It was a privilege yesterday and very moving to be able to pray at the Western Wall or Wailing Wall as we sometimes call it. I have been before but yesterday was the Sabbath. This meant that electronic devices and cameras were not allowed (so no photos attached to this post). It also meant, more importantly that in front of the wall was a moving sea of black and white prayer shawls, black skull caps and fedoras. The wall is the holiest site for modern Jews as it is all that remains of the great temple where God's very presence once resided in the holy of holies; and this time of year is the holiest time for them as we lead up to Yom Kippur. Their prayers there are full of joy but also loss and longing. Clearly some synagogues come as groups and the scroll of the Torah from many synagogues is brought with them and venerated at the wall.

Two images stand out in particular. An elderly rabbi sways and chants in front of the scroll he had bought which is occasionally held high with great reverence: a young man in the accepted attire of white shirt, black trousers and skull cap holds an open book of the scriptures in one hand and an army automatic rifle in the other.

I worry that it won't be right on this day but eventually do decide to move forward to the very wall to touch the ancient, holy, prayer filled stones and make my own devotions. My presence does not seem to be resented by those who pray on either side. They are, after all, my brothers through Abraham.

When the time is right we gather together again to discuss our thoughts over a cup of coffee and then five of us make our way through the ancient streets, past market traders, pilgrims and tourists to the Armenian section of the city. All is quiet at their cathedral. From there we go on to the synagogue that marks David's tomb and the building that is supposed to be the upper room where the Last Supper was held. Of all the holy sites this requires the most imagination to connect yourself to the events if Jesus' life. On the roof above you can gaze across to the Mount of Olives and as you turn around can see, within a few yards from the roof a minaret and church tower flanking the synagogue. It's an image that sums up Jerusalem and is so often repeated. The author of a book I am reading at the moment puts it well-"Any panorama, any camera angle, any genuflection that encompasses one of these holy places will necessarily include at least one of the others." (A Journey to the Heart of The Faiths, Bruce Feiler, publ. Harper Collins).

After lunch (more wonderfully cooked tasty and Palestinian cuisine) there are two lectures focussing on the way that the Jewish tradition views Abraham and reads the texts associated with him. For an inveterate literary critic like me, it is great to be able to get to grips with some of the texts.

Over dinner there is the first substantial informal discussion about the political situation. We understand a little more of the difficult balancing act that the Israeli government has to manage between the differing strands of Judaism. It bears out the words of the mayor of Jerusalem that the biggest problems that are faced are those between Jew and Jew, between Muslim and Muslim, between Christian and Christian. I have indeed come to appreciate the complexities of this amazing place a little better today.

Tomorrow there will be further context when we visit the Holocaust Museum Yad Vashem.