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But its luster is easily tarnished.
Just pass through the walls, past
beggars at the gates and the raga–
muffin children selling olive-wood
camels to tourists, past the poor
residential area and past scores of
shoppers and shopowners bargain–
ing over the price of merchan–
dise-like the nations have done
for centuries over J erusalem itself.
lts history and antiqui ty live on
into this modero world; so does the
bias of centuries, and the poverty it
breeds. The Jerusalem of gold that
is sung about is less a physical real–
ity in the heart of Israel, more a
spi ritual dream of things yet to be.
Today, Israelí soldiers guard
the peace and security of Old
J erusaJem, from the ancient stone
window in the Damascus Gate
overlooking the Arab quarter, to
the checkpoints surrounding the
plaza at the Western Wall. To
Western eyes, the sight of armed
Israelí so ldiers-male o r fe–
male-is often disturbing; to
Arabs it is an irritant; to the
lsraelis, a comfort.
Through Arab Eyes
1
made the acquaintance of an
affable, pipe-smoking Arab, edu–
cated in England, and planning
soon to return for a visit. He
i nvi ted me a long with sorne
friends to his borne for conversa–
l ían and coffee.
Turo ing off the busy Street of
the Chain, we left behind the din of
the souk, the smells of the spice
and olive-wood shops and walked
through the nearly deserted, dusty
alleys of the Arab quarter. He led
us proudly to the stone archway
that leads to his home off the
street. His fami ly has lived in the
building for 600 years.
Abovethearch hungapictureof
Mecca, signifying he has taken his
pilgrimage there. Nearby, a mod–
ero arch of newly cut J erusalem
stone st retched across the alley,
braci ng th e sagging walls.
1
commented about it. I should n't
have.
"Yes," my friend says with a
frow n . " Bu ilt ther e by th e
lsraelis."
We were led inside through a
dark, cool corr idor to a fl ight of
stone stai rs, worn from centuries
of use. The s tairs led into the
sunli ght again, to a rooftop
porch. We sat beneath a trellis
of grape vines drinking Turkish
coffee and talking of life. Our
Arab friend had traveled widely
a nd seen much; far more, per–
haps, than most of his neighbors.
But his borne was with his aged
mother and older brother in a
bu ild ing showing six centuries of
wear.
And Through lsraell Eyes
In the bright, new st reets of the
J ewish quarter - rebuilt in the
traditional style after the area
was · leveled i n the S ix Day
W a r - wa lk ed a lea th e r y–
ski nned , English-looking Israelí
carrying a bag of groceries and
wearing a carpenter's hat to shade
his eyes. We entered into conver–
sation.
" How long have you lived in
J erusalem?"
"Since two months befare the
state," he replied. " But why stand
out here and talk? Come in and
have a cool drink."
lnside he removed his cap and
replaced it with a blue, embroi–
dered skullcap--sign of a modero
Zionist. His wife brought drinks.
As she placed them on the table
her left sleeve sl id back to reveal
blue-green numbers tattooed on
her forearm.
A teacher, and able to afford
the much-in-demand modero
apartment in the heart of the Old
City, the Israelí showed us a map
he'd made of the Mediterranean
area. In red, rimming the perim–
eter of the sea from Morocco to
the lndian Ocean to Turkey, was
the Arab kingdom . In blue on the
eastern shore, a speck in compari–
son, was Israel with its pre-1967
borders.
" Befare the 1967 war," he
said, "a friend asked me why my
country spent so much on
defense.
1
took him to Natanya on
the coast. We got on the bighway
and started driving. Ten minutes
and 12 ki lometers later we were
at the other border."
But why live in J erusalem,
1
thought? He laves the whole
count ry; why Jerusalem?
"This flat is in the same loca–
tion as the Hasmonean palace
[seat of J ewish authority in the
last two pre-Christian centuries]
once was. We are right on top of
it," said tbe Jerusalemi te. "This
borne is t ruly our palace."
Leaving the apartment is like
passing through a time wa rp.
Leave the modero to enter again
into the ancient streets and ways,
past the crowds, past a 2,000-
year-old hole in the waJI where an
Arab boy hawks bottles of Coke
labeled in Hebrew and English.
All the color and bustle of an
oriental bazaar crowds into the
ancient, narrow s treets of Old
Jerusalem. Infants and elders,
tourists and nat ives, Moslems,
J ews and Christians-all barter
and mingle aJong tbese main bou–
levards bisecting the waJled city's
labyrinth of alleyways.
J erusalem is a city of contrasts
and ironies at every turo, where
6,000 years of human history and
experience seems to have con–
verged in one space at one t ime.
Three great religions have bred
and ai red their differences here,
yet it is to this city which they all
must look for ultimate peace.
- James Capo