Mount of Olives & the Chapel of the Ascension - A Sacred Guide

Where Heaven and Earth Once Touched — the Story of a Sacred Hill

Stand anywhere on Jerusalem's ancient walls and look east. Beyond the Kidron Valley, rising above the domes and rooftops, is a hill the colour of pale limestone — the same hill that appears in the prayers of King David, in the prophecies of Zechariah, in the anguish of Gethsemane, and in the final moments of Christ's time on earth. The Mount of Olives does not announce itself dramatically. It rises quietly, covered in old stone and older trees, and yet it may carry more weight of sacred history than any other slope in the world.

It is here, on this hill, that Jesus wept for a city that did not know the time of its visitation. Here that He prayed through the night before His arrest. Here that He rode down on a donkey to the shouts of Hosanna. And here — forty days after the Resurrection — that He was lifted from the earth and received into a cloud, leaving His disciples standing in silence, gazing upward, until two angels appeared and gently reminded them: "This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen Him go." (Acts 1:11)

The Mount of Olives is not merely a place of memory. For Christians, it is a place of promise — the site of the Ascension, where Christ's earthly ministry reached its completion, and where the Church's long waiting for His return began. This guide walks through the history, the scripture, and the living faith still rooted on this holy hill — including the small, enduring chapel that marks the very ground from which He departed.

The Mount of Olives in Scripture — A Hill of Prophecy and Prayer

The Mount of Olives stretches about three kilometres along the eastern edge of Jerusalem, rising to just over 800 metres above sea level and offering an unbroken view of the Temple Mount and the Old City below. In the Old Testament, King David fled this hill weeping and barefoot during Absalom's rebellion (2 Samuel 15:30). The prophet Zechariah wrote that on the Day of the Lord, "His feet will stand on the Mount of Olives, east of Jerusalem" (Zechariah 14:4) — a prophecy that early Christians read as directly connected to the Ascension and the promised return of Christ.

 

In the Gospels, the mount appears in almost every significant moment of Holy Week. Jesus approached Jerusalem riding from this hill on Palm Sunday. He taught on its slopes and delivered the Olivet Discourse — His extended prophecy about the destruction of Jerusalem and the end of the age — while seated there with the Temple spread out before Him (Matthew 24:3). He returned to the mount each evening during that final week, crossing back over the Kidron Valley after each day's teaching in the Temple courts (Luke 21:37). The hill was not incidental to Christ's ministry — it was central to it.

The Garden of Gethsemane, nestled at the foot of the western slope, is where Jesus prayed until "His sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground" (Luke 22:44), and where Judas led the soldiers who came to arrest Him. That garden — and the ancient olive trees that still stand there — form the emotional and spiritual foundation of the entire mount. You can read more in our guide to the Garden of Gethsemane, which explores that place of prayer in depth.

The Ascension — What the Scriptures Record

The Ascension of Christ is recorded in two places in the New Testament: the closing verses of the Gospel of Luke, and the opening chapter of Acts. Luke writes that Jesus led His disciples "out to the vicinity of Bethany" — a village on the eastern slope of the Mount of Olives — where He lifted His hands, blessed them, and "was taken up into heaven" (Luke 24:50–51). Acts 1:9–12 gives more detail: a cloud received Him from their sight, and two men in white appeared to explain what the disciples had witnessed. The text then identifies the location explicitly — they returned to Jerusalem "from the hill called the Mount of Olives, a Sabbath day's walk from the city."

"He was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid Him from their sight."

— Acts 1:9

The Ascension is not an epilogue to the Gospel story — it is its consummation. Christ had completed what He came to do: He had taught, suffered, died, and risen. Now He returned to the Father, and in doing so He opened the way for what the disciples would receive ten days later at Pentecost. The disciples, Luke tells us, returned to Jerusalem "with great joy" (Luke 24:52) — not with grief at a departure, but with the deep gladness of witnesses who had seen a promise kept. The mount where they stood was the hinge between His first coming and His return.

