Twelve years have passed since I was last in Jerusalem. Being in the Holy City in the last few weeks has brought back a range of emotions. Joy at seeing the outline of a city that lifts the spirit, walking the paths that tens of millions of feet have walked for millennia — and also feeling the emotional heaviness that Jerusalem elicits within the heart.
Those who have visited Jerusalem may connect with the joy, happiness, sadness, elation and depression that I felt — a range of emotions that only Jerusalem brings out in those who walk within the bounds of the city. After 12 years of being away from this unique place, I reconnected and felt these emotions again.
Jerusalem does not fit into an emotional box. It challenges, it confronts, it comforts and it reminds us that we are on this Earth for a fleeting moment. Kings, queens, chieftains and so many who believed that they could shape the future of Jerusalem have faded into dust, and yet there is something unique in this city; a uniqueness melded from its own history, its past, present and future. Jerusalem has its own energy and a pulse that draws us in.
Yet underneath it lie the fault-lines of a violent past. In 1967, across Mamilla’s streets that are now some of the trendiest in the country, Jordanian and Israeli troops fought.
Few of the young shoppers going in and out of the latest Mamilla branded shops will have a clue that the “green line” cut across the centre of the shopping area.
About 200 metres away stands the Waldorf Astoria hotel. On the front facade hangs an Arabic inscription that points to the past of this imposing building. Built in 1929 at the behest of the Supreme Muslim Council by the Turkish architect Nahes Bey, the inscription says, “As our fathers built and acted, shall we build and act.” The Waldorf Astoria was built on an Islamic heritage.
Walk into this establishment today and you will find myriad meetings taking place in the corners of the hotel where start-up entrepreneurs seek to get their ideas off the ground and where Israeli politicians speak about their vision for the country. It is a hub of ideas, of hope and sometimes of hubris.
Walk up the road about half a mile and you will come to a place that I first connected with in Israel in 2006, Mishkenot Sha’ananim. There, in this corner of Jerusalem, stands a windmill overlooking the Old City skyline. The Moses Montefiore Windmill was built in 1858 at the initiative of the philanthropist to provide a source of livelihood for those in this area and a place where flour for the poor could be crushed and distributed. This tower was made from local stone and machinery created in England and shipped to Jerusalem.
A stone’s throw away from Mishkenot Sha’ananim stands the St Andrew’s Memorial Church. I have long made a point of visiting this church every time I have visited Jerusalem, sitting on the wooden chairs and reading the list of British soldiers who gave their lives for King and Country in the First World War. On top of the church, the Scottish flag flies and I can’t help but feel that a part of the United Kingdom has been left in the Holy City, as though a part of home still comforts the weary traveller thousands of miles away.
I have always felt connected in this church, thankful that I have been able to sit and contemplate inside walls that have seen so much conflict around them.
Jerusalem is the centre of interest for so many precisely because it is all things to all people. It is the mirror that reflects back time, yet also lulls you into a false sense that you can shape this city. Jerusalem’s complexity and energy consumes us, at the same time as it also connects us to it. Which other city can we say this about? That is why Jerusalem remains at the heart of so many across the globe.
Fiyaz Mughal OBE is the Founder of Muslims Against Antisemitism and the Founder of Faith Matters
