By Maia Efrem
AMMAN, Jordan — When we signed up for the Covering Religion seminar back in November, we knew we were headed for adventures in Jordan and Israel. But when our tickets arrived we learned that we were getting a traveler’s bonus: a full-day stop over in Istanbul. For most of us, it turned out to be a day to explore Istanbul’s timeless mosques, underground waterways and old world bazaars. However, two members of our traveling party were left in the airport, where they did their own exploring. Read more | Photos of the Day >

By Sam Petulla
AMMAN, Jordan — Inside the King Hussein Bin Talal Mosque, after imam Sheik Rababa delivered a sermon about the value of togetherness, compassion, and keeping a clean heart, the members of our traveling seminar were asked to leave the services before the juma, the main gathering prayer. On a day of considerable cultural mixing and exchange, the cognitive dissonance produced by our ejection from the mosque stood out as a point where East failed to fully meet West. Read more | Photos of the Day >

By Mariana Cristancho-Ahn
PETRA, Jordan — Prince Hassan, the crown prince of Jordan during most of the reign of his late brother King Hussein, proved himself to be a man of diplomacy and charm during our two hour meeting with him on Saturday morning. He did his best to put everyone at ease with his humor, razor-sharp wit and a breakfast fit for royalty. After our diplomatic encounter we left Amman and headed to Madaba and Mount Nebo, before we took the long bus ride south to Petra, where we spent the next day. Read more | Photos of the Day >

By Josh Tapper
PETRA, Jordan — Our trip to Petra was organized as a respite from religion, an opportunity to be tourists. And what a tourist jaunt it was: Geriatrics lazed in horse-drawn carts commandeered by Bedouins; locals hocked tchotchkes and mule rides, or “desert taxis”; and at some points the site looked like a promotional video for Tilley Hats. But what did we find amid the serpentine canyons? A group of pilgrims holding an impromptu service — perhaps it was divine intervention. Read more | Photos of the Day >

By Yaffi Spodek
TIBERIAS, Israel — Our final day in Jordan began with a pre-sunrise wake-up call, the sounds of the alarm mingling with the morning crow of the local roosters and the call to prayer from a nearby mosque. After breakfast, we said our goodbyes to Petra and the Taybet Zaman Hotel and embarked on a seemingly endless bus ride. Our destination: the Sheikh Hussein Border Crossing, the northernmost point to enter Israel from Jordan, and Kibbitz Lavi, where we met Rabbi Yehuda Gilad. Read more | Photos of the Day >

By Tammy Mutasa and Mamta Badkar
TIBERIAS, Israel — As the Muslim call to prayer sounded through the streets of Nazareth at noon, church bells from the Roman Catholic Church of the Annunciation started to ring—up and down, up and down. The faster they churned, the louder the ringing became, turning two beautiful religious symbols into one cacophonous soundtrack. For our class, the cacophony best captured the diverse and sometimes conflicting religious symbols of our first full day in Israel. Read more | Photos of the Day >

By Sanaz Meshkinpour
JERUSALEM — Ever since we arrived in Israel, the news from Jerusalem was grim. Palestinians, angry over the building of new Jewish homes and over the re-opening of an old synagogue, were clashing violently with Israeli police. Jerusalem was our destination on Wednesday and we approached it with a combination of fear and excitement. But before we got to Jerusalem, we had a meeting at Kibbutz Hanaton where we witnessed a religious encounter of a very different kind. Read more | Photos of the Day >

By Omar Kasrawi
JERUSALEM — Soon after we entered the Old City, our group split up. Three members of our traveling party ascended to the Temple Mount. The rest went to the Western Wall. Then we all visited the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The evening ended at a cafe, where we spent time at a reception for J School alumni and the class ate dinner in the company of eight young adults who participated in two interreligious dialogue programs between Palestinian and Jewish students. Read more | Photos of the Day >

By Carolyn Phenicie
JERUSALEM — On Friday we saw the many faces of this holy city: the Jerusalem of memorials, the Jerusalem of protest and the Jerusalem of prayer and song. Our day began with a visit to Yad Vashem, the Israeli Holocaust memorial, continued with a visit to demonstrations outside the Old City, including a sizable demonstration in Sheikh Jarrah and ended at the home of Oded Levinson, an ultra-orthodox Jerusalemite, for a traditional Shabbat celebration. Read more | Photos of the Day >

By Jose Leyva
JERUSALEM — After traversing Jordan and Israel, on Sunday we entered the troubled region in between the two countries known as the West Bank. It is an area that was captured by Israel during the War of 1967 and has been a source of tension ever since. In keeping with our religious focus, we visited Jewish and Arab Christian holy places but the political story was never far behind, especially given the announcement by Israel that it was going to continue to expand its hold on Jerusalem. Read more >

The dome of the rock on the temple mount, Jerusalem (Omar Kasrawi/Journey to Jerusalem)

JERUSALEM — Seven ancient stone gates are used to enter the Old City of Jerusalem. On Thursday, our first full day in the holy city, we used the Dung Gate, not because of its name (it was where the trash was once hauled out) but because it is the closest one to reach the sacred sites we were there to see.

Once inside the gate, we saw two lines of people waiting to get into the Haram el-Sharif (Temple Mount); one for Muslims and one for non-Muslims.

