The Temple Mount

Today in my intro to Jewish Folklore class we looked at a photograph that billions of people have probably seen and that I have seen many times before. It was an aerial photo of Jerusalem. My teacher, Steve Siporin, has lived in and visited Israel many times and explained the picture to us in more depth than I have ever heard before. He pointed out the Western Wall (the holiest place in Judaism), the Dome of the Rock (an especially holy place in Islam) and the Garden of Gethsemane (an immensely reverenced place of my own faith Christianity). He then proceeded to point out another very holy Muslim Mosque, Hebrew University and BYU Jerusalem. All these were centered not just in Jerusalem but on and around one specific place: the sight of the ancient Jewish Temple and current site of the Dome of the Rock, anciently known as “the Temple Mount.” Next he showed us places where Jews can go but where Muslims and Christians aren’t welcome, places where Muslims can go but Jews and Christians aren’t allowed and finally places for Christians that Jews and Muslims would do best to avoid. He also told us some of Israel’s history over the last 60 years and of the thousands of people that have died in this one climactic spot.

As Professor Siporin spoke I reflected on not just the thousands that have died recently but also on the millions that have died and still will die in consequence of this place and the conflicts centered there. It made me wonder why; why the bloodshed, hate, fear, attacks, reprisals and counter-reprisals? What is it that starts such an awful tragedy and what is it that perpetuates its continuation?

I am mature enough and honest enough not blame the religions under whose banners so many atrocities are committed. Those that believe religion is to blame are often looking for an easy culprit and excuse to blame something other than the real motive that is far more common than religious zeal. Indeed, were it not for religion far more people would have died throughout history’s course and would have died far more unhappily. What is it then that turns a once peaceful village like Jerusalem into an historical symbol of hate and jealousy?

It turns out that for the answer to such a complicated question I would need an in depth case study into human nature: an intramural soccer game.

For the past month I have been playing on an indoor soccer team at USU. We are undefeated, skilled players. We are all also all white: born in the USA, raised in the USA, English speaking men. Several hours after my class and its discussion of Jerusalem we played a team as different from ourselves as could be. They were dark skinned men of Arabic descent that spoke some unknown foreign language. In fact, to all appearances the only thing we had in common was our love of soccer and our intense desire to win. To add to the charged setting we each had our own cheering squads. Ours was composed of about 12 white, very loud girls. Theirs consisted of about 20 equally loud Arabic girls and boys.

As play commenced we quickly realized that the other team was just as skilled as we were. Their moves were quick, their passes accurate and their shots right on target. Accordingly, the level of play intensified. When they would score our fans would “boo” while theirs cheered wildly and vice versa. When we pushed they pushed back.

What happens in such a situation? Two teams of equal skill and determination both playing for mastery of a small court and a smaller ball; each, if realistically examined with equal claim to the victory. One may comparatively ask, what happens in a similar situation on a worldly scale? One, two, three religions of equal doctrinal intricacy, tradition and history all vying for mastery of a small city and prominence; each, if realistically examined with equal claim to possession.

I can only tell you what takes place in the soccer game and only from our side of the court. Early on a pass goes out of bounds and both teams contest the possession. The refs decide in our favor but the other team continues to assert control. Our player, knowing he is “in the right” makes a grab for the ball which the other player rudely avoids. In exasperation, injured pride and self righteousness another of our players takes a decisive and predictable step. He angrily yells, “Give him the ball you dirty Indian!” There! We’ve done it! Now the two sides are clearly delineated. On the one hand we have the injured and justified rule loving Americans calling on the offensive and uncouth “others” to honor the impartiality of the referees. That is what happened on our side.

Although I don’t know if this indeed occurred I can imagine similar happenings on the other side of the court. The refs (both white) have once again discriminated in favor of their countrymen. Truth is not the issue; clearly, his foot touched the ball last! "The arrogant Americans are cheating again!" And so with raised tempers and clearly insulted pride the game proceeds.

The “Arabs” score! Their fans go wild. They yell gesture and celebrate. We can’t understand what they’re saying. Who knows how they’re insulting us! They’re in America! Why don’t they speak English?!

