Waiting for Godot

We had, I think, a typical day today. At least, it’s a kind of day we have often enough. The picture on the left illustrates what we did today. Yes, that is a parking lot. No, the talent is not there.

When I arrived last night I walked to the conference area of the Mishkenot, knowing that a conference on the Jesus tomb was just wrapping up.

As I turned the corner, I heard the shouting. And then the room came into view. I could see a group of people holding an academic back, and he was pressing hard toward Simcha, trying to hit him.

Ah, how I’ve missed the Middle East.

Call time this morning was a comfortable 11:30, so I had plenty of time to review the scripts, note important questions for Professor James Tabor, and apply several varieties of expensive facial moisturizers and hand cream (duty free was good to me).

The sun sets here about five o’clock at this time of year, so we had a tight day, shooting material for three different shows at the traditional site of the Last Supper, and if possible the site where Tabor thinks Jesus sentencing actually took place.

Then CNN called. And ABC. And God knows who else. And they all wanted to talk about the Tomb (I was shocked that no one used the headline: “Tomb Debate Resurrected”) And Simcha wanted to talk. And talk. Still running on adrenaline, I assume, from nearly being assaulted by a man in tweed and elbow patches.

We started shooting at 3.

All of which explains how we ended up behind schedule, standing on a street corner in East Jerusalem as the sun set up the Kidron Valley while Simcha stood praying and a group of Arab men began to gather.

Felix stood beside me saying “this is bad.”

What, the obviously Jewish and Western crew gathered around a six-foot-two praying silhouette in a Kippa in the middle of an Arab neighbourhood, as the call to prayer from the mosque echoed down the valley? You think?

Well, I’m back at the hotel now, and I have to tell you Felix didn’t worry me. He’s the producer famous for making the worst of a good situation. And famous for getting out of any fix. I mean he’s the only Russian Jew I know who’s been to the Khyber Pass to visit the Taliban.

The moment that worried me was when I asked Eyal, our always cool cameraman if it was safe. He glanced at the setting sun and murmured: “umm…”