Look how color coordinated we are!

Happiness is hiking with the little ones.

Cam has such a way with children.

Happiness is poppies and pillars.

Happiness is castles in a storm & Catholic saints spangled with the light of stained glass windows.

Happiness is playing April Fools jokes on/with your best friends.

Sorry boys, Carrie & I couldn't resist. Neither could the dozen people that called both of you. :)

Happiness is wind blowing through your hair under an ancient Roman arch & not even caring because you're under an ancient Roman arch along the Mediterranean. 

But perhaps the key to the blissful feeling I have on this lovely Sunday morning in Jerusalem: Happiness is staying up until 1 a.m. to watch General Conference, streaming live from Salt Lake City. 

 

If you're looking for something uplifting to do this weekend, I suggest you tune in for some prophetic messages of hope, faith, and happiness. What could be better than listening to wise words about our Saviors love and the importance of the family?

Not much. 

Except for maybe wandering around here afterwords:

...Except It's Actually *Really* Blue

I speak, of course, of the alluring Red Sea.

Whoever called it red was obviously colorblind. Love that tropical azure.

On Sunday--which is our day off here at the JC, as we celebrate Sabbath on Saturday (like the Jews)--we traveled to Eilat, a beach resort town along the shore of the Red Sea. We've hit the Red & the Med in the last 10 days, now we're heading for the Dead next week. No complaints from this water baby.

My lovely Hawaiian friend Mallory said it was *almost* as good as the Islands.

It was glorious to plunge into that bright blue water and come face to face with fish like I usually only see in my dentist's aquarium. We even saw a jellyfish! With the sea, the salt, and the sun, I was a happy girl.

On our drive down to Eilat, Bro. Chadwick (aka Chadwickipedia) told us all about Lehi's journey from Jerusalem and along the very trail we were driving. It's incredible to see how all of the stories I've read so often weave in and out of each other here. 

And to make the day even bettah, I was blessed with the honor of wearing The JC Girls' Shirt. It is the height of Middle Eastern haute couture.

voila!

Did I mention that I love my life?

you might want to re-live summers gone by & listen to "Never Let You Go" by Third Eye Blind.

Running on Faith

In a moment of pure insanity and overestimation of my physical abilities, I signed up for Jerusalem's First 10k. But guess what?

I DID IT!

awkward self portrait on a street that was part of the course

And it only took me about an hour and 15 minutes, despite Jerusalem being the Hilliest City in the Holy/Hilly Land. Since I've gone running...um... once since I've been here, I was rather pleased with this time.

It was a beautiful run on a sunny morning, taking us all over West Jerusalem and even through a bit of the Old City. Jewish families, Muslim men on their way to morning prayers, and tourists from around the world lined the streets to cheer the runners on as we passed by. Along the way, huge speaker towers blared Hebrew hip-hop; the excitement was infectious.

Unfortunately, walking the 3 miles to the starting line (all the roads were closed down, so we couldn't take a cab), running the race, and walking the three miles back, all on Jerusalem's lovely but slightly uneven limestone pavement, did some slight damage to some of the muscles in my left foot. Glory wound!

I may become a professional sport injury wrapper yet. Stylish, no?

But life is GOOD.

Because I got this super cool neon green/yellow adidas jersey shirt thing for my participation in the marathon. You'll never have to worry about losing me in a crowd again.

modeling my Jerusathon Jersey (tm) by the Herodian ashlars that would have formed the gateway to the Temple Mount at the time of Christ. typical.

  
AND...my hair is getting sun bleached and my face is getting tan. 

one of those rare occasions when my hair is behaving itself & I get to look like a girl

bliss.

LISTEN UP: highlights from my 10k playlist: "Uncharted" by Sara Bareilles, "Parachute" by Train, "I Believe in You" by Vertical Horizon, "Time & Confusion" by Anberlin, & "You're All I Have" by Snow Patrol.

Walk Through My City With Me

Yes, that's right, after centuries of conquests, Jerusalem belongs to me. Though I think perhaps it's me that's been won over. But how could you not fall in love with a city like this?

