Twenty minutes outside of Jerusalem lies a little town, the first City of David. It is a quiet town in the West Bank, run by the Palestinian Authority and composed of approximately fifty percent Christians. For a long time, the city was eighty percent Christian, but economic isolation and a depleted tourism industry has resulted in high unemployment, and many of those able to emigrate from the city have done so.
We had been told by our north-Israel guide, Etai, that we could call his friend Johnny, a Palestinian Christian, who would set us up with a guide and car to go to and from Bethlehem. It would be a really cheap trip, next to nothing according to Etai, but we would be obligated to listen to Johnny talk about the items for sale in his shop … no obligation to buy, of course.
In discussing this option with our Jerusalem guide, Aaron, we learned that getting to Bethlehem was even easier than making a call to Johnny. Any Israeli taxi driver could take us to the border of the West Bank, and from there we could easily grab a taxi to take us to Bethlehem. Although the city is abuzz at Christmas time (with many Israelis taking check-point by-passes to get to the city’s festivities) for the most part Bethlehem’s lay-out is quite simple, Aaron told us, and we would not even need a guide. Plus, with just a couple of sites to see, we wouldn’t need but a couple of hours for the trip, and could probably make it to and fro in advance of the onset of the Sabbath.
With all of this in mind, a group of seven of us decided to go out to Bethlehem after visiting Yad Vashem on Friday afternoon. As our whole family approached the taxi line (we needed to take four), we started to tell drivers where we were headed: two back to the Inbal Hotel, and two towards Bethlehem. Apon hearing that we were heading towards Bethlehem, the six taxi drivers completely abandoned our family members staying more local and came rushing towards the Bethlehem group. Bewildered, the Jerusalem group watched as the drivers insisted that they would be our best driver, they could take us all the way to Bethlehem, they would stay with us and wait while we site-saw, and then they would drive us back … all for a good deal. Wow! Bartering just a little (we probably could have bartered more, but the insistence of all of the drivers was a little overwhelming) we hopped into the first two taxi’s, and started our drive.
As it ends up, our drivers were friends, and the driver of my car is an Arab living near our hotel. It was about 2:00 when we started out to Bethlehem, and we had missed lunch, so I offered to share a Luna Bar I had brought along with me. Nuts in the bar prohibited Dad from snacking, but Susan and Asher and I each had a quarter, and I gave the last quarter to our driver, who gladly accepted the snack. I’m sure that breaking bread with the driver wasn’t the reason, but our drivers took good care of us, which we really appreciated. In addition to thinking that sharing with our driver would be polite, I will admit that a part of me was a little nervous about this trip and I suppose I hoped to live out the proverb that discourages us from biting the hand that feeds us. It couldn’t hurt, right?
Our drivers zipped us all the way out to Bethlehem (using the a check-point by-pass that seemed slightly less than official), and parked within a couple of blocks from Nativity Square and the Church of the Nativity. Then they introduced us to a man who could guide us in the city. We had planned not to have a guide, but the man offered to take us around the city’s two focal points for about a half an hour for the charge us one US dollar per person. Figuring we might as well, we accepted Nigo’s services and began our walk to the Church.
Our guide was excellent. Born in Bethlehem, Nigo was raised Roman Catholic, received a Roman Catholic education and currently is not at all religious but claims to know the Bible better than the priests. He didn’t tell us this at the time, but showed us pictures later of himself guiding celebrities such as Richard Gere and Jean-Claude van Damme. He also told us about touring with Madeleine Albright, although he did not have a picture to share.
Our guide oriented us to Nativity Square, which has both Christian and Muslim architecture and holy places. Then he introduced us to the Church of the Nativity, and before we entered, I asked him what changes he has seen in Bethlehem over his lifetime. Nigo paused for just a moment, and then shared with me (the rest of our group was a few paces away taking pictures … I believe it was at this time also that Dad and Marty were tying on their temporary skirts so that their knees wouldn’t be exposed in the Church) that his father always encouraged him to stay away from politics, and that the results of politics is what he is most troubled by in Bethlehem.
Nigo continued to say that previous decades have brought flux in the political environment of the city, and that the changes have greatly affected his livelihood. The 1990’s were a great time for him, a man who has made his livelihood on the tourism business. The city saw over 5,000 visitors each week, and he found that he was guiding large groups every day. At the end of 1999, Itzak Rabin was assassinated, the 2nd Intifada began, and tourism to the West Bank plunged over night. Towards the end of 2005, tourism was beginning to pick up again, but the war in Lebanon again was followed by a plunge in tourists. Today, Bethlehem is lucky to see 500 tourists on a weekend day, many of whom drive seven hours from Egypt to see the birthplace of Jesus, and then drive seven hours back to the perceived safety of their Egyptian hotels. Why, Nigo asked, would he offer to take us on a tour for $1 each? Because he has nothing to do! And he would rather spend a half an hour with us than do nothing.
And Nigo proved to be a wonderful guide. Very knowledgeable … never rushed us … answered all of our questions (acknowledging when he had facts to share and when he had theories to express). Seeing the Church built at the site of the manger in which Jesus was born was very meaningful for all of us, and it was also insightful to see three of the earliest denominations of Christianity (the Armenian Church, the Roman Catholic Church, and the Greek Orthodox Church) sharing one space (a great preview of what would later see at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher).
Susan and I had decided to look for manger’s to bring home as primary souvenirs from Israel. We weren’t sure what we would see, what might strike us, what might be within our budgets, or if we would find anything that we would want to put on our mantel places year after year during the advent season. We ended up finding beautiful olive wood manger scenes at our guide’s brother’s shop, and we decided to purchase matching sets to bring home. The scenes are beautiful … Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Shepard, 3 Wisemen, 2 sheep and 2 camels in gorgeous old olive wood. And Susan and I are both so excited to have such a significant symbol in our homes be from the birthplace of Christ. We are also glad to support a nice, gracious and generous family who seem to be moderate in their beliefs and interested primarily in doing what they can to have a decent standard of well-being.
In the end, Dad bought Susan and me our mangers, which adds to their significance even more. As I have with so many episodes on this trip, I love that we have continuously supported each other. In my “old age,” I have begun to appreciate how amazing it feels when those I love begin to love something because I love it. For Dad to see how meaningful acquiring crèches in Bethlehem was to Susan and me and to participate in this experience by making the mangers a gift has added a whole new layer of for which I am very grateful.
On our way home, we stopped for street falafel. Our drivers found a little shop in a back street, and the man working the shop gave us samples and the best falafel I’ve had all trip. We were the only people in the shop (it was about 4:00 p.m. at this point), and we feasted on this Middle Eastern staple. On the wall above my head was a poster of Yasser Arafat, and above that a light up image of Santa Claus. As we left the falafel shop and got back into our taxis (to go through a real check-point this time, where the Israeli guards checked our passports and the trunk of the cab), a small boy on a second story porch sat with an older family member, waving to us, and shouting “hello” to us with gusto. Not quite sure what to make of it all, but our trip to Bethlehem was certainly an experience that I will always remember. I felt safe, and cared for, well-wished for and appreciated. I also feel more empathy to the many good-intentioned persons who are living in cities that are unstable, have closed borders, and have limited resources available for everyday citizens to feel like they are contributing to the well-being of their communities.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
12 - Yad Vashem
We went to Yad Vashem, the Israeli holocaust remembrance museum this morning (after a fascinating underground tour of the Western Wall of the Temple Mount beneath the Arab Quarter). Using video from the Spielberg project, copies of precious archives such as Schindler’s List, images, sounds, quotes, narratives, and symbolic architecture, the museum and its various memorial halls are breathtaking and tear jerking. Many of the stories told in this museum are taught in Facing History and Ourselves, which I took in high school. Much of the clothing, shoes, pictures, watches, medical research tools, video reels, etc. are very similar to the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. Much of the empathy, anger, embarrassment, pride, bewilderment, fear, compassion, sadness, rage, confusion, and a whole bundle of other mixed emotions are the same that I felt walking through the Museum in D.C.
Bearing witness to the systematic and institutionalized atrocities committed just two generations ago, and learning about international responses is a very humanizing experience. Looking at the face of young child killed in the gas chambers is uncomfortable. Reading the unfinished diary of a confused teen-ager growing up in an overcrowded ghetto is difficult. Reviewing the rise of mass cultures of hatred, and then learning about courageous individuals (including my ancestor’s land of Denmark, where even the King of Denmark wore a Jewish star in protest to the demands of the Nazis) forced me, once again, to think introspectively. I am so humbled when I ask: what might I have done if I grew up in Nazi Germany, or if I lived in Vichy France. How might I have exhibited courage and showed commitment to the values I hold dear?
Walking through the underground halls of Yad Vashem, and then walking out to the platform overlooking the hills of Israel has once again put our entire trip into context for us. Battles, conquerors, oppression and oppressed … Israel serves many purposes for many people. For the six million Jews who died in the Holocaust, Israel promises that their tragedy will not happen again. Israel came too late for the 1.5 million children who perished in the Holocaust, but for the rest of us, Israel stands as a beacon (a very controversial beacon) of how we might realize the vision: never again.
Bearing witness to the systematic and institutionalized atrocities committed just two generations ago, and learning about international responses is a very humanizing experience. Looking at the face of young child killed in the gas chambers is uncomfortable. Reading the unfinished diary of a confused teen-ager growing up in an overcrowded ghetto is difficult. Reviewing the rise of mass cultures of hatred, and then learning about courageous individuals (including my ancestor’s land of Denmark, where even the King of Denmark wore a Jewish star in protest to the demands of the Nazis) forced me, once again, to think introspectively. I am so humbled when I ask: what might I have done if I grew up in Nazi Germany, or if I lived in Vichy France. How might I have exhibited courage and showed commitment to the values I hold dear?