The early Church held the Ascension as a feast of the highest order. Forty days after Easter — Thursday of the sixth week — Christians across every tradition have gathered to commemorate the moment Christ's body was glorified and enthroned at the right hand of the Father. On the Mount of Olives, that commemoration has taken place for over sixteen centuries.

The Chapel of the Ascension — History of a Sacred Shrine

At the summit of the Mount of Olives, within the neighbourhood the Arabs call At-Tur, stands a modest octagonal tower that has served as a Christian shrine since late antiquity. The Chapel of the Ascension is small — its interior measures only roughly four metres across — but its history stretches back to the earliest centuries of the Church.

The first structure on this site is traditionally attributed to a Roman noblewoman named Poimenia, who built a church here around 390 AD. This early building was circular or octagonal and left the sky open at the centre — a design intentionally symbolic, marking the point where Christ passed from earth to heaven. Saint Helena, mother of the Emperor Constantine, had already begun transforming the Mount of Olives into a landscape of Christian memory during her pilgrimage to the Holy Land in the 320s, though some scholars attribute the Ascension church specifically to Poimenia's later initiative.

The original structure was destroyed during the Persian invasion of 614 AD and rebuilt, and again altered during the Crusader period in the 12th century. It is the Crusaders who gave the chapel its current octagonal form — a shape deliberately chosen to echo both the Church of the Holy Sepulchre's rotunda and the ancient geometry of sacred memorial architecture. When Saladin recaptured Jerusalem in 1187, the open chapel became a mosque and its roof was added. The building has since been under the administration of the Islamic Waqf, the Muslim religious endowment authority, though Christian services — particularly on the Feast of the Ascension — continue to be celebrated there to this day.

Period	Key Event	What Changed
~390 AD	First church built by Poimenia	Open-air octagonal/circular structure; sky open above sacred stone
614 AD	Persian invasion of Jerusalem	Original church destroyed; site left in ruin
7th–8th century	Byzantine rebuilding	Structure partially restored under Byzantine Christian control
12th century	Crusader renovation	Current octagonal form established; stone columns added around perimeter
1187 AD	Saladin captures Jerusalem	Roof added; site converted to mosque; minaret constructed nearby
Present day	Islamic Waqf administration	Open to Christian pilgrims; annual Ascension Mass celebrated here

The history of the Chapel of the Ascension mirrors the broader story of Jerusalem itself — a city that has passed through the hands of empires, faiths, and centuries, yet continues to hold the memory of the events that changed the world. That a Muslim authority now administers a Christian shrine on a hill sacred to Jewish scripture is itself a testament to how deeply intertwined these traditions remain on this ancient ground.

The Stone and the Footprint

At the centre of the Chapel of the Ascension's floor lies a bare slab of bedrock. In that stone is an indentation which Christian tradition has long venerated as the footprint of Jesus Christ — the final earthly mark of the One who ascended from this very spot.

The New Testament does not describe a footprint, and the tradition of its veneration appears to have developed in the patristic era as a devotional practice — the early Church's way of marking the invisible with something tangible. The same impulse led to the veneration of the stone in the Garden Tomb, the manger site in Bethlehem, and the anointing stone in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. These are not forgeries of faith but expressions of it — the ancient Christian conviction that God entered history in a physical body, in a specific place, and that the ground He touched is not the same ground it was before.

One version of the stone — reportedly the one that once bore the imprint on the left foot — was removed during the Crusader period and taken to the Al-Aqsa Mosque on the Temple Mount, where it is said to remain. What pilgrims see in the chapel today is the imprint of what is described as the right foot. For centuries, pilgrims have knelt at this stone and prayed — not because the stone is magic, but because prayer offered at the boundary between time and eternity has always drawn the faithful.

This is part of the wider story of what makes the Holy Land unlike anywhere else on earth — the sense that the ordinary ground of a hillside or a garden is not ordinary at all, but saturated with the weight of what happened there.