Payback. Our player deftly winds through the opposition, shoots and scores! Our fans go wild! Now it’s our turn to celebrate. The choice: what should we yell? What gestures should we make? Fortune it seems has smiled upon us. Isn’t it time to “get them back?” What was it they were yelling? We couldn’t understand it but don’t we know?

It is the decision faced by each religion, culture and person in Jerusalem at some time or another. Fortune smiles upon us. Now we control the Temple Mount! What should we do with it? Isn’t it payback time, a time to right generations of wrongs? “They murdered our ancestors, the original inhabitants of the land under the banner of their ‘One True God’!” “They burnt the Temple and defiled the vessels of the Lord!” “They killed the Messiah, the redeemer of mankind!” Now we have the power! What do we do with it? How do we celebrate our goal?

What did our teammate do; the one that dribbled the ball juked the defenders and made the shot? Celebration and derision: “That one was for Allah!” There again! We’ve demonstrated our power once more! Not only have we scored but we’ve insulted their religion, and thrown it in their teeth! What are they going to do about it?

The second half arrives. Now comes the real contest. Time is quickly slipping away. Advantage changes rapidly from one team to another. And, sadly, terrifyingly and in clear terms it is my turn. Where will I stand? What will I do when I control the Temple Mount? It’s my turn in goal. The ball goes out of bounds and results in an indirect kick for them. Players are everywhere! A hard fast shot comes streaking in. If it goes in the goal but doesn’t touch anybody, no goal. If it touches someone and goes in, goal. The ball goes in. In the confusion our team solemnly swears it touched no one. The other team just as solemnly adjures that it hit someone and should be counted. The refs are at a loss. In their consternation they move to call it a no goal. Only I know that the ball brushed the side of my foot as it went in.

What do I do? Isn’t the answer obvious? Fortune, our true friend has smiled on us again. All I have to do to move our victory towards a more certain conclusion is keep quiet. Besides, what do I care about them?

I wonder, how many times over the past six thousand years has this question been asked. When placed in a position of power with the opportunity to better your people’s estate solely at the cost of some “other” group what do we do? When fortune smiles on us, lifts us up and gives us control by telling us all we have to do is stay silent or call out an insult what do we do? The answer it would seem is easy. The Golden Rule is not unique to Christianity but is a creed in every religion of the world. Why then hasn’t it been followed? And why when it’s my turn do I struggle deciding whether or not to come out and say that the ball glanced off my right foot?

Someday, somewhere the out of bounds ball in your life will be contested. What will you call out to the “offending player” when you are sure you’re in the right? Someday you’ll score the goal. How will you celebrate? Someday you’ll be the only one in a gym of 50 people that knows the ball barely grazed your foot. What will you say or not say? What will you do when you control the Temple Mount?

The story could very well end there and stories that end on thought provoking questions often end best. This one, however, because of its outcome merits an ending.

In complete control of the Temple Mount I weight my options. It’s just a game. Why should I speak out to help some people I don’t even know when all it will do is injure my friends? If they’re so good anyway they should have scored a more spectacular and obvious goal.

At the same time, how many times in everyday life do you have such a clear choice between right and wrong? For perhaps the first time all day, all week, there is no gray; just “it touched my foot” or silence. “Perhaps,” I wonder, “if I choose the right now in these clear circumstances I’ll be able to distinguish more clearly with the more difficult decisions I have to make.”

“Wait. It hit my foot. It’s a goal.”

The referee responds, “it did?”

“Yeah, just barely.”

“Oh. OK. Thanks!” He turns to the two teams. “It’s a goal!”

What happens then? Surely you know the answer. The other team raucously and unintelligibly calls out, “we knew it! Cheating Americans!” Our team angrily glances at me, “damn do-gooder,” but saves their most stinging insults and brutal play for the opposing team.

But wait. It didn’t happen that way. The other team and their fans, somewhat astonished look at me and then give me the “thumbs up” with smiles on their faces. Our team and our fans look at me, somewhat quizzically, and clap. “Good job man.” The game is still intense, play continues in earnest but something is different. By the end of the night not two teams leave the court saying, “I’m glad we don’t have to play those jerks again,” but rather ten intermingling men walk out saying “that was a good game.” The answer of all ten players to the question is, “I guess we’ll share the Temple Mount and have more fun this way.”