There is nothing quite like Jerusalem
Defense Minister Moshe Dayan must have had his doubts on whether the Israel Defense Forces should conquer Jerusalem's Old City when the Six-Day War erupted 46 years ago this week (according to the Hebrew calendar). After Israeli troops repelled the Arab Legion (Jordan's military force), the historical significance of the moment dawned on him. He had internalized the true meaning of returning to "the land of our forefathers." In the aftermath of the war, Dayan, flanked by then-IDF Chief of General Staff Yitzhak Rabin and GOC Central Command Uzi Narkiss, famously posed for the cameras as he made his way toward the Temple Mount. In a different era, that picture could have just as well been the picture of King David marching into "a city that is compact together" (Psalms 122:3).
But Dayan, who was in charge of the armistice talks with Jordan during the War of Independence, was well aware of the diplomatic pitfalls that come with the newly occupied territory. During the war, he toyed with the idea of imposing a siege rather than conquering Jerusalem, so that Jordan would be forced to honor the rights of Jews in the holy sites once the war was over. In the 1949 armistice agreements Jordan pledged it would let Jews have access to the holy sites, but that was never followed through.
As the Six-Day War entered its final stretch, Labor Minister Yigal Allon and right-wing leader Menachem Begin said a siege was not enough. (The latter was opposition leader until he joined an emergency unity government shortly before the war.) They wanted to be able to say, "The Temple Mount is in our hands," the phrase that was radioed by Paratroopers Brigade commander Mordechai (Motta) Gur after his troops reached the holy basin. They pressured Prime Minister Levi Eshkol. Dayan ultimately agreed, or rather relented, and sent the paratroopers to Lions' Gate. But in the war's aftermath, Dayan found himself torn between his passion for archeology and his geopolitical concerns. Behind the scenes, National Religious Party leader Haim-Moshe Shapira shared his misgivings.
They were both wary of having to manage the daily lives of Muslims and Christians. They also felt that in this eternal capital of peace and war, a compromise could never materialize. Jordan's King Hussein told the Israelis that for him, losing Jerusalem on the battlefield was less painful than signing a peace agreement in which he willfully relinquishes parts of it. After the war, Naomi Shemer added a verse to her immortal song "Jerusalem of Gold" and seared the liberation into our collective memory forever. "We have returned to the water pits, to the bazaar and the city square, a shofar [ram's horn] is heard on the Temple Mount, in the Old City."
The victory was intoxicating. Nowhere in the world is there something quite as magnificent as Jerusalem. Those who walk the tunnels being excavated by David (Davidale) Be'eri at the biblical City of David, at the foot of the Temple Mount, can almost breathe the battles that were once waged there between the Jews and the Romans. Those who descend into the Shiloach water tunnel can all but hear the biblical masons digging their way with hammers. Anyone who has lived in the city for a long period has fallen in love with a certain feature that he considers endemic to the city, the likes of which cannot be found anywhere else, be it on Ethiopia Street or in the valley between Mount Scopus and the Mount of Olives.
I like the Jerusalem I see from Mount Scopus, near the Augusta Victoria complex. During the 1930s, two brothers fled Nazi Germany. One of them converted to Christianity. One day, they were murdered by Arab terrorists while hiking in the area. Haaretz publisher Gershom Schocken told literary genius Shmuel Yosef Agnon that each coffin was draped in a different flag: One was the blue-and-white flag of our nation, the other had Christian symbols. They were buried in two separate cemeteries.
"This is a Jerusalem that has disappeared," a famous song says. Disappeared? It may actually be that way forever.
It is a place of passionate love and sorrow. You can't live with it; you can't live without it.
טעינו? נתקן! אם מצאתם טעות בכתבה, נשמח שתשתפו אותנו