Two of the great sights of Easter in Jerusalem are the foot-washing on Holy Thursday and the “miracle” of the descent of holy fire from heaven on Easter Eve. During my visits to Jerusalem I have seen both ceremonies.
The washing takes place in the open air at the door of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The Greek Patriarch washes the feet of twelve of his bishops in commemoration of the foot-washing of the apostles by Christ after the Last Supper.
By dawn of Holy Thursday, at the time I last saw this rite, the court was packed, and for hours before the ceremony began the streets were jammed with a crowd of Mohammedans and Christians, of Orientals and Occidentals, such as you will see nowhere else in the world. Many of the pilgrims slept in the court all night in order to be sure of places. In the centre of the court stood an oval rostrum about four feet above the stones. Around its floor ran an iron railing enclosing a space about eight feet wide and twelve feet long. Inside the railing and running around it were seats, and at the back a gold and white armchair cushioned with red satin. This stage was for the ceremony, and the chair the throne of the Patriarch. The other seats were for the bishops. Around this platform, to keep back the crowd, was a guard of soldiers, and back of these, in a solid mass, were the people.
From my seat on a housetop I looked with wonder at the twenty thousand people below. The steps leading to the chapel of Mount Calvary were filled with Mohammedan women in sheet-like gowns with veiled faces, and every niche and corner of the buildings surrounding the court was covered by Greek men and boys holding on to the walls as best they could. The ledges of the convent were filled with Syrians, and even the roof of the Sepulchre itself had its coping of picturesque humanity.
There was a stir in the crowd. I looked toward the door of the church. Preceded by two fierce-looking Syrian kavasses with swords at their sides and carrying silver-headed staffs, came the bishops and in their midst the stately figure of the Patriarch himself. The grand procession passed slowly and majestically through the mass of people. A wonderful silence succeeded the tumult as the bishops mounted the steps of the rostrum. The Patriarch took his seat on his chair of state and the twelve bishops arranged themselves on each side. They were fine-looking men, all of them, with their full silken beards and their gorgeous robes.
Presently a chanting solo was heard from the convent on the courtyard. There against the wall in an improvised pulpit above the heads of the multitude a Greek priest in black cap and gown stood with a gold-plated book open on a rack in front of him. His chant continued during the greater part of the proceedings. A priest brought to the rostrum a large golden pitcher in a basin of gold as big as a foot-bath and placed it in front of the Patriarch. As His Beatitude and the bishops rose, there was a waving of the crosses formed of candles, a passing of the hands this way and that, and a great deal of bowing, which was understood only by the Greeks and the Russians.
The Church of the Pater Noster, on the Mount of Olives, contains tablets of the Lord’s Prayer in thirty-two languages
With towel and basin the Greek Patriarch washes the feet of his twelve bishops each Easter Week, thus commemorating Christ’s washing of the feet of His apostles. The bishop representing Peter always raises objections, which the Patriarch overrules
Then the Patriarch prepared for the washing. Standing in front of his chair, he first took off his great dome of a hat. As he did so his long gray locks fell down almost to his waist and his fair, open, dignified face shone out under the sun. He next laid off his grand gown; piece by piece the cloth of gold was removed, until at last he stood forth in a white robe of the finest cream-coloured silk crêpe bound round the waist with a gold-and-white girdle. In this still grand attire personating the Saviour, he took a long Turkish bath towel and twisted it about his loins. Then stooping over he poured the water from the gold pitcher into the basin.
The twelve bishops, in the meantime, were busy getting their feet out of their English congress-gaiters and pulling off their white cotton socks for the washing. Each bared one foot and held it out to be washed as the Patriarch came around with the basin. The Patriarch did the washing very quickly, rubbing each foot with water and drying it with a towel. As he finished he bent over and kissed the foot he had washed and then went on to the next. The last bishop represented St. Peter, and, after the example of Peter of the past, he objected to having his feet washed by the Lord; he rose and gesticulated violently. But the Patriarch opened the Bible and read to him the admonition of Christ to Peter, shaking his hand at Peter as he did so. A moment later Peter sat down humbly and submitted to the washing.
