A Capital Idea

Nothing in my three years of combined training and experience in the Israeli Defense Forces’ Army Corps of Engineers has prepared me to properly address the ticking time-bomb that is Jerusalem, the eternal spiritual capital of the Jewish people. By the very nature of the issue, some people will be angered by my comments, some sympathetic to them and, like most things Jewish, many will experience both (and other) emotions.

In both the Jewish and the Israeli experiences, there is not a single more frustrating artifact than Jerusalem, be it as a concept, a political hot-potato, an object of religious worship, veneration, and yearning, a metropolitan municipal entity, or a treasure-trove of antiquities. Across all strata, and throughout all recorded time, every single aspect of both its physical existence and spiritual significance have been defined by rhetoric, conflict, and bloodshed.

My first encounter with the city was at age six or so. My family had returned to Israel from my father’s studies, the year was 1969, the country still euphoric of the empire created by the Six-Day war, and Israelis “discovered” eastern Jerusalem and the Old City. My family was no different: we would get in the family Volvo and drive to Jerusalem, using the “old road” as it was euphemistically called (the “new” highway connecting Tel Aviv to Jerusalem was about eight more years in the making; it’s first user: Egyptian president Anwar el-Sadat on his historic visit in 1977). We would park by Jaffa gate, right next to the walls, and explore on foot the bizarre, exotic, smelly, colorful and terrifying square mile which is the Old City of Jerusalem. Seven open gates (one permanently sealed off, awaiting the Messiah) leading to four quarters: Moslem, Christian, Armenian, and Jewish. Oblivious to the fact that this was actually somebody’s home, we traipsed all over the city, which seemed to me to be one big market. We spoke English with the locals, and the merchants would use every possible Middle-Eastern charm and selling technique in working my Mother over, trying to close a sale. A memorable tactic was for them to turn to my father and comment on “How beautiful your daughter is” upon which my mother would typically melt and acquiesce to whatever bargain price they offered. I remember tasty restaurants and exotic foodstuffs in the souk stalls, and the ability to travel freely and fearlessly everywhere. In the first years following the war the opening of the West Bank to Israel created an astonishing economic boon for the residents: lots of commerce, construction, employment opportunities in Israel proper, and a massive influx of tourism, both domestic and international.

Between 1948 and 1967 Jerusalem was a divided city: The western part being Israel’s capital, the eastern being part of Jordan, with a live frontier between the two, including barbed-wire fencing, landmines, and military snipers. For nineteen years an uneasy stalemate existed, with the Jewish part of the city being developed westward, creating a myriad of neighborhoods, each with its own unique demographic. Jews could not visit the Old City or the Western Wall, operate the Hebrew University’s main campus on Mt. Scopus, or pay their respects to their deceased family members on the Mount of Olives. There was a “Checkpoint Charlie” of sorts between the eastern and western sides of the city, called “Mandelbaum Pass”. Foreign tourists would mingle with UN officials, high clergy, spies and such, lending an international frisson of intrigue to what was always quite the provincial town.

I mention those specific three locations as they represent, in different ways, the trauma of the divided city. For a religion devoid of relics and holy sites, the Western Wall (never the “Wailing Wall”, which is considered pejorative) is the one remaining place linking Jews (and, to a greater extent, Israelis) to their ancient kingdom and temple. The Wall isn’t even the Great Temple wall, but rather an external wall which supported the superstructure and platform upon which the old temple was constructed. Nonetheless, partly due to its “last remaining artifact” status, and partly due to its forbidden access during these nineteen years, its standing and meaning with Jews has been greatly enhanced over the years: thousands of religious events are held there each year, elite IDF regiments conduct their swearing-in ceremonies there, and it’s a continual, almost daily battleground in the ongoing tug-of-war between the various Jewish denominations, primarily either Orthodox, Reform, Conservative or Reconstructionist, all vying to define their own characteristics of worship, ritual, and core beliefs. From both a Judaic and Zionist perspective, it is inconceivable to return to a scenario in which Jews do not have access to and control over the Western Wall.

