The More I Learn

Day 6 of our trip began much the same as the previous days. Gretchen and I were late for breakfast again. I really am not a morning person, thus I make us late all the time. We ate quickly in the hotel before boarding our bus to begin the touring. The route was set completely in the Old City of Jerusalem. We drove past many of the gates and entered the city near the Western Wall. Our first stop was the Al Aqsa Mosque and the Temple Mount, which is a holy spot for Muslims and Jews. Somewhere on the Temple Mount is the location of the first Israelite temple built by Solomon. The dome and center of the Haram Al-Sharif is supposed to be located where Abraham built the altar to sacrifice Isaac. It was stunningly beautiful with the golden dome and the bright blue mosaic walls.

We descended into the city as it was waking for the day. Shops were opening and merchants were beginning to hawk their wares. We walked to the Western Wall aka the Wailing Wall. I had brought paper to write my prayer and participate in the tradition of praying at the wall. I wrote the names of some Jewish friends and a prayer for Peace. The women’s side is much smaller than the men’s, so it was very crowded. I waited my turn and had my moment of prayer at the wall. Even though I’m not Jewish, I still felt the holiness of the place. Sue, you and your family have been prayed for and that prayer is placed in the wall. I watched the variety of women who approached the wall and realized that we were sharing in the experience and magic of Jerusalem. I continue to be reminded of the similarities between Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. There are certain things we all do that allow us to have shared experiences.

From the Western Wall, we wound our way through the busy streets to the Church of the Sepulcher. The current walls of Jerusalem are not the same walls that surrounded the city at the time of Jesus and do not encompass the same area. For this reason, the Church of the Sepulcher is said to be the location of the Crucifixion and burial of Jesus. The more we talk about the sites we visit, the more I realize that nothing is certain. There is no way of knowing without a doubt where Jesus was crucified or buried; yet we visit these spots that are made holy because of our remembrance and the pilgrims who went before. The church was ornate and contained multiple denominations. Historically, the different denominations could not get along; therefore the keys to the church were given to two Muslim families for safekeeping. To this day, the families unlock the church in the morning and lock the doors at night.

While walking to the church, we had passed through an open-air market. Gretchen and I wanted to get back there to peruse the goods. The group dispersed for lunch, so we wandered towards a leather shop. I found a satchel that will work perfectly for whatever my future job may be. It felt very grown up to be thinking about finding a job, especially since I still haven’t really accepted the fact that I’m a degree holding graduate. We paused briefly for a sip of hot chocolate and a falafel. The hot chocolate was absolutely delicious. It was rich and utterly satisfying. Our leaders had given us a long lunch break, so we continued shopping. One shop had gorgeous, hand-made wall hangings. After a little heckling, Gretchen got one for half the asking price.

We regrouped and began another hike through more of the Old City. Our first destination was St. Anne’s Church. In the church courtyard, there are ruins of ancient churches and medicinal baths. It is one of the possible sites for the miracle of Jesus healing the man by the pool. The ruins were interesting, but the best part of the stop was the acoustics of St. Anne’s. As a group, we started singing. I stood there singing and began thinking of my parents. There is so much of this trip that I want to share with them. Every night, I want to call home and discuss with Dad the sites I’ve seen and what his take on the situation would be. I want to talk to my mom and fill her in on all of the deals I’ve gotten and the people we’ve met. I want to share my thoughts and tell them all about how much things have changed since they were here. Instead, I send ridiculously long emails to my sister. I did have the thought that my parents are with me on this journey. Maybe I don’t need to call them, but I am able to share this with them. They were with me on the top of Mt. Sinai and prayed with me as I bowed my head at the Wailing Wall. The mixture of my sadness with the beauty of the song was too much, and I broke down. It was a spiritual moment. The group is filled with powerful singers, so I felt as if I was being treated to a private concert.

We left the city via the Lion Gate and walked towards Gethsemane. We paid a small fee and were let into a locked garden. There is no way of knowing which tract of land was the exact spot that Jesus went to on the night of being betrayed, but the entire hillside was the Garden at Gethsemane during the time of Christ. We very well may have been at the same spot he was. The tradition of the group is to have communion somewhere along the way, so Bishop Lee broke the bread. The group has come together as a family, and Gretchen and I are well taken care of. There is so much love that flows from these people I just met a week ago. We end the devotions with a song, and communion was no different. I love the singing the group does. During the time to wander, I took in the old olive trees and the peace of the garden. We crossed the road and went into the commercial Garden at Gethsemane. The garden was meticulously preened and each olive tree had flowering plants at its roots.

Next to the garden is the Church of Nations. The Franciscan Monks maintain the church, but money was donated from around the world to renovate and rebuild the church. The doors had spectacular carvings, but the inside of the church was plain compared to the previous cathedrals. Each window was stained glass with a purple cross in the middle. We stopped briefly before loading the bus.

Our final item on the agenda was a trip to an Israeli settlement to meet with a settler. I was apprehensive about the visit, especially after all of the news about settlements and hearing from Dahoud about the cruelty of some settlers. Bob Lang met us at the security gate. He is a graduate of UW-Madison and got his degree in Dairy Science in the 1970s. He wasn’t born in Israel, yet he felt compelled to emigrate. He has a strong history of involvement in the settlement controversy and worked for a group called Peace Watch. Yet, as he spoke, it became clear that he was a Zionist who would only settle for a one state solution that included the expansion of the settlements. When asked where the land for the settlements came from, he said that no one had occupied the lands before they built the community. The city we were in spans 7 hills and is a planned community. The houses look the same and cost anywhere from $500,000 to $1 million, yet lack variety and character. He was passionate and a kind host, but I felt he was disconnected with the reality of the situation. He related every question we asked back to the Palestinian extremists, but dismissed the Israeli extremists as being a small minority. He couldn’t think of the Palestinian people as anything but terrorists.

I left with more insight into the situation, but fewer ideas of how to bring about peace in the region. I was beginning to understand why the settlers felt they had a right to be there, but I could not grasp why the Palestinian people had to be removed in the process. Visiting with Bob Lang was the perfect example of the more you learn, the less you know. It is easy to be sure of what you know when you lack information. Later in the evening, we had the opportunity to hear from another side in the conflict.

We met a Palestinian couple that was willing to answer our questions and give us further insight. The husband lives at one of the refugee camps, because his family was moved off of their land three generations ago. The wife works for an international NGO and lives in East Jerusalem. She cannot move from Jerusalem, because if she did, she would lose any rights to travel and the benefits of being a Palestinian living in Jerusalem.. Her husband is not allowed to leave the West Bank to go into Israel. Their children live in Jerusalem, but travel to see their father. She must maintain the façade of living in her apartment. Her neighbors report to the authorities if she is not seen every week in the neighborhood. This Palestinian woman was incredibly passionate and vocal about the plight of the Palestinian Muslims and the Bedouin. It was fascinating to watch her speak and listen as she recounts the razing of Bedouin communities in the name of Israeli settlement. Her husband was angry, as anyone would be if they had lived in a refugee camp for generations.

The situation in Palestine is not cleanly separated into one side versus the other. It is not a conflict of Muslims versus Jews. It is not Zionists versus Hamas. It is not the settlers versus the Palestinian farmers. I wish the conflict was black and white. A peace agreement would be easy if there were only two sides involved. Instead, I see a conflict centuries old with multiple parties and perspectives. Each has valid arguments for why the land is theirs and why the others should leave. The violence and the divide in this land sadden my heart. I will continue to pray for peace and understanding.