Vignettes of the World
Perhaps photographs would better convey the Dead Sea and its wonders. The tour finally made it out of Israel (there were some glitches at the border), and arrived at the Dead Sea’s Jordanian shore. Some of the tour members changed into swimsuits and bathed on …
Literally meaning “the dragon leaps over the mountain,” Lung Yeuk Tau spans a large area in Fanling in the Northern District. It was the second heritage trail in the New Territories that the Antiquities and Monuments Office proposed and promoted. The 2.6km walk takes visitors …
What is known in the West as the Wailing Wall is known to the Jewish people as the Western Wall. It is the famous remains of the Second Temple. Built during King Herod’s time, the remains was part of the wall intended to serve as the supporting structure for an extended temple compound for the Jewish people. Although the Romans destroyed the Second Temple in 70 A.D. during the invasion of Jerusalem, the Western Wall stood, to this very day. Jesus Christ has prophesied the destruction of the Second Temple (Matthew 24:2).
Being connected to the Temple Mount, the Western Wall is a holy site where Jewish people come to pray.[1] The Westerners like to refer to the “Wailing Wall” because as the Jewish people pray here, many wail. The Jewish people may be weeping for the history of oppression and the many invasions of Jerusalem that they experienced.[2] They may be weeping specifically about the destruction of their holy temple and the timing of the Third Temple yet-to-materialize. For centuries, the Jewish people come to Jerusalem, and they shed countless tears at the Western Wall.
As soon as we arrived, we split into the men’s group and the ladies’ group. Indeed, I saw many praying in tears with the Talmud in their hands. I figured that I would not be able to share the same sentiment with which the Jewish people felt about the wall. Yet it was with the same yearning for God’s holy presence that I touched the wall (1 Kings 8:41-43). In my little prayer slip, I wrote, “may I be of God’s use in this world.”
What a wonderful experience it was to visit the Western Wall as the conclusion to our tour in Jerusalem. At lunch we savored many delicious roast meat with naan bread at an Arabic restaurant. Bethlehem was in view.
Bethlehem is in Palestine, and only when we checked our phones upon arrival did we realize that we were in Palestinian territory. There were other clues, such as the proud displays of Yasser Arafat at many spots. The last stop of our tour in Palestine was actually the birth place of Jesus Christ, who began his life on earth here in Bethlehem.
Despite the initial excitement, I was a bit disappointed in Bethlehem. The line was very long, perhaps not so surprisingly. Again, the church was overly ornate. People worshipped kneeling down and kissing what was supposed to be the staple where Jesus was born. I felt as if it was superstition that I was witnessing.
Back in the town of Bethlehem our tour guide hurried us to finish the souvenir shopping. He said that parking was prohibitively expensive at Bethlehem. The coach would have to pay $60 USD for an hour of parking there.
We exited Palestinian territory and I had in my mind the beauty of Jerusalem, lingering as I cherished the sights and sounds there. I wondered to myself: would New Jerusalem (Revelation 3:12; 21:2) really be that much better than what we see on earth here? Isn’t Jerusalem as it is now already heavens on earth?
Soon enough, we passed by the wall. This is the 708km-long wall that Israel built in 2000 within the occupied Palestinian territory along the Green Line in West Bank.[3] This act of Israel has caused incredible animosity from Palestine. While the Israeli government claimed that it built the wall to counter terrorist threats, the Palestinians viewed it as a wall of segregation. The controversy has risen to the attention of the international community. In 2004, in what was known as the “wall case,” the International Court of Justice determined that Israel has acted contrary to principles of international law when it constructed this wall.[4]
The wall was made of tall, gray metal planks. Graffiti lined the wall as far as we could see. There was an image of an Arabic woman, wearing a headscarf and carrying a gun. This powerful imagery of the tension brought to mind the reality of Israel today. It was not heavens on earth, despite all those creamy glimmer I saw in Jerusalem. The tension that I felt when I saw armed police marching in Old City came to mind vividly, reminding me that peace is not to be had here, nor there, anytime soon.
The people of Palestine, including the Jewish people, are living this complex reality day by day. Although signs of prosperity, the promise of milk and honey, are seen everywhere, the century-old strife between the Jewish people and their Arab neighbors also casts a shadow over their futures. As much as this was a pilgrimage for me, there was no missing of the discomforting political reality that was also religious and historical in nature. Did Jesus not also confront the same complex reality of Palestine? With this insight, I concluded that there was, indeed, a real hope invested in the idea of New Jerusalem, the holy city of peace that shall descend when the time comes.
[1] Wikipedia on the Western Wall.
[2] For the Jewish perspective on the Western Wall, see Six Reasons Why the Wall is Holy at aish.
