Our morning guest, Hannah Pick, almost 85, is a former German Jew whose parents left for England and then, unfortunately, believed that Holland would be safe. In Amsterdam she became the childhood friend of a slightly younger girl, Anne Frank. Her story was published as Memories of Anne Frank: Reflections of a Childhood Friend.

Mrs. Pick, now a grandmother of eleven and a great-grandmother of eleven, calmly spoke of the German occupation, the gradual introduction of anti-Jewish legislation and rules, the disappearance of the Frank family in July, 1942, and the deportation of Jews by the Nazis. Although Hannah Pick’s family managed to acquire Paraguayan passports, they were sent to Westerbork as workers and then to Bergen Belsen. Before her liberation, Mrs. Pick was able to briefly meet her old friend, Anne. Hannah Pick’s testimony raised questions for the group about the complicated nature of being a Holocaust survivor. Is a survivor someone who was deported to a death or labour camp? One who fled to the forest or was hidden? A refugee to the Soviet Union or someone who escaped from Europe? Mrs. Pick’s articulate recollection of her experiences was evocative of a normal life that slowly descended into horror.

Muslims then departed for Salat al Jum’a (Friday prayers) at the Haram al Sharif, while the Christians and Jews visited the Garden Tomb, a site revered by Protestants as the site of the crucifixion and rebirth much more pastoral than the hemmed-in cityscape of the Church of Holy Sepulchre. As the Muslims continued their prayers, the others proceeded to the Mount of Olives, walking near the ancient Jewish cemetery on our way to Gethsemane, from where Jesus entered the city of Jerusalem. Standing next to olive trees that are almost 2,000 years old, we felt that ancient traditions still lived.

After a quick lunch in the Jewish Quarter, the entire group met at the church-mosque-yeshiva complex on Mount Zion associated with the tomb of King David and the Last Supper.  Ayad Djani discussed the complex competition between the three religions that has led to a situation where no public prayer is permitted in this setting.  Standing on the rooftop, listening to the church bells ringing, it seemed so peaceful, but we knew that this was only our perception, from a rooftop view.

After some time for shopping or preparation for the Sabbath, we reassembled at the Western Wall for Shabbat prayers. We were praying in an area called Azarat Yisrael (the section for all Israel) which was recently opened near the Davidson Archeological garden. Here, men and women can pray together. The English language prayer book that we were able to obtain was one designed for summer camps and printed in the mid-1950s.  I led a worship service – mostly in English -with some Psalms, a few niggunim (melodies), and a few prayers. We sang Adon Olam (Sovereign of the Universe) as our closing hymn to the tune of “Scarborough Faire”. Everyone was able to participate- Jews, Muslins and Christians- and we felt like a community gathered in a circle of prayer.

We then went to the major section of the Wall. The plaza was crowded with young people singing and dancing. Some of the Muslim women - initially uncertain - approached the Wall and eventually touched it, joining other pious women in prayer. Our men watched without dancing, using this as a time for personal reflection. Afterwards, people commented about the sense of vitality and life present that night.

I escorted our group through the Muslim Quarter of the Old City and out theDamascus Gate, walking to the Grand Court Hotel. We gathered for a Shabbat meal, with the traditional Friday night kiddush (sanctification of the day using wine or grape juice) led by Dena Libman, and the motzei (blessing for bread) led by Judy Libman. Despite a misunderstanding about the start of the meal, we were able to enjoy the food and the time together.