Of Love and Sadness...

I went to say good-bye to someone to whom I last spoke to almost three months ago, just before my unexpected visit to the Tomb of David in January. He - an atheist guarding one of the famous Christain sites - warned me then, jokingly, not to convert anymore and to watch out. Boy, it seems like years and years ago, he said. I see your eyes are shining, it got to you, didn't it? I told you this city was dangerous for non-Jews...

It was Palm Sunday the day before yesterday. Palm Sunday procession in Jerusalem - the dream of all pilgrims, the joy of all locals of the Latin rite, another headache for the police and the bread of all journalists covering religious affairs. We were singing, dancing, waving the palm branches, and even whole palm trees, jumping, hugging, playing the drums, the guitars and whatever reminded of a musical instrument...

In our Bibles, the heading for the story of Jesus's entry into Jerusalem usually says The Triumphant Entry. It is a convention that seldom makes us think what riding on a donkey really meant. The truly triumphant entry would have been on a horse. This was a humble entry. The King entered His City as a humble servant.

I think about the hundreds and hundreds of years when Christians - and others - were not allowed to ride on noble animals, such as horses and camels: " The infidel subject of our Sovereign cannot mount a horse, but is allowed a donkey or a mule..." Lord, you have been riding the donkey with your children for hundreds of years... Do you pity them when they shout "release to us Barrabas, the rioter!", in their confusion? There is so much pain here - alongside so much goodness.

I spoke to a friend yesterday, as we were having our farewell dinner. In a situation like this, you are forced to take sides, she said again. You are forced to. I remember you saying that - and I used to be so proud of myself for never being good at taking sides - but you were right. You were right. You are forced to. She saw the sadness in my eyes, as I was trying to say that I don't want to, I didn't want to choose this side... But you see, she said softly, you are in love. Do you think we can choose whom we fall in love with? People have come from other parts of the world and have fallen in love with someone from different culture, race and religion - and they were happy, and they loved. You love these people now. This is where your heart is. And when you love, everything changes... I sensed a wall was between us, a wall that even our love for each other and our love for God could not penetrate - a wall of history, and wars, and lies, and points of view, and all those shades of gray... But everyone who has loved them has had such a hard time, I protested weakly. Oh, no, you are wrong about that, she said, you are wrong...

Yedid Nefesh

O Beloved of the soul! O Merciful Father! Draw me, your slave, toward your will; your slave will run like a gazelle to prostrate himself before your splendor. Your companionship will be as pleasing to him as honey and nectar and every good savor.

O Most Splendid! O Light of the World! My soul is ill from love of you. Please, my God, please heal her by showing her the beauty of your light. Then she will be strengthened, and she will be healed, and she will have eternal joy.

O Most Faithful! Arouse your mercy! Have pity on your beloved child, for how much,­ how much ­have I longed to gaze upon your mighty splendor. Only this my heart desired: have pity and do not conceal Yourself.

Be revealed, my Beloved, and spread the canopy of your peace over me. Illumine the earth with your glory; we will rejoice and be glad in you. Hurry, Beloved, for the time has come. Be gracious to us as in the days of old.

(rabbi Elazar Azikri, 1533-1600)

For all it's worth - this is not about religion...

... I am a committed Catholic, and I will forever cherish the honour of prayers and friendships with both Jews and Muslims. And I do recognise that there are always both sides to any story. This essay is about history...

I had a conversation with a young Palestinian Christian a few nights ago. He told me he feared that the secular Jewish state, Israel, was the sole guarantee of the survival of Christians in the Holy Land.

"If it weren't for the Jewish people, I don't know what would have happenned to us Christians here. Every time I go to work on Friday at noon someone always asks me, come to pray, come to the mosque to pray, why don't you go pray. I always tell them I am a Christian, but some would say, you are an Arab. The Jewish are between us and the Muslims, if the Jewish go out, the Muslims would probably kill us..."

Does his Church stand by him? Or is it even more afraid than he is?

