Shabbat in Jerusalem

I have now spent two Shabbats in Jerusalem and have had two very different experiences of doing so.



The first was as part of the Birthright group. We brought in Shabbat at the Western Wall. I had been there once before, about 12 years ago, and remember finding it strange, feeling that I didn't quite fit in with either the ultra-orthodox Jews or the hordes of tourists who were the two groups represented there at the time. Friday night is quite different, with thousands of Jews of all stripes pouring into the area. Approacing the site, it was hard not to get caught up in the buzz. Once there, however, I felt distinctly underwhelmed and, I must admit, rather frustrated. Our Birthright coordinator lead a Kabbalat Shabbat service that I had hoped to take part in but, although I was only a meter or so away from him, there was the gender barrier in between us that meant I could see the boys in the group take part through the gap in the fence, but couldn't hear or follow myself. I wondered away from the group to go and touch the wall. I don't know what I was expecting to happen but I felt quite unmoved. I actually felt less connected to the Jewish people and Jewish heritage and history whilst I was there than I usually do. I did, however, feel compelled to kiss the wall and I have absolutely no idea why. Walking back to the group I grabbled with the rather incongruous sight of a group of female soldiers praying, singing and dancing, all in uniform, their AK47s rattling at their sides.

By the following Shabbat, the Birthright tour was finished. I was still in Jerusalem staying with an old friend of mine from synagogue in London, Binyamin, and his husband Avi. They live in a part of town called Baka which is really quite beautiful with a lovely residential feel. On Friday night we went to synagogue which was surprisingly moving. This was despite the fact that my time on the Birthright trip had confirmed for me that I don't believe in God, and I was feeling unusually conflicted about saying the prayers. Part of what I enjoyed so much was the singing - beautiful, harmonious tunes, most of which I knew. That's one of the things I like about being a Jew - almost anywhere I go in the world I can find a community in which I feel a part. There was a congregation of bishops visiting the synagogue that night and their leader gave a speech about different religions coming together. I forget the details now but I made me feel all warm and fuzzy at the time. The best part of the service by a long shot, though, was the prayer for peace which concluded the evening. It moved me close to tears. I think in part that was because the singing was so beautiful. But it was more than that. We say the same prayer at synagogue in London, but here, in Jerusalem, in Israel - a country at war - it really felt like it meant something. It's hard to put into words but it was incredibly powerful at the time. I should point out that I don't think praying for peace is going to do anything to achieve that desired result, and I don't get the impression that anyone else here thinks that either, but that didn't stop it being extremely moving to be around praying people for whom peace means so much.