Places
(The last two pictures are of Herodion. One was taken with the "Separation Wall" in the foreground. The other was taken from the Mount of Olives - Herodion is the hill on the horizon.)
This is a fascinating land, this, the Land of the Holy One, filled with fascinating sites and sights to see. While The Church of the Resurrection – a.k.a. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre – is easily, for Christians, the most important place in this place, it is the cliffs of Arbel in Galilee, and Herod’s man-made mountain, Herodion, near Bethlehem, that are my personal favorite places to visit. 
As you climb the Cliffs of Arbel you are gradually treated to a magnificent view of the region of Northern Galilee, and many of the places where Jesus taught and preformed his miracles. Eventually, the entire Sea of Galilee sets before you, and you are struck with the vision of Jesus walking on the water, calming the storm, chasing Legion into the pigs and over a cliff, and on and on and on. You almost feel the need to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming; that you are really here. 
Over your right shoulder stand the Horns of Hittin, where Saladin defeated the Crusader armies on July 11, 1187, marking the end of the Crusader period, one of the most ignoble in all of the rocks’ memories of this place.
Herodion was built by Herod the Great to be a place of memorial of a great battle won around the year 35 B.C.E. Here, Herod and the Roman Legions soundly defeated the Parthians with their popular Hasmonean High Priest. Herod literally moved a mountain to mark the spot so that everyone in the region would remember and in remembering be reminded of the power of Herod – of course, Herod always had the 800 pound Gorilla of Rome standing behind him.
According to the Jewish historian Josephus, Herod was buried at Herodion, sometime around 4 B.C.E to 6 C.E. Last summer archeologists found what they believe to be the mausoleum that held the body of Herod. On an early Friday morning last July, Sally and I were fortunate enough to run into the archeologist who was directing the dig. As only a zealot for stones can do, he enthusiastically told us of the find and also of what was found underneath the tomb – a cistern – meaning that the tomb was built later, maybe even as an afterthought. So what? Ah, that’s the fun of it, isn’t it? So what? Your guess is as good as anyone’s, including his. Here’s what I guess: I think that Herod thought he would be buried in Jerusalem, in a place of honor that would be afforded him as a great and beloved king. Except that Herod was not as great as he wished to be, and was never beloved, not even by his own family. So Herod decided to build his own tomb, in the place of his own choosing. And so he did!
“Did you find anything in the tomb?” I asked the archeologist.
“No,” he said. “Empty.”
“What do you think happened?”
“Robbers,” he said.
“Ah, yes,” I responded. “Robbers.”
Herod’s tomb faces Jerusalem. And Herod’s tomb is empty. And this is why I love coming to Herodion. Here lays an empty tomb, built by a great king, arguably one of Israel’s greatest ever. And this empty tomb faces Jerusalem, wherein lay another empty tomb. At this place, a rich and famous man built a tomb as well, and for himself I expect. However, this rich man gave his tomb to another, and this other is also a king, a King so different from Herod, that, as you stand there thinking about this enormous truth, chilly fingers walk up and down your spine. You shake them off before your heart freezes in the middle of a beat. It’s all so rich and wonderful that it takes your breath away.
Two Kings and two Kingdoms, and standing there it all becomes so clear that you almost have to sit down for fear of being struck dead by an angel sent from heaven to declare “Good news to all the people.” And your fear is made more real by the knowledge that this kind of lightning struck near here before and that lightning does have a tendency to strike in the same place twice.
Two Kings, so different the one from the Other that no metaphor will do justice to the divide. Two Kingdoms, as sharply distinct one from the other that you are forced to your knees to pray for eyes to see, so that you can separate them in your own life, as well as in the world in which you live. “My Kingdom is not of this world,” the ONE King said to Pilate, the man who represented Caesar, emperor and god over one of the greatest empires the world has ever known. If not of this world of flesh and blood, and rocks and trees, then of what world is this ONE King’s Kingdom, and how can I be of service to Him who could not be kept captive, not even by death, not even within the Gates of Hell?
Two tombs little more than a half-day walk away from each other, and each with so much in common. And yet, all the one does is point to the other, as is also true of the two kings connected with the two tombs. Herod the Great was a king of great wealth and influence and power. Herod’s Kingdom stretched from Tyre to the Sinai and from the Mediterranean to beyond the Jordan. He was Rome’s man, trusted to wield Rome’s power in the region. Millions would purchase his book on leadership. And yet, all that his life serves to do is be a study in contrast with the baby born under his nose during the climax of his day in the sun. All Herod's empty tomb serves to do today is be a source of curiosity and wonder to the world of archeology and history. But to pilgrims like you and me who stand and gaze at this bit of chiseled stone, it is yet one more sign pointing to the one true Sign from God of a different kind of power at work in the world, a power so different from all others than we marvel at our inability to see, and our refusal to bow the knee. And right there near Herod's empty tomb, we pause to give thanks to God for this insight into living, because we know that the One we are to follow is the One who didn’t build a tomb for himself because he believed he wouldn’t need one for long enough to make it pay, and that he wouldn’t be remembered by big, well-chiseled stones, but rather because of stones with breath and life in them - Living Stones.
And these would be us!
According to the Jewish historian Josephus, Herod was buried at Herodion, sometime around 4 B.C.E to 6 C.E. Last summer archeologists found what they believe to be the mausoleum that held the body of Herod. On an early Friday morning last July, Sally and I were fortunate enough to run into the archeologist who was directing the dig. As only a zealot for stones can do, he enthusiastically told us of the find and also of what was found underneath the tomb – a cistern – meaning that the tomb was built later, maybe even as an afterthought. So what? Ah, that’s the fun of it, isn’t it? So what? Your guess is as good as anyone’s, including his. Here’s what I guess: I think that Herod thought he would be buried in Jerusalem, in a place of honor that would be afforded him as a great and beloved king. Except that Herod was not as great as he wished to be, and was never beloved, not even by his own family. So Herod decided to build his own tomb, in the place of his own choosing. And so he did!
“Did you find anything in the tomb?” I asked the archeologist.
“No,” he said. “Empty.”
“What do you think happened?”
“Robbers,” he said.
“Ah, yes,” I responded. “Robbers.”
Herod’s tomb faces Jerusalem. And Herod’s tomb is empty. And this is why I love coming to Herodion. Here lays an empty tomb, built by a great king, arguably one of Israel’s greatest ever. And this empty tomb faces Jerusalem, wherein lay another empty tomb. At this place, a rich and famous man built a tomb as well, and for himself I expect. However, this rich man gave his tomb to another, and this other is also a king, a King so different from Herod, that, as you stand there thinking about this enormous truth, chilly fingers walk up and down your spine. You shake them off before your heart freezes in the middle of a beat. It’s all so rich and wonderful that it takes your breath away.
Two Kings and two Kingdoms, and standing there it all becomes so clear that you almost have to sit down for fear of being struck dead by an angel sent from heaven to declare “Good news to all the people.” And your fear is made more real by the knowledge that this kind of lightning struck near here before and that lightning does have a tendency to strike in the same place twice.
Two Kings, so different the one from the Other that no metaphor will do justice to the divide. Two Kingdoms, as sharply distinct one from the other that you are forced to your knees to pray for eyes to see, so that you can separate them in your own life, as well as in the world in which you live. “My Kingdom is not of this world,” the ONE King said to Pilate, the man who represented Caesar, emperor and god over one of the greatest empires the world has ever known. If not of this world of flesh and blood, and rocks and trees, then of what world is this ONE King’s Kingdom, and how can I be of service to Him who could not be kept captive, not even by death, not even within the Gates of Hell?
And these would be us!