Walking through the underground halls of Yad Vashem, and then walking out to the platform overlooking the hills of Israel has once again put our entire trip into context for us. Battles, conquerors, oppression and oppressed … Israel serves many purposes for many people. For the six million Jews who died in the Holocaust, Israel promises that their tragedy will not happen again. Israel came too late for the 1.5 million children who perished in the Holocaust, but for the rest of us, Israel stands as a beacon (a very controversial beacon) of how we might realize the vision: never again.
11 - Co-existence 2
Ugh, I have got to stop eating like this … the salads, the hummus, the falafel, the fish, the pita, the cheeses, the breakfasts, the sorbets … it’s all quite good for us, but too much, far too much. You'd think I would have learned that no every meal might be my last meal sometime! I will miss so much from this trip, but one thing I look forward to about going home is getting back to a rhythm where high quality and tasty food does not constantly surround me in such abundance.
Okay, back to our experiences thus far in Jerusalem.
Rebecca:
Co-existence among ages: After touring the Temple Mount, we visited the Kotel, otherwise know as the Wailing Wall or the Western Wall. The Kotel is the remaining retaining wall of the Temple Mount from the Roman destruction of the Temple in 70 a.d. It is significant for the Jewish people as both the largest remaining piece of the Second Temple, and also as the closest that Jews can get to the old Temple site to pray. The Kotel is a somber place, where men and women separate to pray, women are modestly clothed, and Israeli soldiers frequently visit. Visitors to the Wailing Wall bring their prayer books and lean directly into the wall, feel the Jerusalem stone. They pray and they mourn the destruction of the Temple. I do not know if there are specific prayers that Jews are encouraged to pray at the Kotel, but I intend to ask this question to my family tomorrow. The tiniest of crevices in the stone are all stuffed with little notes that individuals have left in the wall. Susan left a note that her boss’s daughter had written in anticipation of her Bat Mitzvah this fall. Rebecca wrote and left a note … I do not intend to ask her what she wrote … on second thought, I might, but I probably won’t publish it … sorry y’all J
In general the Kotel is very moving, but I was particularly struck by the many generations at the Wall. Children as young as 4 and 5 walked down the women’s side with their mothers, teen-agers prayed earnestly, and adults and the elderly stood and sat to pray at this holy site. It seems, that at the Kotel, at least on the women’s side (I can’t speak for the men’s side) all ages are equal, and no person’s role was different according to their age.
Susan:
As we were planning our walking route from the Jaffa Gate to our hotel just after 4 four this afternoon, we began to hear chanting and a drum sound. We learned that an Armenian funeral was approaching, and sure enough, we watched the entire funeral process on foot before following the mourners out of the gate. First, a ministerial looking man carried the lid of the casket. At first I thought he was a superman because he alone was carrying the box, and only later realized, as he passed, that he was only carrying the lid. Was this a symbolic ritual? Next came 30-40 men all clothed in black robes and head cloaks, singing a hymn and syncopating by hitting their walking sticks on the cobblestone street. Behind them were about 8 men, the pall-bearers. As they made their turn in front of us to move through the gate, I realized that this was not a symbolic funeral or another ritual unknown to me … it was an open casket. Right. But before I had too much time to dwell on how invasive I felt, the mourners passed us … weeping, crying, wailing, shuttering. It seemed clear who the new widow was by the way in which her community surrounded her.
Like so much else on this trip, I feel like there are at least two well-defined take-aways from this experience. On the one side, I felt so much like the tacky-tourist … in my Keens and growing sunburn, half-lost in the Old City. And on the other side, I immediately felt like Jerusalem had brought us into its inner circle through this intimate encounter.
When co-existence doesn’t quite work out: We had a troubling experience in the shops area of the Jewish quarter of the Old City today. We wanted to do some shopping … mostly window-shopping, but we also hoped to find some items to bring home as gifts. Susan had one particular gift in mind for a friend, and Rebecca (in her expert Hebrew) set out to help her do some cost comparisons. Seeing 3 or 4 shops in close proximity with the same item, Susan and Rebecca talked with the first man about his selling price, and then politely told him that they weren’t ready to buy anything yet, but might come back for it. He dropped his price a bit, and they repeated that they didn’t want to buy yet, but might come back later. As they walked away to go to a nearby shop, he dropped his price again, and then called after them, “You don’t want to buy from me because I am an Arab … all you tourists are the same, you only want to buy from Jews and not from Arabs.” Was this man using a ploy to get my sisters to feel bad and therefore purchase the item from him? Or does he really feel that he is discriminated against because he is Arab? Regardless of his motivation, such an experience in an every day setting has sit very poorly in all of us.
To end on a couple of higher notes …
We ran into our guide who took us up Masada and to the Dead Sea last week. In true MacNichstro style, we shouted to him “hello, Aaron!” from across the Arab quarter in the Old City. He, in turn, though leading another group, seemed quite pleased to see us!
We think that a group of us (those of us who drive on Shabat) will be able to go out to Bethlehem on Saturday. Israeli citizens are not permitted to go to Bethlehem because it is in the West Bank, but as tourists we will be able to go with a guide (it’s just 10 minutes outside of Jerusalem), and we look forward to visiting Manger Square.
When we emerged from Hezekiah’s tunnel, we were at the ruins of the Jewish constructed pool to which they had diverted their water. Our guide informed us that this site is significant in the Christian tradition, in that it is believed to be the place where Jesus gave site to a blind man. What a joy to stand in the footsteps of Christ.
Okay, back to our experiences thus far in Jerusalem.
Rebecca:
Co-existence among ages: After touring the Temple Mount, we visited the Kotel, otherwise know as the Wailing Wall or the Western Wall. The Kotel is the remaining retaining wall of the Temple Mount from the Roman destruction of the Temple in 70 a.d. It is significant for the Jewish people as both the largest remaining piece of the Second Temple, and also as the closest that Jews can get to the old Temple site to pray. The Kotel is a somber place, where men and women separate to pray, women are modestly clothed, and Israeli soldiers frequently visit. Visitors to the Wailing Wall bring their prayer books and lean directly into the wall, feel the Jerusalem stone. They pray and they mourn the destruction of the Temple. I do not know if there are specific prayers that Jews are encouraged to pray at the Kotel, but I intend to ask this question to my family tomorrow. The tiniest of crevices in the stone are all stuffed with little notes that individuals have left in the wall. Susan left a note that her boss’s daughter had written in anticipation of her Bat Mitzvah this fall. Rebecca wrote and left a note … I do not intend to ask her what she wrote … on second thought, I might, but I probably won’t publish it … sorry y’all J
In general the Kotel is very moving, but I was particularly struck by the many generations at the Wall. Children as young as 4 and 5 walked down the women’s side with their mothers, teen-agers prayed earnestly, and adults and the elderly stood and sat to pray at this holy site. It seems, that at the Kotel, at least on the women’s side (I can’t speak for the men’s side) all ages are equal, and no person’s role was different according to their age.
Susan:
As we were planning our walking route from the Jaffa Gate to our hotel just after 4 four this afternoon, we began to hear chanting and a drum sound. We learned that an Armenian funeral was approaching, and sure enough, we watched the entire funeral process on foot before following the mourners out of the gate. First, a ministerial looking man carried the lid of the casket. At first I thought he was a superman because he alone was carrying the box, and only later realized, as he passed, that he was only carrying the lid. Was this a symbolic ritual? Next came 30-40 men all clothed in black robes and head cloaks, singing a hymn and syncopating by hitting their walking sticks on the cobblestone street. Behind them were about 8 men, the pall-bearers. As they made their turn in front of us to move through the gate, I realized that this was not a symbolic funeral or another ritual unknown to me … it was an open casket. Right. But before I had too much time to dwell on how invasive I felt, the mourners passed us … weeping, crying, wailing, shuttering. It seemed clear who the new widow was by the way in which her community surrounded her.
Like so much else on this trip, I feel like there are at least two well-defined take-aways from this experience. On the one side, I felt so much like the tacky-tourist … in my Keens and growing sunburn, half-lost in the Old City. And on the other side, I immediately felt like Jerusalem had brought us into its inner circle through this intimate encounter.
When co-existence doesn’t quite work out: We had a troubling experience in the shops area of the Jewish quarter of the Old City today. We wanted to do some shopping … mostly window-shopping, but we also hoped to find some items to bring home as gifts. Susan had one particular gift in mind for a friend, and Rebecca (in her expert Hebrew) set out to help her do some cost comparisons. Seeing 3 or 4 shops in close proximity with the same item, Susan and Rebecca talked with the first man about his selling price, and then politely told him that they weren’t ready to buy anything yet, but might come back for it. He dropped his price a bit, and they repeated that they didn’t want to buy yet, but might come back later. As they walked away to go to a nearby shop, he dropped his price again, and then called after them, “You don’t want to buy from me because I am an Arab … all you tourists are the same, you only want to buy from Jews and not from Arabs.” Was this man using a ploy to get my sisters to feel bad and therefore purchase the item from him? Or does he really feel that he is discriminated against because he is Arab? Regardless of his motivation, such an experience in an every day setting has sit very poorly in all of us.
To end on a couple of higher notes …
We ran into our guide who took us up Masada and to the Dead Sea last week. In true MacNichstro style, we shouted to him “hello, Aaron!” from across the Arab quarter in the Old City. He, in turn, though leading another group, seemed quite pleased to see us!
