The Temple Mount/Haram Ash-Sharif

Sunday morning I got up early to visit the Haram Ash-Sharif or Temple Mount area, which is only open to visitors from 7:30 a.m. - 11 a.m. on Sundays through Thursdays. I planned to go to a Eucharist in Arabic at St. George's Episcopal Cathedral at 9:30 a.m., so I had to get to the Haram Ash-Sharif area very early if I wanted to have any time to spend there before the service.

Given all the restrictions around entering the Temple Mount area, I almost gave up on trying to visit it, especially knowing that as a non-Muslim, I wouldn't be allowed to go in the mosques, even during the times I was allowed to be on the Haram Ash-Sharif area. But, this was supposed to be an interfaith pilgrimage, so I couldn't really be true to my intentions without at least coming in close proximity with the main prominent Muslim sites in the city, so I decided to go early on Sunday morning to visit the Haram Ash-Sharif.

After trying unsuccessfully to enter at two different entrances, I finally found the one entrance through which all non-Muslims are required to enter -- which, interestingly enough, is through a long covered wooden walkway that begins right next to the Western Wall security checkpoint! So my initial assumption that I could visit the Western Wall and then go right up to the Temple Mount area was actually correct after all! After waiting in a line and going through the security screening, I walked up the long wooden walkway to the Temple Mount entrance, passing Israeli soldiers along the way and a huge section of plastic crowd-control barricades stored right outside the entrance to the Haram Ash-Sharif.

Right before exiting the wooden covered walkway, there was a large sign in Hebrew and English with a message from the chief rabbi of Jerusalem, warning that entrance to the Temple Mount area is forbidden, since it was once home to the Holy of Holies, the most sacred space where the Divine Presence was believed to dwell. Since the Temple's destruction in 70 CE, it is not certain where exactly the Holy of Holies was located, so some rabbis have determined that it's best to avoid the entire Temple Mount area, lest you accidentally step into what once was the Holy of Holies, where only priests were permitted to enter. The Rabbi of Jerusalem is obviously of this opinion.

It was rather interesting, seeing this sign posted there saying all people are forbidden to enter this area, and watching large groups of people walk right up there and enter it anyway. This raised again the question about boundaries between traditions -- at what point do we respect the boundaries set up by other traditions (you're not allowed to enter this space, you're not allowed to take part in this or that ritual), and at what point do we ignore them, saying they don't apply to us because we're not part of that tradition? So, if I can just walk past this warning by the chief rabbi and enter the Temple Mount anyway, reasoning that I'm not a Jew and thus his authority is not binding on me, and also that I don't believe that entering the Temple Mount is "dangerous" because of the presence of the Holy of Holies, can my non-Christian friends just come forward to receive communion in a church because they want to and because they don't believe that the restrictions against it are valid and true? If they can't or shouldn't do that, then perhaps I shouldn't have entered the Temple Mount at all, out of respect for the rules set up by the Jewish authorities about their sacred site.

And perhaps the Jewish authorities are right about the Divine Presence dwelling there, because as I climbed the steps up to the area where the Dome of the Rock stands and stepped onto what used to be the Temple Mount, I was overcome with an intense sense of the presence of God. My body seemed to sense the sacredness of this site on an instinctual level as my eyes filled with tears in an involuntary, automatic reaction that took me by surprise and I almost began to sob. I felt drawn to drop to my knees in that very spot (although I didn't, since overt displays of prayer by non-Muslims on the Haram Ash-Sharif area is forbidden and I didn't want to get myself in trouble with the Muslim authorities who were stationed around, keeping a close watch on the visitors).

Stepping onto the Temple Mount was probably the single most intense religious experience that I had on this trip, which totally took me by surprise. (I'd assumed it might happen in a Christian site like the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, which, although powerful, was not nearly as powerful as this.) I thought of the generations and generations of people who had come here to worship, of Jesus himself visiting the Temple in the first century. As I walked around the Dome of the Rock and looked up at its sheer size and magnificence, all I could think was, "It's so beautiful. It's so beautiful." And the fact that I couldn't go inside filled me with an intense sadness, for the boundaries and restrictions enforced on peace-loving people because of the violent actions of a few extreme individuals.

I was also struck by the sheer size of the Temple Mount area, and how much of it was large, open space. Huge plazas stretched out all around me, and although I'm sure these plazas are full of people during Friday prayers, it seemed like such a waste of space during the relatively un-crowded time of early Sunday morning. As I wandered around the area, it struck me that there would be room here for a Jewish place of worship, and a Christian place of worship as well, in addition to the Dome of the Rock and Al-Asqua mosque. What if there were to be three places of worship here, all on top of the Temple Mount, symbolizing interconnectedness and harmony between the three faiths? A very similar project is taking place in Omaha, Nebraska, as the Tri-Faith Initiative plans to build a church, a mosque, and a synagogue on a shared piece of land, to model interfaith cooperation and peace. I wept over the thought of how beautiful such an interfaith sharing of this space could be, of how powerful it could be to see the three Abrahamic faiths praying and worshipping together, at the same time realizing that such an endeavor of cooperation is so very far out of reach here.

As I left the Temple Mount and mulled over my interfaith vision, I was reminded of Peter's words to Jesus on the Mount of the Transfiguration: "Lord, it is good for us to be here. Let us make three dwellings: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." (Matthew 17:4) In the story of the Transfiguration, Jesus does not respond directly to Peter's suggestion, but a voice from heaven booms out, "This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him!" and then all the other prophets disappear, suggesting Jesus's primacy over the prophets of old (Moses and Elijah), and presumably Peter abandoned his idea of a multi-chapeled Abrahamic shrine on this mountain. All the preaching and teaching I've heard on this passage have taken Peter's words to be misguided, saying Peter wanted to try to "capture" the divine moment he saw taking place, and that he missed the point of the Transfiguration by wanting to build these dwellings on that mountain. But after my visit to the Temple Mount, I'm not so sure Peter was misguided.

Lord, it is good for us to be here. Let us make three dwellings: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Muhammad.