There is a distinct difference between faith and religion, a line that is often blurred in one's day to day life. Mostly people do not give lots of thought to the difference, or the meaning of the two words, at least that is my experience. But never before has the clear distinction between religion and faith been so clear than in Jerusalem, the epicenter of many different religions.

Jerusalem's Old City is one of the most visually awe inspiring places in the world-- it is hard to take it in at first. As I walked through the Jaffa gates this Friday to spend my second weekend there I was tempted to just sit at the nearest cafe and watch the people. The streets are narrow and winding, easy to get lost in, but there is no fear of not finding your way back, only an excitement of what may lay ahead. The smell of a thousands spices, cooking lamb, and sweat seem to be in the very walls. Jerusalem does not just look old, it feels old from the moment that you step inside. The markets, I imagine, look very much the same as they did 100 years ago, maybe even 1000 (or at least I would like to think). You walk down a street only to find out that it is part of the Via Dolorosa, or that you have ended up at the Western Wall. Jerusalem sweeps you in from the world outside the Old City and lets you wander through her stone streets with the sounds of the market and restaurants and the endless hum of the locals.

One of the most beautiful things about Jerusalem is that there is not one person there who does not want to be. The stories and the tales of how a person came to visit, live, or work in the Old City is filled with passion and belief. No matter if the person is a Christian, a Jew, a Muslim, or a sect of any religion, they want to be in this place. They have come to worship their god and very often it brings them to tears to be in such a holy place. The Wailing Wall, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the Dome of the Rock, or any significant place really has such meaning to the people who make the journey to it. For all of the conflict that goes on outside of its walls (and to an extent inside as well...) there is a feeling of agreement among all of the religions that lay claim to this land that it is holy, and that it is to be respected.

I have never been a religious person, but I have been a faithful person, and I have had faith in a higher power, but never have I been as passionate about religion as the many people that I have seen in the past three days. They devout their lives to their God and their way of life. The Western Wall is evidence enough of the intense devotion. Men and women of all sects of Judaism pray to God and claim to feel His very presence at the Wall. Shivers ran through me as I approached such a meaningful place. Perhaps that is God--shivers through your spine. Visitors place prayers to God in the cracks in the wall wherever there is space. Ones that fall out are collected and given a proper Jewish burial.

Though I am not religious, not even Jewish, I still marvel at the intense power that this place had. Although, as all disputed areas, it is not all marvel and God. One of the most disturbing attributes of the Wall is that it is cut into two sections, men and women's sections. The women's section is significantly smaller and it is not because there are less women who visit; the women clearly need more room and are crowded in a small corner. The men crowd all the way in the far corner of their area, away from the women's section--sadly I know it was hard for the women to get even as much as they have. I respect religion and belief systems, but it is painful and heart wrenching to see the division in such a holy place, a large part of me wants to destroy the fence that prevents the women from spreading out and the chance to study the Torah by the Wall like the men do.

This aside, the Wall was amazing, especially since I arrived a few hours before Shabbat started, so Jews from all over the world who were in Jerusalem crowded to the wall to celebrate their holy day. Religion can be amazing sometimes.

The Church of the Holy Sepulcher is equally moving, and beautiful. There are no signs pointing potential visitors to it but you must duck behind alys and go through small churches and chapels that wind together and interlock before spitting you out onto the tiled courtyard before the ornate and ancient doors of the Sepulcher. It is just something you find, not something you search for.

My faith got me far in life and wained at times, I do not understand religion or faith in full, but I definitely do not understand my own. Jerusalem does hold a power, that at the very least made me marvel at the importance of one place in so many religions. The Dome of the Rock, the Muslim mosque, unfortunately was not open to Non-Muslims and therefore remains to me as just the colorful gold dome that looms over all of my memories of this place. It is a splash of vibrant color in a haze of old and softened stones.

Talking to the local guides and stall workers there is also a strong connection for staying in Jerusalem even for those born here. They are tied to this place as so many who visit it are. If you are thinking that I do not seem to be reporting the conflict that exists so potently outside of these walls, it is still there. Under the surface, all you have to do is scratch a bit and you will unearth a torrent of hatred and intolerance. A tour guide, sitting outside of the Holy Sepulcher who was born in Jerusalem and came back 12 years ago, told me of his distaste for the fact that the Muslims do not allow non-Muslims all the way into the Mosque. "As long as you respect the place and you understand it's holiness I do not care if you are a Christian, Protestant, Jew, Catholic, Muslim, reformed or orthadox. The moment you tell me that I cannot go to a place because of my religion I do not want to go. Do not do me any favors. There is no sign at the Wall, or here [the Sepulcher] that says only Catholics can go in." Religion here, has much more meaning that faith. Most people have faith, but it is their religion that causes the harsh boundary lines to be drawn. Israeli soldiers team the streets with guns strapped to their backs because of Religion. Palestinians are reduced to refugee camps because of religion, people die every day for religion. But for a moment, as you wander the streets and hardly realize that you have slipped from the Jewish sector to the Armenian or the Christian it seems so simple and so strange that there is no peace.

As I sadly left Jerusalem (after seeing some great sights in the city and beyond, such as the Mount of Olives, the Church of the Ascension, the Garden Tomb...etc) I am reminded of my area at Megiddo. The ancient Assyrian walls that had been molded to be gunner placements for the 1948 war between the Arabs and the Israeli's. The Arabs held the tel and the Israeli's pushed them off. The shell casings prove this and show me that Jerusalem is not the only place where an ancient site has been molded from it's original purpose. Sometimes I guess you have to peal off the first few layers of destruction in order to see the structures below. Jerusalem, a city of great importance and spiritual power of many religions is nonetheless, below all of the conflict and death, a site of a powerful and unrelenting faith that can be seen in the very walls of the markets and the faces of the dedicated travelers that walk through her gates.