Taking the Long View

I have not accentuated Israeli politics in this series of posts. I think that, to be very honest, I am just weary of polarizations. In past visits, I saw how deeply divided things are here. I felt the pain of the barrier that separates the Palestinian areas from Israel, and yet for a couple of years now we've been hearing about building "a great big beautiful wall" in our own nation on our southern border. I don't think walls are ever beautiful: not between East and West Berlin, not between North and South Korea, not between Israel and Palestine, not between Mexico and the United States. Nor between members of a congregation, or a family. They represent failure and they deepen fear and anxiety. This pilgrimage has not had me feeling "pity" for this nation, however, so much as worrying even more about where our own is headed...

It's easy to get discouraged. And yet, everywhere one goes, one meets people of good will. And it is possible to imagine, at least, that sanity might win the day. Our little pilgrim group is comprised of Christians and Jews. We are not all the same. We keep finding common ground and differences but they are not so much between our Jewish and Christian participants as they are about personality and experience. When we start building walls we all lose. When we listen and learn, and build bridges of understanding, we are all enriched. That's just true. It's not naive. It's hard work. But understanding the other leads to a deeper wisdom about self. So we take the long view, and we press on...

Today was a long day and our time here is now getting short. We spent a good chunk of this day learning about the Second Temple. Knowing something about that temple has implications for Jews, Christians, and Muslims, whose holy sites literally sit on top of each other. Tomorrow we'll go to the Temple Mount and the Dome of the Rock, as well as to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. We are, as a group, moved in different ways by these differing experiences and they don't always fit neatly into our defined religious categories.

I think when religious symbols and holy places are on top of each other, they sometimes seem to be the causes of violence against those who are different from us. We may be tempted to think that the way forward is to have these symbols or places matter less. Or to become totally secular and beyond "superstition."

But this not only seems impossible to me, but counter to my experience. Rather, I think we must learn to go deeper. To take our own religious places and symbols quite seriously but to recognize them for what they are: gateways to the Divine. And then to approach one another with a kind of "holy envy." We might learn, as we have been doing here, to approach the other's traditions with wonder and curiosity and respect and to see how they, too, are gateways to the Divine. We are not the same. But we do, I think, find common ground, if common ground is what we seek. And then we can work together for peace on earth, and good will toward all.

In this photo, a priest and a rabbi are on a roof on top of the Jewish quarter of the old city of Jerusalem. The Dome of the Rock is just behind us. This is not the beginning of a joke. It's the beginning of an alternative narrative to the one that says we are separate. It reminds us that we are all great-great-grandchildren of Abraham. And that the issues that separated our grandparents need not separate our grandchildren. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. And then dare to pray, "let it begin with me."

We are all called to live our faith through love of neighbor. We've made a start, here, and every journey begins with a first step.