Letter #1

Dear Friends,

It's Saturday in the Holy Land.

Holy Land.

Wow. Sounds Important. Sounds Special. Sounds Serene and Prayerful.

We're in the middle of our three consecutive days of sabbaths in this place, this "holy" place, which most of the world's people place at the center of their religion and spirituality.

....I live in predominantly Arab, predominantly Muslim East Jerusalem near Al-Aqsa Mosque, one of the most venerated sites in all of Islam. For Friday Prayers many people want to pray there. But sometimes men less than 50 years old are not allowed by Israeli police and soldiers to go there for their prayers. A "security threat". One Friday during the Gaza war I was walking to a market not far from Al-Aqsa when suddenly the street was full of men standing quietly in rows filling the entire block. It was prayer time, but the soldiers had set up a checkpoint outside the Old City and these men were not allowed in to their mosque to pray. So they stood quietly and did their prayers right there in the street.

I thought that these men praying as best they could was something holy. I thought what the soldiers were doing was not.

...One Friday evening I was returning from my Arabic lesson and came to a streetcrossing. While waiting for the light to change, a man whose clothing identified him as a conservative Jew asked me if I am Jewish. I said no and he began to ask me for something. Through his broken English I understood he wanted me to come to his home and help him with something - changing a light bulb I think. I thought it must be high up and he couldn't reach it. Or something. But his asking my religion first made me nervous. You need certain sensibilities here. So I declined and walked on. A block later, I realized what had happened. He had asked my religion because it was Shabbat and he was not allowed to "work"; ie, change the light bulb, so he was trying to find a goy to help him out.

I have no doubt this man believed that he was behaving in a holy way, honoring his creed as best he understood it. But it left me confused: does God really want this man to have to bring some stranger into his home rather than change a light bulb?

...a young friend here, an Arab Muslim man tells me he can't sleep lately and his heart hurts. He is from the West Bank and he comes to Jerusalem to work because the pay is better. However, he is supposed to have a permit to come here but he can't get a permit, so he comes illegally and dangerously. And because he has no permit and no recourse, his employer here treats him like a slave with low wages and no benefits or vacation. His girlfriend, who he loves very much, got married to another man last summer because my friend doesn't have enough money and her father made her marry someone else. My friend's best friend got married last summer and kind of abandoned him because he's never around now, having to go to Jerusalem to work and having to stay here for weeks because he has no permit to come and go.

At 22 years of age, my friend sees his life "closed". No university, no travel, no girlfriend, no best friend, no decent job. No opportunities. No future.

Because he's Palestinian and some other inhabitants of the Holy Land do not want him here so they keep him behind a wall, make him have to have a permit for every move he makes, and close his life.

My friend is a sincere and prayerful Muslim, but I wonder if he thinks this land is "holy"?

I suppose they call this place holy because of things that were said to happen here some few thousand years ago. OK. But today - right now - this can be the un-holiest of places.

Millions of people come here every year to see the "holy sites" and hear endlessly about what was said and done in the ancient past. I would rather they come here, ignore the sites, and bring some holy compassion, justice, generosity, and fairness to those here now. Aren't the people here more holy than the land?