by Megan Buff

Created on: February 02, 2009

I climbed the labyrinth of stairs to the roof of the Ecce Homo convent. As dusk fell over Jerusalem, the call to prayer rang out from the Dome of the Rock. "Allahu akbar" echoed from minarets across the city. As the final notes of the call to prayer faded away, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre sounded its bells. From my vantage point, I leaned against the wall and contemplated the scene in front of me. On the street below, Christian nuns passed robed Muslim men, greeting them with a shy smile. A phrase from the Bible came back to me "pray for the peace of Jerusalem." I'd seen it earlier that day on a sign at the Garden Tomb, a possible burial site of Christ and a very peaceful garden set up amid the bustle of the city.

The Garden Tomb embodies Jerusalem's intersection of sacred and secular, holy and hectic. Within its walls, the city noise fades away, replaced by groups singing softly in many different languages at gathering sites around the garden. The air, though polluted by cars outside, seems somehow cleaner. Yet a portion of the Garden Tomb site overlooks one of the busiest bus stations in Jerusalem. Many of the tourist attractions have the same tension between revered sites and the necessities of daily life.

I walked the Via Dolorosa, the path Christ is thought to have taken as he was going to be crucified. It passes through a long, loud souq (market). Processions of pilgrims following someone carrying a cross are slowed by handcarts carrying food to restock a merchant's supply, which are in turn stopped in their tracks by a group of women out shopping. As I stepped inside each of the many chapels set up to commemorate the stations of the cross, peace reigned once more. The shouts behind me disappeared as the door shut, and the scents of falafel and lemonade were replaced by incense.

Jerusalem is a holy city for three major religions, and as such is a flashpoint between them. Places of worship large and small, famous and overlooked are scattered liberally throughout the city. Cobblestones are worn down by centuries of pilgrim's feet. Regardless of one's personal religion, it is impossible to ignore the ages of reverence and devotion associated with the city. Many sacred places in the world are set apart from the business of a city, in the country or at least on a hill. Not so in Jerusalem, where it is impossible to "get away" even when meditating on the deepest meaning of religion. This juxtaposition takes a while to get used to. But in a place where the sacred and the secular are held in constant tension, the two rub off on each other. Inner peace may be harder to find in the middle of a city; yet in Jerusalem, so close is the sense of holiness that even the mundane becomes meaningful.

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