Holy Week in Jerusalem - Divisions

It’s Holy Week in Jerusalem again. It’s also the tail end of Passover for the Jewish people. It's also Easter for the Christians.  And the place which is at the center of both holidays is Jerusalem, which is also home to the Islamic religion. Have you ever stopped to consider the conundrum created by this close proximity of the world’s 3 largest faiths? 

The photo above is of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the site where Christians believe Jesus was buried. It's only a stones throw away from the Western Wall, which is just a stairway away from the Dome of the Rock. It's a volatile situation. 

The Hebrews’ have fought there against the Romans, who wanted to take away the concept of a religion based on One God; this was before they became Christians and added the New Testament to the Old. The Christians, in turn, have fought there against the Islamics; who wanted to amend the New Testament with the Quran. And that’s just the religious element.

The settlement the Jewish people in what would shortly become Israel after the Second World War brought a new conflict to the area. And this conflict, between the Jewish people against the Islamic; while over land rather than religion; shows no sign of abating anytime soon.

Just take a look at the events of last Wednesday as an example of the obstacles to be overcome before there can ever be peace in the Mid-East. The story takes place at the Western Wall; Israel’s most Holy site; which is located at the bottom of the Dome of the Rock; which is Islam’s most Holy site.

The Wall is the physical location of the first two Hebrew temples, the spot where in 70 A.D. the Romans destroyed the second temple. The top of the wall; and the Dome of the Rock; is the spot where tradition holds that the Prophet Muhammad ascended to heaven. The Jewish people believe that a third temple will rise there someday. The Christians expect the Apocalypse to begin there, as foretold in Revelations.

So, while the Jews expect that their religion will be the dominant force in the area, the Islamic believers expect that their God will prevail; which leaves the Christians, who are waiting for it all to be destroyed because we all fall short of God’s Glory. Have you got all that?

The events of last Wednesday are the result of the Islamic fear that Israel is chomping at the bit to take over the Dome of the Rock. This belief is bolstered by the fact that Jews are permitted to worship at the Dome; though not inside; while the Arabs are banned from the Wailing Wall below. The part which probably irks the Islamic side so much is that traditionally Jews have considered the top of the rock; where the Dome sits; to be so holy that no Israelis have ever really been encouraged to pray there. Until recently, that is.

The Orthodox Jews in Israel; who don’t believe they have the obligation to serve in the Israeli Army; apparently have no qualms about escalating the tensions in the world’s most volatile spot. Increasingly they have demanded to be allowed to pray at the Dome, which has many Arabs angered and concerned. And I can understand that.

Last Wednesday, as tempers flared again over this contentious issue, the Arabs worshiping at the Dome of the Rock staged a demonstration, barricading themselves in a part of the holy site. At the same time they began to hurl stones down on the Jewish people below who were worshiping at the Western Wall.

This, in turn, sent the Israeli Police and Military to the Dome of the Rock; which they control as a result of the 1967 “Six Day War”, in which Israel was the victor and so won control of Jerusalem. At the time Jews were not permitted to worship there, as it was under the control of the Islamic side. The Police had to actually enter the Dome to quell the disturbance, which only fueled the anger of the Islamic worshipers.

Jerusalem is the holiest city to the world’s three major religions. No one should own it, or control it. It should be under some sort of international stewardship. Millions come from all parts of the world each year to see and touch their heritage. Surely this is one spot on the earth where differences of faith should be set aside for the further glory of all people, of all faiths.

The stakes are high; after all, if something so small cannot be accomplished by the people who are most affected by it, what hope is there really for Peace in the Mid-East in general? Maybe the Christians have it right; perhaps it all needs to be destroyed before we can ever really get along with one another.

Somehow I just can’t bring myself to give up hope that human beings will someday be able to respect one another and share the world. I’m just not holding my breath any longer.

The Shofar and The British - Rabbi Moshe Segal

This evening marks the beginning of Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year. It is the culmination of the 10 days comprising Rosh Hashanah, during which time Jews the world over have finished reading the Torah and ask forgiveness of those whom they may have wronged in the past year. On Yom Kippur the Shofar, a ram's horn, is sounded to signify the beginning of the New Year. This is a narrative about the blowing of the Shofar at the Western Wall in Jerusalem during the years before the Creation of a Jewish State in 1948. What follows is an excerpt (translated from the Hebrew) from the memoir of Rabbi Moshe Segal (1904-1985), a Lubavitcher Chassid who was active in the struggle to free the Holy Land from British rule. It was taken from the website http://www.chabad.org/

The Holy Temple in Jerusalem was twice destroyed -- by the Romans in the year 69 CE, and by the Babylonians on the same date in 423 BCE. One wall remains standing as a living symbol of the Jewish people's ownership over the land of Israel and the city of Jerusalem -- the Kotel HaMaaravi or "Western Wall."