I am reading an issue of the Holy Land, titled The Holy City, a Franciscan quarterly from Summer 2005. For an issue devoted to the Holy City of Jerusalem, it has only one article on the subject - What Jerusalem is to the Islam. The article concludes, next to a photo of a smiling Muslim:

"Today's Moslems are convinced of Jerusalem's importance for Islam, not only for reasons based on the Koran and the sunna, but also for those which have arisen from the dramatic pressures of history... In this context", the author goes on in the final paragraph, "let us us recall the final declaration of the Islamic Summit Meeing in Lahore: 'Jerusalem is the unique symbol of Islam's converging encounter with the revealed religions. For more than 1 300 years the Moslems have protected and venerated Jerusalem as a boon for all who venerate her. The Moslems, and only they, can be the faithful and impartial custodians of Jerusalem, for the simple reason that it is only they who, at one and the same time, believe in the three religions, which have their origin in Jerusalem... No accord or protocol which would look to the occupation of the Holy City by Israel,... or that would be the object of compromise or concession, would be acceptable to Moslem countries' " (italics mine).

It is noteworthy that the opposite page is titled "Wall breeds rage and causes joblessness", and the article begins with the words: "The security wall Israel is building around East Jerusalem is turning lives upside down, threatening jobs, pushing people to emigrate..." The Moslems, and only they..., I almost hear an echo.

It is true that Christians are emigrating from the Holy Land - three times more so from the Palestinian Authority's controlled territories. Checkpoints, the wall, living conditions - and most likely a lot of other reasons. Once they have left, however, their homes are immediately bought with Saudi Arabian money. A humble Maltese sister told me with a sad smile that soon there will be no Christians left where she lives, only Muslims who are loyal to Saudi Arabia...

In another article in the same publication, a talk given by Fr. Mitchell Pacwa, host for EWTN, is quoted. He says: "When Islam allows the Christians to live together with them, they flourish economically, cultually, scientifically and pholosophically...". Please allow us to live together with you, so that we can serve you, so that you can flourish. You have never thanked us for helping the Hamas, the PLO, the PLF, for transporting bombs and explosives, for blowing ourselves up, for identifying ourselves with you, for letting our homes be pillaged, our churches burned - by you - all in the name of some strange idea of unconditional service to our brothers. For 1 300 years our existence has only been tolerated for the service we owed to the umma, a service for which we expect no thanks but which we do gratefully, since it spares our life...

So, do the Christians want to use someone else's strength to eliminate the national sovereignity of Israel, which the Church (or parts of it) condemned, or does this strategy reflect the insecurity of a minority trying to direct hostility onto a third party?

The question may remain unanswered forever (you will, however, have difficulty finding the word Israel referring to the political entity in Catholic publications), but let me just point out a few similarities here. The Constitution of Hamas, arts. 6 and 31, states the following: "Only under the shadow of Islam could the members of all religions coexist in safety and security for their lives, property and rights. In the absence of Islam, conflict arises, oppression reigns, corruption is rampant and struggles and wars prevail... Safety and security can only prevail under the shadow of Islam, and recent and ancient history is the best witness to that effect." The Moslems, and only they...

Anyone who has been to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre or to the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem can testify to the delapidated state that both of these sacred sites are in. The reason is not the lack of money - it is far more prosaic, but very representative of the fragmented state of the Church, which likes to call itself Palestinian here. The reason is that whoever makes repairs assumes ownership. Have you seen a video of two priests of different denominations fighting with each other in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre? Look it up on YouTube. One of them apparently walked into another's territory. Imagine if he had wanted to fix another's window! He may have well been killed... The keys to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre are with a Muslim family, that have been guardians of the holy place for centuries. That echo again...

When Israel declared two holy cites part of the National heritage, this had almost caused another war a few weeks ago - with riots, burnt cars, four people killed, a hundred injured. Why, how is it possible for former dhimmis to care for their prayer places?! On their own?! Only the religion that acknowledges all three can provide law and order - if not, well, you see what can happen! There will be riots and stone-throwing! It is in the natural order of things! And Christians agree on that one!

But is it true? Is it true that Christians cannot take care of themselves? That only Islam can guarantee their protection, and not their inherent human rights, not the fact that they are born free? The question is - what exactly has been going on for 1 300 years?

