The situations now and then are not analogous. Israel's current Jewish government, unlike the Roman Empire, is not alien to Jerusalem. The Palestinians are not as defenseless as the ancient Jews. And Israeli opposition leader (now Prime Minister) Ariel Sharon's unwelcome stroll last September around the two Islamic shrines that now occupy the Temple platform-a provocation that may have sparked the Holy Land's current strife when Muslims responded by throwing rocks down on Jews at prayer below-has no precise 1st century cognate. Still, the intertwined dynamic of military occupation and religious clash is shockingly familiar.

Two thousand years ago, the man in the middle of this potentially deadly tug-of-war was the high priest. The position, ritually paramount at the Temple, had been politically hobbled by Herod. Nonetheless, as head of the Sanhedrin, a Jewish religious and civic body, and a key participant at city council meetings, the officeholder still had great power and responsibility.

The actions of Caiaphas, high priest from A.D. 18 to A.D. 36, are traditionally attributed to rage over Jesus' challenges to his class's power and his personal standing. But historians have begun to argue for a more nuanced appreciation. Caiaphas knew better than anyone that the doomed Jewish revolts inevitably started at the Temple, frequently during Passover, as keyed-up pilgrims celebrated Israel's liberation from an earlier oppressor. He knew Pilate as a ruler, says Richard Horsley of the University of Massachusetts, Boston, who "shot first and asked questions later." Personal pride notwithstanding, the high priest had reason to act against a Jew who had disrupted the Temple and may have been plotting another grand entrance on the second day of the feast. To Caiaphas, says Lee Levine, professor of Jewish history at Jerusalem's Hebrew University, "Jesus and others like him were just a bad idea. Bad for the Temple, bad for the Romans and bad for the Jews."

Rome reserved crucifixion primarily for capital crimes and discontinued the practice in the 4th century. Historians learned considerably more about its specifics in 1968, when the remains of a man crucified in his mid 30s were discovered north of Jerusalem with a 7-in. iron nail still embedded in the heel. The state of the bones indicated that the condemned man's arms were outstretched and that his feet had been placed sideways, with the nail driven first through a small block of wood and then through both heels into the cross. Later the wood block would prevent the feet from coming free as the wound ripped and enlarged. Contrary to most representations, the knees were bent.

The path of the Via Dolorosa, the Stations of the Cross, through the Old City of Jerusalem is almost certainly inaccurate. It follows a 14th century grid of the city rather than a 1st century plan, and probably reflects the desire of 14th century merchants along the way to get pilgrims' business. But the hill of Golgotha (a.k.a. Calvary) and Jesus' burial cave, both located by tradition in Jerusalem's Church of the Holy Sepulcher, are a different matter.

In Jesus' day executions and burials took place outside the city. Today the church is tucked within the Old City's Christian Quarter, but at the time, the area would have been safely outside town walls. The niche-style grave is consistent with 1st century custom. Written attestations to its authenticity-and that of the Calvary rock a few yards away-date back more than 1,800 years. Tellingly, early rulers who might have been tempted to "adjust" the site's location did not do so. Says Dan Bahat, for many years Jerusalem's district archaeologist: "There's nothing to prove that this is not the site of the Crucifixion." If this sounds weak to a believer, coming from an archaeologist, it carries significant weight.

When the unnamed disciple remarked on the size of the Temple stones, Jesus replied that "not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down." He was right. After one last rebellion, in A.D. 135, the Romans leveled Jerusalem, leaving only the bald platform behind. The city, of course, rose again and fell again, was conquered and reconquered . . .

Yousef Abu Ghannam's family holds the key (and the souvenir concession) for the Mosque of the Ascension on the Mount of Olives; it was a Christian shrine until Saladin took Jerusalem back from the Crusaders. Abu Ghannam reports sadly that business is down. "We used to get 700 to 800 people a day," he says. "Now we're lucky to get 150. People are afraid." The few visitors who brave Jerusalem today encounter a metropolis again edgy and turbulent. In the sanctuary of the city's churches, mosques and synagogues, pilgrims can find momentary tranquillity. But the streets bear new pocks from the bullets that flew here late last year. Herod's ancient platform had been closed since last fall to all but Islamic worshippers to avoid further confrontation: Sharon's directive last week to reopen it to non-Muslims may make it a flashpoint again. Travel in the area is the riskiest in a decade, and a U.S. State Department warning against it remains in effect.

At the Ascension Mosque there is at least one optimist, albeit with a long view. The Rev. Frank Booke of Anniston, Ala., has led his tour group to the small off-white domed tower. On its floor is an indentation that pilgrims have thought for centuries is the imprint made by Jesus' right foot as he ascended to heaven.

Booke is an ebullient Pentecostal Christian in an orange Stetson. Consistent with his faith, he takes solace in Christ's expected return to earth and his re-establishment of God's kingdom here, regardless of humankind's errors. Like many, Booke believes his Saviour will arrive at precisely the point from which he left. "This is the place," he says. His flock responds with an explosive "Hallelujah!" and a rendition of The Old Rugged Cross.

But Booke will not simply leave it at that. His joy over the eschatological future does not render him blind to the scandalous present. "We love the Jewish people," he says, then glances at the Muslim gatekeepers and adds, "These are all God's people. When everybody else is afraid, we come to support this land. To support the souvenir sellers. We pray for this land. We pray for the peace of Jerusalem."