Jerusalem: When Faith Calls
Since a Swedish guy named Josef from my Florentine hostel in Tel Aviv is also planning to go to Jerusalem, and we are staying in the same hostel there, we decide to make the trip together.
At the hostel, Daniela has given Josef a nickname that annoys him a bit: “Arnold.” According to her, he looks like Arnold Schwarzenegger—and even speaks English with a somewhat similar accent.
In the evening I sit on the roof terrace of the hostel in Jerusalem, watching the sun set over the Old City. From the Muslim Quarter below comes a cacophony of calls to prayer from the mosques. Although it is noticeably cooler here than in coastal Tel Aviv, quite a few travelers are still sleeping outside on the terrace.
I end up joining a small group conversation where a young Swedish guy tells the story of how he ended up here.
Since childhood he had wanted to become a priest. When he was younger, other children at school teased him about it. Eventually he even started lying during religion classes, claiming that he did not believe in God. But as the end of high school approached, the conflict inside him grew stronger and stronger. Finally he told his parents that he had decided to pursue the path of becoming a priest.
He had been afraid that his father—who was a convinced atheist and had very different plans for his future—might reject him completely. But that never happened. Instead, he said that from that moment onward he felt a deep sense of peace, as if he had finally chosen the right direction in life.
Before being allowed to start priesthood studies in Sweden, he had to go through a long process. First there was a psychiatric evaluation, then two hours of questioning by a local bishop, and finally several hours of intense questioning by a six-member committee. He also needed to have a driver’s license, which required passing the driving exam.
Without yet knowing the results of the last two evaluations, he had come to Jerusalem to attend a seminar. He explained that becoming a priest in Sweden requires five or six years of university studies, followed by a couple of years working as a priest’s assistant.
I should also mention that he was an extremely sharp and entertaining young man. He amused everyone by demonstrating his ability to speak English with a wide range of different accents—American (his favorite), British, Irish, South African, Nigerian, and Indian. He said that practicing different accents had been part of English classes at his school, and he had especially enjoyed that part.
In any case, I wished him good luck in achieving his goal.
Jerusalem itself offers many small observations as well. In the early 1990s many Russians immigrated to Israel, which is why you also encounter plenty of Russian-speaking tourists. The streets around our hostel show a somewhat chaotic side of city life—for example, trash containers standing directly along the street.
In the Old City, trade and small shops flourish along the narrow streets, selling everything from food to souvenirs. One of the simplest and most satisfying meals during the day is a kebab sandwich from a small street stall.
From the hostel rooftop, the view over the Old City and the Mount of Olives is especially beautiful at sunset. Later at night, however, the streets of the Old City become surprisingly quiet, a sharp contrast to the daytime crowds.
Comments