We think that a group of us (those of us who drive on Shabat) will be able to go out to Bethlehem on Saturday. Israeli citizens are not permitted to go to Bethlehem because it is in the West Bank, but as tourists we will be able to go with a guide (it’s just 10 minutes outside of Jerusalem), and we look forward to visiting Manger Square.
When we emerged from Hezekiah’s tunnel, we were at the ruins of the Jewish constructed pool to which they had diverted their water. Our guide informed us that this site is significant in the Christian tradition, in that it is believed to be the place where Jesus gave site to a blind man. What a joy to stand in the footsteps of Christ.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
10 - Co-existence 1
It has been a very saturating 48 hours, and I have asked some of my nuclear family members for help in writing this blog entry on our first day and a half in Jerusalem. What, I asked Asher, Dad, Rebecca, and Susan, would you write about if you were keeping a chronicle of your experiences and reflections on this trip? What has stood out in your mind, puzzled you, or surprised you? Which memories would you want to make sure to hold on to by memorializing them on paper, and also publish to your friends/family/colleagues (if anyone is still reading through these entries).
I had hoped that hearing their thoughts would help me focus my writing on the top three key experiences or themes thus far in Jerusalem, but they have highly disappointed me. Although we were not greeted to this holy city with palm branches and song, Jerusalem has made a grand entrance into all of us.
The thoughts and reflections that my family members shared with me as stand-outs are certainly highlights or points of interest for me as well. It seems a common theme of Jerusalem is co-existence. Co-existence in Jerusalem has an age-old precedence, but it looks very different here than it did in hilly Haifa, where Jews and Muslims, and a Christian minority live in relative (albeit decreasing) calm, integration, and interdependency. And it seems as though many doubt that the problems associated with co-existence in Jerusalem will be most difficult, if not impossible to resolve over the next couple of generations.
Asher:
Co-existence of old and new. After a full day in the City of David and the Old City of Jerusalem, we walked back to our hotel outside of the Old City walls. Like night and day, within 50 feet (perhaps, I’ve gotten no better at estimating distance in Israel) we passed from the ancient, walled, cobblestone alleys to a bustling 4-lane throughway with fast cars and few pedestrian passages. Immigration to Jerusalem continues to be high (as it is throughout all of Israel), and city planners have a great deal to consider, including how they might maintain the intimate feeling of this holy walled city among the demand for inclusion in its residential and commercial neighborhoods.
Co-existence in one 10x10 square feet of land. Twice a day, non-Muslims are allowed to visit the Temple Mount, one of the holiest Jewish spaces, and the exterior of the Dome on the Mount, one of the three most holy Muslim sites. For the Jews, the top of Mount Moriah is significant for its prominence in the story of God instructing Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, and also for being the site of the two Jewish Temples and site for the Holy of Holies. Muslims built the Dome of the Rock on the exact same spot at the Jewish Temple had been nearly 1,300 years ago, and have developed a compelling claim of their own for the space. The religious and political interests and sensitivities seem to be never-ending, but also must be resolved in order to create a lasting peace in the Middle East.
While on the Temple Mount, we had a touching experience. We passed thorough security, through the appropriate gate, and onto the Herod additions to the Mount. Our guide was careful not to show us pictures in the books he brought in case someone should think he was reading a prayer book and force us to leave the courtyard. For about 15 minutes, he recounted some of the history and tensions of the space, and about half way through, an Arab many began to linger around our shady spot. We all noticed him, and I wondered why he might be hanging around … was he interested in learning what this Jewish guide might be saying? Was he going to ask us to buy something from him (as many children and other adults were doing) on the Mount? Was he going to challenge something our guide said? When our guide, Aaron, invited us to walk up to the Dome of the Rock (which we are not allowed to enter), he asked to interject and politely informed us that while as non-Muslims we indeed are not allowed to enter the Dome of the Rock, that there is a replica of the mosque in Tempeh, Arizona, and he hoped we would go to visit it. He also informed us that he son is a professor at UCLA, and is working with a variety of students, professors, and community groups to initiate and maintain healthy interfaith discussions. Clearly we do not know why this man chose to tell us about his sons initiatives, but I would like to think that perhaps this man is a moderate Muslim and has taken it apon himself to help non-Muslims in Israel learn about these more moderate efforts to co-exist around the world.
Dad:
Co-existence throughout time. Jerusalem, like Jafo, has a 5,000 year history. King David made Jerusalem his capital in approximately 1,000 b.c., and it has been a great city for Jews, Christians, and Muslims ever since. We went to the City of David today, where we learned about David and Solomon’s improvements to the city and the beginning of the First Temple Period. We pictured Isaiah prophesying from its walls that the Assyrians would not conquer Jerusalem, and we traversed the ½ kilometer long tunnel through the sandstone that King Hezekiah had constructed to protect Jerusalem’s water supply during this time. And then we learned about Jerusalem’s fall to the Babylonians, the Roman era and construction of the Second Temple, fall of the Second Temple, Crusadors, Muslims, and on forward to current affairs. All of this history is stunning, and yet rather confusing. It is amazing that archeologists are uncovering old sites from all of these periods, and yet astounding that they are doing so under the homes of citizens who protest their methods.
A note on our time in Hezekiah’s tunnel … pitch black, cold water to mid-calf (and above the knees at the beginning), and only 2-feet wide at most, the construction of Hezekiah’s tunnel (dug by two teams starting at opposite ends and meeting at the middle) is a true feat. Our walk through was fun and we were amazed to be able to walk the same tunnel, exactly, that was constructed over 2,500 years ago. But our experience was made so much more significant thanks to the group of Hassidic girls ahead of us. We were learning from Aaron at the entrance to the tunnel when we let them go ahead of us. No older than 12-14, a group of two dozen girls in calf-length navy pleated wool skirts, stockings, button down shirts, and nylons one by one shrilled as they plunged into the water. We embarked after them perhaps 5 minutes later. After some time walking through the dark tunnels, we began to hear singing … all in Yiddish these young girls were memorializing their experience in song, and we followed their melodies for the next 20 minutes until we all emerged at the ruins of the pool.
It’s time for us to go to our last “all-family” dinner, so I’m going to post this and dash, but please stay tuned for more on the past day and a half.
Rebecca:
The Kotel (Wailing Wall)
Susan:
Armenian funeralEpisode with the shopkeeper
I had hoped that hearing their thoughts would help me focus my writing on the top three key experiences or themes thus far in Jerusalem, but they have highly disappointed me. Although we were not greeted to this holy city with palm branches and song, Jerusalem has made a grand entrance into all of us.
The thoughts and reflections that my family members shared with me as stand-outs are certainly highlights or points of interest for me as well. It seems a common theme of Jerusalem is co-existence. Co-existence in Jerusalem has an age-old precedence, but it looks very different here than it did in hilly Haifa, where Jews and Muslims, and a Christian minority live in relative (albeit decreasing) calm, integration, and interdependency. And it seems as though many doubt that the problems associated with co-existence in Jerusalem will be most difficult, if not impossible to resolve over the next couple of generations.
Asher:
Co-existence of old and new. After a full day in the City of David and the Old City of Jerusalem, we walked back to our hotel outside of the Old City walls. Like night and day, within 50 feet (perhaps, I’ve gotten no better at estimating distance in Israel) we passed from the ancient, walled, cobblestone alleys to a bustling 4-lane throughway with fast cars and few pedestrian passages. Immigration to Jerusalem continues to be high (as it is throughout all of Israel), and city planners have a great deal to consider, including how they might maintain the intimate feeling of this holy walled city among the demand for inclusion in its residential and commercial neighborhoods.
Co-existence in one 10x10 square feet of land. Twice a day, non-Muslims are allowed to visit the Temple Mount, one of the holiest Jewish spaces, and the exterior of the Dome on the Mount, one of the three most holy Muslim sites. For the Jews, the top of Mount Moriah is significant for its prominence in the story of God instructing Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, and also for being the site of the two Jewish Temples and site for the Holy of Holies. Muslims built the Dome of the Rock on the exact same spot at the Jewish Temple had been nearly 1,300 years ago, and have developed a compelling claim of their own for the space. The religious and political interests and sensitivities seem to be never-ending, but also must be resolved in order to create a lasting peace in the Middle East.
While on the Temple Mount, we had a touching experience. We passed thorough security, through the appropriate gate, and onto the Herod additions to the Mount. Our guide was careful not to show us pictures in the books he brought in case someone should think he was reading a prayer book and force us to leave the courtyard. For about 15 minutes, he recounted some of the history and tensions of the space, and about half way through, an Arab many began to linger around our shady spot. We all noticed him, and I wondered why he might be hanging around … was he interested in learning what this Jewish guide might be saying? Was he going to ask us to buy something from him (as many children and other adults were doing) on the Mount? Was he going to challenge something our guide said? When our guide, Aaron, invited us to walk up to the Dome of the Rock (which we are not allowed to enter), he asked to interject and politely informed us that while as non-Muslims we indeed are not allowed to enter the Dome of the Rock, that there is a replica of the mosque in Tempeh, Arizona, and he hoped we would go to visit it. He also informed us that he son is a professor at UCLA, and is working with a variety of students, professors, and community groups to initiate and maintain healthy interfaith discussions. Clearly we do not know why this man chose to tell us about his sons initiatives, but I would like to think that perhaps this man is a moderate Muslim and has taken it apon himself to help non-Muslims in Israel learn about these more moderate efforts to co-exist around the world.
