Berkley Center

Standing in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, I felt more Christian than I had ever felt since leaving home four years ago. The church was not the Wailing Wall, and it was not the Temple Mount; although I don't consider myself a member of any one of the three great religions who stake a claim on Jerusalem, standing within the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, one of the most important Christian churches in the world, it was clear that I belonged at this site, unlike my outsider status at the Muslim and Jewish sites I had recently visited. Perhaps there's something to the Middle Eastern conception of religion.

Growing up in the United States, and particularly in the liberal New York suburb where I spent most of my childhood, religious identity was a matter of faith; if you believed in the major points of a given religion, then you could claim membership in that religion. As simple as that. As much as religion is something that most American parents impose on their children, the assumption about religion in America is that if someone asks you your religion, then it's possible to respond by saying you have no religion. In the Middle East, or at least in Jordan, that response doesn't even make much sense.

In Jordan, religion is much more of an inherited identity, one which is more similar to the American conception of ethnicity than that of religion. Whereas in America religion is a private matter, which someone is unlikely to ask you about, religion in Jordan is a question of official status. Many people publicly display their religion; as much as half of the population might be giving a definite indication of their religion (Muslim or Christian) just by wearing a hijab, Christian cross, or other clearly Islamic clothing. While this type of public demonstration of religion exists in the United States, it is the exception rather than the norm.

If your religion is not instantly identifiable by your appearance, there are many other markers for religion. Many first names and family names are either Christian or Muslim, as are certain hometowns. All of these factors contribute to religion as a public identity, in contrast with the prevailing American view of religion as mostly a matter of private faith.

Religion is even present on government-issued identification cards. One of my Jordanian friends, who would probably call himself agnostic in America, was surprised to hear that my New York driver's license had no religious identification on it. As certain Jordanian laws apply differently to different religions (particularly Muslims versus non-Muslims), it is necessary for the government to know what religion someone is a member of.

Back in America, I would usually consider myself an agnostic or an atheist, which is why I was surprised by my reaction to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. I came to Jerusalem as a tourist more interested in the contemporary politics of the city than its religious significance. But Jerusalem, like Jordan, is organized by religion. Being in Jerusalem, my heritage and culture placed me in the category of Christian, in a way that had nothing to do with faith. At the Muslim Temple Mount and the Jewish Wailing Wall, I was a visitor at someone else's holy place. At the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, and at other Christian sites throughout Jordan and Israel-Palestine, I am at home in the place of “my people,” regardless of how I feel about the religious significance of the site.