24 • Peace on Mount Moriah

“As we mentioned earlier,” Yusuf began, “Mount Moriah is the hill in Jerusalem that is graced by the Muslim shrine known as the Dome of the Rock. This real estate is no doubt the most religiously revered in the world. It is valued by Muslims as one of their holiest sites, remembered by Jews and Christians alike as the site of the Holy Temple in ancient times, and looked to by some as the site at which another temple will one day be built. The eyes and hearts of the world are focused on Mount Moriah.

“Because of this, that revered piece of land is an outward symbol both of our conflicts and our possibilities. One side may say it is their holy place, set apart for millennia. Others may believe it was bequeathed them by God. There seems to be little opportunity for peace in such views. Looked at in another way, however, this passionate belief provides the portal to peace.

“Think about it. From within the box, passions, beliefs, and personal needs seem to divide us. When we get out of the box, however, we learn that this has been a lie. Our passions, beliefs, and needs do not divide but unite: it is by virtue of our own passions, beliefs, and needs that we can see and understand others’. If we have beliefs we cherish, then we know how important others’ beliefs must be to them. And if we have needs, then our own experience equips us to notice the needs of others. To scale Mount Moriah is to ascend a mountain of hope. At least it is if one climbs in a way that lifts his soul to an out-of-the-box summit—a place from where he sees not only buildings and homes but people as well.

“And so, a land stands divided. And within that land, a meaning-filled hill stands as a symbol both of the divide and the hope for overcoming it.

“Our homes and workplaces are divided as well. Within each rise our own Mount Moriahs—outward issues that come to symbolize all of the inner turmoil we are feeling. In one home it might be the dishes, in another the finances, and in yet another the disciplining of the children. At work, we may come to focus on the title or the status or the level of respect we think we deserve. We begin to do battle around these issues, and the more we battle, the larger they loom on the landscape until finally our home and workplace quakes build mountains so high they create their own weather systems. If you don’t believe me, just witness what happens to the climate in a room when parties start doing battle around one of their Mount Moriahs.

“The issue, of course, is not the mountain, whether that mountain is the dishes or the finances or Mount Moriah itself. Beneath each of these lies the real issue: Why do our hearts make these mountains our battlegrounds?

“Lasting solutions to our outward conflicts are possible only to the extent that we find real solutions to our inner ones. An uneasy détente may be possible in Israel by focusing only on the surface of things—on economics, for example, or on security. But lasting peace will not be. The same can be said for our homes and workplaces.”

“But détente is preferable to bloodshed,” Gwyn said.

“It certainly is,” Yusuf agreed. “But let’s not fool ourselves. Cool détente, while preferable today, is still a war waiting for tomorrow. Lasting solutions to the battles in our workplaces, homes, and battlefields will come only as we end the war in our souls. We end that war first by finding and extending our out-of-the-box places. And we help others out of their inner wars by being for them an out-of-the-box place ourselves—the way Ben was for me, the way Hamish was for Avi, the way Mei Li and Mike were for Jenny, and the way all of you have become for one another. We have begun living the pyramid together, which is why our feelings today are so much more peaceful than they were yesterday morning.”

The group looked around at each other.

“My friends,” Yusuf said, “Avi and I and the team here promise that we will strive to be that kind of place for your children. We will take off our shoes toward them, hoping to create a space that invites them to ponder their lives anew and make changes they would do well to make. We invite you to do the same, whatever that might mean for you.”

Lou looked to the day, sixty days in the future, when he would once again see his boy—shoeless, he hoped, if he could maintain what he had learned until then. In the meantime, he had some letters to write.

“But what if my boy still does drugs?” Miguel asked. “What if this program doesn’t fix him?”

“Then he will be lucky to have a father like you, Miguel, who will strive to love him all the same.”

“But I don’t want him on drugs!”

“No. Of course you don’t. Which is why you won’t stop trying to help him, no matter how long it takes. Even if he doesn’t like it.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Yusuf added. “Despite our best efforts, we may find that some battles are unavoidable. Some around us will still choose war. May we in those cases remember what we learned from Saladin: that while certain outward battles may need to be fought, we can nevertheless fight them with hearts that are at peace.

“And may we remember the deeper lesson as well: that your and my and the world’s hoped-for outward peace depends most fully not on the peace we seek without but on the peace we establish within.

“Which should bring you hope,” he added. “It means that however bleak things look on the outside, the peace that starts it all, the peace within, is merely a choice away—a choice each of you has already started making. If we can find our way to peace toward children who have stolen from us, spouses who have mistreated us, even drunks who have taken our fathers from us,” he said, glancing at Gwyn, “what mountains are too high for human hearts to scale?”

At this, Yusuf paused. He looked appreciatively around the room. “Thank you for being here. For bringing your children to us. For bringing yourselves to us. And for giving yourselves to one another. Despite the differences we have had in this room over these couple of days, we have learned to see each other as people, and that has made all the difference, hasn’t it?”

Lou, Carol, Elizabeth, Pettis, Gwyn, Ria, Miguel, Carl, Teri, and Avi all nodded.

“Look at each other,” Yusuf invited. “Everyone in this room is a person. As are your children on the trail, and your enemies, real and imagined.

“May you have the honesty and courage to do what our homes, our workplaces, and our communities most need: to see all as people—even, and perhaps especially, when others are giving you reason not to.”

We hope you enjoyed reading The Anatomy of Peace. We have provided additional resources for you in the Appendix. In addition, for free access to The Anatomy of Peace Study and Discussion Guide, companion videos, and other complimentary bonus materials, please visit www.arbinger.com/books.