On Reflection

On our last night in Jerusalem, my cousin Tammy took us to Talpiot, to the grounds of Government House Hill, former HQ of the British High Commissioner, now HQ of UNTSO.  It’s a handsome park, overlooking Jerusalem from the southeast, about 3 miles away.  The sky was cloudy, a soft haze diluting the light: Jerusalem of silver, not Jerusalem of gold.  Along the walkway, there are places to stop and look out over the hills.  A plaque on an overlook had been scratched out, the labels for various landmarks defaced and “Al Quds” and “Palestine” scrawled over the top.  The muezzin calls swelled and faded down the hillside of Silwan.  We were in mixed territory, Arab villages interspersed with Jewish.  We saw the security wall snaking along ridges far in the distance, practically blending with the dun-colored buildings.  A boy raced a grey Arab down and back on a short trail below us, his two pals watching.  We rounded Government House, noting the white vehicles in the lot with large “UN” lettered in black and the security fence surrounding the compound.  An Arab family was finishing their picnic grill outside.  We walked up to the Tolerance Monument, off Goldman Promenade and peered down at the city.  The Dome of the Rock paled into the hazy blue-gray background as the street lights came to life.  A young boy waved and said “hello” and we said “hello” back.

It was a treat to see Israel through the eyes of a non-Jew.  It was like tasting a new “flavor” of spirituality; it was like a rounding-out of the historical and religious experience of the land, of the sights and most of all, of Jerusalem.  The experience was mutual; Kevin grasped the sense of being at the Wall, as he described it.  Whether from the ostensible nearness to the shekhinah (God’s “presence”), which is supposed to emanate from where the Holy of Holies is, or whether it was from the fervor of the worshipers there, it was the same experience that I had at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.  If only all people, of all faiths, would understand that faith is merely a search for the divine, not its capture, we might be able to avoid religious strife.  If only.