I started college as a political science major. It beats in my veins. Though I laid that passion down years ago, it still courses through me and is ready for a resurrection. I'm also philosophical about it (and I don't think there's any other way to be, by the way). Without mentioning the craziness over in the Middle East (oops), I have been inspired by it to revisit something I wrote 8 years ago about a trip I took 7 years before that. It's a light travel piece, but it helps me ease back into blog posting rather lazily. If at all. Because, let's be honest, I'm looking to get paid for this schtuff. But it also explains a bit of the turmoil and history over there. If you've been wondering, here's an abbreviated version. The points are purposely not editorialized, though you know I have myriad thoughts on what this all means in application.
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| Dome of the Rock, Jerusalem |
Originally published in "Champlain Anthologies: Best Student Travel Writing," 2008.
Reprinted with permission from the Champlain College Publishing Initiative.
Day One: Jerusalem
In the middle of it all, the largest structure in sight loomed above everything else. Just beyond the trees, a muted, indigo-blue octagonal building stood atop the Temple Mount, perhaps the most controversial couple of acres in the world. A bright golden dome sat atop the octagon, standing twice as tall as the base structure and measuring about 60 feet across and 100 feet high. It glowed regally, proudly, in the sunlight. It was the Dome of the Rock.
Everyone in my group had found different spots to sit along the low stone wall surrounding the parking lot, gathering in small groups for panoramic photos. I found an empty area to sit with the sun warm on my arms, wondering what the deal was with this golden dome and what it would be like on the inside in a few hours.
When a few hours came, though, we never got to go inside. Visiting hours were not always consistent, and during prayer times, the time we showed up, only Muslims were allowed entry. I even remembered to wear my long skirt and bring the sleeved shirt that I'd tied around my waist to throw over my shoulders before we entered.
We had approached the complex of mosques on Temple Mount from the north and walked up the 20 or 30 steps to the top platform with the Dome of the Rock, a Muslim shrine. A sort of gateway with four arched openings and three narrow columns topped each of the eight sets of stairs spaced symmetrically around the complex. Walking under the stone arch of the Graceful Arcade at the top of our stairs, we entered the expanse of parched stone tiles that wove throughout all of the buildings. We all stared and murmured to our friends, pointing out every colorful detail.
Our leader's whistle turned all of our heads to him in unison, and he began with a question. "So who can tell me what they know about all the fighting that's going on over here right now?"
I had some thoughts, but we all just blinked at him.
"Come on, guys. This is not a trick question..." he pleaded with us.
"The Palestinians and the Israelis are fighting over a piece of land," some kid I didn't know spoke up from the back with an unsure pitch to his voice.
"The Gaza Strip. That's right. But it's not just about the land. It's steeped in traditions, the religions, of these people, the Jewish faith in Israel and the Muslim faith in Palestine, both fighting over their own version of peace. Look where you're standing. It's a hotbed of passionate debate." He moved his arm in a sweep that indicated the building behind him.
Tiny, square tiles--turquoise, rust, cream, indigo, and brown--covered the upper facade of the octagonal structure with a giant mosaic of geometrical designs and symmetrical patterns spreading all around the building. Eight columns stood, four to the right and four to the left, on either side of the heavy, fifteen-foot wooden door that arched at the top. The gold dome loomed above us, majestic.
"This is where both the first and the second holy Jewish temples were built during early Bible times. The first was built by Solomon nearly a thousand years BC and was destroyed by the Babylonians around 580 BC. It was rebuilt only to be destroyed again, this time by the Romans, around 70 AD. The dates aren't that important, but think about this..." He raised a finger in the air. "To the Jews, this is Mount Moriah, the center of the world, the place where Adam was created and gave sacrifices, where Abraham almost sacrificed Isaac, where Noah built after the flood, and where Jacob saw the ladder in his prophetic dream, to name a few. It's the place the Jews always went to offer sacrifices to their God. To them, it is holy and is the place that their faith always intersects."
"Yeah, so what is a giant Muslim mosque doing in the middle of this obviously Jewish nation? I don't get it," a tall girl in the back asked behind her mirrored surfer glasses, slouching like a bored model in her little, pink t-shirt and baggy pants.
"It's actually not a mosque; it's a shrine, the oldest one in Islam and," he paused and looked at the rest of us, "the only one in pretty much its original state."
The guy from Virginia who always had answers chimed in. "They have the story written in this pamphlet I picked up outside Capernaum."
"All right. Enlighten us, Steve," our leader put his hands in his pockets and nodded.
"So the Jews think this exact spot is holy, like you said. The rock inside the mosque..."
"Shrine," our leader interjected.
"Shrine. ...the rock in there is where it all happened. But it's also where it all happened for the Muslims, their world center. It's where they believe Muhammad ascended to heaven, and they believe it has his footprint in it along with the hand print of Gabriel who held down the rock when Muhammad left."
"I still don't get it." The mirrored surfer glasses flashed at our leader, and the whole crowd looked at him quizzically.
Smart Guy started in quickly, drawing our attention back to him. "Essentially, when Muhammad died, the guys who led Islam--it says they're Caliphs--wanted to build political headquarters in Jerusalem. Christians and Jews think they picked the ascension passage from the Quran and built this place to attach that story to Jerusalem in order to compete with the Christians and Jews. They really didn't have any connection with Jerusalem until then, or not that can be proven, because the Quran passage is really vague."
"Pretty good," our leader jumped in while Smart Guy took a breath. "So really, Jews and Christians have their religious claims and want to tear down the Dome of the Rock and rebuild their own Temple. The Muslims consider it holy ground in their faith as well, so if the Jews or Christians actually did anything, there would be a great, big, nasty religious war."
"So how come they're worried about the Gaza Strip?" the short girl in front of me asked quietly.
"Exactly! Both sides want Jerusalem for their own. The Gaza Strip is the bit in the middle. The Palestinians want it and want Jerusalem. The Israelis want it and want to keep Jerusalem. Truth is, there's been bad blood between these peoples since the very beginning."
"So how on earth do we think we're going to solve this through politics?" The short girl crinkled her forehead and frowned.
My thoughts rushed and spilled over themselves. We all looked at our leader, then I looked up at the shining gold-plated dome.
"Well now, that's the million dollar question, isn't it?" He quickly raised his eyebrows twice at us, and before Smart Guy could say anything, walked off to leave us with our thoughts.
