Life and death on King David street

For much of my adult life I have studied, taught and worked on King David Street in Jerusalem. It is certainly no ordinary work address. World leaders stay there - in recent months we have played host to Bush, Blair, then Bush again, Blair, Rice, Blair Carter, Sarkozy, Blair (I'm beginning to think that man has nothing better to do), Brown, Mc Cain, Obama - and that doesn't do justice to the tens of less famous officials - Fishing Ministers from Ruritania and Tax Inspectors from Uzbekhistan.

Then there are the Life Cycle Events. Families compete with each other to hold the most opulent and often gaudy events: barmy Bar Mitzvahs, wild weddings, and far from circumspect circumcisions. And let's not forget the welcome crush of tourists, staying in comfort and often returning home with some expensive artifacts purchased at one of our street's many upscale emporia. More hotels are on the way, along with a plethora of swanky apartment buildings aimed at visionaries and speculators.

It is perhaps a surprise that one of the street's most famous and significant landmarks is the YMCA, an oasis of  dialogue and culture and encounter and health. If you've never been, you owe it to yourself to drink in the architectural attractions, climb to the top of the tower, and stop off for a Pilates class at the same time. Jews and Arabs (both Muslim and Christian) feel at home at the YMCA.

Over the last years King David Street has also played host to the Annual Gay Pride parade. Visitors to similar events might mistake the throng of men dressed in police uniform walking by the YMCA as some kind of hommage to the Village People, but in our city's parade they are actually policemen, on hand in order to protect the crowd from the taunts of those who combine theological certainty with personal insecurity.

A variety of Jewish institutions grace the street: on avenues nearby some of the most important foundations and philanthropic agencies are to be found. AIPAC is across the street. The Gesher Institute is opposite my own institution, the Hebrew Union College, and our campus plays host to Merkaz Shimshon and Bet Shmuel - the world headquarters of the Reform Movement. In recent years an Ultra-Orthodox Yeshiva has opened up in close proximity. With the international center of Conservative Judaism a couple of blocks away, we are arguably situated in the most denominationally diverse address in the Jewish world. It is truly the High Street of the Jewish People.

The street is no stranger to acts of violence. The most spectacular and deadly event took place back in 1946, with the notorious attack on the street's most famous eponymous hotel. 45 years later, a planned suicide bombing succeeded in killing the man with the explosive jacket, but no innocent victims. And now, earlier this week, King David Street saw the second example in as many weeks of Tractor Terror. A man driving a construction vehicle started ramming and squashing vehicles, although he was killed before he managed to kill anyone else.

Five of my students were in close proximity to the attack this week. Four of the College's Israeli students were enjoying a break at a local café, and were afforded a grandstand view of the grim and swift proceedings. More directly still, one woman recently arrived from the US on our Year in Israel Program found herself directly behind the tractor. As soon as the gunshots began to ring out she took cover behind a tree. Once the emergency was over, she dusted herself off and went to her apartment. When I saw her soon after she was shaken but not stirred, and we spent some time talking about her road to the Rabbinate. For her and hundreds of others, the first Road to the Rabbinate is King David Street.

When I passed the scene of the attack a couple of hours later, an assortment of characters had shown up - a Government Minister in search of a photo opportunity, and some Kahanist crazies in search of a hatred opportunity. Chabad were also there for some reason, with a large banner promising Messianic days. Somehow the bizarre nature of the scene seemed natural in a road in which the incongruous is inevitable.

Those who try to bring death to this place of life will not succeed, even if (Heaven forbid) a future attack yields casualties. Somehow the untidy yet intense drama being played out in the street - Jews and Arabs, locals and tourists, Liberals and Traditionalists, wealthy and modest - must not be curtailed. It may have its tractors and its detractors, but the spirit of King David Street cannot be bulldozed.