[3] See Wikipedia entry on the Israeli West Bank Barrier.
The Old City charmed visitors with its crisscross streets. Bazaars selling all kinds of oddities along the roads form an air of festiveness. The goods and fruits shine incredible colors upon the Old City’s characteristic sandstone buildings. The street signs in Old City displayed English, …
“We think this is where World War III will begin.” Alla____hu Akbar! Alla_____hu Akbar! At the Dome of the Rock, groups of men shouted this repeatedly. Meaning “God Allah is Greatest,” this phrase often preceded terrorist attacks in the West. Located on the Temple Mount …
By Patrick H. Hase
“The leased area [the New Territories] was not seen as an economic advantage to the City (indeed, it was initially assumed that it would be a drain on the Colony’s finances), but it was seen as greatly strengthening the City’s security against attack.”[i]
For anyone who is quite serious about the New Territories, I highly recommend The Six-Day War of 1899 as a literary exploration. In this short and wonderfully written book, Mr. Patrick Hase tells a detailed account on the six-day war between the indigenous villages of the New Territories and the British colonial army in 1899. These six days were a pivotal time. Britain proclaimed the New Territories to be part of the Crown Colony.
Reading a colonial writing in post-colonial times elicits a sense of history that comes with feelings of conflicted loyalties. On the one hand, I sympathize with the villagers who dared waging a war against the British. They must have known the risks as even the Ch’ing army could not win. While the author explained various good reasons why the villagers waged an armed resistance, I think nationalist feelings motivated their participation (especially with the rank-and-file). With the benefit of hindsight, however, I am also glad that the villagers lost. I grew up in the New Territories under British administration. Hong Kong owes its success to the British.
The author takes pains to explain the underpinnings of imperialism. It remains a term that Chinese authorities often uses as political banter even now. British imperialism certainly had some unifying characteristics throughout the British colonies of the world. At the height of support for imperialist thinking, adherents believed that military expansion, and thereafter the governance of the colonies, ultimately benefited the colonial subjects. That if governance met the ideals of imperialism, Great Britain would bring forth civilization to peoples that could potentially be “raised” to meet the standards of the British middle class.
The chapter on colonial warfare is a vignette of classic, textbook tactics in conducting colonial battles. The author explains how the best military minds of Great Britain would conduct small-scale military campaigns in rough terrains. I think this chapter is worth a close reading. It is the key to understanding how British official Berger conducted the decisive battle in the Six-Day War that handed victory to the British. That is, despite the serious outnumbering of the British forces, and the very good military sense shown, by the villagers.
Surely, this book was itself written in post-colonial times. However, the sentiments were that of a former colonial official trained to administer Hong Kong affairs with a benevolent mindset. It required exceptional understanding of and sympathies with the people. The author’s commitment to Hong Kong, and particular to the indigenous population in the New Territories, comes through loud and clear. Yet at the same time he has not lost his roots as a British compatriot. He painstakingly communicates the various governing objectives and conflicting viewpoints amongst the then-governing officials that ended up effectively burying the truth of the Six-Day War.
Finally, as a historical account of a long-forgotten war, this book presents even-handedly the views and positions on both sides. Although there was no oral history available to explain the villagers’ stories, the author has extended significant effort in garnering evidence in genealogical records and artifacts with serious analyses and inferences.
This book brought me back to the beginnings of colonial Hong Kong, a time when people fought battles over raw ideals as well as practical survival. As I finished reading, I sighed, yearning for the era that has truly ended, more than twenty years since.
[i] Patrick H. Hase, The Six-Day War of 1899: Hong Kong in the Age of Imperialism, at 15.
“It is not important where Jesus died but why he died.” I rose in excitement on my first morning in Jerusalem. There would be a full day of sightseeing, and the Hortus Gethsemane (Lat. The Garden of Gethsemane) was to which I most looked forward. …
“Reverend, don’t you want to buy some of these, maybe for your wife?” “No, thank you. There are many in Heavens,” my father said. I witnessed my father’s first act in Jerusalem and it was brilliant. He found a perfect way to bring forth the …
I was sad to leave Tiberia. Yet the journey must go on, for the tour was making its way to Jerusalem, the ultimate destination of our pilgrimage.
Mount Tabor was believed to be the site of Jesus’ transfiguration (Matthew 17; Mark 9; Luke 9). The Church of Transfiguration commemorated this event. The day was bright with gentle morning breeze that stroked us like a warm mother’s gentle hand. I enjoyed the tour very much, it being sun-soaked and bearing such religious significance.