(captions on all of these photo blogs to come soon)

Lemon trees & natives.

Linds has a new cactus friend.

How do I love this city...let me count the ways...

1 - Almond trees in bloom

2 - Cool grafiti

3- Narrow alleys with cool architecture.

4- playgrounds on sunny days.

5- Crosswalk signs that feature a man in a Jewish hat.

6- Wandering quite aimlessly until we find sites that we're supposed to visit anyway. (6b - posing like artwork)

7- Sunsets like this over the city of Jerusalem every night.

All Shuk Up

Scratch my dream of a shiny Audi & sign me up for this ecomobile.

There are more than a baker's dozen reasons why I love Jerusalem's open market, aka The Shuk.

spices

And more spices. (Anybody have an idea of what those cone things might be?)

The fresh fruit here is amazing.

This ceiling is nice when it rains, which is pretty often this time of year.

Linds was pretty excited about the step pyramid chocolates... can you blame her?

Two of my favorite things: strawberries & scarves.

mmm... bread.

And more and more spices... LOVE!

A Name and a Memory

This isn't exactly a cheerful post, but visiting the Holocaust Museum here in Jerusalem was an incredibly powerful experience. It's taken me some time to be ready to share my thoughts about it, even though my words can't begin to convey what I saw and how I felt. We traveled to Yad Vashem with our Judaism professor, Ophir Yarden, last Monday. The name of Yad Vashem is taken from Isaiah, who tells of the  Lord's promise to give his sons & daughters an everlasting name (56:5).

On my first trip to Yad Vashem in 1994, I only visited the children's memorial, as children under the age of 10 are not permitted inside the main museum. My wonderful mother held me and played with me on the hilltop that memorializes the lives of the millions of Jews who were murdered in the Holocaust.

Yad Vashem was stunning. I really don't have words to accurately describe the powerful emotions it triggered within me...I just can't imagine such callous, reckless, calculated hatred. It really is too much to take in, and I was going through the exhibits slowly, so I ran out of time towards the end. I can't decide if I want to go back... The museum itself was very well done, lots of vivid displays, huge blown-up photographs, and actual artifacts. They used a lot of journal entries to illustrate the reality of what the Jews faced and what the Nazi leaders felt (seemingly nothing akin to empathy). As I was somewhat rushing through the final stories from the latter years of the War, I did stop to read about the Bulgarian Jews; the Bulgarian rulers changed their minds at the last minute, just before the final trains to the death camps were scheduled to be loaded, and didn't deport their Jews--so many lives saved... but still so many lost. It really is too big to comprehend. The last exhibit in the museum is a massive circular room lined with black bookshelves, organized alphabetically (in Hebrew) of the names of all of the people who were murdered; each person has a page or two of their information--photos, journal excerpts, etc. It made it just barely comprehensible; too many names for each to be displayed individually; they had to be pages of books that still filled an enormous room from floor to ceiling. In the center of the room, there was a deep well cut into the bedrock below the museum, with a little water at the bottom. I heard someone say that it represented the tears of the people, but to me it seemed like it could have also been an allusion to the many who died standing on the edge of a pit, waiting for the report before the dark free fall. Standing there, listening to all the different languages being whispered around me and seeing all of those books filled with fragments from the stories that had all been cut short... I couldn't handle it nor could I master my emotions. I can only begin to grasp the true nature of such deliberate devastation.

Inside the children's memorial at Yad Vashem. (Photo cred: Spence Anopol)

We actually started our visit to Yad Vashem by exploring the hill around the museum, walking the Avenue of the Righteous (trees planted to honor the people who saved Jews), then we visited the Children's Memorial. It's beautiful, but haunting, and holds an ache that I don't think could ever be totally soothed. As you enter, there is a large display of enlarged photographs of some of the 1.5 million children who were killed, then you walk into a room that is almost completely dark, with only a single candle. But the room is filled with mirrors, so the candle is reflected millions of times, echoing the Biblical quote that graces the gateway to the memorial, invoking the Lord's promise to Abraham that his seed would be as numberless as the stars. As you walk through, the names and ages of the children are uttered; some I heard were three or six years old. It might seem strange to say I loved that place, because I've never experienced anything that made me feel quite the way that did, but I think an abstract memorial like that was the only thing that could ever convey such sorrow and tragedy. Those bright little stars were extinguished far too soon in this life; any sort of factual representation would have been too real, too cold, to comprehend. I can't imagine the agony of the mothers who knew what their children were facing...