Dad:
Co-existence throughout time. Jerusalem, like Jafo, has a 5,000 year history. King David made Jerusalem his capital in approximately 1,000 b.c., and it has been a great city for Jews, Christians, and Muslims ever since. We went to the City of David today, where we learned about David and Solomon’s improvements to the city and the beginning of the First Temple Period. We pictured Isaiah prophesying from its walls that the Assyrians would not conquer Jerusalem, and we traversed the ½ kilometer long tunnel through the sandstone that King Hezekiah had constructed to protect Jerusalem’s water supply during this time. And then we learned about Jerusalem’s fall to the Babylonians, the Roman era and construction of the Second Temple, fall of the Second Temple, Crusadors, Muslims, and on forward to current affairs. All of this history is stunning, and yet rather confusing. It is amazing that archeologists are uncovering old sites from all of these periods, and yet astounding that they are doing so under the homes of citizens who protest their methods.
A note on our time in Hezekiah’s tunnel … pitch black, cold water to mid-calf (and above the knees at the beginning), and only 2-feet wide at most, the construction of Hezekiah’s tunnel (dug by two teams starting at opposite ends and meeting at the middle) is a true feat. Our walk through was fun and we were amazed to be able to walk the same tunnel, exactly, that was constructed over 2,500 years ago. But our experience was made so much more significant thanks to the group of Hassidic girls ahead of us. We were learning from Aaron at the entrance to the tunnel when we let them go ahead of us. No older than 12-14, a group of two dozen girls in calf-length navy pleated wool skirts, stockings, button down shirts, and nylons one by one shrilled as they plunged into the water. We embarked after them perhaps 5 minutes later. After some time walking through the dark tunnels, we began to hear singing … all in Yiddish these young girls were memorializing their experience in song, and we followed their melodies for the next 20 minutes until we all emerged at the ruins of the pool.
It’s time for us to go to our last “all-family” dinner, so I’m going to post this and dash, but please stay tuned for more on the past day and a half.
Rebecca:
The Kotel (Wailing Wall)
Susan:
Armenian funeralEpisode with the shopkeeper
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
9 - Golan Heights to Haifa
We are getting to the point in our trip when time is beginning to speed up, and I am desperate to keep each minute passing slowly. We have been traveling up the north of Israel, and tomorrow will travel to Jerusalem, which is our last hub for this trip. We still have four full days in Israel, but I am already beginning to have travelers remorse. Each day here has been thought provoking and fun, and we have had such a nice time as a family. Plus, being in a land with such a dramatic history and current struggles with existence has helped me to appreciate the privilege of stability at home that I so often take for granted. This has not surprised me, and in fact I expected to feel this way especially given the classes I have been taking for the past year and a half on urban development abroad, equality, social and public policy, and values conflicts, but I am glad that my expectation to be re-awakened as to how luxurious it is to live in the United States has been acheived. We have many many many concepts and realities to work on, true, but we have so much about which we can be appreciative. I feel honored to be able to go abroad and be reminded of all this.
Okay, so as I mentioned, Kfar Blum is a kibbutz very near the Lebanese and Syrian borders. It is in the middle of the valley created by the Syrian-African rift, and is also within miles of the beginning of the Jordan River and the Golan Heights. Before the War of 1967, Israel’s east and west borders at these northmost points were just 18 miles from each other. Today, Israel extends further west, but this area is still merely a finger extension of the remainder of Israel.
On Monday morning, we went for a walk in the woods. We visited one of three tributaries that flow together at the top of the mighty Jordan River. This one, the Banias, used to be in Lebanon, and was nearly diverted after Israel gained independence in 1948. According to many, water is the biggest issue in the Middle East, and it does not take an active imagination to think about the conflicts that would ensue if the Jordan River stopped flowing.
The hike was beautiful. We went under an ancient Roman road, passed ruins of a British soldiers' swimming pool, viewed beautiful falls, explored an abandoned flour mill, and got all too excited to see three “high rock,” a type of overgrown chipmunk, sunbathing on a ledge. Near the water, and under shade, the path felt almost tropical … starkly contrasting to our afternoon on the Golan Heights.
High above the Sea of Galilee, and extending up and out to the borders of Syria and Jordan, the Golan Heights are an intimidating volcanic formation whose presence foreshadows its history. Given to Syria and Jordan in the UN partition of 1945, the Golan Hieghts are exposed to all elements: windy, difficult to irrigate, and very strategic militarily. With our guide, Etai, we learned about the maneuvers leading up the 6-Day War of 1967, as well as the last day and a half in which Israel ended the war with a successful attack on the Golan Heights. We learned about how the 6-Day War resulted in a feeling of invincibility on behalf of the Israelis, Zionists, and especially the “new Jews.” We also learned about the deafening blow by Egypt and Syria through the Yom Kippur War six years later. A war that technically resulted in an Israeli victory, but mentally was triumphed by the Egyptian and Syrian aggressors. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the Civil War as Etai described the heroic stand made by the Israeli soldiers at the Valley of Tears, using their topographic advantage and chutzpha to hold-off a much larger Syrian army for three days, ultimately keeping their post. The Yom Kippur War was in 1973, and I was especially interested to learn my Canadian families' memories of those days. The moral defeat struck by this attack which began on Yom Kippur, the highest Jewish holiday, was profound, and many among my family were confident at the time that they had just learned about the beginning of the end of Israel. Ultimately, one might draw the conclusion that Israel will benefit by understanding its strengths and its vulnerabilities, and this trip to the Golan Heights sure helped me understand the dynamics in the Middle East today better.
We have not yet fully explored how Israel and Egypt came to sign a peace treaty, but I am eager to learn. In a region where cease-fires are more common than peace treaties, I would like to know more about what is lost and what is gained through both processes, and also about how the United States may be most helpful in the process.
After visiting the Golan Heights, I went for a walk-jog along the Jordan River. On the promenade, I was shaded (every once in a while) by arbors of grapevines and intrigued by Hebrew quotes from Deuteronomy and Judges about the Jordan River. Families were picnicking, groups were kayaking, and I had a very pleasant time. Scale-wise, this section of the Jordan is a giant disappointment, but it is beautiful, and it is clearly appreciated by those living in this semi-desert climate.
Today, we began our day by feasting on yet another delicious buffet breakfast … talk about croissants!!! Then we loaded up with Nasur and Etai and began making our way back to the northern coast. We spent the morning in Tsevat, a beautiful, ancient town, one of the four holy Jewish cities. We visited both the Ashkenazi Ari temple, where we learned about the Ari (the father of the Kabbalah practice), and the Sephardim temple, where we learned about the Moorish influences in the city from the early 16th Century. It was in was in this period, after Isabella and Ferdinand expelled the Jews from Spain, that the Jewish presence in Tzevat dramatically increased. Today, Tsevat maintains its reputation as a mystic city, and it is the first city in which we women have been careful to cover ourselves in the holy sites.
We met up with our cousin Ari briefly in Tsevat today. We had plans to visit him and his family on their 200 person Moshav for dinner on Monday evening, but unfortunately one of the homes on the Moshav experienced a horrible fire. A six-year old boy was killed in the fire, and a young girl was critically injured. The funeral was on Monday evening, and the fire has been a true tragedy for the Moshav. For Dee-dee and Puppy, spending an hour with Ari was a special treat. He took them to the yeshiva at which he studied, and in general traded stories. According to Asher, Ari has a firm hand-shake … as a religious Jew, he does not touch women, so I will have to take Asher (whose tribe we are seeing symbols for all over the place) for his word on it.
In the afternoon, we toured the 5,000 year old city of Akko (pronounced “acre” in the tourist video). Recently named a UNESCO historic site, this sea-side port city is tremendously interesting. Although actually a very poor arab city, the historic center is masked with wealth. In 1197, the crusaders conquered Akko, and built an outsanding crusader city out of sandstone … great halls, crusader arches, double walls, moats, tunnels, etc. We toured in and out of the halls (which are currently being excavated … when the crusaders left 200 years later, the new Muslim leaders simply filled in the great crusader city with earth and build their city on top. The excavators now are removing mounds and mounds of dirt and reinforcing walls and columns where necessary). We crouched to get through the tunnels, and then walked through the arab bizarre. We found a beautiful picture to give to Dee-dee and Puppy in honor of their 60th wedding anniversary, and then we took our first all family photo in the bright sun at the city walls.
The highlight of the day for me was finding a group of 6 or 7 young arab boys jumping from the city walls into the blue ocean nearly 30 feet below. Of course I immediately wanted to join them (going back to my North Carolina rope-swing days), but figured Akko wasn’t quite ready for a skirted swimmer), and so I contented myself to watch their fun. As soon as these boys saw us watching them, they began to put on a show for us, and I couldn’t help by smile ear to ear while watching them and their cliff-jumping adrenaline. Members of a very poor town, these children looked carefree and happy. In a country experiencing treacherous race/culture/nationality relations, I felt joy in our interactions with these jumpers. They posed as they free-fell, and we laughed and clapped cheers for them. It was a precious moment, not unlike when Mum and I silently played with two Tibetan children around a temple in Lhasa, and also a very hopeful moment.
Now we are in Haifa, where Michael Richler lived a couple of years ago. It is the biggest port city in Israel (Dad was excited to see the giant shipping containers coming in and out of the port), and might also be built on one of the steepest and largest hills. Famous in this town are the Bahai gardens which cascade impressively down the slope. I do not think we will have time to explore them before going to Jerusalem tomorrow, but certainly would intend on touring if I were to be back here for more time.
A note on Jerusalem: We learned the troubling news this afternoon that there had been another bull dozer attack in Jerusalem today. This is the second if its kind in the past month, and Israeli intelligence has concluded that the terrorist was from East Jerusalem. The attack happened very near the King David hotel, where Barack Obama was expected to stay this evening, and while the weapon used to inflict terror in one way is evidence that the Israeli army is doing a good job preventing guns and bombs from entering the city, it also expresses the deep cultural and social tensions that are prevalent and growing in this country. I expect that we will be especially careful on this last leg of our trip, and we appreciate your continue prayers.
