Jemil learning the hard way my reasons for packing light to visit Old City Jerusalem. The main thoroughfare leading to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and the front of the Church itself.
Dark, musty chaos
People weeping
People praying
People waiting
People pushing
The Church of the Holy Sepulcher
The place of Jesus’s empty tomb
This place is holy
This place is history
This place is crowded
This place is a mess
Or it was last time
Now, in the evening, it’s dark, musty, contemplative
People weeping
People praying
People waiting
People singing
The Muslim man takes my hand
He starts to sing too
Jemil Abdu
His father’s name
His middle name
His Arab name
His name got us stopped at the border for five hours
They searched his bags
He’s Ethiopian
He’s Muslim
He’s American
He’s my friend
It’s his first time in the Holy City
And he’s honest to a fault
With the special investigator at the border
With our classmates
With me
With his God
Jemil trusts his God to judge all justly and mercifully
The Muslim makes this place holy for me
He sings of baptism
He sings of healing
He sings of forgiveness
He sings of my faith
Our faith grows together here
Different and the same all at once
We sing
We pray
We weep
We wait
We wait for peace
We wait for something higher
