I begin writing sitting at Jaffa Gate. The past two days have been spent here in the city of Jerusalem, and I’ve been in heaven. I feel completely at home here— the streets are familiar, and I am slowly checking off the restaurants I need to visit. Last night we toured the tunnels along the base of the Western Wall (the wall we all know of is only ⅛ the total length of the Temple Mount, and only goes to a fraction of its depth. I highly recommend this tour; the sheer magnitude of Herod’s work on this ancient Temple is awe-inspiring. To know that human beings more than 2000 years ago were capable of accurately shaping and moving rocks weighing more than 7 tons, and that they could build something that could withstand the elements, wars, and more than two millennia, is to realize that we human beings have such potential for greatness. All we need is will, knowledge and inspiration.
Following the tours, I led Margaret and Charlie on a walk through the old city to grab dinner at Burger’s Bar (checked off the list!) before heading home. Everyone else hopped on the bus. At one point, Margaret asked me if I could tell her about where we were. I realized that I couldn’t— I cannot verbalize my knowledge of the area. The roads and stairways of the old city of Jerusalem are much like an Escher painting, and for me, beyond explanation. But, I’ve spent so much time here that I simply know the way. To have Jerusalem in my muscle memory enough that I can navigate without thinking feels like such a privilege. I realize that while I may not live here, my connection with this city is intimate, and this feels really good.
Today, David took us on a tour through Hezekiah’s water tunnels and the old city. The height of this experience was brand new to me. For the first time, I got to see the inside of an old city apartment— David’s mother-in-law Mimi’s apartment, to be exact. Her home is nearly 500 years old, with vaulted original ceilings, a blend of antique and new furnishings, and the warmth of grandchildren running around. David’s youngest son, Yedidya, passed around a bowl filled with candies as we sat learning from Mimi.
Mimi bought her home a number of years ago while living in Englewood, NJ, and began spending more and more time in Israel. Years ago, apartments in the old city were affordable. Now, David tells us, an 850 square foot apartment will go for more than $600000. Not quite New York prices, but close. At this point, it’s mostly the Orthodox who choose to live in the Old City’s Jewish quarter. There are few secular schools left and life is more expensive than in West Jerusalem, but for the more traditional, religious living is at its pinnacle in the old city. The Kotel is minutes away and synagogues and Jewish life abound. Everyone lives in close proximity to each other, which means that on Shabbat and holidays, the warmth and holiness grow exponentially. Thursdays, alleys, courtyards and roads fill with the scent of baking challah, from nearly every window. Friday nights, you hear everyone singing z’mirot (songs) through open windows— a beautiful cacophony of spiritual celebration. And there’s nothing like Sukkot in the old city, where every courtyard becomes a sukkah, filled with people, celebratory meals and enjoyment of the harvest festival.
Mimi mentioned, in light of the war, that she believes that people, Jew and Arab, can live in peace. Even in the Jewish quarter there are Arab residents. She says that they get along perfectly well as neighbors. She was painting a door in her courtyard and her Arab neighbor kindly told her to call him to help when she couldn’t reach any further. Coexistence for Mimi is a reality she lives every day.
This evening I met with some good friends for dinner. Beef carpaccio at the Mamilla mall. The beef was delightful, but the conversation was even better. We spent awhile discussing the war, I was curious about their perspective.
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They hope that this ceasefire will hold, but no one ever knows. There’s no predicting how Hamas will behave. This conflict is different from the rest; people are quickly losing hope that there is an end anywhere in the near future to the fighting. Die-hard liberals here are feeling lost. It has become clear that the peace— a two state solution with recognition of the Jewish state from the Palestinian leadership— is unattainable. Palestinians in Jerusalem, who typically interact with the rest of society, are afraid of being around Jews. They’re afraid of attacks from angry Jews, and they are afraid of being seen by their own as getting too close to the others. My friends know Palestinians with whom they have been close since 1971— they haven’t seen them since the war started, and they know that their friends are afraid to have them come visit.
They believe that if there will ever be an end to this, it has to be because everyone truly wants it in their hearts. There can be no more ambiguity, no more arguments that targeting innocents on one side is acceptable because of their crummy situation, no more allowing discrimination to take place out of fear of security. If peace is going to happen, everyone has to want it, and fight for it with all their being.
One other story from my friends: some synagogues end their prayer for peace (Oseh Shalom) with the words, v’al kol b’nai adam—and to all human beings, and others with, v’al kol yoshvei teivel— and with all those who dwell in nature. Their synagogue used to say the former, and switched to the latter. One day in services, following the prayer, one man stood up and said that he cannot pray for peace for all who dwell in nature. He finds that some people are so evil that they are not deserving of peace. If he were to pray to all b’nai adam, all of human kind, he would feel more comfortable, as not all people seem to be deserving of the title of human being.
While there is much empathy on each side for the other in this awful conflict, my experiences tell me that there is very little hope over here for an end. People in North America seem to think a lot more positively about the possibility of a peaceful resolution. It’s easy when you don’t live here.
I pray that enough people will turn their hearts toward peace for it to become a viable option.
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