Okay, so as I mentioned, Kfar Blum is a kibbutz very near the Lebanese and Syrian borders. It is in the middle of the valley created by the Syrian-African rift, and is also within miles of the beginning of the Jordan River and the Golan Heights. Before the War of 1967, Israel’s east and west borders at these northmost points were just 18 miles from each other. Today, Israel extends further west, but this area is still merely a finger extension of the remainder of Israel.
On Monday morning, we went for a walk in the woods. We visited one of three tributaries that flow together at the top of the mighty Jordan River. This one, the Banias, used to be in Lebanon, and was nearly diverted after Israel gained independence in 1948. According to many, water is the biggest issue in the Middle East, and it does not take an active imagination to think about the conflicts that would ensue if the Jordan River stopped flowing.
The hike was beautiful. We went under an ancient Roman road, passed ruins of a British soldiers' swimming pool, viewed beautiful falls, explored an abandoned flour mill, and got all too excited to see three “high rock,” a type of overgrown chipmunk, sunbathing on a ledge. Near the water, and under shade, the path felt almost tropical … starkly contrasting to our afternoon on the Golan Heights.
High above the Sea of Galilee, and extending up and out to the borders of Syria and Jordan, the Golan Heights are an intimidating volcanic formation whose presence foreshadows its history. Given to Syria and Jordan in the UN partition of 1945, the Golan Hieghts are exposed to all elements: windy, difficult to irrigate, and very strategic militarily. With our guide, Etai, we learned about the maneuvers leading up the 6-Day War of 1967, as well as the last day and a half in which Israel ended the war with a successful attack on the Golan Heights. We learned about how the 6-Day War resulted in a feeling of invincibility on behalf of the Israelis, Zionists, and especially the “new Jews.” We also learned about the deafening blow by Egypt and Syria through the Yom Kippur War six years later. A war that technically resulted in an Israeli victory, but mentally was triumphed by the Egyptian and Syrian aggressors. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the Civil War as Etai described the heroic stand made by the Israeli soldiers at the Valley of Tears, using their topographic advantage and chutzpha to hold-off a much larger Syrian army for three days, ultimately keeping their post. The Yom Kippur War was in 1973, and I was especially interested to learn my Canadian families' memories of those days. The moral defeat struck by this attack which began on Yom Kippur, the highest Jewish holiday, was profound, and many among my family were confident at the time that they had just learned about the beginning of the end of Israel. Ultimately, one might draw the conclusion that Israel will benefit by understanding its strengths and its vulnerabilities, and this trip to the Golan Heights sure helped me understand the dynamics in the Middle East today better.
We have not yet fully explored how Israel and Egypt came to sign a peace treaty, but I am eager to learn. In a region where cease-fires are more common than peace treaties, I would like to know more about what is lost and what is gained through both processes, and also about how the United States may be most helpful in the process.
After visiting the Golan Heights, I went for a walk-jog along the Jordan River. On the promenade, I was shaded (every once in a while) by arbors of grapevines and intrigued by Hebrew quotes from Deuteronomy and Judges about the Jordan River. Families were picnicking, groups were kayaking, and I had a very pleasant time. Scale-wise, this section of the Jordan is a giant disappointment, but it is beautiful, and it is clearly appreciated by those living in this semi-desert climate.
Today, we began our day by feasting on yet another delicious buffet breakfast … talk about croissants!!! Then we loaded up with Nasur and Etai and began making our way back to the northern coast. We spent the morning in Tsevat, a beautiful, ancient town, one of the four holy Jewish cities. We visited both the Ashkenazi Ari temple, where we learned about the Ari (the father of the Kabbalah practice), and the Sephardim temple, where we learned about the Moorish influences in the city from the early 16th Century. It was in was in this period, after Isabella and Ferdinand expelled the Jews from Spain, that the Jewish presence in Tzevat dramatically increased. Today, Tsevat maintains its reputation as a mystic city, and it is the first city in which we women have been careful to cover ourselves in the holy sites.
We met up with our cousin Ari briefly in Tsevat today. We had plans to visit him and his family on their 200 person Moshav for dinner on Monday evening, but unfortunately one of the homes on the Moshav experienced a horrible fire. A six-year old boy was killed in the fire, and a young girl was critically injured. The funeral was on Monday evening, and the fire has been a true tragedy for the Moshav. For Dee-dee and Puppy, spending an hour with Ari was a special treat. He took them to the yeshiva at which he studied, and in general traded stories. According to Asher, Ari has a firm hand-shake … as a religious Jew, he does not touch women, so I will have to take Asher (whose tribe we are seeing symbols for all over the place) for his word on it.
In the afternoon, we toured the 5,000 year old city of Akko (pronounced “acre” in the tourist video). Recently named a UNESCO historic site, this sea-side port city is tremendously interesting. Although actually a very poor arab city, the historic center is masked with wealth. In 1197, the crusaders conquered Akko, and built an outsanding crusader city out of sandstone … great halls, crusader arches, double walls, moats, tunnels, etc. We toured in and out of the halls (which are currently being excavated … when the crusaders left 200 years later, the new Muslim leaders simply filled in the great crusader city with earth and build their city on top. The excavators now are removing mounds and mounds of dirt and reinforcing walls and columns where necessary). We crouched to get through the tunnels, and then walked through the arab bizarre. We found a beautiful picture to give to Dee-dee and Puppy in honor of their 60th wedding anniversary, and then we took our first all family photo in the bright sun at the city walls.
The highlight of the day for me was finding a group of 6 or 7 young arab boys jumping from the city walls into the blue ocean nearly 30 feet below. Of course I immediately wanted to join them (going back to my North Carolina rope-swing days), but figured Akko wasn’t quite ready for a skirted swimmer), and so I contented myself to watch their fun. As soon as these boys saw us watching them, they began to put on a show for us, and I couldn’t help by smile ear to ear while watching them and their cliff-jumping adrenaline. Members of a very poor town, these children looked carefree and happy. In a country experiencing treacherous race/culture/nationality relations, I felt joy in our interactions with these jumpers. They posed as they free-fell, and we laughed and clapped cheers for them. It was a precious moment, not unlike when Mum and I silently played with two Tibetan children around a temple in Lhasa, and also a very hopeful moment.
Now we are in Haifa, where Michael Richler lived a couple of years ago. It is the biggest port city in Israel (Dad was excited to see the giant shipping containers coming in and out of the port), and might also be built on one of the steepest and largest hills. Famous in this town are the Bahai gardens which cascade impressively down the slope. I do not think we will have time to explore them before going to Jerusalem tomorrow, but certainly would intend on touring if I were to be back here for more time.
A note on Jerusalem: We learned the troubling news this afternoon that there had been another bull dozer attack in Jerusalem today. This is the second if its kind in the past month, and Israeli intelligence has concluded that the terrorist was from East Jerusalem. The attack happened very near the King David hotel, where Barack Obama was expected to stay this evening, and while the weapon used to inflict terror in one way is evidence that the Israeli army is doing a good job preventing guns and bombs from entering the city, it also expresses the deep cultural and social tensions that are prevalent and growing in this country. I expect that we will be especially careful on this last leg of our trip, and we appreciate your continue prayers.
Monday, July 21, 2008
8 - Kfar Blum
Prologue:
I’d like to thank Grace Chapel and Camp Berea for arming me with a song for almost all occasions here in Israel
“Joshua fought the battle of Jericho, Jericho, Jericho …”
“I looked over Jordan, and what did I see, coming for to carry me home …”
“Jesus fed the hungry thousands, fish and bread he multiplied …”
Introduction:
10 minutes walking to the Jordan drainage ditch, I mean the Jordan River, and 2-5 miles from Lebanon sits Kfar Blum, an historic Kibbutz that has capitalized on opportunities of capitalism and begun a profitable hotel business. With an Olympic sized swimming pool, tennis courts, and air-conditioning, this is the Kibbutz at which we are guests for two nights.
With a rented mini-bus (not a short bus), and amazing guide (how could he not be, he lived in Chevy Chase for eight years … we highly suspect his dad might be Israeli intelligence), we left Tel Aviv this morning and headed north. Our mission for today was to immerse ourselves in history, attempting to further understand the founding of the state of Israel and the fragile relationships that persist in this region.
Part 1: Atlit
Near the Mediterranean Sea and north of Tel Aviv (very near Haifa), Atlit stands as a bitter reminder of the early struggle of holocaust survivors after World War II, and also a celebration of the first remarkable Jewish offensive since the beginning of the Diaspora. As we learned at Independence Hall in Tel Aviv, the struggle for Jews to find a home in the years after World War II added a sense of urgency to the Zionist movement. Mandated by UN instruction to occupy Israel and moderate Jewish/Arab relations, the British enforced strict immigration quotas. As a result, most Jews, coming from Europe, Eastern Europe, Africa, and other Middle Eastern Countries, were blocked from entering the Land of Canaan, and sent to detention camps, mostly in Cyprus and other islands, but also in Israel, including at Atlit. Though well fed and treated kindly by the British, re-entering facilities with double barbed wire fences, disinfecting rooms, and gender separation was a traumatic experience for these survivors of the Nazi concentration camps.