My father spotted a fig tree and asked if he could pick a branch to take home. Our tour guide Nahzee gladly did the “honor” for him. He then learned that for olives, one would have to pick a branch that grew near the roots, otherwise it would not transplant in new soil.
Cana would be very familiar to Christians as it was where Jesus performed his first miracle of turning water into wine (John 2). We made our first stop at the Catholic Church. I learned that there were two stone barrels that used to contain wine. I also remembered quite distinctly that it was suggested that those were the actual ones with which Jesus performed his miracle. They surely looked aged and antique to me. At the chapel, married couples could walk the aisle and renew their lifelong commitment to each other.
The souvenir store sold all kinds of red wine. I picked the pomegranate red, a dessert wine. By then, I have gone completely crazy about the pom, which was a produce common in Israel but not in Asia. The pom is also a Biblical fruit as one of the critical pieces that hang on the priestly ephod of High Priest Aaron (Exodus 28).
The next visit at the Orthodox Church was interesting. I questioned the church’s seemingly limitless ornateness. The over-adornment reminded me of the ambiance of elaborate Buddhist temples. The ornate items on display conveyed a sense of superstition, with those lifeless objects held out as holy or as projections of faith. Although I did not like the interior very much, the yard and the outward appearance of the church were tranquil.
Perhaps it should not be surprising, but there were on display two more of those stone barrels at the Orthodox Church. With that I realized a certain facet of truth. All the stone barrels’ authenticity, with their claims as the actual instruments of the miracle, came into question. Most possibly, none of these barrels was what they claimed to be. At best, they were artifacts that dated to Jesus’ time, for show here to satisfy the human desire to witness miracles or any manifestation of them.
On the other hand, I thought about the situation of having churches of different denominations in any one site of religious significance. Which branch of Christianity presented the truth, or the practice, that was closest to the historical truth? How much should seekers of faith embrace the arguments that divide followers of Jesus Christ into different camps?
This question was becoming quite unsettling to me. I pushed it aside thinking that the newly-christened should not become yet so critical of the institutions that embrace, endorse, and expound on the faith. Yet this thought would become quite dominant in my mind as I visited Jerusalem.
Nazareth is the largest Arab-Israeli city in Israel. Out of a population of 8.5 million in Israel, 1.5 million are Arabs, 75,000 of whom live in Nazareth. 30% of the Arabs there are Christians. The Arabs that live in Israel, who hold Israeli ID without the passport, are known as Palestinian Arabs.
Nazareth’s sweet name comforted me greatly as this was where Jesus grew up. We visited the Basilica of Annunciation, which housed the ruins of Joseph and Mary’s marital home. Paintings of St. Mary and the child lined the walls on the long corridor. These paintings came from many countries. They portrayed St. Mary and the holy child in the donor nation’s traditional painting styles.
The view of these paintings inspired some thoughts. If each nation could have vastly different ways of painting St. Mary and the holy child, then the ways with which each individual believer understood the Christian faith must be far and few in between, as we all understood Jesus’ teaching within our own frame of reference. What these paintings exhibited were the different interpretations of the same faith. Together they seem to bespeak the universality of the Christian truth, although at the same time it was capable of adapting itself in different cultures.
Haifa is Israel’s third largest city. The Bahaii hanging garden there was indeed magnificent, and I wondered where a relatively young faith finds the means to construct such a base. It was a wondrous view in a carefully groomed landscape but I could hardly raise enough interest in it. I found this faith to stand on rather shallow principles of universalism.
One thing to note about Haifa was its advanced development. At the vista point I was able to observe many types of infrastructure along the coast. Looking onto the Mediterranean, however, the image that haunted me was the hordes of immigrants struggling through this body of water in search of the possibility of a better life. Many end up dying. No, that face of the Mediterranean was not shown in Israel. It presented only its most charming self that day, basked in the golden rays of the winter sun.
The Cave of Elijah soon opened for visits, and the tour guide explained its significance to us (1 Kings 19). This was believed to be Mount Horeb in the Old Testament. Prophet Elijah ran and hid from his enemies. He ended up here having wandered in the wilderness. God also spoke to him here.
The Caesarea Aqueduct was a pleasant site. It was the water way that supplied fresh water to the booming city of Caesarea since King Herod’s time. This was my closest view of the Mediterranean. The ruins were right by the shore, and I marveled at the human genius that made the best of nature and artifact combined. The area used to be a busy entrepôt. Now that the city has receded from history, the aqueduct stands as a proud witness to the prosperous life once lived here.
Nestled in the deeps of Hong Kong’s countryside, the Plover Cove Reservoir in Tai Po is the first stop along the scenic route leading to the general area of Luk Keng in Fanling. The Plover Cove Reservoir is the largest reservoir in Hong Kong by …