sic transit gloria mundi

My turn to celebrate Mass at the Sisters of Ivrea is over. The early morning walk out to East Jerusalem was a nice break from monastery life. It was a very cold week and my ankle hurt but today it is very much better - I could wear Luca's sneakers instead of boots without twisting my ankle.

The chilly wind slaps my face as I walk up the steps leading to Herod's Gate - the chill clings like gladwrap on the face, and it's so dry you feel your lips cracking immediately. Men scurry quietly in the shadows of this street after saying their prayers in the numerous small mosques along the way. Everyone is cold and try to get home as soon as they can. And the sun is not up yet, Venus shines very very brightly just above Herod's Gate. The cats are feasting on the rubbish bags left in the street. Years back I would have looked back every now and again; but now I walk without wanting to know if there's someone behind me. It's a rough neighbourhood, but now I really don't care. The arabs around here should know me by now. This morning a young guy was walking down the opposite way. He was tall and had a kaffir wrapped round his head, the edges tucked into his leather jacket. Both hands buried deep into his jeans to keep warm. Probably on the way home after doing a night shift job - early 20s. He looked at me as we passed and he said "Ni hao". Arabs speaking chinese don't surprise me anymore. I replied in arabic and he wasn't surprised either. Two seconds when two cultures crossed paths along a narrow dark Jerusalem street - two seconds of cross-culture, two seconds when two ancient civilisations attempted to communicate in the other's language. I thought if only the Jews and Arabs could do the same, there would be some hope for peace.

Getting out of Herod's Gate, I need to cross the main road to Al-Rashid Street that runs parallel with Salahaddin Street alittle further up the hill on my left. Al-Rashid Street is full of shops that have signs that reflect the past glory of East Jerusalem. Advertisements are written in perfect British english, but peeling and cracking off the walls by now. names like "The Largest Pharmacy in Jerusalem" sadly betray a time when kings and queens used to shop along these roads. Now walls are defaced with graffiti and trash accumulates at the front doors.

Aftre Mass I decided to take a walk home by the road behind the Sisters' convent. It's a part of east Jerusalem that I have never been. An Israeli office of some sort stands there - with it's very high walls, security fence and cement blockades circling the building. Houses around this are evacuated - roofs collapsed, walls bashed in, rafters exposed to the elements. A little further down the road are several magnificent mansions belonging to arab families of past prestige and dignity. Lovely pink jerusalem stone walls with intricately carved balustrades on the 2nd and 3rd floors. Well kept gardens with an olive tree, a carob tree and vines clinging for dear life as the chilly wind whips its branches back and forth, tearing dried leaves from it. Sic transit gloria mundi - thus the world's glory passes away. It is a sad sight. At the cross roads, I took the left lane and that brought me back to Salahaddin Street. Reality kicks in. Teenagers carrying fresh bread on wooden boards balanced precariously on their heads, to be sold around the city. men by the roadside hoping to be hired for a few dollars of daywork. Bedouin women arranging their vegetables by the road for sale.

Today and yesterday's 1st reading is so apt. It speaks of the ancient Israelites demanding for a king and the selection of Saul as israel's 1st king - but all that glory was to pass very quickly and the country collapsed into chaos as Saul tried to kill David, and the Philistines raided Israelite lands. How transient human glory is. And why do we still fight over it?