The sun rises over this ancient city, and we breakfast at the hotel buffet among the mostly American families here for the holidays. A few Aussies and Germans seem to be in the mix, the Israelis only among the hotel staff. Hilik picks us up promptly, as always, and we head for the big picture: a view over Jerusalem from the Haas Promenade (a name some of you will know – descendants of Levi Strauss). It’s great to see the city from this perspective, with Hilik pointing out the landmarks over the peaceful morning chill. There is a bar mitzvah happening under an olive tree, and not long after us, a group of muslim tourists arrive. Jerusalem means so much to so many peoples around the world.

The Old City beckons us to come down and explore, keeping secret for now what lies behind its towering stone walls. There are eight gates to enter but only seven are open. The Golden Gate to the East has been sealed and unsealed beginning in the 9th century AD; it’s most recent closure was in 1541.  It is believed the messiah will enter through that gate, coming down from the Mount of Olives, and therefore the muslims closed it to prevent a false messiah from entering. Jesus entered Jerusalem through the Golden Gate, it is said…

If you’re interested, there is more on the Old City in a post from June 2022: The Old City Where Faiths Collide

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We enter through the Jaffa Gate, and to get a bird’s eye view, Hilik takes us along the city ramparts – a narrow walkway along the top of the city wall. Below us is what you would see in any city…back yards, clothes lines, someone repairing a roof, a dog barking at a feral cat, a satellite dish here and there. It’s frankly unremarkable but clearly says “people live here in this ancient place” as they have for millennia.

We go down to street level at the Damascus Gate which drops us directly into the Muslim quarter…

It’s crowded. Shoulder to shoulder. Not with tourists but every day people going about their every day lives. Butchers, bakeries, spice shops, household stuff…we stop to admire olives and brightly colored pickled vegetables but are quickly scolded “no pictures unless you buy!” At that moment, a three-wheeled delivery “truck” races through the narrow street – it’s behind us – honking above the din of the crowd, fully expecting everyone to just get out of the way. We manage to avoid getting run over…barely. And then it happens again! It’s alive and chaotic and a bit unnerving. Experiencing the world can be like that. 

A Star of David on a building provides a clue that we are entering the Jewish Quarter, confirmed by the security check required to pass through a few steps later. The Western Wall is here, so the security makes some sense. Bags are scanned (but is anyone really watching?), and we are asked where we are from…then quickly waved along.

It’s just a short walk further and we come into the plaza at the Western Wall, the most holy place on the planet for Jews. People from around the world are here, their skin pale as the driven snow, dark as night, and every color in between…in small groups and large…families and congregations…young and old…and all degrees of faith from the deeply devout to the simply curious. If you listen closely, innumerable languages are spoken.

We follow the tradition of stuffing a small piece of paper into the wall on which you’ve written a prayer, a hope, a wish, a blessing. We cannot all do this together as the men are separate from the women. The full spectrum of faith is here at this holy place, us reform Jews included among the ultra orthodox davening at the wall with their prayer books open, an arm wrapped with tefillin perched on their heads. Their prayer chanting sounds holy and ominous at the same time.

The Western Wall is not, as you might think, the wall of the 2nd temple that was destroyed about 2,000 years ago, but rather the portion of the Temple Mount’s wall that was closest to the temple itself. The temple was atop the Temple Mount.

The remainder of today’s tour overlaps with my adventures in June, so Hilik suggests I go up on the Temple Mount, open to tourists (aka non-muslims) for just an hour a day. It’s a long line but moves quickly…past strict security with bag checks and metal detectors and a dozen guards prepared with riot gear…ultimately opening to a beautiful plaza. But “plaza” understates it as the space up here is massive – the size of 10 football fields. From below, there is just no sense at all of how big it is. My jaw was on the ground as I came up the ramp and it all came into view. I had no expectations of what was here, and it felt like I was being given special access to some secret world. I explore silently, in awe, wondering how much of this I can actually get to see.

As I wander, without mind for how long I am here, a guy in a chair outside a smaller mosque is suddenly calling to me in Arabic, then broken English – something about the time – and I pretend I don’t hear him. He gets distracted by a larger group. Not a few moments later, as I approach a different gate to the Temple Mount, a guard tells me “time for tourists is over” and I have to leave. I have no idea where this gate will let me out (it’s all the way across from where I entered), and ask if I can go to the other entrance. “No. You must leave this way. Now.”

You know that saying “G-d will provide?” I exit as I’m told to, walking an unfamiliar street amidst the chatter of an unknown language, and not three minutes later do I run into our group. Yep, with no plan at all, there they are. Coincidence? You decide…

After a coffee and some Jerusalem sweets in the courtyard of the Austrian Hospice (feels like time travel to Europe for a moment), the rest of the group continues their tour. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the room of the Last Supper, King David’s tomb. Having seen these amazing sights just a few months ago, I bid them farewell for a bit and walk back to the hotel, emerging from the Old City into the new…

An afternoon nap seems in order, don’t you think?

Shalom.