As the only Muslims in the group, Sanaz, Sommer, and I broke away from the class to see the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa Mosque, two of the holiest sites in Islam. Sanaz was forced to surrender her laptop and audio recorder to the police. Visitors are frequently asked to recite the Fatiha, the first sura (verse) of the Koran to prove that they are indeed Muslims as no other faiths have been let in the Mosque since the second Intifada (Palestinian uprising) in 2000.

While Sommer was comfortable reciting it, Sanaz and I needed a quick refresher and went over it during the climb up to the Haram el-Sharif. Our preparation paid off; we were all allowed inside the holy sites.

Both Sommer and Sanaz prayed on the red and white squared carpeting on the main level of the Dome of the Rock as well as in the little cave beneath the rock itself, which is directly under the bright golden dome of the mosque. “It was amazing,” said Sanaz. “You feel like the place matters. It’s not your local mosque,” she added.

For Sommer the experience was just as rewarding. “This whole trip has been about observing other people’s religions. Today I got to live mine,” she said. “I felt something the whole time I was there.”

Sommer expressed frustration that our classmates could not get to the Temple Mount. It closes everyday at 10 a.m. and by the time they made it to the front of the line to enter the plaza it was too late.

From there the class moved on to the Western Wall (known in Hebrew as the Kotel), the last remains of the Second Temple. Hundred of Jews were there, many of them rocking back and forth during prayer. We also encountered three bar mitzvahs taking place just a dozen feet back from the wall. Tammy, a Christian, partook in the ritual of praying at the Kotel and placing her prayer, written on small piece of paper, in a crack of the Wall.

“I asked for God to protect and take care of my family forever,” said Tammy. She added that she asked for courage and wisdom and to find a rare and deep love like no other.

For another of our group, the visit to the Wall represented a culmination of better fortunes in her life. “The last time I was here, two and a half years ago, I was in a bad place,” said Maia. “Now everything is upside down for me. I came and said what my mom taught me: ‘Bless the children of Israel and my family,’” she added before running back to the Wall to add a prayer for her grandparents.

From there we rounded out our triumvirate of holy sites with a visit to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. The church is built on the site, Golgotha, where it is believed Jesus was crucified and the cave where he was laid to rest and resurrected. At the entrance to the church some visitors returned the four foot tall wooden crosses they rented to carry with them as they walked the Via Dolorosa (“The Way of the Cross”), the now cobblestone path that Jesus was forced to walk on the way to his crucifixion.

Inside the church hundreds of people lined up to enter Jesus’ tomb and touch the rock where the cross he was nailed is believed to have stood. Believers also knelt and kissed the stone where his body was prepared before his burial in the cave.

“This was the best part of my day,” said Carolyn. “My grandparents always wanted to come and couldn’t. So I was here for them today. They were in my thoughts the whole time.”

However Carolyn expressed frustration at the tug of war between the numerous Christian denominations that share custody of the church. The need for control can manifest itself even over which group gets to clean certain stones in the church. “It’s a shame that it is fragmented,” said Carolyn. “Especially when you think about how important it is to so many Christians,” she added.

However, for Mariana, a Protestant, the Church is not where Jesus was crucified. “We believe that happened at the Garden Tomb and I’m going to go there before we leave,” she said determinedly.

From here the group broke off for an afternoon of reporting. During that time, students researched stories ranging from the expansion of settlements to the Mamilla cemetery controversy to interviewing such figures as the Rev. Dr. William Shomali, The Chancellor of the Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem.

Toward the evening we reconvened at T’Mol Shilshom Bookshop Café in downtown Jerusalem where we spent time at a reception for J School alumni who live and work in Israel. The graduates ranged from one whom last year celebrated the 50th anniversary of his graduation to a couple that graduated as recently as two years back. Of the ten who attended, most were working journalists, although one worked for the Israeli foreign minister and another was a student in a yeshiva.

The café, with its wrought iron fixtures and leather bound books that share shelf space with bottles of wine, would fit right in Manhattan’s East Village. Once the reception was over, the class ate dinner in the company of eight young adults who participated in two interreligious dialogue programs between Palestinian and Jewish students. Yonatan Gorenberg and Samah Qunbar, an Israeli and Palestinian participant respectively, spent the evening discussing the frustrations of both sides and what needs to be done to try and change things.

Yonatan spoke of how he brought tenth grade Israeli students to the West Bank village of Abu Dees to show them how the dividing wall built by the Israelis splits the town in two. Samah expressed her frustration about living in society where she doesn’t get treated equally because she doesn’t carry an Israeli passport.

“The dinner was the most informative session we had so far,” said Carolyn. “I found the students’ candor about the tenseness of the situation between Palestinians and Israelis refreshing,” she added.

From there it was off for our daily ritual of ending the night in search of an Internet café with some wi-fi.

A gardener trims the bushes at the Baha'i Shrine in Acco. (Mamta Badkar/Journey to Jerusalem)

But before we got to Jerusalem, we had a meeting at Kibbutz Hanaton in the rolling hills of the Galilee where we witnessed a religious encounter of a very different kind. Here, rabbis, imams, priests and ministers gathered for lunch, study and reflection as they do every few months.

We were invited to join the interfaith gathering and our guide, Ophir Yarden, made a point of dividing us among the tables so that we could talk to the participants over lunch. He made sure there was a Hebrew speaker at every table to help translate the conversation. Carolyn Phenicie sat at a table with a rabbi and two priests from the Eastern Catholic Church–a sect where non-monastic clergy can marry. While many of us are still struggling to learn the differences between each sect, Phenicie said, “it was really interesting to see that these leaders had basic questions too.”