The Ancient Olive Trees — Living Witnesses

The mount takes its name from the olive groves that have covered its slopes since antiquity. The Hebrew Har HaZeitim — Mount of Olives — and the Greek Oros ton Elaion point to the same defining feature: trees. Specifically, the gnarled, silver-leafed olive trees that have been cultivated on these terraced hillsides for millennia. Some of the trees in the Garden of Gethsemane at the mount's foot have been dated by scientists to be over 2,000 years old — making it genuinely possible that they were living, rooted, and bearing fruit during the nights when Jesus came here to pray.

The olive tree runs through Scripture with persistent meaning. After the flood, "a freshly plucked olive leaf" in the dove's beak told Noah the waters had receded and life had returned (Genesis 8:11). The Psalmist calls himself "an olive tree flourishing in the house of God" (Psalm 52:8). Paul uses the wild olive branch grafted into the cultivated tree as his central metaphor for the Gentiles' inclusion in Israel's covenant (Romans 11:17–24). And Zechariah's vision of the two olive trees standing beside the golden lampstand becomes one of the most discussed images in the prophetic books.

The olive tree survives because it grows slowly. It does not demand. It persists.

Christian faith, at its deepest, operates the same way. And perhaps it is no accident that the tree most associated with endurance, with anointing oil, with the light it feeds, and with the peace it signals — has stood on this particular hill, through every conquest and every century, still bearing fruit.

Olive Wood and the Living Craft of Bethlehem

For centuries, the artisans of Bethlehem and Jerusalem have transformed the wood of the olive tree into devotional objects — crosses, rosaries, nativity scenes, prayer beads — each piece carrying the grain and warmth of wood grown in this same soil, under this same sun. The craft is ancient and the tradition continues today, passed between generations of Christian families in the workshops of Bethlehem's old quarter.

Our olive wood crosses from Bethlehem are carved by hand from locally sourced wood, each one bearing the natural variation of the grain — no two alike, just as no two prayers are alike. Many are inlaid with mother of pearl from the workshops that have supplied Jerusalem's pilgrims since the Crusader era, when local craftspeople began setting the gleaming shell into wooden and stone devotional objects as a mark of sacred artistry.

A cross carved from olive wood and held in the hand is, in a small way, a continuation of what this hill has always meant — a tangible point of contact between the sacred and the ordinary. It does not carry the weight of the Mount of Olives itself. But it carries something of its spirit: the endurance of the tree, the craft of faithful hands, and the long memory of a place where heaven and earth once met.

Other Sacred Sites on the Mount of Olives

The Chapel of the Ascension sits at the summit, but the mount holds many other places of prayer and memory. Pilgrims who walk its paths will encounter a landscape dense with Christian history, each site layered with centuries of devotion.

The Church of All Nations, also called the Basilica of the Agony, stands at the foot of the mount beside the Garden of Gethsemane. Built in 1924 over Byzantine and Crusader remains, it shelters the bare rock where Christ is said to have knelt in prayer before His arrest. The interior is intentionally dim — windows of deep violet and blue filter the light — to evoke the darkness of that night. Twelve nations funded the church's construction, and their coats of arms appear in the mosaic above the altar.

The Church of Mary Magdalene, recognizable from across the valley by its seven golden onion domes, was built in 1888 by Tsar Alexander III as a memorial to his mother. The Russian Orthodox church sits on the slope above Gethsemane and houses the remains of Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna, canonized as a saint by the Russian Orthodox Church. It is an unexpected jewel on a hillside already full of them.

The Chapel of Dominus Flevit — "The Lord Wept" — marks the spot where, according to Luke 19:41, Jesus looked out over Jerusalem and wept for the city. The current chapel, shaped like a teardrop, was designed by the Italian architect Antonio Barluzzi and completed in 1955. Its west-facing window frames a view of the Old City and the Dome of the Rock — the same skyline, in essence, that Jesus saw when He stopped and wept. Standing at that window is one of the more quietly devastating experiences available to a pilgrim in Jerusalem.

The Jewish Cemetery that covers much of the mount's western slope is the largest and oldest in the world — perhaps 150,000 graves spanning three millennia. For both Jewish and Christian visitors, the mount carries an eschatological weight: the belief, shared across traditions, that the resurrection of the dead will begin here, where the prophets said the Messiah would stand.

