The Walls That Divide Us

For centuries, mankind has attempted to solve problems by building walls. I stood under one of those walls yesterday, erected for the same reason as the Great Wall of China and the Berlin Wall--preservation through separation.

The fortress to which I refer is the wall that separates the West Bank from Jerusalem. It is built with mammoth cement bricks and resembles a grey row of teeth. Roads that used to connect the two areas stop at graffiti-ridden concrete slabs. The wall has suffocated the once-thriving West Bank.

We stood before it in the West Bank city of Bethany. What made this experience striking was the monument two-hundred feet beyond us. At a place where the wall can be seen ominously rising over surrounding buildings, a small wooden sign reads "The Tomb of Lazarus." It marks the place where Lazarus awoke from the dead at the command of Jesus Christ. Here, The Master tore down the wall that separates us from our loved ones: Death.

This makes sense because the Savior was an unabashed destroyer of walls. He spoke with unclean women and associated with the Samaritans. He ate with publicans and sinners. He chose a hated tax collector named Matthew and a simple fisherman named  Peter to be leaders in the organization of His church. He comforted an adulterer and praised the widow's mite. His teachings relieved people of the unnecessary fences the Jewish authorities had built around God's law, for His yoke was easy and His burden was light.

He tore down walls that divide.

Above the walled Old City in Jerusalem is a hill called the Mount of Olives. Here in this grove of olive trees, Jesus Christ routinely looked out over Jerusalem saying:

"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!"

But it was below the Mount of Olives in a place called Gethsemane where He destroyed the barriers that separate us from God. My wife and I recently visited Gethsemane, and I commented on how foreboding the trees looked.

'"No," she replied, "I think they are beautiful."

When I looked again, I realized she was right. The unique twists and knots of the olive trees are picturesque in the daylight. I had been imagining them snarling at the Savior by moonlight as He fulfilled the Atonement.

This is where the Savior bridged an infinite wall that divides our imperfect selves from our perfect Heavenly Father. I studied mathematics in college, and when infinity popped up in a mathematics problem, I tended to throw my work out, because infinity in mathematics is impossible to overcome. That is why the Savior's Atonement is a miracle: He created a bridge to our Heavenly Father over a chasm of infinite width. By overcoming the world in Gethsemane, Jesus Christ defeated infinity for us all.

But what strikes me most about Gethsemane is its proximity to Jerusalem. The Savior could see His people from the Mount of Olives and their lit houses from Gethsemane.

All He had to do was look over the city wall.