Jerusalem Confessions invited you to a performance in which you looked reality in the eye without being exposed and sneaked peek without hurting anyone.

The evening began in a hall, where you were divided into groups, you were introduced to your ceremony leader and handed the great confessional archive—containing all of the confessions we had gathered and collated—dozens of confession from Jerusalemites from every group and sector in the city, tribes and neighborhoods who gave us textual glimpses into their secret world. They told us about themselves and their god, their relationships and their boss, clothing and sex, their experiences in the army and school, the hatred that burns within them, unspoken yearnings, moral low points, perversions they believe are all their own and their great unrequited loves. Every evening, in a completely new and surprising way, the archival reading led participants through a sensual and emotional labyrinth. You found yourselves laughing, saddened, embarrassed and in awe, challenged and disgusted, curious and pensive, and there were even some moments when all of these came together.

The ceremonial leaders plied you with wine and took you on a journey into the hidden world of dozens of men and women. Some surprises, both planned and some certainly not, added new twists to the group’s communal tale.

In an evening that wavered between theatre and ceremony, with no prying or judging, you were privy to the most intimate thoughts of people you had never met, met complete strangers sitting opposite you at the table and confessed to yourself.