Ariel Sharon: Messenger of Abrahamic Apocalypse?

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Ayyub, says David Cook, who has researched this literature deeply, uses "the Christian messianic fantasy...that Israel's existence is a sign of the End" for his own purposes. Ayyub portrays a Jewish Antichrist at the center of a conspiracy seeking world domination. And as the apocalyptic scenario unfolds, he says, "The dwelling place of the Jewish prophet"--the Antichrist--will be in the Temple in Jerusalem."

Ayyub's book, says Cook, was a "runaway hit," and other writers followed his lead, producing hundreds of tracts. One of those disciples is Fa'iq Da'ud, whose puts Christians and Jews together in the plot against Al-Aqsa.

Estimating the impact of Muslim apocalyptic writers isn't easy, since their followers haven't established separate movements. But the popularity of Ayyub's original work, followed by the other tracts in the same genre, suggests a degree of grass-roots influence. One book, "The End of Israel 2022" by Sheikh Bassam Jirrar, has sold 30,000 copies in the West Bank, Gaza Strip, and among Israeli Arabs--equivalent to 2 million copies in the U.S.

That hardly means there's a copy on every Muslim's shelf. Jamil Hamami, an east Jerusalem graduate of Cairo's Al-Azhar University, foremost center of religious study for Sunni Muslims, has never heard of Ayyub and rejects Jirrar's theories. Yet he doesn't deny that apocalypse is in the air. Interest among Palestinians in signs of the Hour can't be measured, he says, but "people are talking about it, in universities, in schools."

To make sense of all this, picture apocalyptic believers seated in a triangular theater around the stage of Jerusalem. All agree that history's last act is being played out, but they hold different programs. Jewish Temple activists--bit players in real life--have starring roles in the Christian play; Jews and Christians alike unknowingly play in the Muslim script. Hope and fear are the sound system, wildly amplifying every word, every footstep. Small actions at the Temple Mount take on significance that nonbelievers--such as secular politicians and analysts--neither expect nor understand.

Now consider how Israeli hardliner Ariel Sharon's late-September visit to the Mount would have looked to anyone who'd read Ayyub or Da'ud. Consider as well how it might appear now that polls show Sharon way ahead of Ehud Barak in the race to become Israel's prime minister.

What's more, the ideas of those expecting the End have impact beyond their own ranks. Last year, Sheikh Ekrima Sa'id Sabri, the grand mufti of Jerusalem and Palestine, appointed by Yasser Arafat, told me he rejected setting a date for the Hour, as Muslims call the End.

But he said Da'ud's book had value because "it makes clear the dangers to Al-Aqsa mosque."

Viewing Jerusalem as the stage of the End warps perception of political events, creates expectations of absolute victories, makes battles glorious instead of tragic. But it is certainly not the only religious view of Jerusalem's sorrows.

Those who regard life as more sacred than soil, who believe that God commands us "to seek peace and pursue it," must reject the apocalyptic vision and insist that the faiths can live together in the Holy City.