Pray for Peace in Jerusalem, All You Who Love Her...

This morning began with an unusual prayer call from the minaret next door. The Allah Akbar did not sound as prayerful as usual, and it broke off midway to give room to what sounded like a long angry call for war, jihad, with some hints of the Wailing Wall intonation every once in a while. Even when you don't know the words, the meaning was unmistacable - the call was for everyone to gather and help out.

Doors locked, windows shut, guests went out on the terrace and got back just as swiftly, somewhat unsure if the best thing might have been to get to some room with no windows and just stay there for the rest of the day.

Apparently, some Jewish people wanted to get to the Temple Mount to celebrate the Purim - they did not get inside, but at other times even less was needed to start a war. So the city braced itself. And I went to Mass, outside the Old City, just as planned.

Shops closed, the lively Damascus Gate died out, shopkeepers outside on the street, socilalizing and waiting whether to open again or to leave altogether, Old City gates closed by the police and soldiers checking IDs. In what looked like an anonymous white grocery truck, soldiers were putting on full body armour, literally from head to toe, covering knees and legs and checking the ammunition...

I went to Notre Dame to pray for the light of Chirst to light up our darkness. It's not that I was surprised - much less afraid - but it was just so incredibly sad to see the place you love so torn by hate...

Friday night, I was at the Sabbath meal where the rabbi - a man who preaches not just by what he says, but by how he lives - said that Purim was a celebration of the event when God reminded His people of His love for them. God is in everything, and if we forget Him in the good He does for us, He will be there in the bad things that happen, reminding that He is there, that He is always present. The priest said in his homily, echoing the rabbi's words, and sometimes repeating them in their entirety, that we can see God in everything that happens around us. The horror of the earthquake in Chile, or Haiti, can move us to pray, or to do good deeds - and in that we see God. Such an uncanny echo. And I, too, was moved to seek God despite the sad things happening in His city...

It's not that I take sides - I have never been the right person to take sides, the picture is always too complex for me to make a judgement - but it's true that somehow I have never felt God more closely then at dark times, whatever they might be. And this is the same thing that both the rabbi and the priest spoke about. The context was different - a crazy Sabbath dinner that left us with a feeling of such profound joy we felt like dancing in the rain and a conservative Mass in Latin - but the message entirely the same.

Jerusalem never ceases to surprise me. Pray for peace in Jerusalem