Founded in 1918, one short year after the Balfour Declaration, the Hebrew University in Jerusalem was considered by many Zionists (who were fairly secular themselves) to be the “New Temple” for the country. Always an internationally renowned center-of-excellence (currently ranks as one of the top 50 universities worldwide), its first Board of Trustees included notables such as Albert Einstein, Sigmund Freud, and Martin Buber, as well as the leader of the International Zionist Organization (and the future first president of Israel) Dr. Chaim Weizmann. The university was built on Mt. Scopus, which ended-up in Jordanian hands after the 1948 War of Independence, necessitating the construction of an entirely new campus in the western side. My father used to tell me stories as how during his Freshman year he had to bounce between all sorts of buildings spread over town while construction was underway, including classes at the Terra Sancta Franciscan facility… Only in Jerusalem.

Jews have been burying their dead on the Mount of Olives for over three thousand years, driven by the tradition that the Messiah’s resurrection of the dead shall start from that spot. Over 150,000 graves exist on it, including many from times of antiquity, including the traditional gravesites of King David’s treasonous son Absalom, and those of the prophets Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi. The site of many Christian events enumerated in the New Testament, the Mount of Olives was also under Jordanian control during the nineteen-year period of the city’s division. Unfortunately, many of the graves were desecrated, with their tombstones removed to be used in construction. During this time period Jews who were observing a yahrzeit (death anniversary) of a loved one would have to go to the edge of the western side, armed with binoculars and, while staying clear of the Jordanian Legion’s snipers, locate the grave (or general area of) a loved one, and this recite the Kaddish from a distance. One of my ancestors is the rabbi Moishe Nehemia Kahaniu, (AKA “The Sage of Khislavichi”) who came to Jerusalem in the mid-Nineteenth century to become the head of the Ets-Haim Yeshiva, the first yeshiva (Jewish school) to exit the walls of the Old City (it operates to this day). My great-great-great-great grandfather was buried on the mountain, and the saga of how my uncles embarked (after the Six-Day War) on the search for his long-lost grave, the reconstruction of his tombstone, and the unveiling ceremony (in which I was present) deserves its own story one day.

These represent three (out of many) reasons why the vast majority of Jewish Israelis oppose the re-division of Jerusalem and would never agree to a partitioned solution involving fences and landmines ever again.

David Ben-Gurion, Israel’s founder and first Prime Minister, considered the loss of the Old City in the War of Independence to be his greatest regret. Nonetheless, when the country got ready to defend itself in 1967 from an impending Egyptian/Syrian attack, “taking” the Old City was not in the plans. In fact, legendary general and Defense Minister Moshe Dayan famously said: “Who needs all this Vatican?” However, between Jordan’s King Hussein getting dragged into the war, and Dayan’s own desire to one-up Prime Minister Levi Eshkol, he gave the military the order to enter the Old City, which was “liberated” with great fanfare. My father’s first cousin, Lt. Col. Micah Paikess, was an infantry battalion commander who led his men into the Arab neighborhood of Abu Tor, just south of the Old City, and was killed in action there (I should note that his son, my second cousin Jonathan, was killed in action just a few years later, in the Yum Kippur war, in the Golan Heights, blocking the Syrian armored corps).

The Old City (excluding the Western Wall) is, in itself, quite possibly the most bizarre and controversial place on our planet. A proverbial powder keg, it is home to dozens and dozens of religious venues: Churches, monasteries, mosques, synagogues, and all sorts of pilgrimage sites, the Via Dolorosa being but one of many (on one trip we escorted my late Mother-in-Law, who was nominally an Evangelical Lutheran, down the Via Dolorosa. After about three stations of the cross, walking on uneven stone steps through a pushy crowd, this wonderful lady, who at the time was in her late seventies, said “Enough. I see why He died.”) For Jews, Temple Mount itself is somewhat like the ancient “Forbidden City” of Imperial China. Israelis aren’t typically allowed on it; it’s considered to be inciteful. Jews aren’t allowed on it, as only the High Priest was allowed to enter the sancto sanctorum in the temple, and even he could only enter it one day a year, on Yom Kippur. Since the Temple (actually, two temples) have long been destroyed, no one knows where the holiest-of-holies was located, so one simply avoids it in its entirety. I remember finding out in the fifth grade what was the religious reason for King David conquering it from the Jebusites in the first place: Jerusalem is a traditional location of Mt. Moriah, the site of the Binding of Isaac, a supremely important event in the shared roots of Judaism and Islam (no, really, I actually remember that specific lesson, which was in the form of a biblical scavenger hunt). It was also populated at least sixteen hundred years prior to said conquering, which was around the 14^th Century BCE. That adds up to thousands of years of grudges, slights, insults, blasphemies, and bloodshed. A whole lot of bloodshed. Temple Mount (known to Muslims as Haram al-Sharif) is now adorned with multiple mosques, venerated as the location of the prophet Muhammad’s journey to Jerusalem and ascent to heaven, making it the third-holiest site in Islam, after Mecca and Medina. Calvary is right around the corner, as is Mount Zion.

