Anthony Forrest shares an experience he had in a land of both peace and war.
“What this?”
“You have drugs?”
“Is for party?”
We had heard this and other inquiries like it for several minutes now. All around us, heavily armed soldiers stared at us, unmoved. We had been in Jerusalem for only a couple of days, and it seemed that we were already in trouble.
Please understand this: Israel is safe to visit. The news publishes the exception, not the rule. That being said, bad things happen, terrorists attack, and the Middle East constantly wallows in unrest and tiresome status quo. While we boarded our flight to Tel Aviv, a commotion caught our attention outside the aircraft. Several police cars and fire trucks congregated between our plane and another. After a 45-minute delay, the pilot announced that we would be under way shortly. Upon arriving in Israel, our friends met us with wide eyes and concerned looks. Our flight had been the target of a bomb threat. Later that day, a terrorist in Tel Aviv stabbed and killed nine people on a bus.
And now here I stood at the Western Wall, trying to explain to the small army of Israeli soldiers that the small clear bag of Tums in my wife’s purse was not actually illegal drugs. After they were entirely satisfied that we were not starting a drug distribution ring at one of the world’s most important religious sites, we were escorted through the gate.
Men and women are separated here. Men must have their heads covered and never turn their back on the Wall. Women must have their arms, legs, and heads covered. The name of the game is respect. With our respective head coverings, my wife went to the right side of the gate and I went to the left.
After all of the intense security and unsafe occurrences, my heart pounded even harder at the peace that stood in front of me: an ancient, 62-foot-tall, limestone wall. Small slips of paper inhabited every crevasse of the old stones. Each slip had a prayer for something—most of them for peace.
And I shouldn’t be surprised.
This is Israel.
The land of war.
The land of peace.
Anthony Forrest shares travel stories and poetry on his blog anthonyforrestwrites.com. He and his wife Christina live in Brainerd, Minnesota.
A complex and disheartening dichotomy indeed. Of all places.
Yes, you’re right. Can’t wait until the King of Peace comes to finally sort us all out. Can you even imagine what real, universal, complete peace will be like?! I’m longing for that day.