dome consisting of one hundred and seventy-six pounds of twenty-four-carat gold leaf electroplated on copper.
Entering in the traditional way through different entrances by gender, they were met with huge granite columns and sup port arches richly adorned in the original mosaics that ob
served Islamic tradition in the artwork, of showing no animals or human forms, simply Arabic inscriptions for the holy texts. Then in his very quiet and unassuming way, their clerical guide brought them to the reliquary where they were, under special conditions, allowed to touch a section of the sacred rock that only was available to the public once a year during Ramadan.
"The Well of Souls is here," Imam told the group in a rev erent voice, leading them down a staircase to a small grotto.
They stood within the space, and the prayers of the dead besieged Damali so powerfully that she had to get out and get air. Sensing her distress from her labored breathing, and then watching it ricochet to every other seer in the group, they hurried outside yet kept a diplomatic and respectful pace in so doing. But the moment they reached the sunshine, it was imperative to find water and stop to rest.
"We should stop and eat," Father Patrick warned, looking at the already spent group. "We can have lunch at the Israel Museum, where you can see the Dead Sea scrolls. After that we'll be walking the Via Dolorosa, the path Christ took as He bore the cross ... we'll pick up the path near the court yard of St. Anne's and the Pools of Bethesda, where the healing of the lame took place - and we'll follow the Sta tions of the Cross all the way to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre." He glanced around the team. "From there, we'll push on to the room of the Last Supper on Mount Zion, and reconvene with our minibus to bring us to Bethlehem - which is only fifteen minutes away - so that we can see the Church of the Nativity."
The team simply stared in awe at the old men on a mis sion, privately wondering if their stamina came from On High.
* * *
she and carlos exited the Church of the Holy Sepulchre like Shabazz had come out of the mosque - practically shaking from the overwhelming emotions brewing up to overflow inside. The walk of Via Dolorosa made even the most leathery Guardians simply shake their heads with tears in their eyes. But she lost her composure at the final Stations of the Cross inside the magnificent central chapel that was lit with all golden candlelight and oil lamps, re splendent with icons in Greek Orthodox tradition. Her hand went to her mouth to hold back the sob as she looked at the bronze disc beneath the altar where the cross actually stood at Station XII, hence where Jesus died. She thought they might have to carry her out by the time the tour was done. Father Patrick, not to be dissuaded, still insisted that they also see the Ethiopian Monastery on the grounds there, where artwork depicts the Ethiopian tradition that holds that the Queen of Sheba and Solomon's relationship produced an heir to the Ethiopian
royal house. He said that was some thing Carlos needed to know, but no one questioned why as the clerics led them to Mount Zion to visit the Tomb of David. Stepping into that tomb represented another nexus of cultures, where a massive stone was draped with a Star of David and beautifully engraved silver Torah scroll canis ters sat just outside what was considered the oldest syna gogue. Yet in an antechamber opposite the tomb was a mihrab surrounded by green ceramic tiles, so that faithful Muslims could be oriented toward Mecca to honor Nebi Daoud - the Prophet David.
Reeling as they entered the large, bare, medieval cham ber with flagstones and gothic arches, they all stopped to wonder at what could have entered the hearts, minds, and spirits of men knowing this was the last of days as they knew it. Here, even in this sparse space, there was human glue that crossed barriers. An ornate mihrab blocked one window, with other windows elaborately restored with stained glass bearing Arabic inscriptions in Gothic windows, with a Le vantine dome.
When they left the twenty-one-hundred-year-old walls of the Old City, a vast sense of connectedness linked them even closer as a team, but closer to the human family. Descending into the Tomb