The answer is long and complex. Just a few fragments, though. Church bells were forbidden. "The bell is the devil'd pipe", according to a hadith. The Jerusalem Jews had to pay throughout the 19th century to the Turkish authorities to pray at the Western Wall, to the villiagers of Silwan to prevent the destruction of tombs on the Mount of Olives, and to the Ta'amra Arabs of Bethlehem so that Rachel's tomb would not be destroyed, and an additional sum to visit the tomb. The other of the mentioned disputed places, the cave of Machpela in Hebron, was built by Herod the Great to house the tombs of the Hebrew patriarchs and matriarchs. It was turned into a church at the time of the Crusades - and converted into a mosque in 1266. Jews and Christians were henceforth banned from the Tomb of the Patriarchs. 600 years later, in 1862, the Prince of Wales was allowed to enter it by a special authorisation from the Ottoman sultan - a sacrilege that led to the military occupation of Hebron. Christians were only able to enter under the British mandate, from 1922, and Jews from 1967, when Hebron came under Israeli administration. Let me make one thing clear - both Christians and Muslims can come and pray at the Tomb of the Patriarchs and Rachel's Tomb. I have. You do have to board a bullet-proof bus, though. But, ah well. You know the echo by now...

Don't believe what you hear, don't believe what you see...

A U2 song keeps ringing out in my ears all day today, it starts with the words: "Don't belive what you hear, don't believe what you see, if you just close your eyes, you can feel the enemy..."

This seems to be the name of the game where I live now. I might just go insane and start looking for freemasons lurking in the shadows with dynamite and building tools. All is ready and the golden menorah is set up long ago outside on the street, disguised as a monument, of course... Ah well... It's not like I haven't lived in places like that before...

Today, I have indeed had a somewhat apocalyptic experience - a storm in the Dead Sea. That's right. A sight rare to behold, the sea was rough, waves crashing onto the shore, knocking the tourists off their feet, the wind upsetting the chairs, blowing off the towels, people falling in the heavy, bitter, oily waves of what, for once, looked just like a normal sea...

All of that was in 40-something temperatures, with the wind hotter than the air, a desert blow-dryer of some sorts, the kind of dry heat that makes you want put on all the clothes you've got and drink lots of hot tea. It reminded me of my trip to Sicily a couple of years ago, with the same hot wind and an official temperature of +47. I was afraid to make an extra move back then. Today was nothing compared to that experience, perhaps because the air now was even dryer and the sandy wind even stronger, but the sensation was certainly unusual. But my hair got 'blow-dried' in some 5 minutes. And hot drinks seemed strangely appropriate...

Back in Jerusalem, the temperature was 20 degrees cooler, a dramatic contrast.

Yesterday, I offically missed an opportunity to take a photograph of a lifetime, a potential award-winner if processed correctly. I now have only words to describe the undescribable, a visual parable that can only be represented and interpreted in images.

I saw a cage with white doves on my way to Tel Aviv bus station. Perhaps six or seven doves, white and fluffy, caged on the pavement near a shop of some sorts. A soldier, an ordinary soldier, in a uniform and with a gun, was squatting in front of the cage, holding his hands against it, in what seemed like an attempt to communicate with the birds. White doves and a soldier...

... if you just close your eyes, you can feel the enemy...

What Is Truth?

A Roman official looked at the man in front of him, an insignificant, tired, beaten-up Jew, and asked rhetorically, What is truth? I believe he was somewhat annoyed and may have shrugged indignantly – of all the places, HERE, you are talking to me about the truth?! The man had just told him he came into the world to testify to the truth...

Almost two thousand years later, I live on the exact spot where this conversation took place.

Or rather, within the radius of a few metres. Or, was it on the other side of the city? Then, it would have been a mile away... Or a couple of blocks away, where the Russian church stands?Did the conversation take place in the manner it was described, you might ask. Well, did it? Two thousand years later, on the spot where it took place (where exactly?..), the conversation is still hanging in the air. What is truth?

Did someone hang a poster on the gate of the mosque, saying that the Third Temple will be rebuilt? Did someone come inside in carnival costumes? Or did someone say that someone posted a note, that someone came inside...? Stones were thrown, people were injured, no one knows any more what was said. Are there 30 000 soldiers in the city or 3 000? And what is it exactly they are here for? Is the synagogue being opened on Monday or Tuesday and does it have any connection with the lunar calendar? Oh, was it just that Tuesday is the third day of creation, and God said that everything was good three times? Could it be that someone heard about the opening of the synagogue and mistook it for the Third Temple, the rumours of which are highly exaggerated anyway? No, apparently Tuesday is a good day to build the Third Temple... And why is it that the Church that finally has the religious freedom it did not have for 700 years now side with its former opressors against the people who gave it the religious freedom? Because?...

