In other news, I finally made it to the Temple Mount. The Temple Mount is more or less “the point” of Jerusalem. In biblical times it was where Adam was formed from dust, where Abraham bound Isaac, and most importantly where God chose the ‘divine presence’ to rest- that is, the site of the First and Second Temples. As a result, it’s regarded in Judaism as the junction of heaven and earth. With the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE by the Romans, Judaism shifted irrevocably to a model of rabbinic Judaism and diaspora- the model familiar today. Essentially, the location of the Temple is synonymous with the Jewish claim to Israel. (I hope I’ve summarized this coherently and accurately- this is the sum of what we spend several weeks working on in class) A few hundred years later the Temple Mount was the destination of Muhammad’s Night Journey on a mythological steed from Mecca to Jerusalem. From there he ascended from the foundation stone to heaven, and received instructions from God. Because of the story’s importance in the founding of Islam, the site is the third holiest in the religion. It includes the Dome of the Rock (covering the foundation stone) and the al-Aqsa Mosque (the ‘farthest mosque’). 
In modern practice the Temple Mount is Muslim domain, a site of pilgrimage, study, and prayer. Along the western side of the Temple Mount remains the Western Wall/Wailing Wall, the only surviving part of the Temple, to which Jews pray. Christians, too, regard the area as sacred because of shared history with Judaism.
On Sunday morning our class had a tour with a graduate student in archaeology from Hebrew University. He said, “I study rocks,” as explanation for any gaps in his knowledge of history, religion, politics, et cetera (which as far as I could tell, didn’t actually exist). He was a different sort of tour guide- not extremely charismatic or polished, but instead really down-to-earth and obviously brimming with information on the 
subject. I found him really trustworthy, too overflowing with historical knowledge to have room for a personal agenda, I guess. He had a funny way of personifying rocks- describing them as ‘dancing’ during an earthquake, and objecting to or praising different rulers. After the tour he invited us to join him for coffee in the Shuk, at a stand with some tiny stools- his favorite, he said. I found most impressive his grace- he very skillfully maneuvered between clunky and loud American students and the Arab coffee stand owner. As an American student hyper-aware of my inherently loud and clunky nature, I typically cope by staying in as small a group as possible and assuming an apologetic demeanor. He stood among us, though, not 
embarrassed, somehow simultaneously interacting with us and establishing camaraderie with the coffee-owner. He arranged the ten of us who stayed in a circle and addressed us as equals as we talked about his life, our studies, our thoughts on the city. Someone asked him (ethnically an Arab) if he was religious. He smiled and asked what we thought? “I guess not?” He said, “I believe only in stones.” With full humor, but also sincerity. His wisdom delivered in a joke was very striking, perfect for this country- it makes one optimistic about the future here. The clunky students who stayed on may have learned as much drinking coffee in the Muslim Quarter as during our two-hour lecture on the Temple Mount.
subject. I found him really trustworthy, too overflowing with historical knowledge to have room for a personal agenda, I guess. He had a funny way of personifying rocks- describing them as ‘dancing’ during an earthquake, and objecting to or praising different rulers. After the tour he invited us to join him for coffee in the Shuk, at a stand with some tiny stools- his favorite, he said. I found most impressive his grace- he very skillfully maneuvered between clunky and loud American students and the Arab coffee stand owner. As an American student hyper-aware of my inherently loud and clunky nature, I typically cope by staying in as small a group as possible and assuming an apologetic demeanor. He stood among us, though, not 
embarrassed, somehow simultaneously interacting with us and establishing camaraderie with the coffee-owner. He arranged the ten of us who stayed in a circle and addressed us as equals as we talked about his life, our studies, our thoughts on the city. Someone asked him (ethnically an Arab) if he was religious. He smiled and asked what we thought? “I guess not?” He said, “I believe only in stones.” With full humor, but also sincerity. His wisdom delivered in a joke was very striking, perfect for this country- it makes one optimistic about the future here. The clunky students who stayed on may have learned as much drinking coffee in the Muslim Quarter as during our two-hour lecture on the Temple Mount.
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