After leaving Hana’s room, Jakob ate a leisurely breakfast in the courtyard and spent a couple of hours taking care of business on his laptop. Feeling antsy, he sent a text to Wahid, who replied that he was in the area and could be there in fifteen minutes. Jakob went downstairs to wait for him, still not sure where he wanted to go. He slipped into the rear seat of the taxi.
“You’re limping. What’s up with your leg?” Wahid asked.
“Flesh wound,” Jakob answered cryptically. “It’s not too bad.”
“My guess is an old soccer injury that you aggravated,” Wahid replied. “I have one of those myself.”
Jakob didn’t correct him.
“Where to?” Wahid asked.
Jakob didn’t want to go someplace new. Instead, he wanted to return to a place he’d visited and experience it after his ordeal. The obvious choice was Yad Vashem, the ultimate monument to Jewish suffering. But that didn’t sit right with him. That left the Garden Tomb or the Western Wall.
“If you were sitting in my seat, would you go to the Garden Tomb or the Western Wall?” Jakob asked Wahid.
“That’s not a fair question,” the driver said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “You’ll pay me more to take you to the Garden Tomb because it’s farther away.”
“I’ll pay the same rate to level the playing field,” Jakob replied.
“You’re a Jew, so it has to be the Kotel,” Wahid answered.
“Let’s go.”
Wahid pulled away from the hotel.
“Did you know that Jesus was Jewish?” Jakob asked.
“Of course. You should let me take you to Bethlehem. It’s a great half-day excursion, and I know the best place for olive-wood products.”
“Keep it to the Kotel today.”
Jakob stared out the window of the car as the driver navigated the streets toward the Old City. The stone buildings truly were unique. Wahid pulled to the curb. “How long before I pick you up?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Text me. It may take me awhile if I have another fare.”
“That’s fine.”
It was a short distance to the security entrance into the Temple Mount area. Today, Jakob was more aware of the diversity of the people milling about. There were ultra-Orthodox Jews who probably came every day, tourists from the four corners of the earth for whom it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and Arabs who called the Muslim Quarter home. Jakob passed through the security checkpoint with a group from Malaysia.
Walking across the broad plaza, he headed to the place in front of the Wall where he’d heard the man pray in Russian. With each step Jakob felt an increasing sense that he was walking toward something important. Being in this place at this time wasn’t a random event; he had been appointed to be here. His heart began to beat a bit faster.
Donning a cardboard kippah, he made his way to the Wall. He recognized the massive stone before which he had stood only a few days before. This time he stepped back to the spot where the unknown man prayed behind him. After staring at the enormous stone for a few seconds, Jakob bowed his head and closed his eyes. Although there were other people within a few feet of him, he felt wrapped in a blanket of solitude.
Some of the words he’d heard during his first visit returned: Heavenly Father, hear my cry in this holy place . . . I pray that Russian Jews standing in this very place will believe that Jesus Christ is their Savior . . . They may wrestle with you like Jacob, but they will come away from that encounter so transformed . . . May they believe and receive!
Once again the hair on the back of Jakob’s neck stood up. This time he let the man’s prayers wash over him not as a spectator, but with a heart open to receive each and every word. As he did, a striving, a wrestling that had been such an integral part of his identity that Jakob accepted it as an immutable part of his life, ceased. A weight lifted; peace came.
Jakob closed his eyes again, and though he wasn’t physically present at the Garden Tomb, he remembered what he’d heard and sensed in that place—the mystery of sacrifice and the power of resurrection. A Jewish man named Jesus lived, died, and rose from the dead in the city where Jakob now stood.
The glorious truth overwhelmed him, and in the secret place of the human heart uniquely prepared to receive the life of God, Jakob Brodsky was born anew. Jesus Christ was his Messiah, and Jakob was one of God’s twice-chosen people. He opened his eyes a second time and looked around, half expecting everybody within twenty feet of him to be equally touched. But no one else seemed affected. He took in a deep breath, exhaled, and stepped into a new reality. He was a Jew who’d come home, a man in the land of his ancestors whose heart was now the dwelling place of God’s Son. And with that knowledge, a tear of joy and thankfulness escaped his eye and ran down his cheek.
It was nine by the time Hana and Daud left Reineh. It had been a full day that started with introductions and ended with a banquet. They passed the last house in the village and turned south toward Jerusalem. Hana was tired, but it was a fatigue filled with satisfaction.
“You have a great family,” Daud said as the vehicle’s headlamps shone the way before them. “I didn’t know what to expect. Could you tell I was nervous at first?”
“Yes, but only for about five minutes. When Uncle Anwar put his hand on your head and prayed for you, everything shifted. His words about God’s call on your life touched everyone in the room.”
“Especially me. Nothing like that has happened to me before.”
“After Anwar prayed, my father relaxed and accepted you. I could see it in his face. My mother liked you from the first moment, and my cousins were jealous in a good way.”
“Fabia cornered me and interrogated me as if she were working for the Shin Bet.”
“I saw.”
“Why didn’t you rescue me?”
“She had to satisfy herself. It will take awhile for her to come around, but I believe she will once you talk to my father in detail about the future.”
Daud glanced at her. “How long do I have to wait? I don’t want to use an intermediary.”