Rabbi Ron Kronish, one of the organizers of the lunch, explained that things are very different in the Galile than in hotspots like Jerusalem. “I feel the Galilee is the lab of what Israel would be like if we get it right,” he said.

It is a story that is rarely told but one that we got to see first hand. After the lunch, the clergy gathered in the synagogue of the kibbutz to study religious texts together and we had an opportunity to learn about the kibbutz community.

Yaniv Gliksman, the director of the Hanaton Educational Center, told us that the kibbutz, which identifies with the Conservative movement in Judaism, has been struggling to expand beyond its core group of 25 families. He said he regularly meets with new families interested in joining the kibbutz and hopes to more than double the size in the next few years.

Kibbutz Hanaton was actually our third stop of the day.

The day began with an early wake-up call in our rooms at Kibbutz Lavi Guest House in Tiberias. From there, we drove toward the port city of Acco, stopping first at the gardens and shrine of the Baha’i prophet, Bahaullah.

Bahaullah is the most important prophet for the Baha’i, and his shrine is the holiest place in the faith. When all around the world the Baha’i pray, they pray toward this shrine in Acco.

Bahaullah was born in Tehran, Iran, in 1817. He was a follower of the message of the Bab–announcing the imminent arrival of a new prophet to follow in the footsteps of Moses, Buddha, Jesus and Mohammed. He endured long periods of imprisonment, torture and exile. While in prison in 1863, he announced that he was the prophet promised by the Bab. Bahuallah was eventually exiled to the penal colony of Acco.

Although there is no Baha’i community within Israel, nearly 600 volunteers maintain the faith’s holy sites in the country, the one here and another in Haifa. After walking through the elaborate gardens that surround the shrine, we met the caretaker, Rustam, who was introduced to us by his first name. Rustam, 69, asked us to leave our shoes at the door, and walk into the building in silence. Ten years ago, he left a career as an orthopedic surgeon in London, to live on the grounds and welcome guests.

“Being in a very spiritual place, we know and we feel the power of the spirit of the prophet all around us,” Rustam said. “All the time that we are here, one feels overwhelmed.”

Liang, who covered the Baha’i faith in New York, was struck by the sprawling gardens surrounding the shrine. “To be honest, the beauty of the gardens has more of an impact on me,” he said.

Rob Weinberg of Bahai International said the gardens were meant to portray a tranquil image of what the world could be if mankind could work together toward peace.

Our next stop was the Al-Jazar Mosque in the Old City of Acco where we met the senior imam, Sheikh Samir Assi. Assi described both successes and failures at promoting interfaith dialogue. Assi quoted a passage from the Quran about Cain and Abel. “If you extend your hand to kill me, I am not extending my hand to kill you. For I revere God, Lord of the universe [5:28].”

He pointed out that Islam has plenty of examples of peace and nonviolence. And he went on to tell a story about a neighbor who never responded to Assi’s daily and persistent greetings. One night, Assi said, he helped the neighbor open a jammed front door, and the two have been friends ever since.

Throughout the trip, a number of students have expressed frustration about not always being able to connect the dots between theology and every day practice. For Sommer, who also interviewed Assi following the group meeting, this conversation resonated with her because Assi used concrete examples.

“Tell me how you practice these ideas in your everyday life,” she said. “I appreciated the Cain and Abel story, but the real message was that he helped his neighbor.”

It wasn’t until late Wednesday, as night began to fall, that we arrived in Jerusalem. The bus took us to the Mount of Olives where we could see the setting sun reflect off of the Dome of the Rock—or Haram a-Sharif—and create a golden hue over the old city.

From our vantage point above the city, we could see most of the places that we have been reading about both in our textbooks and in the newspapers: the Dome of the Rock, Al Aqsa Mosque, the Western Wall and the Hurva Synagogue.

“I always wondered why people fight so much over such a tiny space,” Mamta said. “But when we got here, it made sense. Everything we have been reading and studying about was right in front of me. I understand why it’s so real to people here.”

NAZARETH, Israel — As the Muslim call to prayer sounded through the streets of Nazareth at noon on Tuesday, church bells from the Roman Catholic Church of the Annunciation started to ring—up and down, up and down. The faster they churned, the louder the ringing became, turning two beautiful religious symbols into one cacophonous soundtrack.

For our class, the cacophony best captured the diverse and sometimes conflicting religious sounds and symbols we took in on our first full day in Israel.

The day began with our arrival at the Church of the Annunciation in Nazareth, which Christians believe to be the site where the Virgin Mary received the word from the Angel Gabriel about her immaculate conception.

As we watched, pilgrims from all over the world walked around the courtyard looking at the mosaics of Mary represented from all over the world—Mary in blue adoring Jesus in the manger from the Dominican Republic; and from China, Mary and baby Jesus floating in fluffy clouds adorned in oriental garments. The mosaics donated by various countries come loaded with their own interpretation of the Madonna.

After searching for his native Mexico icon, Jose walked the length of the courtyard scanning for the Mexican interpretation of Mary. His frustration grew as he quickly surveyed about 25 icons and still couldn’t find the one he was looking for.

“Why can’t I find Mexico?!” he whined jealously— especially after Maia found her native icon from Georgia first. Finally the moment: Jose witnessed the Virgin de Guadalupe de Mexico on the second story of the church near the grand altar.

