Late Night in Zion

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Standing at the gates of the old city in Jerusalem I notice the limestone. Beyond this point every street, house, floor, ceiling, and stair is made of this pale stone. There is only one entry to go and come from the old city. It is at these gates I am standing. Where millions have driven, walked, and even fought through. I walk closer to the limestone and see just how torn up and abused this ancient stone really is. I remember the texture smooth but scarred with bullet holes, cannon marks, arrow dents and the occasional car mark from the current generation.

I see the transition from the floor being pavement and turning into the uneven limestone bricks, which made it impossible to wear heels. I step through this walkway knowing the only way to come out is retracing my steps. As you walk though, the architecture of this simple gateway is complex. There are hidden alcoves and secret traps for the intense battles that went on right where I was standing. The most basic trick was a simple architecture design. If you tried to enter during a war you would of course have a shield on your left arm protecting you and a sword in your right hand. The design of the gate made it an easy trap for righties who were trying to come through. You would not be able to protect yourself and would need an army of all lefties to safely enter the gates.

While walking around the old city I notice the pace of life is so much more relaxed. Before going to the Western Wall, I stop at a new portion of the wall that was dug from underneath the ground. From this part of the wall you are actually at a lower elevation then Western Wall. At this wall I am told all throughout the old city the temples walls are buried underneath. This fact they found out while knoc...

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...elt it in my blood. I knew I was being heard. I finished my prayers and walked with my face towards the wall. I saw the Israeli flag illuminated by the wall getting smaller and smaller as I disappeared to find my friends.

Since it was the Sabbath, I couldn't ride in a car. We left a different exit this time. As I continued my journey to our kibbutz I remembered I was not staying in Jerusalem but the town outside of it. The town called Jerusalem Hills. I didn't notice how much I would dislike that word, hill, so much. Walking in a group of 40 for miles of darkness in the infinite cold I finally made it back to the kibbutz three hours later. I then attended the kibbutz Kiddish that consisted of challah, danishes, figs, and of course hummus. We say the last prayers of the night blessings the food and each other and dig into the feast we were to reward ourselves with.

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