JERUSALEM – The enormous doors were pushed shut, the clanking bolts secured from the outside, and several clergy, pilgrims, and one journalist — me — were locked for the night inside one of Christianity’s holiest sites in Jerusalem.
The Church of the Holy Sepulcher stands as a monumental testament to Christian faith, built over the locations where believers hold that Jesus was crucified, buried, and resurrected. Its significance stretches back centuries, making it a focal point for pilgrimage and worship.
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Over the ages, the Church has witnessed a complex interplay of power, faith, and culture, shaped significantly by Muslim governance and shifting political landscapes. Today, the Armenian Apostolic, Catholic, and Greek Orthodox churches share ownership of this revered space, reflecting a unique interdenominational coexistence.
As I observed through a tiny door slot, a representative from a Muslim family — entrusted with the basilica’s keys since the 13th century — climbed a small wooden ladder to secure the upper bolt. After locking the door, a Greek Orthodox priest wished us “Good night!” in English before departing, highlighting the collaborative spirit that permeates the church.
From 9 p.m. until dawn, the basilica transforms into a contemplative sanctuary, hosting a few dozen priests, registered pilgrims, and the occasional cat. It is during these quiet hours that visitors can explore the labyrinthine architecture and engage in personal reflection and prayer.
Brazilian pilgrim Peter Stängle knelt in fervent prayer at the Stone of Unction, where Jesus is believed to have been prepared for burial. His thoughts swirled with reflections on his life and the quest for salvation. “A lot is going through my mind — what I did wrong in my life, is there salvation for everybody, maybe even for me?” he pondered.
The Church, primarily constructed during the Middle Ages on sites revered since the 4th century, is a multi-level structure adorned in various architectural styles that reflect its diverse religious heritage. Pilgrims typically revere three key locations: the Stone of Unction, the shrine over Jesus’ tomb, and the chapel of Calvary, where tradition holds that Jesus’ cross once stood.
As Stängle and I sat in front of the Holy Edicule, the marble shrine marking Jesus’ tomb, we were joined by three Armenian pilgrims, their solemnity amplified by the gentle presence of a cat that curled up at their feet.
Around midnight, as the church bells rang, the first services began, led by resident clergy. Rev. Giuseppe Gaffurini, head of the monastic community of Franciscans at the church, remarked on the enriching experience of reverence within the basilica. “You can still breathe in the presence of he who was crucified and rose from the dead,” he noted.
The ongoing conflicts in the region have greatly impacted pilgrimage, restricting the attendance of many who yearn to visit this sacred site. Gaffurini shared his admiration for the devotion of those who come to touch and kiss the ancient stones, often moved to tears by the spiritual experience.
With a rich history of collaborative worship, the church is a microcosm of Christian unity. A Franciscan, a Greek Orthodox priest, and an Armenian priest executed their distinct rites with mutual respect, showcasing a harmonious coexistence that stands in stark contrast to the violent disputes of the past.
“We’re living a particularly positive period of relationships with the other churches,” said Rev. Francesco Ielpo, the Custos of the Holy Land. He believes this collaboration is a crucial step toward being true prophets of peace.
In the hushed hours of night, clergy and pilgrims alike find themselves enveloped in spiritual solitude. Before recent conflicts, Jerusalem’s Old City bustled with life, filled with pilgrims from all walks of faith. Today, however, the atmosphere within the Church of the Holy Sepulcher is markedly different, offering a unique opportunity for personal reflection.
In this cool, dark space, believers confront the weight of their faith, standing on the very ground that witnessed Jesus’ crucifixion and, ultimately, his resurrection — a profound reminder of the promise of eternal life for the faithful.
As I reflected on the meaning of this sacred site, I asked Gaffurini if the mystery of the Church still moved him after 15 years of service. “Fifteen?” he replied. “It would still do so after 50 years.”
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Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