“It was very powerful to encounter the Virgin de Guadalupe,” said Jose who believed he had a religious encounter. “Everything seemed right in my life; it was very peaceful and peace is something that’s hard to find these days.”

After the Church of the Annunciation, we strolled down the street, politely navigating away from aggressive vendors selling religious trinkets ranging from wooden carvings of Jesus’ face to smooth velvet Yarmulkes all sprawled out on tables.

At the bottom of the street—the Church of Annunciation still in full view—stood the Shihab a-Din Square. It’s the proposed site of the Shihab a-Din Mosque, a bone of contention in this city, which has so much Christian history but a clear Muslim majority. Later, Sheikh Abd Al-Salam Manasrah would tell us the permit they had to build the mosque was later revoked.

Across the street, inside a neglected building, was an NGO called Lights of Peace, a Sufi center focusing on interfaith work in Israel. Visible from its window was a green banner that read, “Say: He is Allah, The One, the only Allah the Eternal, the Absolute. He begetten not, nor is He begotten. And there is none like unto Him.” The banner outside served as a clear marker of disputed territory.

We were invited inside and met Sheikh ’Abd Al-Salam Manasrah, founder of the association, and the Rev. Dr. Louis Hazboun, pastor of the Yafia church in Nazareth and professor of theology at Mar Elias College in the nearby village of Ibillin. The two sat on white plastic chairs in the compact room as they spoke to us in platitudes about conflict resolution and bringing peace to the region.

The day would come when they could build a mosque but no one should have to die for its creation said the Sheikh, “for it says in our tradition that a human life is more valuable than all the houses of prayer in the world.” The friar added that Christians were not out to convert the Jews or the Muslims, rather learn and respect from them.

During his talk, the sheikh randomly made an accusatory remark about Osama bin Laden of being a product of America and former President Bush’s assistant. Sunil called him out.

“It was the casual way he sprinkled it into the conversation,” Sunil said, who wasn’t impressed with the interfaith dialogue. “It’s amazing how radicalized the rhetoric is.”

After five and a half years, the center will shut down by the end of April because it has no money—adding another blow to the gossamer coexistence.

“Closing the center is death for me but I have no choice,” Sheikh Manasrah said.

While the Friar and the Sheikh preached about the confluence of the different faiths, outside the Lights of Peace center, the struggle to reach those ideals became a vivid reality. It was then we heard the commingling sounds of the adhan, the Muslim call to prayer, and the bells from the Church of the Annunciation. Most of us stood there taking it all in.

“Couldn’t they have at least waited a few minutes until the call to prayer was over?” asked a male colleague later. No one knew the answer.

As we reflected on the Sheik and the Friar’s message about religious coexistence we filed into the bus headed for Safed, one of the four holy cities in Israel and the center of Jewish mysticism.

That was, until we realized Mamta and Sam were missing. Before the bus pulled out of the parking lot, we all used our keen powers of intuition and guessed that they were still at the square. That’s were we found them—still munching on falafel.

An hour later, we pulled into the parking lot of Safed to a glorious view of the Amud Valley and the undulating green hills sprawling across the horizon.

“It was breathtaking, everything that makes people go ‘ahh’ here are the religious places,” Maia said. “I was like what hand of God made this?”

We walked down a narrow footpath in the Jewish Quarter of the city. After passing through several little shops selling artwork, mezuzahs and hamsas, we turned into the Yosef Karo Shul Synagogue. We sat around the blue painted room and listened to our marvelous guide Ophir Yarden explain how Jews exiled from Spain in 1492 became drawn to the city.

“Jews were attracted to live here because of the Golden Age of life which took place here in the 16th Century,” Ophir said. “Some of the most important books and creations and ceremonies of the Jewish tradition were all created in Safed in the 16th century.”

Later, we walked to the Ashkanazi Ari Synagogue. Yaffi grinned with delight when she had the opportunity to stand on the bima in the men’s section of the synagogue. Traditionally Jewish Orthodox women don’t lead prayer during services and sit in a separate section of the synagogue.

“It gave me new perspective and made me wonder how I would feel if I was leading prayer up there—I would be nervous,” Yaffi said still smiling.

Towards the end of our tour, we visited a defunct mosque-turned art exhibition hall in the former Arab Quarter. Ophir said the quarter ceased to exist when the Palestinians became refugees after 1948. Now it is known as the Artist’s Square.

Exhausted and nowhere near the end of our 14 hour day, our journey pressed on to Meron to see the tomb of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai. As we walked up to what Professor Gorenberg described as an “ad hoc” prayer site, the scene mimicked an outdoors dance party as Jewish religious music laced with techno beats blared to Jewish school children, men and women laughing and chattering.

Before entering the building, our group separated by gender: men to the left, women to the right. Inside the stuffy room, Jewish women holding the Book of Psalms prayed earnestly, rocking back and forth in the direction of the tomb. Yaffi said it was Rosh Chodesh or the first day of the month in the Jewish calendar. Still, the display bothered her.

“The ambience was kind of disappointing,” Yaffi recalled. “If this is the only visit to a holy tomb the class was going to see, I would have wanted the ambience to be more holy and quiet or befitting of a prayer.”

