Nowhere is there more prayer. The Nuns at the Holy Sepulchre. The faithful at Al Aqsa Mosque. The worshippers at the Wall. The call to prayer at dawn and dusk Warbling from the citadels. The church bells, The Persian trills, The passion spilled over texts From every major/minor religious sect.
Nowhere is there more prayer than Jerusalem, Thanks be to God, Hamdilala, Baruch Hashem. And yet, I'm starting to think that it's You and not them, God, what's the point of prayer?
If there's nowhere where There's more prayer, And terror reigns Then, Who's to blame?
If suddenly, without a whisper goodbye, Jesus, Allah, Adonai, The three men they admire most All took the last train for the coast,
And the Moslems got up from their knees And the Christians put down their rosaries And the Jews stayed their hands from kissing Their mezuzahs, And everyone looked up, And realized something's missing...
God is missing. Stop the praying! No One's there, They'd arrange a party to search everywhere. They'd look for God But there'd be no Presence In Holy Books or stars and crescents Or steeples and crosses. People'd be at a loss, Is He ever coming back?
They'd be so distraught, Their searching for naught, There'd be nothing on high So they'd turn to on low, There'd be nothing above So they'd turn to below, And they'd finally see there, In the face of the other, A semblance of sister, The eyes of a brother, They'd turn and they'd lean Upon one another.
You see, every group can't believe that they're the ones chosen, Every group can't believe that the Holy Land's owed them, Sometimes faith in You, God, Builds insurmountable walls, And everyone falls. Everyone falls.
How wise are the secularists for whom the dead aren't martyred But, quite plainly, murdered...
This might sound like an absurd, ungodly thing to say, A truly heretical supplication to pray, (I say this only out of the deepest respect) But if for a few days, God, You'd just give it a rest, If You'd take a sick leave and just go away And let Israel work this out without You in the way,
God, for that kind of peace, You're a small price to pay. (Rabbi Zoë Klein)