A HIP Reflection: When Jerusalem Spoke in Many Voices

Freedom of religion exists in both Israel and the United States. However, freedom of religion in Israel seems to manifest itself very differently from how it is expressed in the United States. This is largely because in Israel, all three of the Abrahamic religions are highly visible in their daily practice. 

Visiting Jerusalem is an incredible experience. It is the place Jews have yearned for for thousands of years, and the chance to visit, knowing that it was denied to so many ancestors, is truly a remarkable feeling. But Jerusalem is not only a Jewish city. 

The first moment I truly recognized this came when our tour group heard the Muslim call to prayer for the first time. It was midday, just before we entered Hezekiah’s Tunnel (an aqueduct that provided ancient Jerusalem with water), when an announcement in Arabic suddenly echoed through a loudspeaker. It was jarring, not only because I had never heard a public call to prayer before, but also because it forced me to recognize that Jerusalem holds profound significance for people of other faiths as well. Later that day, our group also heard the church bells ringing for mass. It was then that it fully sank in: in a city I had always considered “mine,” there were public prayers for religions beyond my own. 

Later in the trip, our group toured both a mosque in Jaljulia and the church where archeologists believe the Last Supper took place, known as the Cenacle. This was the first time that I had ever been in a place of worship that was not Jewish. Both experiences felt strange. 

At the mosque, it was unfamiliar to remove my shoes, cover my hair, and enter a circular space adorned with writing in a language I could not read or understand; a place where people subscribed to a faith that was not my own. The church was also striking, though in a different way. It was another beautifully built building, but it was different from going into the mosque. Despite being a significant Christian site, where many Christians flock, there was a Mezuzah on the doorpost. There was nothing overly Christian about the space, likely because it had become a mosque in later years. Perhaps I am extremely used to American churches where there are crosses everywhere, but, to me, there was nothing particularly special about the building that would make it distinguishable from any other in Jerusalem. Regardless, it was still odd to enter the place where Judaism and Christianity practically diverged. 

At both houses of worship, I kept thinking about the halachic principle discouraging entry into non-Jewish places of worship. While I cannot say that I follow every halacha, this was one that I always intended to observe. Places of worship deserve respect and reverence. While they can be used as educational tools, they are first and foremost a place where people can connect with the God that they believe in and be around fellow believers. In both places, I felt as though I was intruding. 

I know that I would not feel this way if a Christian or a Muslim entered my shul; I would want to show them around, but something inside me wanted to say that this is where we split. We do not have to believe in the same God as long as we respect each other. For me, part of that respect has always meant not entering into another religion’s sacred spaces.

Yet the fact that I was able to do so highlights just how beautiful and powerful freedom of religion truly is. It is a concept that lets us express ourselves and learn about others, and understand that though we are different in some aspects, we are all human.