Later that evening we pulled up to Beit Jann and were greeted by Sheikh Jamil Khalib who stood outside his home in the surprisingly nippy weather that most of us weren’t prepared for. Shaking hands with the men but nodding his head in acknowledgment at the women in the group, he led us into his warmly lit hall.

The talk didn’t reveal much about the teachings of the faith—which are secret— but gave us insight into some of their practices and problems they have had with assimilation in Israel and around the world.

Omar thought it was more like a history lesson given their secrecy, while Liang who covers the Baha’i and the Druze faiths echoed the sentiment, he found the answers were, “Well thought out and had context to the current situation in Israel because he talked about how the Druze learned from the Jews.”

After the delicious baklava, Turkish coffee, and lovely Middle Eastern spread, we couldn’t have been more thrilled to finally be on our way back to Kibbutz Lavi for the night.

Rabbi Yehuda Gil'ad gives a talk on Religious Zionism at the Kibbutz Lavi in Galilee. (Lim/Journey to Jerusalem)

When we reached the border, Omar’s parents were waiting there to watch him cross from the Jordanian side. Following an emotional embrace with his mother, Omar explained the significance of the event and why his relatives had driven in from Amman to witness the crossing. “My Dad is of Palestinian descent, from the West Bank,” he said, “and it’s a big deal that I’m going back to the place where he came from.”

The first order of business in the two-hour crossing ordeal was lugging our suitcases off the bus and through a security checkpoint. Next we were all thumb-printed and photographed by the Jordanian border agents before getting an exit stamp on our passports. Security on the Israeli side of the border was even more intense, as several students were questioned at length about their family and geographic backgrounds. But we had been expecting the worst, and were relieved when everyone was allowed to enter the country with minimal drama and delay.

“I guess it’s weird being asked a lot more questions when I go through any border, but I expect it,” said Sanaz, who was born in Iran. “They kept asking what nationality my parents were and what they do and where they are.”

As we walked out of the customs area, Professor Gershom Gorenberg – looking comfortably at home in a wide-brimmed hiking hat and his trademark spectacles – cheerfully greeted the group, and introduced us to our tour guide, Ophir Yarden of the Interreligious Coordinating Council of Israel.

Our first stop was at Falafel Zahava in Beit She’an, where everyone enjoyed the ethnic cuisine. “This is the best falafel I ever ate in my life,” Jose declared. With our stomachs full of pita and our wallets full of shekels, our physical needs were satisfied, and we were ready to continue our religious journey in the Holy Land.

Driving along the Jordan River to the Sea of Galilee, we marveled at the views along the way. “What amazed me most was the contrast between leaving the desert and entering into the green fertile land,” said Mariana, sharing her first impressions of Israel. “I believe that there has to be a spiritual blessing over this land.”

Next stop was the Mt. of Beatitudes Church, where Jesus preached his famous Sermon of the Mount, “sort of like the Mt. Sinai moment in the New Testament,” said Ophir. He compared the eight beatitudes pronounced by Jesus to the Ten Commandments given by God to the Jews.

As we admired the eight-sided façade of the sanctuary, Carolyn read the Beatitudes aloud from the book of Matthew, chapter five. Though this location is believed to be the hillside where the Sermon was given, the Church itself has no historical religious significance since it wasn’t built until 1933. It also overlooks a magnificent view of the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus is believed to have walked on water.

“It was a really powerful experience,” said Tammy. “I wasn’t expecting to get such a strong reaction, but when I got here and saw the Sea and heard the Sermon, I was mesmerized. I have a favorite Beatitude – ‘blessed are the pure of heart, for they will see God’ – and to think that this is where Jesus said it made me teary-eyed. The transition from something in your mind to reality was overwhelming and I loved it.”

Approaching the church, we heard music. A group of Evangelical Christian tourists from Germany were singing in a chorus, led by their pastor, Jacob Kroker. The group, called Messianic Testimony, was performing a Protestant hymn called “It is Well with My Soul.” The hymn struck a familiar chord for Mariana, who knew it from her church back home in New York.

The day’s final stop was the Kibbutz Lavi Guest House, where we checked in and ate dinner. Our guest for the evening was Yehuda Gil’ad, Rabbi of the kibbutz and a head of the Ma’aleh Gilboa yeshiva, who spoke about the philosophy of religious Zionist movement. He described his yeshiva’s “shiluv” model as a college for Jewish studies where young men serve in the army for three years and dedicate two years to learning Torah. “We believe in being religious but also engaging in society,” he explained. “But the problem is that people are taking religious ideology to a political platform.”

In fact, Gil’ad’s speech focused more on politics rather than religion, and he emphasized the potential of the religious Zionists to bridge the gap between different sectors of Israeli society. “Though we believe that this Jewish state is the beginning of the redemption, we must behave morally and cannot deny the rights of the Palestinians to their own state,” he said. Ideologically, he believes in the idea of compromise with the Palestinians, but he doesn’t see this as a practical solution in the near future, referring to the issue as “conflict management” as opposed to “conflict resolution.”

The group had mixed reactions to the Rabbi’s unique perspective.

“Some of what he said was contradictory, but I came away with a better understanding of religious Zionism,” said Jose. “It was really useful in giving a bigger picture of the differences between the ultra orthodox and modern orthodox.”

Maia also took away a conflicting message. “I felt like I was listening to someone who didn’t have a grasp on what he was trying to tell us,” she explained. “He was jumping back and forth so much that he lost credibility with me. I don’t think he explained himself well and he wasn’t effective.”

