L'shana Habaah

Old City Jerusalem, Israel

How does one say goodbye to a place as special as Jerusalem? My four friends and I stood just inside Jaffa Gate scratching our heads, wondering what to do. We had four more hours of in the city remaining before we boarded a plane for the States, and we needed an appropriate way to say goodbye to Israel.

During our ninety days in the country, we spent more time in Jerusalem than anywhere else. In the first three weeks of study we went on three all-day field trips to the Old City to get acquainted with its history, geography and culture. We experienced iconic and historic places like the Temple Mount, the Western Wall, tunnels under the Western Wall, Hezekiah’s Tunnel, Zedekiah’s Cave, and many churches and other sites. In addition to all this, every Saturday morning we would go to Shabbat service at a congregation that was composed of believers of all nations, speaking twenty different languages in the same service. After service we would spend the rest of the afternoon shopping, eating, and exploring the Old City. By the time day 90 rolled around we could navigate the narrow, winding streets of the four quarters of the city without the need of a map.

How do you say goodbye to a city so rich in history, so full of character and life, and so full of culture? How do you say goodbye to a city that funnels millions of travelers and pilgrims through its gates every year? How do I say goodbye to the most educational and adventurous ninety days of my life?

There was one more activity in the Old City that I hadn’t done yet. We paid fifteen shekels to pass through a gate and climb a couple flights of stairs to emerge on top of the Old City walls that we had walked past so many times. These old walls held their own sense of character at this point in our relationship, but walking the perimeter of the city on the walls themselves was an uncharted level in my friendship with ancient stones.

We walked on walls that were 500 years old, built in the mid 1500s by the Muslims. Surprisingly, looking down into the Old City was far more interesting than the view outside of the walls. Looking down, we could see in the backyards of churches and monasteries, young Arab kids playing soccer after school, women hanging up laundry from lines on rooftops. We could see the golden top of the Dome of the Rock glistening in the evening sunlight; and church steeples were abundant against the evening sky.

But as we walked atop stone walls that we had walked around for the past three months, I realized how much my perspective had changed since the first time I laid eyes on these stones.

Coming to Israel and leaving Southern California for the first time in my life, I was the outsider looking in; I was outside the walls—especially as an American who has never been overseas.

 I’ve seen Jerusalem in the news, read about it in my Bible, knew a lot about biblical events that took place there; but there is nothing like being there and experiencing it for myself over and over like I had for the past three months. On the ninetieth day, after all my new knowledge and experiences, I’d made it to the top of the wall—but not necessarily into the city; I am by no means more Jewish or more Christian just because of my travels. But I understand more and I can see more, just as my perch from the top of the wall gives me a better view of the city, both inside and outside of the walls.

In the last half hour before we left, I had one more stop to make. A friend led me through the back alleys of Jerusalem, climbing fences and jumping across rooftops until we came to a spot over looking the Western Wall.  Yes, it’s just a wall, just like all the other hundreds of stone walls I’d seen in Israel; but for all the millions of people who travel from around the world to stuff their prayers into the cracks of the historic site, it’s not just a wall.

I stood there drinking it all in for the last time. Odds are I’ll never be in the Middle East again. It was like leaving a good friend that I’ve started to get to know really well. I’m going to miss walking past one of the holiest sites in the world.

I kissed the stones on Jaffa Gate as we walked beneath the old stones for the last time and turned our backs on the city. Who knows when I’ll be back—if ever? But now my prayer echoes those of Jewish people around the world who pray for their return to the Holy Land:

“L'shana habaah b'yerushalayim.”

Next year in Jerusalem.