The Tombs of Atuan

I enjoyed a visit I had to the nearby Tombs of Atuan...er, the Prophets.

Jerusalem and the Holy Land are full of caves and tombs of all sorts. It's principally limestone, so if you put on your geology hats you will remember that limestone loves to form caves just like the area under the bed inexplicably creates dust bunnies. What is a dust bunny, anyways? Anyways, any way I could lead into this story in the way most obtuse and with the most similar-sounding things sounds rings of goodness to me.

One Sabbath Saturday we waddled ( I find I frequently walk faster than others in my group) down to Gethsemane to see if we could pop on in and do a study session in the private portion of the Garden. Well, we took our plea to a locked door with no one inside, and we decided to keep on going somewhere else. We walked past a couple other churches and cemeteries on the Mount of Olives before the people with me declared their intentions to go to the Tomb of the Prophets. Wait, who died? We walked into someone's yard where there was this big green gate and signs in this yard pointing to some stairs leading down about two stories into the solid rock. When my eyes had adjusted I could see in the dim light I stood in a domed room about 25 feet across carved out of the rock. To my right and left were tall passageways leading into darkness. The only light in the room came from the doorway behind me, a small hole in the ceiling which flowed to the surface above...and the wan light of a single candle held by a man standing by the stairs. I don't remember the exact story, I'll tell you if I remember. In decent English he said that when his family had moved into the region, they rediscovered the cave and used it as a home for several months while conditions above were unfavorable. Later, during the Six Days War in 1967 they again spent a few days below to wait out conditions above. He also told us that according to tradition, the Old Testament prophets Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi are buried here (this is probably just tradition—the style of the tombs dates closer to the time of Christ or 1^st century AD.)

He then gave us each a lit candle and set us free in the tombs. The place was wasn't enormous, but it was decently sized. If your candle went out, you would be plunged into near-total darkness. It reminded me of something I read about in a book called the Tombs of Atuan, a fictional underground maze where no light reaches. When I closed my eyes, I could imagine I was there.

“He kept his right hand on the wall. As his hand brushed against its damp mass, loose pieces of dirt and rock crumbled off of the limestone beneath. His torch long extinguished, the inky blackness pressed against his open eyes, robbing their sight. He counted each opening he came to. Some were passageways, some tombs, and some were both. How many openings had he passed? Seven...eight...nine. Right, then left, then right again. It would be a miracle if he found what he was looking for. He couldn't leave without it, but if he searched much longer he might never leave at all. His soft footsteps echoed quietly off of the walls, sometimes wandering off and never coming back when he passed a pit or crossed some dark crevasse and they were lost in the depths. The air was stale. How long had it been since anyone had come this way? Fourteen...fifteen...sixteen....or was that seventeen? Panic rose up in his throat. His worst fears began to realize themselves as—no, wait! A draft of cool air on his right cheek. He was close. Very close indeed....”