The night ended early, and our group of tired but ambitious journalists took advantage of the free WiFi, a welcome change from the limited Internet access in Jordan. We posted pictures and articles and considered what stories we would cover as our journey through the Holy Land continued

The Treasury in Petra, Jordan. (Lim Wui Liang/Journey to Jerusalem)

PETRA, Jordan — It’s possible that without the infinite benevolence of Professor Goldman, this daily dispatch would have been about the confines of our hotel and not the rock-cut splendor of Petra, one of the new Seven Wonders of the World and jewel of Jordan’s tourism industry.

An early morning departure mix-up left me stranded as the rest of the Covering Religion class rode the bus to Petra. I managed to contact our tour guide, and after some cajoling from my classmates Goldman agreed to turn the bus around. “It was against my better judgment,” he told me facetiously (I think). “It’s because you have friends. I did it under duress.”

In any case, the bus came back to get me and before long we were at the doorstep of Petra’s vast, serpentine canyon or, as our guide put it, a “well-respected gorge.” Constructed around 2,500 years ago, Petra was the capital city of the Nabataeans, a pre-Roman pagan civilization. But of singular importance, it appeared in the final scene of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, where Indy and his dad ride off into a luminous sunset.

We followed the cobbled limestone path through the canyon, past jagged red sandstone protrusions and verdant trees poking out of the smooth rock façade. The trip was organized as a respite from religion, an opportunity to indulge ourselves as tourists. And what a tourist jaunt it was: geriatrics lazed in horse-drawn carts commandeered by Bedouins; locals hocked tchotchkes and mule rides, or “desert taxis”; and at some points the site looked like a promotional video for Tilley Hats.

Even still, the experience hit some of us on a raw emotional level. “Right now, I feel like I did yesterday at Mt. Nebo,” said Maia Efrem. “How many thousands of eyes have looked at this, and how many millions of feet have walked here? I think that everything in the Middle East – architecture, nature, religion – dwarfs you as a human being. It’s way too big for you to comprehend. Walking here, you’re just another pawn. And you just fall in because you don’t mind being a pawn.”

We hit Petra’s climax at the foot of the Treasury (Al Kazneh), an ornate, columned building lit by a pool of light. It’s grandiosity sneaks up on you while exiting the dim canyon. “It’s hard for me to fathom how they constructed things like that back in the day,” said Mamta Badkar, referring to the structure’s sheer grandiosity.

We hung out for a while, sauntering around the sandy hummock. I, and a few others, planted some amorous kisses on a snorting, doe-eyed camel. But minutes later, we spotted an Evangelical Christian group holding an impromptu outdoor service and jumped into “journalist mode.” Now, maybe it was divine intervention that we hit such a fortuitous moment. Or maybe that 30-minute delay I caused actually paid off.

The group was from the Horizon Christian Fellowship, a so-called non-denominational church from San Diego, that’s following, as they put it, “in the footsteps of Moses” through Egypt and Jordan. Many of us were ignorant of Petra’s religious significance, acknowledging its historical importance in Antiquity, but casting aside its role in Scripture. But, according to unnamed “scholars” quoted by the group’s pastor, Bob Botsford, Petra was a stop on Moses’ trek back from Sinai. He led the Israelites to the area, where he met with the king of the Edomites.

Botsford, a sinewy man with close-cropped hair, sunglasses and khaki cargo shorts, stood holding a Bible in front of his traveling congregation. “There will be many people who will come to Petra in the last days,” he said, referring to the time when Jesus would come to judge the earth. “Theologians have come to Petra knowing it would be a place of safety and refuge, knowing it will be a safe place.” He claimed that Bible tracts have been buried in the caves and rocky bluffs, which will serve those who flock to Petra when the Rapture comes.

A cool breeze swirled through the makeshift nave as Botsford implored his group of 40 to “take refuge under the Lord’s wings.” Amid Petra’s immeasurable scope, Botsford’s words had a gentle resonance. “We need to be the ones listening to the voice of God and listening to his bible,” he preached. “We shouldn’t be listening to the voice of the world, but listening to that still, small voice.”

The Horizon members I talked to said that walking in what they believed were the footsteps of Moses was a transcendental sensation. To be in Petra, and other stops, is to see the Truth reveal itself, they said. (I couldn’t help but think of the Indiana Jones’s hapless companion Marcus Brody and his cautionary words: “You’re messing with powers you can’t possibly comprehend.”)

Back on our trek through the “rose-red city” I was struck by just how diametrically different a trip of pilgrims and a group of journalists can be. After all, Pastor Bob was there to save souls and we were there to do religion journalism. Imagine my surprise when I saw that the pastor managed to post his blog about meeting us before I could write about meeting him. Oh well. I guess I missed the bus again.

Sam Petulla chats with Prince Hassan of Jordan during a visit to a school. (Lim Wui Liang/Journey to Jerusalem)

Prince Hassan, the crown prince during most of the reign of his late brother King Hussein, proved himself to be a man of diplomacy and charm during our two hour meeting with him Saturday morning. He did his best to put everyone at ease.

He greeted us at the door of King Hussein Club, about 15 minutes by bus from our hotel. Professor Goldman, Cynthia and Yaffi, who are Sabbath observers and walked to the club, beat the bus by two minutes.