‘Tis a strange place, probably the strangest the World has seen. It attracts so many eccentrics, prophets, visionaries, and downright lunatics that it even has a medical condition named for it: Jerusalem Syndrome. Wikipedia defines it as “a group of mental phenomena involving the presence of either religiously themed obsessive ideas, delusions or other psychosis-like experiences that are triggered by a visit to the city of Jerusalem. It is not endemic to one single religion or denomination but has affected Jews, Christians, and Muslims of many different backgrounds.” In the classic Simpsons episode “The Greatest Story Ever D’ohed” Homer is afflicted with the Syndrome and reveals himself as the Messiah. Eventually, all cast members are similarly afflicted, and each and every one of them declares themselves as being Messiahs as well. But so did David Koresh, leader of the Branch Davidian sect from Waco, Texas, who had similar visions on Mount Zion, during a visit in 1985 (One of my favorite scenes from The Simpsons is that of Homer phoning-in his meal order: “I was wondering, do you deliver falafel to the top of Mt. Zion? Great. I’d like a large falafel with pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese. Yes, I know what a falafel is”).

In my opinion, the epicenter of craziness is not Temple Mount, but the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. And I mean no disrespect to my Christian friends. It is actually a complex of several churches and chapels at the location of both Calvary and the Tomb of Jesus, the site of the Resurrection. It’s about 1,600 years old, and run by a “coalition” of six different denominations. I use quotation-marks around the word “coalition” as it seems that for over a millennia-and-a-half, the principals agree on, well, nothing. In fact, the mutual distrust is so stratospheric that every evening, at six PM, the premises are vacated, and the massive doors locked by local Muslims whose families have been entrusted with the keys for hundreds of years, lest one of the represented denominations gain an improper access to the complex, and create some unfair advantage. There is a simple, homemade wooden ladder under one of the windows. It was used for access by a mason, doing some work on the mid-Eighteenth Century. It has not been moved since. The slightest attempt at any change or alteration with artifact, decoration, piece of furniture or whatnot may create an instant riot. But there is hope yet for human harmony and unity: As of the writing of this issue the Church has shuttered its gates indefinitely, a collective decision supported by the three main stakeholders: The Catholic Church, The Greek-Orthodox Church, and The Armenian Church. This is a serious blow for pilgrims and tourists alike. So, what is the one cause which united these schismatic factions? Is it the plight of the Palestinians? The scourge of Terrorism? The decline of Western Morality? Not at all. The City of Jerusalem, a sprawling metro area, with close to 900,000 inhabitants and a notorious unbalanced budget has decided to collect back taxes to the tune of some $186 million, not on actual religious locales, but on the massive commercial properties owned around the city by the various churches. Additionally, the Israeli government is attempting to invalidate property sales which have put about 1,400 buildings in the city at risk of eviction and demolition. I have no doubt that the Bishops and Prelates will win this one. The entire existence of the Old City is one insane balancing act, commonly known as the status quo, and woe to he who is foolish enough to unsettle it. It’s an entire city built on layers of fear, hatred, jealousy, and pettiness. If you’ve never been, I highly recommend a visit.