Oh, and Rachel's Tomb, why exactly is it not a Jewish holy place? Honestly, I forgot... They said it belongs to everyone, and that Palestinian Christians and Muslims can't go to pray there. I'm sorry they can't, but did they go before? I thought Rachel was Jewish, that's why I called it a Jewish holy place, in much the same way as David's Tomb is, but all hell broke loose...

Someone says it was the children, someone says they were men, someone says they locked themselves inside the mosque overnight, someone says the soldiers wouldn't let anyone in to pray, but they would let the tourists and the Jews. That should be enough to start a riot. It should, or maybe it shouldn't... And Palestine, was it ever a country? And Hebrew, was it ever a dead language? And does Jewish history exist? And does Palestinian history exist? The guards at the Holy Sepulchre, would they carry the same swords and staffs at the time when they used to beat up the Jews for even approaching the holy place?..

A Roman governor, 2000 years ago, I wonder how he must have felt. There was this man there, telling him he came to testify to the truth. Was it the same back then? Or is it a curse of this place, for not seeing the Truth? Why is it, that on the same spot where my King said HE is the truth, the truth is impossible to figure out? It seems that it just does not exist.

Jesus said He is the way, and the truth and the life. Not a line in the news, not even a verse in the Bible. He Himself. All of him. His presence, His Spirit. In every drop, in every crumb. Little dogs eat crumbs from your table... The Spirit flows at the ruins of your Temple... Good Samaritans feed the Gentiles... Sometimes I feel the line between deep faith and profound confusion is blurred, because God is so much bigger that anything I ever imagined Him to be.

I was telling your people today, with tears in my eyes, that they showed you to me in the way I have never experienced before, Lord. They showed me your heart. You are leading me up the road that demands great courage... On the spot where Jesus claimed to be the truth, why is truth so hard to find?

Two months in Jerusalem have passed. They flew by as one day, and yet it feels as if I have been here for years and years. Time ceased to exist. Or, perhaps, I have become oblivious to it, as all happy people are. Sometimes, just walking the street fills me with love.

I remember a time like this, many years ago. It was in a country that gave me my freedom and my sanity back, a place so perfect I almost felt it I was being healed just by being there, a place that changed my life, turned it around, and brought me back to God. I am reminded of it very often here, by the things that are happenning, the people I meet and the way I feel. I am speaking of Ireland, of course.

I remember thinking back then, that there was not one minute that I did not feel happy. I could have just stayed there, and never travel in my whole life, if I could only share in the magic of the sea, and the tides, and the healing it gave me, batterred after my year of living dangerously. One morning, it was January 18th, I was walking the street and realised that God had just healed me - a weight was lifted. I became who I thought I would never be.

I have missed it every day since I left. The people, the chaos, the talking, the richness of poverty, the theatre, the singing, the Church, the enchanted forests, the friends I made on the bus, the postman who knew my name, the wind and the rain, and above all, that special feeling, that I feel completely at home. Here, I remembered it vividly. I often thought, of all places I have been to, this reminds me of Ireland the most.

I spoke to one sister yesterday, who has lived many years in the Middle East. Suddenly, she blurted out, much to my amazement, 'Ireland is the Middle East of Europe'. How strange of her to have given words to what I have been thinking about for the past month or so.

Of course, Jerusalem is extreme. There is something about the way Jewish mystics would explain the celebration of Purim that may explain it. It brings out the best and the worst in people, sometimes all at once, until you can't tell the good guy from the bad guy. I have never felt anything like that anywhere else. Not that I have never had great falls after intense spiritual revelations or have never been aware of what it means to be human, but I have never seen this tension between good and evil become almost a rule of live, incorporated in every day-to-day experience. From the priests fighting in the place where the greatest miracle in history - the Resurrection - has ever happenned, to the Via Dolorosa with the soldiers through an Arab market, to people throwing stones on the way to prayer, and all the countless things in between. It is as if being human has become tangible here.

As I am writing this, I somehow realised I have no good ending for this blog post. Some things cannot be explained that easily. But as in Ireland, Jerusalem also gave me some of my freedom back, and the prayers were answered. So by way of conclusion - one of the prayers said at the site that is cause of the commotion we are now having came true the next morning.