After introductions, the prince ushered us into an elegant glassed-in room and invited us to partake of a lavish breakfast buffet. We sat at a huge round table with Prince Hassan at the head, Goldman on his right side and members of diplomatic team on his left. While we ate, Goldman briefed the prince on the purpose of the Covering Religion seminar and our travel plans to sites of religious importance in Jordan and Israel.

Prince Hassan spoke about his experience in interfaith dialogue and the importance of “learning by putting yourself in the shoes of others.” He made reference to many scholars that he knew and conferences that he attended.

Prof. Goldman asked each of us to talk about the religion beats that we were covering, making the point that some students were covering faiths that were not their own. He asked Omar, a Muslim who is covering Jews, to begin.

Prince Hassan poses with the class for a group photo after breakfast. (Rania Barakat)

Prince Hassan did not seem surprised by Omar’s choice. He is a good friend of Omar’s father who for many years served as a Jordanian diplomat. As he went around the table and heard from each of us, he would often add his own observations about the various faiths. He seemed to know about everything from Catholics to Druze and from Sufis to Jews.

After the brunch the prince, who is 62 years old, lead the group on a quick tour of the Islamic Educational College, a school for children from kindergarten to 12^th grade, across the street from the King Hussein club. He kept calling it a “madrassa,” a word that has taken on a negative connotation in many circles as a training ground for terrorists. Instead we saw another kind of madrassa, one that had a swimming pool with laughing girls taking lesson, playgrounds and brightly colored classrooms.

After our diplomatic encounter we left Amman and headed to Madaba, a town about half an hour southwest of Amman and the home of a small Orthodox Christian community.  We visited the Greek Orthodox Church of St. George, famous for its VI century floor mosaic map with depictions of biblical sites. It is considered the first mosaic map in the world.

“When I saw that map in the ground it was my first interaction seeing something that old that I can connect with being a Christian,” said Tammy. “Those icons really spoke to me.”

For others the experience was closer to visiting a secular rather that a holy site. “It felt very touristy,” said Sam. “The icons were reproductions and you didn’t really feel the history.”

“I felt disconnected,” said Jose. “I didn’t have the religious experience that I was expecting.” Sommer missed the worshipers, “It is more important to me to see the people living their religion that visiting the place.”

We continued our journey heading to Mount Nebo, a series of peaks considered to be the site where Moses saw the Promised Land but was forbidden to step on it.

Upon our arrival shepherds and a big herd welcome us.  A monument in honor to the 2000 visit of Jean Paul II stands at the entrance of the site. A Roman Catholic Church stands at the top of the hill but was closed under renovation.

The astonishing views from Mount Nebo generated different reactions among our team.  “It reminded me of the movie ‘The Ten Commandments,’” said Tammy. “You can imagine what happened here and you feel connected with the history,” said Sam.

According to the Jewish and Christian traditions, God kept Moses’ burial site a secret but it is believed to be in the area of Mount Nebo. After hearing some biblical stories from our tour guide Jose said he would like to have a better understating of biblical history. “Now I want to learn more about the Judeo Christian perspective of history.”

After visiting Mount Nebo, we head to Petra via the Desert highway. Professor Goldman, Cynthia and Yaffi joined us at our hotel after sunset.

The two royal encounters that we had today taught me a couple of lessons. The meeting with Prince Hassan reminded me of the art of diplomacy and how I should be aware about it when reporting stories. The visit to the final dwelling place of Moses, Prince of Egypt, reminded me about the importance of having a better understanding of biblical history when reporting about the faiths of the Holy Land.

Tammy Mutasa donned a white robe for the prayer service on Friday. (Lim/Journey to Jerusalem)

AMMAN, Jordan – Today, inside the King Hussein Bin Talal Mosque, after imam Sheik Rababa delivered a sermon about the value of togetherness, compassion, and keeping a clean heart, the members of our traveling seminar were asked to leave the services before the juma, the main gathering prayer. On a day of considerable  cultural mixing and exchange, the cognitive dissonance produced by our ejection from the mosque stood out as the most prominent point where East failed to completely meet West.

Our Friday in Amman started at 10 a.m. at our hotel, with a hot breakfast of coffee, mango and apple juices, boiled eggs, and Egyptian beans. Fueled by the food, but still reeling from less than six hours sleep, we set off for the King Hussein Mosque. The day was warm and bright—nothing like the rainy weather we feared we might get—and many of us were dressed for summer.

Short sleeves became an early sticking point for some once we arrived. On the bus, Professor Goldman explained that women without covered arms or hair would need to wear a special costume. Men were expected to roll down their shirt sleeves. Although cameras were prohibited during services, Goldman said photography would be permissible during a Q & A with the imam later in the morning. As we got off the bus, it felt like an Arizona summer.  The mosque’s sandstone walls and light tan concrete promenades seemed to glow white hot in the sun. In accordance with Islamic law, the men and women split up to enter their respective prayer areas: the men went to the right, the women to the left. The women watched the service from a screened balcony in the back of the mosque, following the imam on television screens with a live camera feed.

Inside the mosque, the imam gave a sermon that included an Islamic story about a woman who didn’t properly care for her cat, eventually causing it to die. Despite a life filled with otherwise good behavior, her heart was tarnished by this single failing, the imam said. We weren’t able to understand the Arabic-led services, but translator Yazid Bitar explained that the parable was meant to illustrate that “there has to be a balance in how we deal with both the heart and the mind.” The story was also offered as an example of why Islam must engage with the west.  When the sermon was over and the formal prayers began, most of us were escorted from the mosque. Only Omar, Sommer and Sanaz were permitted to stay.

