Issue link: https://bluemagazine.uberflip.com/i/25165
the year 2001. The city was filled with people of many religious faiths who believe that the messiah is on our doorstep. Some say the pious and pure of heart will be gathered up and walk the path of the messiah while the wicked will burn in an apocalypse. Others say the day of judgement will clear the way for the coming of the messiah. In the Church of the Holy Sepulchre there is a constant line of people waiting to enter the Chapel of the Angel and touch the spot where an angel is said to have sat on a stone and proclaimed Jesus' resurrection. One day I came across a wild-eyed Romanian woman furiously lighting candles. Speculation on the coming of the messiah is a good conversation starter in Jerusalem, so I asked her, "When is he coming?" "Not now," she replied. "First there needs to be a third world war where God makes everyone believe in Jesus. The Muslims are the worst, and the Jews have their eyes closed. Jesus closed their eyes and before he comes again, he will open them." "Ho\v?" "Lightning, war." Emerging from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is like surfacing from a thick, dark sea. I headed through the Christian Quarter, into the Muslim Quarter and towards the Western Wall. The streets, made entirely of rough creamy stone dating back to the days of Jesus, are about wide enough for three people to walk abreast. The city lies on a gentle hill, the Christian Quarter at the top and the Muslim Quarter at the bottom. The Jewish and Armenian quarters lie to one side. I turned a corner and suddenly the Dome of the Rock rose ahead of me. Muslims from around the world dream of praying in al-Aqsa Mosque, on the Haram ai-Sharif, but it is difficult for most of them to get there. During the holy month of Ramadan, Muslims from all over the West Bank come to offer their Friday noon prayers. While they prayed, the streets of the Muslim Quarter were empty The silence lasted for about 45 minutes. Then the first people left the mosque and ran through the streets to beat the heavy crowd following on their heels. The crush of people leaving the Old City lasted for hours and the narrow streets were unpassable. The Haram ai-Sharif is close ly controlled by the Muslim authorities-non-Muslims are permitted to enter only at certain times, through certain gates. But the spot is sacred not only to Muslims. It is rich with meaning for Jews and Christians as well. In 1969, Denis Michael Rohan, an Australian Christian claiming to be divinely inspired and making way for the coming of the new messiah, set fire to the al-Aqsa Mosque destroying a good portion of it. Most of it has since been rebuilt, but a week after I arrived in Jerusalem, guards at the mosque found a Christian Palestinian man inside Haram ai-Sharif with a sawed-off shotgun and three hand grenades. Destruction of the Islamic buildings would precipitate more than the coming of a new messiah. Muslims I spoke to in Jerusalem predicted it would most definitely start World War Three. One day I decided to check out a guy called Bob who runs nightly tours around the Old City and charges only three shekels (about three dollars) for three hours. At that price, I figured Bob must have an agenda above and beyond his tours. Indeed, Bob turned out to be no ordinary tour guide. A somewhat non-descript fortyish Brit, he stood at the Damascus Gate at 7 PM every evening, amidst piles of fruit, candy and cassette tapes, surveying a ragtag group of backpackers. His