Although the maximum capacity was about 2,000, in 1945 there were about 200 refugees at Atlit. The Palmach learned that 40 of its inhabitants were aliens from Lebanon and Syria, and that they were soon to be deported back to their homelands, facing certain execution apon their return. Practicing the ideal of the “new Jew” that would not be led like sheep to slaughter, members of the elite striking force of Haganah, the Palmach, set to break into Atlit and bring the refugees to safety in Israel. Amazingly, future Prime Minister Itzak Rabin (whose memorial in Tel Aviv we visited last week) was second in command on this military mission (apparently, in a small country, most leaders wear many hats), and in a bloodless effort, the Palmach freed nearly 200 refugees and brought them to the nearest settlement. Greeting them at dawn were thousands of residents from Haifa gathered to help the refugees and Palmach soldiers blend in with the residents of the town and ultimately to avoid arrest.
Not that Kfar Blum in its current state is a good example of an historic Kibbutz, but even learning more about the history of the Kibbutz movement has helped me admire the passion and progressiveness of these communal arrangements. The Kibbutzniks, passionate “new Jews” who learned to farm land, share resources (not even a t-shirt would be personally owned), and defend, were pioneers in their day. They were integral to the success of Jewish settlements across Israel, and helped to redefine what it means to be a Jew. In the same way, the members of the Palmach, through heroic efforts like pre-emptively freeing Jewish brothers who were condemned to certain death through deportation, showed at Atlit that the “new Jew,” creating a new Israel was a force to be reckoned with. Glorifying stories like the Zealots at Masada, and drawing on stories of glory like the 6 Day War (which we will learn more about tomorrow at the Golan Heights), has helped the Jewish people in Israel, and in Diaspora, to understand their identity, see their identity in relations to their world neighbors, and draw much needed strength to realize their dream achieving and maintaining sovereign statehood.
Part 2: Bet She’arim
After the Great Rebellion of the 1st Century, there was a second, and even larger, rebellion in the early 2nd Century. Further defeated by the Romans, many Jews from cities like Jerusalem fled north. In this period, the graves at Bet She-arim were developed, and include the burial site of Rabbi Judah the Priest, as well as hundreds of other Jews, all in limestone sarcophagi in natural caves. One interesting aspect of these burial tombs is that many of them include engraven images, which are forbidden in Jewish law and are indicative of a changes in Jewish tradition in this period.
Intermission: Lunch
Fast food falafel is delicious J
Part 3: Zippori
Before making our way to Kfar Blum, we stopped at Zippori, one of the largest cities in the lower Galilee during the time of Jesus, and in fact just one valley away from Nazareth. Our guide tells us that Nazarene carpenters during the time of Jesus would have depended on residents of Zippori to commission work.
The ruins of Zippori, a tel (meaning a city or ruins that is not just one set of ruins, but ruins apon ruins apon ruins, as would happened when cities were conquered and reconquered over millennia), date back to the early Byzantine period, shortly after Constantine adopted Christianity. We visited the ruins of the Jewish temple, and also of one of the great homes on a hill, proudly known to house “the first Mona Lisa,” an all-seeing female visage in mosaic on the floor. Zippori was clearly doing well in the early 300’s, as seen through the beautiful mosaic’s in the Temple, and our guide stopped to tell us about the revolutions in Judaism after the fall of the 2nd Temple in 74 a.d., and the rabbi’s who helped the Jewish people adapt to a Judaism that was portable and could be practiced anywhere.
Unlike Masada, where the Zealots chose to kill themselves rather than risk being tortured and killed or enslaved by the Romans, the Jews of Zippori took a very different approach to Roman domination. The residents of Zippori invited the Romans into their walls with open arms. Welcome to Zippori, we will not turn you away, we will live in peace with you, and adopt many of your traditions … the initial greeting may have gone something like that J
The evidence of the Zippori attitude to the Romans can be seen in the mosaic floor of the city’s temple, just as we viewed on the sarcophagi in Bet She’arim … next to the story of Abraham and Isaac is a zodiac with Jewish characters, and following that is the tradition menorah and rendition of the arc of the covenant. The Jews at Zippori integrated customs and decorative symbols, and through this effort they survived as Jews under Roman rule.
Sitting in the ruins of the Zippori temple, we had a family discussion about the different ways in which the Jews of the 1st and 2nd Centuries coped with aggressive Roman rule. One way was the Zippori way, embracing Roman traditions and adapting to a portable Judaism. A second way was the Zealots way at Masada, choosing death to Roman rule. A third way was completely inheriting Roman cultures and beliefs. And a fourth way was Christianity, receiving the Good News of Christ. Only a small sect of Judaism at the time, early followers of Christ lived in a very tumultuous time.
An additional note:
I’d be remiss not to mention that we saw beautiful scenery today. Thousands and thousands of shimmery olive trees (the olives taste much better in the jar … promise), Sabra cactus, pomegranate tree groves, and gorgeous dunes, rolling hills and cliff-sides. We also had the amazing pleasure of driving by a most beautiful blue lake … it was pretty far in the distance, but sure enough we were looking at the Sea of Galilee and for the first time I was able to envision Jesus on its shores. Today, I thought about Jesus of Nazareth feeding the hungry thousands, multiplying fish and bread for all who had come to hear him speak. I couldn’t help but also envision him walking a ways across the Sea, perhaps calming it during an abnormally rough storm, and also men like James and John mending their fishing nets on the shore.
In so many ways, northern Israel is a no-man’s land. We are in semi-desert, with tectonic plates slowly moving away from each other and emphasizing the large valley. Today, the Jordan River is nearly dried up (sooooooo much to say about water issues in Israel and the West Bank, more later), and the heat persists. For some reason, whenever I imagined James and Johns and their fishing nets at the Sea of Galilee, I didn’t imagine it being so warm (600 feet below sea level, the banks of the Galilee are especially hot). I look forward to changing how I visualize all of these Gospel stories, and I am confident that the next six days will continue to inform my understanding of both the Old and New Testaments of the Bible.
And another additional note:
Tonight I pray for peace in the Middle East. Being so close to a Christian country (Lebanon), just days after the controversial trade of prisoners for Israeli soldiers, I pray for the leaders of each of these countries, Jewish, Muslim, and Christian. God, please help them find commonality in You, and please lead them towards decisions that glorify You. Please soften their hearts and open their eyes so that they might lead their people in patience and hope towards a more peaceful region.7 - Shabat Shalom
Exodus tells us that God rested on the seventh day, after creating light, all of the heavens and the earth, and all of the earth’s inhabitants over the previous six days. The Bible instructs us to let our fields lay barren each seventh year so that they may rest. God also commanded the Jews to observe the Sabbath, a practice that I have always thought is very wonderful.
Sunday begins the work week in Israel. And Saturday night, all religious Jews rush to settle any business in advance of the upcoming week. Last night, as soon as Shabbat ended and we did the Habdallah (one of my favorite Jewish rituals), guests at the Hilton flooded the front desk to check out of the hotel in advance of their Sunday departures. All day, the front desk had been empty, with just one or two Gentiles on call to answer questions or work with non-observant guests. Anticipating the end of Shabbat, come sun-down, the front desk filled with staff members, ready to attend to the rush of business that resumes for religious Jews at the end of the Sabbath.
For the 24(ish) hours prior, we experienced mostly quiet in Israel … few televisions turned on and off, the elevators ran slowly, automatically stopping at every floor (we all quickly learned that utilizing the stairs was much more compatible to our patience levels), the restaurant served only cold meals, buffet style, and day old coffees all prepared in advance of Shabbat, and even the always revolving front door to the hotel spun more slowly to reduce the risk of accidentally bumping into the glass and causing the doors to stop and then have to re-start. For an Orthodox Jew, starting something like an electric door would be work, and doing work is prohibited on the Sabbath. We didn’t drive, many observant Jews won’t talk on the phone, we didn’t do shopping, we rested. We walked on the boardwalk, we swam in the Mediterranean, we snacked, we napped. Many walked to synagogue, some for half the day. I had a reflection paper to write for class, so I didn’t entirely follow the Sabbath law, but in general, we rested.
Beginning the Sabbath was an utter treat. The RichMacNichstro’s (the Richler, MacWilliam, Nichols, and Ostro crew) were one of three-dozen families in the main dining room eating Shabbat dinner. Many of you know how much Friday night dinners mean to me (you might recall that I used Shabbat dinners as a spring board for my law school essays), and this week was no different. Kepa’s on (the men), prayer books in hand, stand behind our chairs, and wait for Puppy to begin. Va'yehi erev, va'yehi voker yom ha'shishi: Va'yechulu ha'shamayim ve'ha'aretz v'chol tzeva'am … families across the dining room sang the same songs throughout the evening … each coming into the dining room at different times and praising God. Puppy thanked God for his wife, we blessed the Challah, and then attacked the buffet, with my Kosher family-members giddy over filet mignon, which is almost impossible to find in the States.
Friday, July 18, 2008
6 - Day 3 Highlights
St. Peter’s Church:
We entered our first deliberately Christian space this morning, the Roman Catholic St. Peter’s Church in Jafo. Standing at the edge of the beautiful port-town cliff, St. Peter’s provides a sanctuary from the heat and a snap shot of early church history. We were told that this cliff had been the site at which God revealed to the Apostle Peter that followers of Christ were no longer bound by the Kosher laws. It should have come as no surprise to me that as the disciples of Christ traveled across the region church-planting in the year’s after Christ’s time on earth, that they would have visited cities like Jafo. And yet, after two days of experiencing Jewish history, I was pleasantly and quickly reminded that so much of our time in Israel will inform my understanding of the New Testament of the Bible as well.