All of those tiny lights and names are not something I'll soon forget.

This Isn't About Basketball (Not Totally, Anyway)

The title of this blog post may not make sense. Let me explain.

We have finals this week.

In my past experience, the only collegiate finals that happen in March typically involve a large wooden floor, two hoops, men in shorts, cheerleaders with short skirts and pompoms, popular rock songs, comparing brackets, an orange ball, and a lot of screaming college kids.

Here, we have limestone floors, just one Hoopes (who typically goes by Neal), men aren't allowed to wear shorts, girls with long skirts and Hanes vnecks, songs about rocks, comparing Hebrew notes, eating oranges, and a lot of screaming college kids. And the only dribbling we do involves toasted pitas filled with melty sesame butter/nutella that runs down our chins. *slurp*

Nevertheless, finals are upon us. Therefore, check out my cool friends with awesome blogs upon which they post pictures in which my face is sometimes featured.

Take a look at a week in the life of Spence
or
Check out my roommate Lindsay's latest blackmail.

But speaking of basketball...

how 'bout them third-in-the-nation COUGARS?

Hezekiah's Tunnel

 

Descend with me into the depths beneath the City of David, the "original" Jerusalem which now lies outside the city walls. In 701 BC, when threatened by an impending Assyrian siege, King Hezekiah wanted a way to transport water from the Gihon Spring on the northeast side of the city to the Siloam Pool on the southwest. The Gihon Spring is on the hillside above the Kidron Valley, while the City of David is on the crest of the hill; this makes the city with its high walls easily defensible. But it was nearly impossible to build the walls high enough to match the city walls and keep the spring inside the walls, which was quite the problem for the ancient Jerusalemites in case of a seige, since they would have no access to water. 

So, Hezekiah decided to dig a tunnel underneath the city to connect the Gihon Springs to the Pool of Siloam, which is within the city walls. He formulated a highly technical plan, which consisted of giving a lot of guys chisels, picks, and shovels; separating them into two teams; and placing one team at the Gihon Springs and one at the Pool of Siloam. Then he told them to start digging.

You need your headlamp in Hezekiah's Tunnel--it definitely gets a bit dark 40+ feet below the city. (with Danielle and Synthia) Luckily, my body acclimates super quickly, so I turned into a mole, as you can see by my nearly non-existent eyes.

 Based on the winding nature of the tunnel, it seems as though the workers didn't have much of a system for finding each other as the tunneled from one side of the City of David to the other. They just went for it and hoped that they'd meet up in the middle. It's pretty incredible that they ever found each other in all that rock (though they did nearly miss--the junction of the once-separate tunnels is a bit...uneven).

Hezekiah's Tunnel was just my size. And I've got to admit, I was pretty excited for an excuse to play in the water AND wear shorts. But don't worry about the big bump beneath my jacket--I haven't eaten that much falafel yet. That's the very modest skirt I wore to walk to the entrance of the tunnel, then rolled up to play in the water. And aren't those Keens SWEET?! Thanks, Daddy!

I tried to hide in one of the crevices and scare people... it might have worked better had people not been taking pictures... I don't think my bright scarlet jacket helped my camoflauge much, either.

Hezekiah's Tunnel is about 1500 feet long, and it was one of the coolest subterranian adventures I've ever had. I don't know what makes wading through fresh spring water in the dark, in a tunnel that was constructed about 27 centuries ago so cool... oh. wait. Maybe just that.

And many thanks and much love to you wonderful commenters (ahem, Jaynee--you win the prize). I love hearing what you think about these Middle Eastern escapades.