Dome of the Rock

The final stop on our Trifecta Tour of the Old City
was the Dome of the Rock, one of the three holiest sites in Islam.  The rock in question is the rock that Abraham
laid Isaac upon as he prepared to sacrifice him, and it’s the same rock from
which the Prophet Muhammad stepped off of as he ascended into heaven.  That’s a pretty righteous rock, maybe even a
little self-righteous.  Apparently the
rock wanted so badly to follow the prophet into heaven that Muhammad had to
press it back with his foot, leaving a deep footprint in the stone.  Muhammad got a pass into heaven and all it got was a gilded dome.  Incidentally, the gold for the dome is rumored to have been provided by King Hussein of Jordan, who sold one of his New York City properties to pay for it. 

I wanted so badly to see this alleged
footprint but unfortunately you’ve got to be a Muslim male to go inside.   Instead, we wandered around the plaza outside, where little
kids played soccer, women strolled around in burkas, and one woman conned my
father-in-law into paying her for snapping a photo of him.  I
was taken aback to see weeds growing on the grounds and even litter lying
around.  The whole place had a somber, uneasy feel and I was
glad to leave. 

I suspect they were glad to have me leave too, not just the
temple mount where the Dome of the Rock is, but I think they’d like me and my
kind to leave the entire country. Or at least just leave them alone.  The stark contrast in atmosphere between the Jewish
celebrations going on at the Western Wall at the base of the temple mount and
the stultifying atmosphere and oppressive heat at the top by the Dome of the
Rock are a microcosm of the status of the whole country—separate and
unequal. 

The Arab neighborhoods we
walked through to get to the Old
City were as run down as
any photograph from the third world I’d ever seen.  The photo above was taken just outside Nazareth, one of the more developed and prosperous Arab cities.  Apparently there are laws that prevent even
Arabs with the means from developing the land they own.  Meanwhile the Jewish neighborhoods were plush,
suburban and decidedly western.  Perhaps
that difference explains the barbed wire and shards of glass lining this fence in the Old City... 

As anyone who grew up in the South in the ’50s and 60’s could
tell you, there’s nothing like a double standard to create a little
uprising.  I
won’t pretend to have all the answers, but it seems to me if you want peace in
the Middle East you might start with creating some peace in the middle of Jerusalem.  Until then, you’ll have to keep an eye out
for signs like this: