We had reached a level spot on the rough stone street. Turning left we entered St. Mark Street. The streets we walked were not the streets to which we were accustomed, but the streets of another time; another place; another world. St Mark Street was only wide enough to accommodate two to three people walking abreast.
Small shops lined both sides. They were not so much shops as small spaces; stalls, one right next to the other. At night heavy, dull green, metal doors were used to secure them. We were walking in the old city of Jerusalem.
It was Sunday morning. Teresa and I were headed for the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, near the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, for Sunday services. In a city, which is predominantly Jewish and Muslim, Sunday is like a Monday in the western world; even at this early morning hour shops were beginning to open.
A pleasant, rotund gentleman stepped out of his “stall” into our path. Around his head he wore a banded white cloth with a red pattern. A day’s growth of beard covered his cheeks and chin.
“Good morning!” he said with a smile. “You are my first customers of the day.” “I have a special price for you.” We had been in Jerusalem long enough to be accustomed to saying: “thanks, but no thanks.”
“We’re on our way to services,” I responded, picking up a little momentum.
“Please, it will only take a moment,” he persisted. “It will do you no harm to look,” he said pointing upward. Reflexively, I looked up. There, across the top of his stall, were a number of beautiful stoles (a vestment worn by both deacons and priests). I had been looking for one as a gift.
Teresa and I glanced at one another. After 35 years of marriage our communications are often instinctual. Into the shop we went without a word. His jovial patter continued as we headed to the back of store. “You will be my first sale of the day.” “I will give you good price.” “You will give me a good start to the day.”
I examined the stoles as he laid them out on the counter in front of me. None really interested me even though he was already negotiating the price. Preparing to make my escape, my eye suddenly fell on a beautiful white stole with red Jerusalem crosses, hanging farther in the back on the wall. I indicated the stole to Teresa by an imperceptible nod of my head. “Will you sell us that one for the same price,” she asked pointing to it. “Well,” he began with feigned thoughtfulness. “Of course, but you know it’s much better than these.” “You are getting a very good deal.”
The stole was quickly folded, bagged and the necessary shekels handed over. “You have given me a good start to my day,” the man said, handing me the bagged stole.
“Would you like me to give you a blessing as well?” I had said it before I had even thought about what I was saying. He looked at me for a moment. “Yes, I would,”he responded with a smile. “What is your name,” I asked. “You can call me Sam.” “What faith do you practice, Sam” I inquired? There was a brief pause.“Today…I'm a Christian.”
I placed my hands on Sam’s shoulders and he responded in kind. The blessing proceeded as one would expect. I prayed to God that Sam have a pleasant and profitable day. Then, mid-blessing, something changed in Sam’s demeanor. His look became serious.
I paused to take a breath and in that moment Sam stopped me. “Please, please pray for our children,” he blurted out. “Pray that all our children might live in peace.” We prayed together for peace.
And, for that moment, at least, there was peace in Jerusalem.
Nations negotiate truces, but people make peace. Truces are not about making things right, or leveling the playing field. They are about getting what you want. Often, terms are dictated by the stronger of the two parties without much concern for the long range impact of those terms. Negotiating a truce implies leveraging as much as possible and giving up as little as possible. In short, nations negotiate to win while often nothing is really resolved.
Peace, on the other hand, is about taking the time to step out of our frame of reference; or world and into the world of another. It requires taking the time to understand what it means to be them; to walk a mile in their shoes and experience their burdens. It is about relinquishing our biases, and identifying our blind spots.
In short, it is about searching for all the commonalities while being accepting of the differences.
Sam gave me the greatest gift he could have given me. He chose to stand in my shoes, if only briefly. He chose to see life through my eyes, to give me the opportunity to bless him. For that moment, he was a Christian. When he realized how little difference there was between us, he asked for the most important thing any of us can ask for: Peace for our children…Peace for our world.
Dear God: “Make me a channel of your peace.”
“If one harbors anywhere in one's mind a nationalistic loyalty or hatred, certain facts, though in a sense known to be true, are inadmissible.” ~George Orwell (pen name for Eric Blair), English author and journalist, known for 1984 and The Animal Farm, (1903-1950)
©2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
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