The Mount of Olives as a Place of Pilgrimage Today

For those who make the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, the Mount of Olives is rarely a single visit. Most pilgrims return more than once — once to see it, once to understand it, once to sit still long enough to feel what it holds. The walk from St. Stephen's Gate through the Kidron Valley and up the slope to the summit takes less than thirty minutes on foot. The view from the top — the entire span of Jerusalem's Old City, the golden dome, the ancient walls, the skyline that has not fundamentally changed in outline for a thousand years — stops most people in their tracks.

The Feast of the Ascension, celebrated forty days after Easter on a Thursday, draws thousands of pilgrims to the Chapel of the Ascension each year. An outdoor Mass is typically celebrated in the courtyard of the chapel, with Catholic, Anglican, and other Christian denominations gathered together on the very ground where the disciples once stood looking up. It is one of the moments in the Christian calendar when the liturgy and the location are truly one — when the words "He ascended into heaven" are spoken in the place where it happened.

For those unable to make the pilgrimage in person, our guide to Christian pilgrimage sites in the Holy Land provides a broader map of the sacred geography — the sites, their significance, and what awaits those who do eventually make the journey.

Frequently Asked Questions

Where exactly is the Chapel of the Ascension located?

The Chapel of the Ascension stands at the summit of the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem, within the district of At-Tur on the eastern slope overlooking the Old City. It is an octagonal structure owned by a Muslim Waqf but open to Christian pilgrims, especially for the Feast of the Ascension.

Is the footprint in the Chapel of the Ascension really the footprint of Jesus?

Christian tradition holds that the indentation in the stone marks the place where Christ stood before ascending into heaven, though the New Testament does not describe a footprint. The stone has been venerated by pilgrims since at least the 4th century, and the tradition carries deep devotional significance regardless of its precise historical nature.

When was the Chapel of the Ascension first built?

The first church on this site was built in the late 4th century, traditionally attributed to a Roman noblewoman named Poimenia, around 390 AD. Saint Helena, mother of Emperor Constantine, is also associated with early building activity on the Mount of Olives, and the site has been a place of Christian worship continuously since that era.

Can non-Muslims visit the Chapel of the Ascension?

Yes. The Chapel of the Ascension is owned by the Islamic Waqf but is open to Christian visitors, particularly on the Feast of the Ascension when a special Mass is celebrated there. Pilgrims from many Christian traditions visit throughout the year.

What is the significance of the Mount of Olives in the Bible?

The Mount of Olives appears throughout both the Old and New Testaments. Jesus taught, wept over Jerusalem, prayed in Gethsemane, rode into the city on Palm Sunday, and ascended to heaven from this hill. The prophet Zechariah also foretold that the Lord would stand on the Mount of Olives at the end of days.

Why are olive trees on the Mount of Olives considered sacred?

Some of the olive trees in the Garden of Gethsemane at the foot of the mount are estimated to be over 2,000 years old, meaning they may have stood there during Christ's lifetime. The olive tree appears throughout scripture as a symbol of peace, resilience, and divine blessing, from Noah's dove to Jesus' final prayers beneath these very boughs.

A Reflection Before Leaving the Hill

There is a moment that every pilgrim describes, standing at the summit of the Mount of Olives, when the noise of the city below seems to fall away. You can see the whole of Jerusalem from here — the walls, the domes, the rooftops layered one behind the other in pale stone. And somewhere between the view and the silence, you remember what happened on this very spot, in this exact air, and the ordinariness of a hill becomes something else entirely.

The disciples stood here. They watched. And then they were told, gently, to stop watching the sky and go back to the city — because there was work to be done, a Church to be born, and a Spirit on its way. The Ascension is not a goodbye. It is an instruction. The Lord who left this hill did not leave His people. He sent them — as He still does — back into the world they had come from, carrying something the world had not yet seen.

Whatever brought you to this story — pilgrimage, curiosity, prayer, loss, faith still forming — the Mount of Olives has held every kind of visitor for two thousand years. It does not ask for credentials. It only asks you to stand still long enough to let the place speak.