Jerusalem is Lifechanging

Kelsey and I are in Jerusalem, a city of dreams, place of blood and worship, of ancient and contemporary conflict. I can only begin to understand the meaning and implications of this place. It is a city divided, and yet it unites thr faiths in one aura and location. To try to understand is to question, and I have been questioning much.

We arrived in Jerusalem two days ago and decompressed from our desert car ride with a long looped walk around the city

As it was the evening before Independence Day, the city took on a New Year's Eve atmosphere, with street parties and music ringing through the street until the early morning hours. Kelsey and I met an Italian medical student over dinner, and we wandered the streets with him, taking in the spectacle. 

In the light of the street lamps, we followed crowds of young and old Israelis to the Old City. Following our noses, we tried to make our way to the Western Wall. With Antonio by our side we approached a harried looking ultra orthodox Jewish man. He swept past us, black coat swishing around him, and told us to follow him. Obediently we fell in line, struggling to keep up. Like a guiding spirit, his voice carried behind him, disembodied and matter of factly asking us, as non-Jews, why we would want to visit his country. Stumbling on answers, he abruptly peeled away from us as the Wall came into sight. Later we would learn that he hadn't looked at Kelsey and I as dictated by his faith. It was a strange, yet honest encounter. 

The Western Wall, the Wailing Wall. In the warmth of the evening, we approached the Wall. There were very few tourists at the late hour. A few Jews were praying in their Independence Day party clothes. I walked to the Wall, surrounded by women and girls, and placed both my hands on the stone. I tried to clear my mind, to open myself up to a spiritual feeling. I tried to meditate, slow my breathing, and let myself exist within the moment. I ended up focusing on those I love. It may have been a prayer, but I have no experience or anything to quantify that in my mind. The rocking motions of prayer were all around me, and feeling as an insider and outsider I walked backwards from the Wall, never turning my back. I felt silly, and sobered in the same moment.

Yesterday morning we joined a tour from our hostel to cross the wall to Bethlehem. This is what affected me:

We visited three holy sites: the Field of Shepards, the Church of Nativity, and the Milk Grotto. I felt that same detached curiosity familiar from our religious excursions in northern Israel. It was a bittersweet experience in Bethlehem. We were physically overwhelmed by the crowds of strangely aggressive Christian pilgrims at the Church of a Nativity. After being jostled and waiting for an hour, Kelsey and I were accused by a woman from a different tour of trying to skip the line to see where Jesus was born. With sadness, Kelsey walked away from the situation, affected by the woman's tone. I walked away indignant, skipped over to where the pilgrims exit from the holy chamber and ignoring all looks and the guard, walked the wrong way down to see the site that had incited such chaos. This is what I saw:

Our thoughts on the tour.

On our way back across to Jerusalem, we implored our driver to stop and allow us to snap some photos of the wall art on the Bethlehem side. Surprisingly, only six of the 13 tourists wanted to exit the bus to walk along the wall. Quickly I ran down the wall taking pictures of these words of hate and peace. The honking of the van brought us back after a only a few minutes, and I felt like I had missed the point of my trip to Bethlehem. We had been ferried into the past, and had glossed over the "now". It was humbling to be in this volatile area that for me has only existed as media words. There is so much I don't know, don't understand. So much struggle and suffering on all sides. How do we fix these human problems? How do we practice faith and spill blood? I am naive to be sure, but it leaves me sad, confused and wary of my ignorance.

On our tour, we met two young Americans, one of whom was wearing a University of Michigan hat. In a twist of life, he just finished his first year at the Ross School of Business. Grabbing a falafel in Yehuda market, Mark and I excitedly went back on forth on life at Ross, rock climbing around Ann Arbor, the difficult decisions between a social life and academics, travel, career changes and much more. School suddenly seemed real to me in a way that it hasn't yet. I am still waiting to hear back from Ross, but Mark sparked my curiosity to what life may look like in a few months. The world works in wonderful ways.

Heading off on our own, Kelsey and I walked through the Old City towards the Mt. of the Olives, Basilica of the Agony and Gethsemane. In this place, Jesus prayed with his disciples the night before his crucifixion. Amazing vistas of Arabic neighborhoods crowding the valley below the Old City accompanied us on our way back to the hostel. 

Of course, I fell HARD on the slippery streets of the Old City, tearing up and re-bruising my weakened leg (about five shopkeepers ran to my aid and tried to fix me with Turkish coffee and Kleenex). Luckily I didn't break open the scar and scab of my mini-surgery. Later I almost passed out trying to clean the wound with alcohol wipes. 

Kelsey can do layers with tiny scissors! She is just so fabulous, in every way.

Catching a leisurely dinner with our new friends, and firmly continuing our trend of European lifestyle, we turned in at 1 am to catch some sleep before today. 

The beauty of my day today will be difficult to express in words and I will attempt it in my next post. All I can say is it was lifechanging. I was shaken, moved, educated and provoked (in a good way). Jerusalem...shalom.