Jerusalem, You Will Be There

By Dina Naji

*Published in Saliba Sarsar and Carole Monica Burnett, What Jerusalem Means to Us: Muslim Perspectives and Reflections (North Bethesda, Md: Holy Land Books/Noble Book Publishing Inc., 2021).

**Dina Naji was born in Kuwait to a Palestinian father and an Egyptian mother. She is a self-taught artist who realized her passion for painting during a difficult time in her life when she turned to art to release negative energy. Art then moved from merely therapeutic to an overwhelming passion. Palestine is a subject that she often conveys in her paintings and writings and she considers Jerusalem an inspiration to all artists. Dina worked in Human Resources for most of her professional life. She has a bachelor’s in Business Administration and a Master of Arts degree in Comparative Education from the American University in Cairo. She currently lives in Cairo with her husband and two children.

 

When I was asked to write about my feelings on Jerusalem, I was both honored and burdened! For a Palestinian who never actually lived in Palestine, I have mixed emotions toward the Land of my father. Most of my life, I wanted so badly to be involved physically in spreading awareness, tolerance, and the truth. I wanted to be there not just in spirit, but also in body. But life has its own agenda and plan. Yes, I was never there in body, but spiritually I never left. I always had these buried thoughts that I never dared share. I love you, Palestine, but I wish I didn’t!

As a Muslim Palestinian, I experience anger and sadness from all that happens to Jerusalem, from Islamophobia to apartheid and to land rape. Sometimes, it is overbearing. Other times, I want to turn my head away. But it is just impossible.

I think all Palestinians, whether they like it or not, were born with something different in their blood, their genes. We were born to carry a burden, a nostalgia, and a responsibility that we have to carry for the rest of our lives, no matter where we are in the world. It doesn’t matter if we live two minutes away from the Al-Aqsa Mosque, or as far away as possible on a completely different continent; we will always have it…the homesickness. And it is painful.

For many people when they hear the name Jerusalem, they think of conflict, war, terror, anger.

But Jerusalem is much more than that to me. When all these holy sites across faiths are brought together in one place, it is inevitable to feel PEACE. It doesn’t matter what you believe and what name you give God. In Jerusalem, we are all one. This is where we become human again. We remember that we were born the same, and we will die the same. Nobody is superior, no religion or faith is superior. We all have similar fears, similar weaknesses, and similar sins. We all need to be saved. We all need to return to Him, for there is no other refuge but to Him.

It’s this holy land that will one day reawaken our senses. One day. Some day. Perhaps not in our lifetime, but surely before this world comes to an end.

Obviously as a Muslim, Jerusalem has deep significance to me. Jerusalem is a sacred site in the Islamic tradition, as significant as Mecca and Al-Madina in Saudi Arabia.

The city of Jerusalem is not mentioned with this name in the Qur’an, but what is mentioned are the Holy Land and the Al-Aqsa Mosque.

Night journey: The Qur’an talks about the Prophet’s night journey to the Al-Aqsa Mosque. The mosque is generally understood to mean the remains of the Second Temple, given the title Bait ul Muqadas (Holy House) in Hadith, derived from the Hebrew title Beit HaMikdash.

Muslims believe that many prophets were related to the city, and also believe that Prophet Muhammad visited the city on a night journey. It was also the first qiblah (direction of prayer) for Muslims, and Prophet Muhammad assigned the Al-Aqsa for pilgrimage.

“Exalted is He who took His Servant by night from al-Masjid al-Haram to al-Masjid al-Aqsa, whose surroundings We have blessed, to show him of Our signs. Indeed, He is the Hearing, the Seeing” (Qur’an 17:1).

A big part of Jerusalem’s importance and holiness to Muslims comes from the city’s strong connection to Abraham, David, Solomon, and Jesus. Their stories are found in the Qur’an. After the death of Sayyidna Muhammad, many of his close Companions actually resided in Jerusalem, and are buried there, including ‘Ubadah bin As-Samit and Shadaad bin Aus.

“… So turn your face toward al-Masjid al-Haram. And wherever you [believers] are, turn your faces toward it [in prayer]. Indeed, those who have been given the Scripture well know that it is the truth from their Lord. And Allah is not unaware of what they do. And if you brought to those who were given the Scripture every sign, they would not follow your qiblah. Nor will you be a follower of their qiblah. Nor would they be followers of one another’s qiblah…” (Qur’an 2: 143-145).

But also, because of the Jewish and Christian holy sites in Jerusalem, it is significant to Muslims since to be a true Muslim, one has to believe and respect all the prophets, books, and religions.

I am the daughter of an Egyptian mother and a Palestinian father. I was born and raised in Kuwait where I grew up knowing that I was Palestinian because in the Arab world you are what your father is. My one and only visit to Palestine was in 1984 when we took a family trip to our dad’s homeland in a village outside of Bethlehem, called Al Khader.

Thirty-five years have passed and I still remember every detail, every scent, every feeling. I remember the huge olive tree in my grandfather’s garden that would give us endless shade. I remember the donkeys and the smell of the olive oil. The green shades and tints of the trees and fruits are etched in my brain. Will I ever return again? Perhaps one day, but I truly never left.

