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| Sunrise on top of Mt. Sinai |
There are many sacred mountains in the
world which serve as pilgrimage sites for a diverse mix of religions pagan,
Christian, Eastern, and Indigenous. In
some cases the mountain is the symbol of an unseen deity (such as Pele in the
Mauna Loa volcano in Hawaii) or commemorates a great event (such as Mt. Ararat
in Turkey where Noah's Ark is said to have safely landed). Some mountains are Temples. Mt. Zion in Jerusalem is utterly covered over
with the remains of the Jewish Temple and the present day Dome of the Rock (the
third holiest site in Islam).
Among the most important sacred mountains
is Mt. Sinai where God came down and Moses went up and in a holy summit (double
entendre intended) the 10 Commandments were given and a holy covenant was
ratified with Israel. Mt. Sinai is one
of those Bible sites that are endlessly debated today. There are at least 5 sites that have laid
claim to being the true Mt. Sinai.
Surprisingly, only two of the 5 are on the Sinai Peninsula, the others
are in what is known today as Saudi Arabia and Jordan. Of course there are also some liberal
scholars who doubt the entire story of the Exodus because they do not believe
Israel ever lived in Egypt much less was enslaved and set free.
I'm
not going to enter into any of this debate.
The Mt. Sinai I visited is in the Sinai Peninsula and located nearby is
St. Catherine's Monastery (one of the oldest in the world). This is the Sinai of Christian
tradition. It probably was not the exact
site that is recorded in the book of Exodus, but the location does have a fresh
water source and an area large enough for several million people to
encamp. At the very least, it is emblematic,
but authenticity is by no means ruled out.
My presence there was for spiritual
pilgrimage. Although I am Christian, my
faith emerges from Judaism and the Ten Commandments form the ethical system
taught by Jesus. And so my interest was
certainly more than historical and touristic.
Because of this I so chose to walk the trail that I might pray during
the ascent which I will recount for you.
Several hundred were making the climb that
day. You begin your climb at 4am in the
dark of night. As you look ahead, you
see an endless train of flashlights making the ascent looking like a river of
light flowing uphill. There is little
solitude or quiet. Some (including my
wife) have hired a camel to carry them to the top. The camel drivers are all yelling at their
animals or each other as they negotiate the serpentine trail with hundreds of
switchbacks and loose rocks. The last
quarter mile is very steep and narrow and all must take it on foot. By the time you reach the top you begin to
see the pre-dawn light.
It's exceptionally cold on the summit with
breezes kicking up from many directions and reminding you that your undershirt
is soaked from your exertions getting to the top. Everyone seems to huddle together. A cacophony of languages are heard and spoken,
some groups are passing around a bottle of liquor to stay warm, some are
outfitted in true hiking attire while others look as if they just left a night
club (or A.A. meeting) to make this hike.
In a corner I see Egyptian family selling cups of instant coffee with
milk and sugar. There we wait; looking
to the east, all of a sudden all noise and talking give way to a collective
gasp. There it is. The sun.
But it is bright pink and then red and then bright white as it rises
through the pollution of China and then the dust of Saudi Arabia. It was like seeing the sunrise for the very
first time in your life. How could
something so common, so daily, be so glorious?
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| Actual Moses Not Pictured |
It is odd to say this, but the experience
of the sunrise on Mt. Sinai felt like one of those moments in your life when
you know for certain something has changed inside. Unlike Moses, I did not walk down the
mountain carrying stone tablets, but walking down I did have a sense of
profound gratitude for life and the simple joy of seeing such a beautiful
sight. My heart, which had been weighed
down by a long illness and subsequent depression, felt lighter than it had for
some time. It was a different experience
than I expected, but a religious one none the less. Sinai is the place of the law, a law I aspire
to live by but always fall short. But
for me, in that moment and that place, I experienced a touch of God’s grace
that was both extraordinary and common at the same time.
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