As we stood outside listening to Bitar’s translation, the class reassembled, although we looked nothing like we did when parting before services. With the exception of Sommer, who brought her own headscarf, all our group’s women wore white, full-body costumes that our friends from the Jordan Media Institute bought for us.  We men, on the other hand, looked no different, the result of relaxed rules for men. Inside the mosque, from our seat in the back on the striped red and white carpet, Josh and I recognized clothes we would have expected to see in Central Park in July: “Speed Racer” and “Manny Ramirez” t-shirts that fully exposed the worshipers’ arms, lots of jeans, and lots of short-sleeved polo shirts.

After Bitar’s translation, we headed back into the mosque to speak to Professor Hamdi Murad, an Islamic scholar.  Goldman quickly took the chance to ask Murad and a mosque representative why we were asked to leave. “In America, non-Muslims are permitted to stay during prayer,” Goldman pointed out. After much digression by Murad, who spoke extensively about peace, love, and having a clean heart but addressed few of the specifics of extremism. We came out knowing no more about our early exit than we did before.

We talked about why we were asked to leave as we walked to the bus. It was strange that a service dedicated to togetherness would include a moment of deliberate separation. Some of us speculated that our status as mosque outsiders limited our access to the ceremony, which ends before prayer. Others said the mosque was taking a precautionary step to reserve enough space for believers to worship. The consensus seemed to be that it was a cultural decision, a way of keeping prayer among people familiar with the faith—although anyone who wanted to stay, conceivably, could have.

Over a traditional Jordanian lunch – hummus, babaganoush, lamb, orange and mango juice – Anisa Mehdi, a J School grad who is spending the year in Jordan as a  Fulbright scholar, was clearly upset that they asked us to leave, emphasizing that she’d never seen anything like it ever happen  in the United States. Our classmate Mamta was unsurprised by the mosque’s decision, arguing religious establishment should be able to have some control over its services. “I wouldn’t be offended if they asked me to step out,” she said. “In Bombay, I wasn’t allowed into synagogues when I was a journalist.”

Mostly, though, the women were taken aback by the full-body costume they’d just stepped out of. A few hours later, as we walked through Amman’s souk, Dean Huff took in her experiences. “I’ve been to a lot of mosques and this amount of coverage was new to me.” Caroline, walking beside Huff, added her reaction. “I was surprised,” she said. “Being raised Presbyterian. There really wasn’t anything special I wore to church. Just khakis and pants sometimes.”

As I narrowly dodged fast-talking, bustling fruit vendors, shouting taxi drivers and old men sitting in the street, stretched out and smoking hookahs, Mamta and I spoke more. “I thought I was fine wearing what I was,” she said, now back in her street clothes, a Kurta, a traditional Indian shirt; a pink scarf, which she’d planned to wear as hijab; jeans; and sandals.

It was late afternoon. I watched a kid who couldn’t have been more than 10 push a handcart through traffic and put a minivan to a screeching halt. I watched a guy get an afternoon shave by hand with a blade. Most of us had decided to put our group unity on hold momentarily and meander through the streets in smaller groups.

The Muslim call to prayer would soon begin broadcasting from the minarets throughout the city, reaching everyone no matter where they’d wandered. People were hanging out on the street and on apartment balconies, drinking coffee and sugarcane juice. Hundreds of three- and four-story sandstone apartment buildings surrounded us—many showing wear, some built into hillsides. We passed the ruins of an amphitheater standing beside giant placards for political leaders and a group of kids playing soccer on a wide sidewalk and got back on the bus to the hotel.

Omar, who lives in Jordan, not far from the King Hussein Bin Talal Mosque, put our mosque experience in perspective. “It was pretty low-key,” he said. “There were kids there who just follow their parents. They see their dad genuflect, and then they do the same.” He emphasized the mosque’s conservative nature. “Expect it to be more temperate because King’s office is right next door. It’s the nicest mosque in Amman.”

At 8 p.m., we joined students from the Jordan Media Institute for dinner. Some of the questions I had about the relative extremism of Islam were all but stowed away for the night. As I sat down, I started talking to a student on my right. He said he was a radio producer and announcer and his last show had covered the recent rise and fall in employment. Most of us at the table were getting into more meaty conversations after getting through awkward talk about close-up shots, American movies, and Jordanian internet laws, but he was clearly closed off. Finally, the radio journalist  started talking about what was on his mind. He pointed to one of our female colleagues, who sat a few seats to his right, and shook his head. He didn’t approve of what she was wearing, a dress that exposed her shoulders. He said that if anyone ordered a beer he would leave.

A few minutes later, as we all got up to eat from a traditional Jordanian buffet, he made a bee line for the exit. At another table, some beers had been ordered. One point against togetherness for the day.

When we came back to the table, the other JMI students regarded what had happened with respectful disagreement. One student called him an extremist but said that his beliefs were common among Jordanian youth, and estimated that 15 to 20 percent would have made the same decision. Another disagreed, and said he was a fundamentalist. He added that in the last few years more pious religious belief is on the rise.

We got back into lighter conversation and mostly forgot about the other student. At our table, we had water, delicious food, but no alcohol. We exchanged phone numbers. A few hours later, some of us met up at a Hookah bar and had drinks.