This year in Jerusalem

Just go. Jerusalem: 1000-1400  Every People Under Heaven  at the Metropolitan Museum of Art is full of surprises and revelations that often are also beautiful objects and works of art. It turns out to be about as immersive and intense a museum experience as is a visit to that city in Israel-- if you leave out the on-the-spot uneasiness.  (Today, in Jerusalem, there is always the feeling that any minute, by chance, you are going to step on the toes of some religious Jew, Christian or Muslim who live and worship there--and that they are not going to take the injury quietly.) To judge by what I hope will be only the first exposure to this exhibition, visitors to it are engaged with the displays to an exceptional degree. To say that they scrutinize the works is an understatement. People don't just stroll through this one. They plant themselves in front of a case and don't move.  No sooner did I enter than I came upon a vitrine with this ornate parchment map written and drawn in England by Matthew Paris circa 1250.

The man standing in front of it wasn't going to budge so I settled to one side. It was as if he were planning a trip--or reviewing one he'd taken. The fact that the boat might have been different or that he probably had not travelled around the Holy Land by camel made not the slightest difference.  But it was in front of the open Chronicle by Moses Maimonides, the great Jewish philosopher, that I found myself part of a growing group of men, women and youths all discussing the text. First of course came the astonishment that this work written in the twelfth century survives. That any medieval document still exists is noteworthy to be sure. But even a brief consideration of the wanderings and tragedies of Jews in the centuries since makes the continued existence of this work on parchment a marvel. And then there very quickly was the question of its contents.  A woman in her forties began reading out loud from the text. Then one of her two sons--late teenagers I would guess--started amending and correcting. In the back stood dad..All the males wore black hats; pop alone had a beard. Mom's brown hair was a wig. They spoke Yiddish but the text of course was in Hebrew or whatever variant of same Maimonides used. The page on the left included a drawing. It was, I learned from their back and forthing was his reconstruction of the destroyed Temple. The older son began explaining that we were seeing it as from the entrance. Then a smartly dressed woman came along, listened in, read the label and asked: Does this mean that this book was actually written by Maimonides? Group discussion was followed by dispute. Pop who had been silent until now said quietly that he didn't believe it. "It would have been a scroll."  I went off to consult with a curator who was giving a talk nearby. She in turn quickly consulted with someone else/ Yes. Yes. Maimonides was not only the author it is in his own hand.  

From Commentary on the Mishnah

At 5:15 were were told to leave; the Met was closing.  I walked out onto Fifth Avenue still enveloped in ancient Jerusalem and its descendant upstairs. A woman in her twenties stopped to ask directions. She had a French accent. She wore a scarf wrapped to hide her hair. "Where is the memorial to the dead?"she asked.

There are a couple of memorials that might fit the description--the Soldiers and Sailors for instance. But why in the world was she looking for that? I asked for more information. She tried one thing and another and finally, "September 11." 

    The World Trade Center," I told her, "is not near hear." I gave her instructions about how to find the subway station and where to get off. She smiled sweetly and thanked me. The show, precisely what it ought not to be called, goes on.