Market Yemeni lunch:
Hummus, hummus, and hummus. Fresh pita, eggplant prepared four ways, salsas, chick peas (Hebrew word: whole hummus), beans, mushrooms, etc. All from a back alley street shop near the largest Tel Aviv market. And as for the market, we could have been in India for all of the spices, and we could have been in Italy for all of the olives. Smells, sights … what a sensual experience!
Natanya:
It is really nice to have family in Israel! We visited Puppy’s nephew Philip and his wife Judy at their lovely apartment with a divine cross-breeze. Atop a cliff and overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, we took full advantage of the opportunity to swim after a long day of touring. The Mediterranean water is crystal clear, and the most pleasant temperature. We had great waves to ride, and the sand in Natanya is nearly as soft as flour. For some reason, I found it took much more energy for me to float than it did yesterday in the Dead Sea J.
Laughing about being a tourist:
Aside from wanting to call Israeli hero’s the same name as Harry Potter characters, which I promise has only been happening in my head, I do find that some of the reflexes of being a tourist are hysterical. For instance, I know that I do not speak the language, and have a very limited vocabulary through which I can express myself, but we have been finding that sometimes we forget which language we need to speak! For instance, I nearly thanked a waiter yesterday by saying “speciba” … yup, that’s Russian. And today, to a French boy who said good-bye to our group going up the elevator, I replied with the Italian “ciao.” For the most part, language has not been a barrier here … English, while not an official language, is incredibly prevalent. But I do enjoy using the few Hebrew courtesy words I have learned, as they help me feel more connected to this land, and I also enjoy the smiles and chuckles that we receive in response to our heartfelt effort.
We entered our first deliberately Christian space this morning, the Roman Catholic St. Peter’s Church in Jafo. Standing at the edge of the beautiful port-town cliff, St. Peter’s provides a sanctuary from the heat and a snap shot of early church history. We were told that this cliff had been the site at which God revealed to the Apostle Peter that followers of Christ were no longer bound by the Kosher laws. It should have come as no surprise to me that as the disciples of Christ traveled across the region church-planting in the year’s after Christ’s time on earth, that they would have visited cities like Jafo. And yet, after two days of experiencing Jewish history, I was pleasantly and quickly reminded that so much of our time in Israel will inform my understanding of the New Testament of the Bible as well.
Market Yemeni lunch:
Hummus, hummus, and hummus. Fresh pita, eggplant prepared four ways, salsas, chick peas (Hebrew word: whole hummus), beans, mushrooms, etc. All from a back alley street shop near the largest Tel Aviv market. And as for the market, we could have been in India for all of the spices, and we could have been in Italy for all of the olives. Smells, sights … what a sensual experience!
Natanya:
It is really nice to have family in Israel! We visited Puppy’s nephew Philip and his wife Judy at their lovely apartment with a divine cross-breeze. Atop a cliff and overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, we took full advantage of the opportunity to swim after a long day of touring. The Mediterranean water is crystal clear, and the most pleasant temperature. We had great waves to ride, and the sand in Natanya is nearly as soft as flour. For some reason, I found it took much more energy for me to float than it did yesterday in the Dead Sea J.
Laughing about being a tourist:
Aside from wanting to call Israeli hero’s the same name as Harry Potter characters, which I promise has only been happening in my head, I do find that some of the reflexes of being a tourist are hysterical. For instance, I know that I do not speak the language, and have a very limited vocabulary through which I can express myself, but we have been finding that sometimes we forget which language we need to speak! For instance, I nearly thanked a waiter yesterday by saying “speciba” … yup, that’s Russian. And today, to a French boy who said good-bye to our group going up the elevator, I replied with the Italian “ciao.” For the most part, language has not been a barrier here … English, while not an official language, is incredibly prevalent. But I do enjoy using the few Hebrew courtesy words I have learned, as they help me feel more connected to this land, and I also enjoy the smiles and chuckles that we receive in response to our heartfelt effort.
5 - Where were you when …
Pop quiz: Where were you when you when 9/11 happened?
This question, a defining moment for my generation, has become a meeting ground for us to enter into our shared history and unite around a commonly held tragedy. For our parents, the question was “where were you when JFK was shot?” To go back another generation, the question is “where were you when Pearl Harbor was bombed?”
Today, we stayed more local to Tel Aviv. We visited Jafo, the ancient (dates back further than Egyptian Pharoah Tutmus III) small Arab city from which Tel Aviv was first a suburb, and then its own small city, and then the dramatically dominant city. We visited an archeological dig site that evidenced Jafo’s tumultuous history as a frequently conquered, destroyed and rebuild city, we visited the artist’s community that apparently is open quite late in the evening because at 10:00 in the morning it was just our clan and the alley cats (Mum, we saw Cameo’s cousins!). We also visited St. Peter’s Church, the first distinctly Christian space we have entered since arriving in Israel (more later), and did our best to stay in the shade and near breezeways (in the words of Dee-Dee, we didn’t want anyone to plop).
Next, we visited Independence Hall, in one of the oldest sections of Tel Aviv. The Hall, initially the home of the first mayor of Tel Aviv, Meier Dizengoff (who I keep wanting to call Dumbledore … bad Devon, bad!), was selected as the site at which to announce Israel’s Independence because it was secure … thick walls, few windows, and was not a natural choice for a public announcement (it had been converted into an art museum shortly before Dizengoff’s death).
We were fortunate to arrive just as one Birthright group was leaving, and we essentially had the Hall to ourselves. We watched a video on the first decades of Tel Aviv’s history, and then listened to a docent account for the events leading up to David Ben Gurion’s announcement late on a Friday afternoon, 4:00 p.m., on May 14, 1948 that Israel was declaring its Independence. As we learned at the Palmach Museum, war had been going on for about six months (ever since the November 4, 1947 UN voted for the Israeli-Palestinian partitioning of Eretz Israel). This war was a civil war between the Jews and the Arabs, and England, still enforcing the British Mandate, wore the many hats of occupier, peace keeper, educator, communicator, border controller, economic stabilizer, etc.
On May 15, 1948, the British were going to leave Israel, creating a power vacuum, and leading to certain attacks by the neighboring Arab nations. Israeli leaders were split … do we declare Independence now and be our own rulers in Israel for the first time in millennium? Or do we fight until we reach a ceasefire and wait until we are victors to declare ourselves a sovereign state. Ten of the 13 parliamentary leaders met in Tel Aviv on May 12 (the other three were unable to travel the 50 miles from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv because the city was under siege), and they met in secret for 13 hours to make this decision. Israel was under great international pressure to wait to for a cease-fire, but the leaders and voted six to four to declare independence as the British left.
We listened to a highly emotional tape of the highlights of the 32 minute ceremony … spontaneous singing as Ben Gurion arrived at the Hall, Ben Gurion’s declaration, the reading of the Shecheynu, and the voices of 350 persons and a 50 piece orchestra singing Hetikfa, for which we stood, and many sang along. And after playing these moving segments, our museum guide told us that he knew exactly where his grandparents were when the Declaration of Independence was signed and radio broadcast. They were behind barbed wire on a refugee camp in Greece, to which they were sent after surviving the holocaust, finding themselves unwanted in their native Poland, risking the sea voyage to Israel, and being denied entry to Israel by the British.
Our museum guide’s grandparents were homeless, though hardly wanderers. As a people, the Jews have frequently found themselves unintentionally and undesirably homeless. Israel, he said, has been established to give all of us a place to call home. May 14, 1948 is a day cemented into the memory of Israelis and Jews around the world. Getting so far towards the Zionist dream, knowing full well that the State would be attacked from three sides the following morning, was a cause for celebration for a weary and determined people. Where were you when the Israel declared independence?
PS. I know that most of us were not alive in 1948, but I think it is an interesting excercise.
This question, a defining moment for my generation, has become a meeting ground for us to enter into our shared history and unite around a commonly held tragedy. For our parents, the question was “where were you when JFK was shot?” To go back another generation, the question is “where were you when Pearl Harbor was bombed?”
Today, we stayed more local to Tel Aviv. We visited Jafo, the ancient (dates back further than Egyptian Pharoah Tutmus III) small Arab city from which Tel Aviv was first a suburb, and then its own small city, and then the dramatically dominant city. We visited an archeological dig site that evidenced Jafo’s tumultuous history as a frequently conquered, destroyed and rebuild city, we visited the artist’s community that apparently is open quite late in the evening because at 10:00 in the morning it was just our clan and the alley cats (Mum, we saw Cameo’s cousins!). We also visited St. Peter’s Church, the first distinctly Christian space we have entered since arriving in Israel (more later), and did our best to stay in the shade and near breezeways (in the words of Dee-Dee, we didn’t want anyone to plop).
Next, we visited Independence Hall, in one of the oldest sections of Tel Aviv. The Hall, initially the home of the first mayor of Tel Aviv, Meier Dizengoff (who I keep wanting to call Dumbledore … bad Devon, bad!), was selected as the site at which to announce Israel’s Independence because it was secure … thick walls, few windows, and was not a natural choice for a public announcement (it had been converted into an art museum shortly before Dizengoff’s death).
We were fortunate to arrive just as one Birthright group was leaving, and we essentially had the Hall to ourselves. We watched a video on the first decades of Tel Aviv’s history, and then listened to a docent account for the events leading up to David Ben Gurion’s announcement late on a Friday afternoon, 4:00 p.m., on May 14, 1948 that Israel was declaring its Independence. As we learned at the Palmach Museum, war had been going on for about six months (ever since the November 4, 1947 UN voted for the Israeli-Palestinian partitioning of Eretz Israel). This war was a civil war between the Jews and the Arabs, and England, still enforcing the British Mandate, wore the many hats of occupier, peace keeper, educator, communicator, border controller, economic stabilizer, etc.