I feel privileged to have Palestinian blood, and also privileged to be from Bethlehem, the beautiful holy, historical city. Being Muslim in a predominantly Christian population is refreshing and awakening. At the time, my father’s family was one of the few Muslim families in Bethlehem. I remember seeing pictures of the Virgin Mary hanging in my grandparents’ home, a very “un-Muslim” thing. I was so touched by the sentiment. I remember asking my dad, “Are your parents Christian?” He smiled and said, “We are from Bethlehem, we celebrate both religions.” I think that day and that sentence built in me the love and tolerance of others. I thank my dad and Bethlehem for that, and I strive to build the same in my own children.

Palestine never leaves you. She is tattooed on your skin, mixed with your blood, haunting you forever. Sometimes you want to ignore her and pretend you don’t know her. But she is unstoppable. She won’t let you leave her.

People ask me, “Are you more Egyptian or Palestinian?” I always say that Egypt is my heart and Palestine is my soul. And in my soul I long for Jerusalem. I dream of her and I paint her and I sing about her. I know her so well, and she knows me well, too.

My Jerusalem, you are everything I want and everything I dread. You are sorrow, you are heartbreak, you are pain. But you are also music, you are dabke, you are dancing, you are prayer. You are PEACE.

It doesn’t matter what they call you, it doesn’t matter what religion was assigned to you, it doesn’t matter where you are located on the map. You are mine and nobody can take you away from me.

Jerusalem, you are a living city with a heart and a soul and an access to the hidden and the unknown. I know it, you told me a million times not to worry about you. And I don’t! I trust you, believe in you, and even the most destructive storm cannot change you. You remain.

How can you feel a strong connection to a place that you only saw once when you were merely a seven-year-old child? Jerusalem, you cannot be unseen or unfelt.

Yes, Jerusalem is religiously significant, an architectural museum, a plethora of history. But, for me, she represents more than that. She is the sign, the omen, the proof. She stands there reminding us of the ugliness of the human but also giving us the much needed hope that there is something bigger, more dominant than all the world powers combined.

She reminds us that we were born to tolerate, to be kind, to love and be loved. She is the Oscar winner of Best Romantic Movie. She stands there hurt, abused, but proud and beautiful, with age giving her more beauty and charm.

She is wise, always giving the other cheek. She takes it all in, watches the cowardly human weaknesses and just smiles back. She never gives up on us, forever exuding love upon every person regardless of their religion, beliefs, heart, or color.

She gives back to the merciless before the honorable. She knows a secret that nobody else knows. She knows the truth. If only we listened. If only we paid more attention.

She longs to make us understand. “You are all the same. You were all born equal. You are all loved.”

She knows that we are all one and we all shall return to The One. She knows we all have the same fears, the same weaknesses, the same heartache.

She is the mother who loves all her children equally. She will never judge us for she knows we are all sinners. But she will hold our hand and guide us.

Sometimes she screams in anguish, “Why are you doing this? You were not created to destroy but rather to build, to build each other.” But we don’t always listen.

Jerusalem, are you mad at me? I will never forgive myself for leaving you this long. But you must know that I am your captive. My heart never left you. My soul thrives on seeing you. Every single time I look at your photos, my breath is taken away. I have to gasp for air. Your beauty is mesmerizing. My sense of guilt is overbearing.

How I wish I were one of the brave ones. How I wish I could wipe your tears and sweep away the nasty footprints off your pavements.

But instead, it is you who wipes my tears, smiles at me, and tells me all will be ok.

My Jerusalem, you are a blessing and a burden. How I wish I could ignore you; you pierce my soul and break my heart.

You are my father who had to leave his home to find a better life, who had to spend his life living apart from his family. You are my cousins that look like me but I never met, you are my grandparents that never put me on their laps and told me stories.

You are so far away. But you are so close, too close that it sometimes becomes agonizing. You suffocate me with your stories and problems, but also embrace me and caress me with your gentleness. You tease me with your splendor, you laugh at my ignorance of your ancient walls.

Nobody is enough for you. None of us are good enough for you, for you are the city of magnificence.

Will you take me back? Please accept me for I never left you. You are my favorite dream and my worst nightmare. How can a person feel jealousy over a place? I am so jealous over you, I want you to be mine and only mine. But so does everyone else.
Now that I have children of my own, I understand a little bit more. I understand how you are able to forgive. No matter how many times your children hurt you, you will never love them any less.

God, how strong you are! How do you do it? How do you watch all the awfulness of the world yet still radiate all this calmness and peacefulness? What is your message to me? I urge you to speak, give me any information, let me in on your secret. Will there be a happy ending? Does any of it matter? I long for the forgiveness of the Almighty God, to grant me heaven where you come to me and where we laugh together about the ridiculousness of it all.

Can we at least be together in the afterlife? You will be there, won’t you? When it’s all revealed. When you are saved. When there is no more hurt.

You will be there telling us that you hoped we would have broken your walls down, burnt your buildings, destroyed you completely. You would rather die than have us fight each other over you. But we never understood.

Now we know, my love, we know that it was all a big test. And we failed miserably. We let you down. Nothing can save us now except the mercy of God.