“Let me work on that part. When I return for my birthday, that will be my mission, to act like the spies Moses sent out.”
“Bring back a good report. I don’t want to spend forty years wandering in the wilderness.”
Hana reached over and lightly touched Daud’s hand. It was still such a new experience for her that it sent chills through her body.
“Trust me,” she said. “I’m a lawyer who knows how to present her case.”
Daud smiled. “I need a good lawyer.”
“Yes, you do. Your employment contract needs a complete facelift, and I’ll do it for a reduced fee.”
“Half your usual rate?”
“Or less.”
They turned onto a major highway that connected the north with the rest of the country.
“What was going on at our first meeting at the steak restaurant that you didn’t tell me?” Hana asked.
“Everything I said was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. I remembered you because of Ibrahim, and the first time I saw your picture on the law firm website, I knew I wanted to get to know you.” Daud stopped talking for a moment. “And I would have been crushed if you’d turned me down and hired another investigator.”
“You knew how you felt toward me from the beginning?”
“Before we sat down that first evening at the restaurant in West Jerusalem.”
They rode in silence for several minutes. Hana thought about Daud, Jakob, and herself. “I believe the Lord brought you, me, and Jakob together,” she said.
Daud glanced sideways at her. “I guess I’m okay including Jakob in that sentence, but I’m glad he’s not with us right now.”
Hana reached over and touched Daud on the arm.
“Me too.”
They spent the rest of the drive talking about their dreams for the future.
The following morning, Jakob was having a final breakfast in the courtyard when Hana came out of her room. While she was fixing a plate at the buffet, Daud arrived. The investigator poured a cup of coffee and sat down with Jakob.
“How was the trip to Reineh?” Jakob asked.
Daud glanced in Hana’s direction and smiled. Jakob held up his hand and said, “I think that answers my question.”
Hana joined them. The look she gave Daud eliminated any lingering doubts in Jakob’s mind.
“Good morning,” Hana said to him. “How’s the leg?”
“Stiff but functional.”
“What did you do yesterday?”
It was Jakob’s turn to look each of them in the eyes. Hana immediately raised her eyebrows. “I think it was something good,” she said.
“Yes,” Jakob answered. “More than good.”
Hana began to cry as Jakob told them about his encounter with God at the Western Wall. He saw her whispering under her breath.
“What are you saying?” he asked.
“I’m so grateful to God that I can’t express it silently in my mind,” she said. “It has to come out.” She took a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes.
Jakob turned to Daud. “Why aren’t you crying?” he asked.
“Do you remember what I told you at dinner your first night in Jerusalem?” Daud responded.
Jakob hesitated for a moment. They’d talked about a lot. “Oh, yeah,” he said, nodding. “That God is bringing the Jews to Israel because he keeps his promises.”
“Right. And another of his promises in the book of Zechariah is that someday the whole nation will recognize Jesus as their Messiah. You’re blessed to be at the front of the line. This is a time of rejoicing, not mourning.”
Jakob turned to Hana. “I’ve never felt so thankful in all my life.”
“God put the thankfulness there,” she answered with a sniffle. “Don’t ever lose it.”
Hana and Daud offered to let Jakob tag along for the day, but he refused.
“The two of you need time together without me,” he said. “And I want to be by myself and process what’s been happening to me.”
After breakfast, Hana and Daud left. Jakob texted Wahid, who replied that it would be an hour and a half before he could pick him up. While he waited, Jakob used his phone to read the entire book of Zechariah. A lot of the language and images seemed obscure and metaphorical, but other phrases about God’s loving intentions toward the Jewish people gripped Jakob’s heart. He immediately recognized in chapter 12 the passage Daud was referring to during breakfast in the courtyard: “I will pour out on the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of grace and supplication. They will look on me, the one they have pierced, and they will mourn for him as one mourns for an only child.”
When Wahid arrived, he apologized as Jakob got in the rear seat: “I had a quick trip to Bethlehem for a Chinese couple. They wanted to cram everything in before their tour group left for the Dead Sea.”
“No problem. I’d like to go to the Jewish Quarter and Hurva Square.”
“But not the Kotel? It’s close by.”
“No.” Jakob shook his head. “And I won’t stay too long. I have unfinished business.”
Wahid gave him a puzzled look before pulling away from the curb. It was a short drive to the drop-off point for the Jewish Quarter.
“I’ll stay around the Old City,” Wahid said. “There are plenty of fares in this area.”
Jakob’s route took him down streets that were now familiar. Even though he was slightly dragging his right leg, he felt a lightness in his step that he knew was connected to his heart. He stopped when he reached the edge of the square. Just as before, most people were passing through on their way to another destination, but some were staying to shop, eat a snack, or sit and talk. He walked slowly around the edge of the small plaza. He paused in front of a shop window and saw a plaque with the phrase “Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem.”
He stopped at the ice cream shop where Gloria Neumann was murdered. There was a vacant chair by itself, and he sat down. Today, the place of violence was a place of peace. But Jakob knew that could change in an instant. A single person filled with hate and revenge could be a messenger of death and destruction. With his eyes open Jakob took in the scene of the entire square and then in his imagination expanded his vision to include the whole city—and prayed for the peace of Jerusalem.