I knew that I wanted to see the Pope. I didn't know how moved I would be.

I was driven as far along the road as possible until the security stopped us -- about a twenty-five minute walk from the Kotel. I walked at a very fast pace, anxious for a glimpse, not even really sure why I had to see the Pope. As I began to climb Mt. Zion to enter the Old City through Sha'ar Zion, I passed a gentleman who commented on the high level of security (three security people every 100 ft.). He turned to me and remarked: "Imagine, the one who has for so long tried to destroy us now being considered ‘his holiness’ by us." I felt a need to respond, so I simply stated that it was amazing how people could change.

As I approached the Kotel from the Jewish Quarter, there was a small group of demonstrators. Barricades prevented me from actually going to the Kotel Plaza where I had hoped I might be able to stand. Disappointed but determined, I walked on until I found what might be a view from a rooftop.

The security continued to be overpowering. The rooftops, the nooks and crannies -- all had guards and army personnel. The sound of helicopters was continuous and overwhelming.

At the Kotel, a few women remained in the Women's Section davening throughout the entire time. A second partition was erected so that about fifteen men also davened during the Pope's visit. A large area of the men's section was prepared for the Pope.

I had staked out a small spot along a wall on a rooftop amongst other spectators. The young man on my right was a student at a Protestant seminary from California. We could hear the loud speakers but could not quite understand the words. For a while, the Pope was standing in an area that was blocked from my view. And then, he began to walk toward the Kotel. Flanked by Cardinals in red kippot, the Pope, cloaked in white, walked ever so slowly to the Kotel. A few feet from the Wall, the Cardinals stopped, and his Excellency approached the Kotel on his own. He stood there long enough for me to imagine him praying -- perhaps in a different language -- perhaps with different words, but certainly the same prayers I had -- a Schecheyanu of sorts, and a prayer for Shalom.

My eyes filled with tears, and my body shook. I had climbed up on the wall and was afraid I'd loose my balance if I stood. So I, the Jew, was kneeling as I strained to get a better view of the Kotel. Was the Pope thinking of Jesus as a Jew at the Temple Mount? Was he thinking of the Jews from his childhood with whom he had spoken at Yad Vashem? Was he thinking of the role of the Church in the long history which we share? Was he reaching to the same God as I?

After the Pope slowly walked from the Kotel, men went im-mediately to the spot where he had stood and read the letter which he had left open in a crack in the wall, presumably for others to read. Pictures were taken, these men moved away, and daveners began chanting loudly to the very walls before which the Pope had stood.

I lingered. The security had already left and made its way to the next holy spot in the Old City. As I turned to leave, I found myself walking down to the Kotel. I am left to wondering if my inner prayers there that day were at all akin to those of the Pope. Were our prayers similar or different in their form, content, and Addressee? How do we reconcile our concept of each other's role in the world in which we are a part? And I left asking myself why I had to see him.

I went alone. I wanted it that way. I was really not alone, though. There were others with me. Jews and Christians alike who have blessed me with conversations about God and reli-gion, who have enriched my own theology and strengthened my commitment to Judaism in belief and practice. To each of you, I extend my gratitude for your willingness to come on this journey with me.

Marci Dickman has been a long-time friend and supporter of the ICJS, and a participant in the Jewish & Christian Educators Study Group sponsored by the ICJS, now in its fifth Year. She is principal of the Krieger Schechter Middle School, Chizuk Amuno Congregation. During the 1999-2000 academic year, she and her family lived in Jerusalem. Last April, Marci sent a Passover greeting from Israel. With her permission, we have excerpted part of that greeting because it says more eloquently than we might the enduring power of sustained, interreligious learning.