Orthodox Jerusalem

Appearing in the The Guardian, David Shariatmadari gives a charming account of his impromptu participation in an early morning Orthodox procession in Jerusalem. There's a video that accompanies the article but, watching it, you get the sense that the video does poor justice to the experience of actually being there. You can't smell the incense, feel the crowd clamoring around you, etc. But Shariatmadari writes well, so you can get a good idea from reading the piece.

When I got to the square outside the Holy Sepulchre there were already a hundred or so people, milling about, many of them carrying unlit candles and bunches of mint. I wasn't sure at all what to expect apart from some kind of procession: I had in mind a plastic baby Jesus on a float or something. Positioning myself opposite a stone doorway, which was what everyone seemed to have their eyes on, I joined a line of eager Orthodox priests, nuns and tourists. I waited a long time. The voices around me were Russian, Greek and Arabic. There were a couple of false alarms: a commotion from just inside the doorway sparked a flurry of camera flashes, but no one emerged. And then, suddenly, the bells of the Holy Sepulchre burst out. And this was no quaint, English cathedral peal. It was an incredible din, like a gamelan at maximum volume. I imagined great plates of bronze being struck. It was startling, exhilarating, and suddenly I was wide awake.