Eastern Jerusalem used to be uniformly Arab, but since the Six-Day War many Jewish neighborhoods were built, often blurring the line between the city’s traditional demographic boundaries. During my military service I was sent on patrols through various sections of the Eastern city and experienced firsthand the squalor, poverty, and hatred of the occupation. But the Israeli institutions of state lay in the newer western part, and have since 1949. In that sense (and in many others) Western Jerusalem is the capital of Israel. It’s the home of the Israeli parliament, the Knesset (although most MK’s rush back to Tel Aviv when their legislative sessions are over for the week), the Supreme Court, and part of the Executive Branch, including the official residences of the Prime Minister and the President, the country’s ceremonial Head of State, both of which are big fans of Jerusalem’s own Beitar Yerushaliam, its storied premier-league soccer team, which also has what is quite possibly the most racist fan base in the world. Notoriously and virulently anti-Arab, its hard-core fans (known proudly as “La Familia”, I am not making this up) regularly hurl racist slurs at any Arab player present while chanting disgusting slogans about “the purity of the race”. A few years back management had signed two talented players, Moslems from Chechnya. Fans rioted, and the team had no choice but to release the players, who returned to Europe. Beitar never had an Arab player in its eighty-two-year history, and its multiple games each year against league rival Bnei Sakhnin F.C., the most successful Arab-Israeli team ever, are horrific, unsporting affairs, particularly when Beitar is the host team.

So, it’s exactly this fundamentalist, hateful, violent and fear mongering place President Trump has “recognized” as Israel’s capital, and plans to move our embassy to. First off, capital cities are decided by their respective countries, and no one else. And second, as the Palestinians have a very legitimate claim for Jerusalem being their capital, and until there is some final settlement of the matter, virtually no country has placed its embassy there. And why should they? Practically all embassies are in vibrant, liberal, cultured Tel Aviv, with the American embassy located on a prime piece of property across the street from the Tel Aviv promenade and the beautiful Mediterranean beach. Why would any employee in his right mind want to relocate? (Ironically, one of the beaches near the US embassy is officially called “Jerusalem Beach”, named as a gift from the city of Tel Aviv to the landlocked capital).

The United States has lost much credibility with the Palestinian people and the Arab world with this announcement, as it has significantly eroded the its standing as an impartial facilitator in the peace (or any other) negotiations. It has always been an Article of the Faith that the status of Jerusalem will be the last thing to be discussed, as it is obviously the most complex one. The solution is quite simple, actually: Give the Palestinians East Jerusalem, have Israel keep the West, and declare the Old City an “International Zone” just as the United Nations agreed to do in 1947 (or, as they called it in Latin, a “Corpus separatum”). That’s the real end game. To those of us on either side who still believe in the prospect of peace, this administration has dealt a severe blow.

The fact of the matter is that Jerusalem isn’t simply the most difficult part of the conflict; in many ways, it is the conflict itself. A city consumed by fear, violence, and intolerance, all of which must be someday, somehow overcome if any sort of co-existence is to be imagined.

Thirty years ago, in his essay on the “Sadness of Jerusalem”, the Israeli journalist and satirist Doron Rosenblum wrote: “The problem of Jerusalem will be solved only if there will be no Jerusalem. The conflict defines Jerusalem, Jerusalem defines the conflict, and its future is already at hand. Jerusalem will not experience a catharsis, as the messianic wait for either the apocalypse or a solution, which will never arrive, that wait in itself is the substance of Jerusalem”.

The Talmud teaches us that “From the day of the destruction of the Temple the power of prophecy has been granted to fools and the very young”. Mr. Rosenblum fits neither category, but his comments from 1988 are entirely prescient. President Trump would be wise to leave Jerusalem alone, and avoid hastening an apocalypse.

It’s difficult not to end a discussion on Jerusalem on a depressing note; it simply begs for it. But I take comfort in the words of the prophet, from what I consider to be one of the most beautiful, poetic passages in the Bible:

“For Zion’s sake will I not hold my peace, and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not rest, until the righteousness thereof go forth as brightness, and the salvation thereof as a lamp that burneth.” (Isaiah 62:1)

Peace; Salam; Shalom.