The walls of the Old City of Jerusalem may not go back to the time of King David, or even Jesus, but they have become one of the iconic symbols of a legitimate site of world culture. As a young man my first sight of those walls was almost enough to bring me to tears. I had read about Jerusalem since my earliest days after graduating from Dick and Jane, and to see the Holy City firsthand was the experience of a lifetime. Too bad it is some of the most hotly disputed real estate in the known universe. Sacred to the three major monotheistic faiths that seem dead set on destroying this or that portion of it, Jerusalem is unlike any other city on earth.

The problem, as any urbanite knows, is where to park. According to Matt Beynon Rees of the Global Post, Jerusalem’s city planning committee is considering literally undermining the sixteenth-century walls of the Old City to construct a parking lot. Just a few short years after U.S. troops drove heavy military machinery atop Nebuchadrezzar’s Babylon in order to satisfy Bush-family oil lust and personal revenge, once again one of the irreplaceable monuments of the past may come under the contractor’s gaze. I teach at Montclair State part-time, so, believe me, I know about parking headaches! There have been times when I thought I’d have to drive the fifty miles back home without stopping for class since every space on campus was full. Yet I wouldn’t suggest tugging down historic University Hall to make room for more cars.

The problem seems to be that in our disposable culture we’ve lost sight of what can never be replaced. Immediate urge takes precedence over what our ancestors left for us to ponder and marvel over. A great hue and cry went up when Yellowstone burned in 1988, a lament that the former beauty would never be restored in a lifetime. Damage to structures from centuries past may be repaired, but the wonder of their staying power will forever be lost. It cannot grow back like Yellowstone, no matter how long we wait. Yet, parking meters under the Wailing Wall might save locals from having to take a bus. Regardless of theological conviction or absence thereof, some sites are simply sacred to the human story. The human story, however, has become one of convenience. Where else might Jesus park his Holy Esprit without having to walk (not on water) to get to the temple?

Sure, it's a nice view, but where do we leave the car?