In those years, the area in front of the Kotel did not look as it does today. Only a narrow alley separated the Kotel and the Arab houses on its other side. The British Government forbade us to place an Ark, tables or benches in the alley; even a small stool could not be brought to the Kotel. The British also instituted the following ordinances, designed to humble the Jews at the holiest place of their faith: it is forbidden to pray out loud, lest one upset the Arab residents; it is forbidden to read from the Torah (those praying at the Kotel had to go to one of the synagogues in the Jewish quarter to conduct the Torah reading); it is forbidden to sound the shofar on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The British Government placed policemen at the Kotel to enforce these rules.

On Yom Kippur of that year [1930] I was praying at the Kotel. During the brief intermission between the musaf and minchah prayers, I overheard people whispering to each other: "Where will we go to hear the shofar? It'll be impossible to blow here. There are as many policemen as people praying..." The Police Commander himself was there, to make sure that the Jews will not, G-d forbid, sound the single blast that closes the fast.

I listened to these whisperings, and thought to myself: Can we possibly forgo the sounding of the shofar that accompanies our proclamation of the sovereignty of G-d? Can we possibly forgo the sounding of the shofar, which symbolizes the redemption of Israel? True, the sounding of the shofar at the close of Yom Kippur is only a custom, but "A Jewish custom is Torah"! I approached Rabbi Yitzchak Horenstein, who served as the Rabbi of our "congregation," and said to him: "Give me a shofar."

"What for?"

"I'll blow."

"What are you talking about? Don't you see the police?"

"I'll blow."

The Rabbi abruptly turned away from me, but not before he cast a glance at the prayer stand at the left end of the alley. I understood: the shofar was in the stand. When the hour of the blowing approached, I walked over to the stand and leaned against it.

I opened the drawer and slipped the shofar into my shirt. I had the shofar, but what if they saw me before I had a chance to blow it? I was still unmarried at the time, and following the Ashkenazic custom, did not wear a tallit. I turned to person praying at my side, and asked him for his tallit. My request must have seemed strange to him, but the Jews are a kind people, especially at the holiest moments of the holiest day, and he handed me his tallit without a word.

I wrapped myself in the tallit. At that moment, I felt that I had created my own private domain. All around me, a foreign government prevails, ruling over the people of Israel even on their holiest day and at their holiest place, and we are not free to serve our G-d; but under this tallit is another domain. Here I am under no dominion save that of my Father in Heaven; here I shall do as He commands me, and no force on earth will stop me.

When the closing verses of the neillah prayer -- "Hear O Israel," "Blessed be the name" and "The L-rd is G-d" -- were proclaimed, I took the shofar and blew a long, resounding blast. Everything happened very quickly. Many hands grabbed me. I removed the tallit from over my head, and before me stood the Police Commander, who ordered my arrest.

I was taken to the kishla, the prison in the Old City, and an Arab policeman was appointed to watch over me. Many hours passed; I was given no food or water to break my fast. At midnight, the policeman received an order to release me, and he let me out without a word.

I then learned that when the chief rabbi of the Holy Land, Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak Kook, heard of my arrest, he immediately contacted the secretary of High Commissioner of Palestine, and asked that I be released. When his request was refused, he stated that he would not break his fast until I was freed. The High Commissioner resisted for many hours, but finally, out of respect for the Rabbi, he had no choice but to set me free.

For the next eighteen years, until the Arab conquest of the Old City in 1948, the shofar was sounded at the Kotel every Yom Kippur. The British well understood the significance of this blast; they knew that it would ultimately demolish their reign over our land, as the walls of Jericho crumbled before the shofar of Joshua, and they did everything in their power to prevent it. But every Yom Kippur, the shofar was sounded by men who knew they would be arrested for their part in staking our claim on the holiest of our possessions.

A Palm Sunday Memory - 1959

This is one of my favorite pictures of Jesus, riding into Jerusalem on what became known as "Palm Sunday", which happens to be today for the world's Christians, who number in the billions. Although I am a Jew by birth, my father was a practicing Catholic until I was about 6, attending Church each Sunday morning. And, occassionally, I used to go with him.

I especially looked forward to Palm Sunday, for several reasons. The first was purely mercenary, it was one week until Easter, and the candy which the Easter Bunny would bring. The second, and more immediate delight was in the long palm fronds which were handed out to the congregants, in order that they symbolically welcome back their Saviour. These Palm fronds, to me, represented not only Jerusalem, the Crusades, Kings and Gods; these Palm fronds were no mere leaves! Rather they were the embodiment of the whole world, and what lay beyond the borders of my little life beyond Kings Highway and Bedford Avenue.

The last time I went to church with my Dad on Palm Sunday was in 1959. I still remember coming home from church with him, and the long palm fronds, teasing my brother with them. The fronds seemed so much longer to me then. The ones I see now a days can hardly compare to the expectations of that six year old boy I used to be. But just the memory of them awes me.