The Last Supper

  Jerusalem, Israel
Tuesday, October 21, 2008

The route was unsettlingly familiar, and as we walked up the stairs into the simple but largish flat my suspicions were confirmed. I made a polite smile and the briefest of eye contact with the kindly wife and a group of young seminary girls stood around the kitchen, and walked over to the sofa. A yeshiva boy with a beard and large kippa was sat reading a paper, an elderly gentleman said Kiddush (a prayer) over some wine, and for a while I wondered if I was mistaken. Everyone here seemed very nice.
 
Then a man with a large greyish beard and fiery blue eyes walked in and we took our places round the table. 'So I went to the Muslim Quarter today' he started immediately 'and the animals ...the animals started throwing soda water down at us! A policeman told me to move on, and for a while I wondered if it was worth getting arrested. But I decided there are bigger battles to be fought'.
 
'Is that some type of hummus?' I asked the guy next to me.
 
Hummus is always a good way to sidetrack a political debate in Israel, but this was a man with an agenda and eventually the debate (that he and his young protégée had clearly been through so often) ensued;
 
Me: Why did you go to the Muslim Quarter to pray?
Zinger: Because the Muslim quarter is actually the quarter of the Jewish Old City, occupied by the Muslims
Me: Were they born here?
Zinger: Maybe
Me: Were you born here?
Zinger: No, but I have a deed to the land to the land given by from Hashem! (God)
 
Perhaps Zinger was choosing to interpret religion to support his political ideals, or perhaps religion had shaped his views. But what about the group of young seminary girls sat round the table? Under this influence what would they grow up believing?  Here I could see religion throwing gasoline into the flames of a political fire, and I knew that the hatred I was hearing had everything to do with religion, and nothing to do with God.
 
From Yeshiva my exploration of God seemed to have come full circle. I knew that I needed to look beyond ideas from society and religion to search within. A girl on Neot Semadar once told me that she had quit University after a few weeks because it didn't teach the important life skills. 'What kind of skills?' I asked. 'How to know yourself, how to make decisions, how to find your way' She replied. 'How does being somewhere like this help you to learn that stuff?' I asked. 'Without distractions you can look inside yourself' she replied, 'everything you need to know is there'.
 
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                                                             Epilogue
 
I am writing this - my final blog - from London. Looking out the window the weather is predictably grey. It feels almost as if I never went away...but not quite. In two months I am going back to Israel. I am going to make 'Aliya'. It means 'going up' in Hebrew. It is the word used when Jews go to live in Israel. I am going to make the 'land of milk and honeys' my new home.                              
                                   
If my soul is somehow rooted in Israel, then there is another place in the world where my heart lies, and it could not be much more different. For two years I lived and worked as a teacher in a small town, amidst of the rice fields and mountains, in Japan. In the winter it would snow to waist height, and in the summer it was so humid you wouldn't want to step outside. Each season had a beauty to it that the Japanese embraced with 'matsuri' festivals. As one of the only Westerners in town I was given celebrity status - often a blessing, sometimes a curse, and always an incredible adventure. 

I am proud to include a link to my new website (creatively named) 'Memoirs of Japan'. 

 
 
Thank You for Reading and Enjoy