Possibilities For A New Jerusalem

Jerusalem, Israel

I've been in Israel now for five full days. I fancy myself as being fairly flexible, and adaptable to different cultures. But, to tell the truth, Jerusalem challenges me.

I live a block from Lion's Gate, one of two gates that face the Mount of Olives. As I close the heavy door to my hospice home and walk down the steps to the Via Dolorosa, I'm facing Ziad's shop across the cobblestoned street. Ziad, a Muslim, ( this is the Muslim section of the Old City ) he greets me with a smile and wave.

Via Dolorosa is two car lengths wide ( miniCooper size ) the walls on either side three or more stories. Sounds of children playing, call to prayer, men shouting in Arabic, women with covered heads, some with birkas, is commonplace. On Friday, the Muslim day of prayer, the streets a mad with people when the mosque lets out, making the streets unpassable. At dusk on Friday, scores of bearded men with long curls in traditional Orthodox Jewish dress--black fedora, black suit, white shirt stream through the gate to reach the synogogue or pray at the Wailing Wall.

I still get lost although I've studied the map over and over, as I go through the maze of streets just like the one I'm staying on, to get to any destination in Old City. Along the way to the Wailing Wall are many shops with everything from long underwear to dressed whole lamb to fragrant spices and herbs that are sold in quantities like 100 grams.

Today, I went to the Mount of Olives, Gethsemane, and walked the half mile or so to the top of the hill. Dotted along the hillside are the graves of Jews from several hundred years. I wended my way through the rectangular ossuaries to the top. There, Jerusalem, the Jerusalem that Suleman saw, Richard the II saw, the Caesars saw, Mohammed saw, David saw,and, of course, the first century Jesus and his disciples saw.

It's too much to absorb the history of all three religions throughout the last 2000 years. What is equally hard to fathom is how they coexist with the tensions of the current politics. The Jews and Muslims have sections of the Old City. Two days ago, an Israeli soldier was killed in Old City by a sniper thought to be a Palestinian.
And yet Ziad told me tonight when I was enjoying fresh sqeezed pomegranate juice in his little shop, that the Gaza and West Bank are poor, desperate, and trying to manage without the PLO, often considering Hamas acting on their behalf to create more economic opportunity.

I'm not a politician, nor do I consider myself knowledgeable about the Middle East conflict. But I am confident that my new friend, Aziz, who has a foundation dedicated to promoting communication between both Jews and Arabs, has the right idea.
Aziz told me last night that he has a radio show locally and interviews both a Jew and and Arab each broadcast in which he acts as translator, too, ( He speaks both fluently) since he grew up in Jerusalem ( He is Palestinian ). "I just ask questions about who they are", he begins, rubbing his cropped beard, his dark eyes earnest. "But the conversation always turns to politics." But he's got them talking. And he speaks to groups from all over the world about his work, about his brother who was killed in the conflict, about the possibilities. It is important work, I think.

Two nights ago, at a little restaurant on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, I listened to a team of diplomats who just happened to be at the next table, talk about their special project--promoting peace. They were American and British. The Brit had been insturmental in brokering the Northern Ireland, IRA conflict. They had been involved in moving 600 Palestinians out of the West Bank into Jordan ( where presumably they preferred living ) in the past week. "There have to be compromises on both sides," the blond Brit offered as he tore into his steak. " Someone has to talk to both sides, Hamas has to be involved whether we like it or not--they're part of the equation." We spoke of other things, then. But the topic always comes up when I'm with people who have serious interest in peace.

So, tonight, I'm weary, body and soul. This Jerusalem that I walk in today feels tense, feels wary.

In my hospice, there is a poster near the communal dining room that reads:
Pray for Peace.

Tonight I do. Now more than ever because I see Jerusalem differently than yesterday--not interpreted through anewscaster's eyes or ideology but viewed through my own eyes with my own view of the possibilities.

So, I'm asking each of you tonight: Pray For Peace.
M.C.