The Holy City of Jerusalem
We woke Friday morning in the Holy Land, a land that is holy to 3 faiths that are totally different, yet brothers, so really different variations of the same.
As we traveled to the Old City of Jerusalem, and closer and closer to the Western Wall, we heard stories of the history of the land and of its inhabitants, and therefore, the more real this experience began to feel. We wrote our wishes down on little slips of paper and entered the various parts of the kotel: some preferred gendered exclusive sections while others ventured into the egalitarian section to leave their messages.
Surrounded by Jews from all over the world, we were silently praying and crying for our ancestors, who had spent their lives only dreaming of being in the place where we now stood. The feeling was out of body, almost unreal.
We then ventured to the Shuk, where we bartered for souvenirs and tried new foods. I tried Malawa, a Yemeni baked dough topped with hummus and sauces, hard boiled egg, and vegetables.
Because we had said goodbye to our bus driver in preparation for Shabbat we walked back to the hotel to hear a talk about Israeli politics from 1917 on, learning the legacy of the Jewish claim to this land in the 20th century.
We then prepared for Shabbat, and returned to the Western Wall for services, where women and men danced and sang loudly - separated, yet so united regardless of race and ethnicity, or country of origin. It was entrancing and intoxicating, the most hope I had ever witnessed, and in that moment I felt totally connected to all Jews across the world and across time.
Shabbat on Saturday in the Holy City of Jerusalem brought with it a time to finally sleep in, but just a little, because there is still so much to do and see.
We began our day with an activity: to define what it means to be Jewish, a heavy and confusing task. This was followed by lunch where I tried a beef stew made with peppers and onions that reminded me of traditional Moroccan cuisine. After lunch, some of us split off to the hotel pool while others enjoyed a walking tour of Jerusalem's political center. First the Supreme Court, then the Knesset, and finally their surrounding parks.
In the late afternoon, we prepared for tomorrow's trip to Yad Vashem- sharing our thoughts and stories pertaining to the Holocaust. We then brought in the beginning of the week with Hatikva, coiled in a spiral, chanting and rocking together in unison; our day of rest had come to an end. We make our way down to Ben Yehuda street for an evening of food and a light street dancing (Indian, Israeli, and some American) before turning in for the evening.
