Jerusalem

When the sun sets over the Judean hills, the white dressed stone of Jerusalem turns gold, and peace indeed seems to be within the high walls. Sometimes it is. But don’t stop praying for the peace of Jerusalem too soon; around you, three religions and two warring peoples stake claims to a single acre of land. The blinding Jerusalem stone, by law the finishing material of every building in the city, has seen more than its fair share of blood, all in the name of love for the city.
At its worst, Jerusalem is vicious. “Jerusalem,” reflected Muhammad ibn Ahmed al-Muqaddasi in the 10th century, “is a golden basin filled with scorpions.” At its best, it is more magnificently spiritual than perhaps any place on earth. In a strange way, this can be difficult, too; the Israeli poet Yehuda Amihai sighed that the “air over Jerusalem is saturated with prayers and dreams, like the air over industrial cities. It’s hard to breathe.”

The spiritual, religious, architectural, and nationalistic charms of Jerusalem attract all kinds of people. Religious Jews of all sects, from the Ultra-Orthodox to Reform, Christian pilgrims, Armenians, nationalist Palestinians, secular Israeli intellectuals, devout Muslims, working-class Israelis, Mormon missionaries, annoying American tourists, fanatics, mystics, and raving lunatics coexist side by side. (For fun, try to figure out who’s who.) What keeps them all together is neither mutual understanding nor the holy spirit; tension and struggles, at times violent, are frequent. Rather, it is the strange personal bond between the city and each of its dwellers that makes them stay; they socialize with their own, and turn away when seeing the Others. Indeed, Jerusalem may be one of the most fragmented cities in the world, thinly united by stone veneers, cold winters, a few main roads, and a magic spell.