At this moment the bells of the Greek churches all over Jerusalem burst out in a chorus of rejoicing. The preacher against the wall chanted louder than ever, while the great crowd surged this way and that in their efforts to get nearer the platform. The Patriarch descended, the bishops followed, and in double file they marched out through the crowd, with the kavasses clearing the way. A priest carried in front of the Patriarch a vase of the holy water in which the feet were washed, and into this His Beatitude dipped a great bouquet of roses with which he sprinkled the water over the crowd. The people held up their faces to catch the purifying drops and rushed to the platform to wipe up with their handkerchiefs what was spilled on the floor. Those who succeeded in thus wetting their handkerchiefs then pressed them over their faces.
The “miracle” of the holy fire also takes place in the church in front of the tomb two days after the foot-washing ceremony. The Latin churches have not taken part in it for more than three hundred years. The Roman Catholics protest against it, and it is now managed entirely by the Greeks and the other sects of the Orient.
The Greeks say that the “miracle” has been celebrated ever since the days of the apostles. It is mentioned in theological literature as far back as the ninth century, and in the twelfth century it was made use of to arouse a religious fervour against the enemies of Christianity. Most of the pilgrims of the Eastern churches believe that the fire actually comes down from heaven and that they are able to ignite their candles from flames sent by God.
This sacred fire appears in the tomb of the Holy Sepulchre precisely at two o’clock in the afternoon of the Saturday before Easter. On the morning of that day all of the lights of the church are put out, and the people stand for hours and wait for the great event. There are holes in the walls of the Sepulchre itself, and through these the candles of believers are passed to the Patriarch of Jerusalem, who is inside. He lights them with the sacred flame as soon as it appears and hands them out burning. Other candles are lighted from these, and runners carry the holy fire all over Palestine, to Bethlehem and to Nazareth, and to the Sea of Galilee.
The night before the miracle hundreds sleep in different chapels and in the rotunda, in order to hold good places for the morrow, and during the day the churches are thronged to such an extent that people are often injured by the crush. In the morning everyone has a bunch of candles in his hand. There are ten thousand dozens of candles in the crowd, and all are to be lighted within an hour with fire from heaven, as they believe.
When the ceremonies begin, the Greek Patriarch and his bishops in gorgeous dresses march three times round the Sepulchre with banners, praying. They ask God to send down the fire, and their march is preceded by a flag and a cross. There is chanting and crossing, and then the Copts follow their Ethiopian Patriarch, gorgeous in his gold cap and gown. Now there is silence, and the only sound is that of the squeezing mass as it breathlessly watches.
The Patriarch has entered the Sepulchre, and the fire is expected from heaven. No one seems to suspect that it comes from his matches, and the scratching, if there be any, is not heard. It appears to be all dark within the walls of the Sepulchre. Suddenly there is a great shout. A faint light shines out through the holes. The soldiers struggle to keep the crowd back. Men with whips push this way and that, making roads through the mass which the soldiers try to keep clear. The priests stand at the holes in the walls, and great bunches of candles are passed in. They are handed out lighted, and fleet runners seize them and dash to the various chapels. The Copt chapel at the back of the Sepulchre flames with lights, and in less time than it takes for me to write this sentence, the whole of the mass below me is a blaze of fire. Every man, woman, and child holds a lighted candle, and many are hauled up by strings from one gallery to the other. A priest creeps along the roof of the chapel of the Sepulchre. He lights the hundreds of lamps and candles upon its edges; and as I look over it I see that the Greek chapel beyond now blazes with thousands of coloured lights. The lamps over the whole of the great church are burning. The smoke comes up in great clouds, and the air is perceptibly warmer.
It is just seven minutes by my watch since the first candle was lighted, and in fifteen minutes the sacred fire will be all over Jerusalem.
Ready-mades have not yet arrived in the Near East. Jerusalem tailors sit at the doors of their tiny dark shops on ledges two feet above the street level. Customers must stand outside to bargain and be measured
The Greek Church has the finest collection of religious paintings in all Jerusalem. This has long been the richest and most powerful of the Christian sects in the Holy City and has roused much antagonism in the other churches