On May 15, 1948, the British were going to leave Israel, creating a power vacuum, and leading to certain attacks by the neighboring Arab nations. Israeli leaders were split … do we declare Independence now and be our own rulers in Israel for the first time in millennium? Or do we fight until we reach a ceasefire and wait until we are victors to declare ourselves a sovereign state. Ten of the 13 parliamentary leaders met in Tel Aviv on May 12 (the other three were unable to travel the 50 miles from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv because the city was under siege), and they met in secret for 13 hours to make this decision. Israel was under great international pressure to wait to for a cease-fire, but the leaders and voted six to four to declare independence as the British left.
We listened to a highly emotional tape of the highlights of the 32 minute ceremony … spontaneous singing as Ben Gurion arrived at the Hall, Ben Gurion’s declaration, the reading of the Shecheynu, and the voices of 350 persons and a 50 piece orchestra singing Hetikfa, for which we stood, and many sang along. And after playing these moving segments, our museum guide told us that he knew exactly where his grandparents were when the Declaration of Independence was signed and radio broadcast. They were behind barbed wire on a refugee camp in Greece, to which they were sent after surviving the holocaust, finding themselves unwanted in their native Poland, risking the sea voyage to Israel, and being denied entry to Israel by the British.
Our museum guide’s grandparents were homeless, though hardly wanderers. As a people, the Jews have frequently found themselves unintentionally and undesirably homeless. Israel, he said, has been established to give all of us a place to call home. May 14, 1948 is a day cemented into the memory of Israelis and Jews around the world. Getting so far towards the Zionist dream, knowing full well that the State would be attacked from three sides the following morning, was a cause for celebration for a weary and determined people. Where were you when the Israel declared independence?
PS. I know that most of us were not alive in 1948, but I think it is an interesting excercise.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
4 - Day 2 Highlights
Breakfast:
I’m a brunch girl, absolutely. I’ve had brunch at a lot of places, . I have never seen anything like the daily breakfast spread at our hotel. Today I stayed simple … sesame bagel (cut with an incredibly effective knife) with cream cheese and lox, fruit salad, fresh squeezed orange juice, and coffee. Tomorrow, I think I might hit up the omelette bar, or perhaps indulge at the cheese and crackers buffet, sweets buffet, cold salad buffet, or any of the other hot meals. I thought I knew a good breakfast. I did know a good breakfast, actually, but a new standard was set for me today.
Mosada:
See “The Stake are High” … I think that’s enough J
The Dead Sea:
It really works! We really float!!! I have some scrapes on my knees, and I was nervous they would burn in the salinity, but it was such a trip to completely effortlessly float in the Sea at the lowest point on earth. True, the water was hot, but synchronized swimming has never been easier, and the mineral rich water has made my skin feel amazingly soft (we’ll see how long that lasts).
Dinner:
We walked down the board-walk to one of the many sea-side restaurants. Even as the sun was setting, leisure was in high gear on the beaches, and we found the rest of our family at a breezy fish restaurant with cozy seating. Before we asked, they brought out breads and salads, dips and relishes (which we later learned we paid for), and our family shared a giant grouper cut into stakes and flash fried with onions. Yum! I was particularly impressed this evening with the ease at which we have begun to be able to float between casual and more serious conversations. We talked about questions we had throughout the day, laughed about our own snafus, and savored yet another great family meal together.
Question of the day:
During the Jewish Revolution against the Romans in 77 a.d., what was the role of the early Christian church? At this time, the Christ followers were equally, if not more, persecuted by the Roman empire, and many, if not most, were still of the Hebrew culture and basic faith. Did the early Christians fight with the Jews against the Romans? Were they enslaved like the Jews? Or were they fighting their own battles?
I’m a brunch girl, absolutely. I’ve had brunch at a lot of places, . I have never seen anything like the daily breakfast spread at our hotel. Today I stayed simple … sesame bagel (cut with an incredibly effective knife) with cream cheese and lox, fruit salad, fresh squeezed orange juice, and coffee. Tomorrow, I think I might hit up the omelette bar, or perhaps indulge at the cheese and crackers buffet, sweets buffet, cold salad buffet, or any of the other hot meals. I thought I knew a good breakfast. I did know a good breakfast, actually, but a new standard was set for me today.
Mosada:
See “The Stake are High” … I think that’s enough J
The Dead Sea:
It really works! We really float!!! I have some scrapes on my knees, and I was nervous they would burn in the salinity, but it was such a trip to completely effortlessly float in the Sea at the lowest point on earth. True, the water was hot, but synchronized swimming has never been easier, and the mineral rich water has made my skin feel amazingly soft (we’ll see how long that lasts).
Dinner:
We walked down the board-walk to one of the many sea-side restaurants. Even as the sun was setting, leisure was in high gear on the beaches, and we found the rest of our family at a breezy fish restaurant with cozy seating. Before we asked, they brought out breads and salads, dips and relishes (which we later learned we paid for), and our family shared a giant grouper cut into stakes and flash fried with onions. Yum! I was particularly impressed this evening with the ease at which we have begun to be able to float between casual and more serious conversations. We talked about questions we had throughout the day, laughed about our own snafus, and savored yet another great family meal together.
Question of the day:
During the Jewish Revolution against the Romans in 77 a.d., what was the role of the early Christian church? At this time, the Christ followers were equally, if not more, persecuted by the Roman empire, and many, if not most, were still of the Hebrew culture and basic faith. Did the early Christians fight with the Jews against the Romans? Were they enslaved like the Jews? Or were they fighting their own battles?
3 - The Stakes are High
Aaron’s parents moved to Israel in 1948. His dad had been sixteen when he was brought to Auschwitz, and for some inexplicable reason he was chosen to be sent to the work camp instead of the gas chambers. 60 years later, Aaron picked us up at our hotel to be our driver and guide across Israel. Destinations: Mount Masada and the Dead Sea.
The Palmach Museum, which we visited yesterday, follows the story of one paramilitary brigade in the 1940’s as the Jews first fought to shepherd their kin out of the dangers of World War II, and then fought the Palestinians, British, Saudi Arabians, Syrians, Egyptians, Lebanese, etc. in the war for Israeli Independence. The museum contains no artifacts, original documents or relics, but instead seeks to immerse the visitor in the world of the members of the Palmach, so that we might feel the tensions, the stresses, and passions with which they risked their lives in this decade. The museum was moving and informative, but on its own cannot explain why the Zionist movement has sustained, and why the tensions in this region are equally strong and stubborn.
Aaron, leading us along the ridge at Masada, brought us 2,000 years back in time. With this temporal journey he helped us (Gentiles, at least) see the bigger picture that our Jewish friends and family feel every day. Mixing geological and topographical fact with written history and current events, Aaron, son of holocaust survivors, shared with us what Masada means to him: the physical symbol of the current Jewish necessary attitude, never again.
The story of Masada (or as Asher has now coined it “most hot-a”) is simple. In 77 a.d., the Romans quashed the Jewish rebellion, as they systematically defeated the three Jewish strongholds in Israel. The temple in Jerusalem fell, and the only critical mass of free Jews was the 1,000 member community that had fled Jerusalem two years earlier and settled at Masada. The mountain, next to and 1,300 feet above the Dead Sea, has a flat plateau, is completely isolated from the neighboring mountains, and was well equipped with water cisterns, food storage, and armory thanks to the embellished palace built by King Herod at the turn of the millennium (which he visited only five times before his death). In 77 a.d., 10,000 Roman soldiers surrounded the mountain in eight camps (the ruins of the camps are clearly visible (and quite impressive) from the top of the mountain), waited for the Jews to surrender for six months, and eventually began to wage an assault on the walls of the fortress. The Romans built a ramp (exploiting enslaved Jews as laborers), and used it to break down the wall. Inexplicably, they retreated for a night’s rest, with the intention of slaughtering the entire community in the morning, a task of which they would have been fully capable.
On the mountain plateau, Aaron showed us the restored walls, function of the aquaducts, and the beautiful Roman bathhouse build by King Herod. He explained to us the background of the Zealots and helped us understand the proximity to the closest, and one of the most ancient, Kibbutzim, En Gedi (10 miles), and also Jerusalem (a 2-3 day walk). We alternated between finding shady spots on the hot and unusually humid day (Washington weather seems to follow me), and seeking quieter spots away from the noticeably frenetic and loud group of Christian tourists (perhaps it was the synchronized shouting of “Hallelujah” at the edge of Herod’s personal palace, shouted to hear the admittedly impressive echo across the Dead Sea, that tipped us off).
Aaron also showed us the spot where archeologists found 10 stones with Hebrew names written on them, the lots casted at the end of the story of Masada, when the besieged Zealots decided to kill themselves rather than be enslaved by the Romans. Ten men were selected from the community of 1,000, and they drew lots to decide who would be the one to kill the ninth (after all of the others had been thrown off the plateau) and kill himself. Clearly, the decision to choose death over fighting the Romans cannot have been easy, but Aaron asked one of us to help us learn the Zealots motivation by reading the words of their leader, Ben-Yair. Asher read the following to us out loud:
Since we, long ago, my generous friends, resolved never to be servants to the Romans, nor to any other than to God himself, who alone is the true and just Lord of mankind, the time is now come that obliges us to make that resolution true in practice. And let us not at this time bring a reproach upon ourselves for self-contradiction, while we formerly would not undergo slavery, though it were then without danger, but must now, together with slavery, choose such punishments also as are intolerable; I mean this, upon the supposition that the Romans once reduces us under their power while we are alive. We were the very first that revolted from them, and we are the last that fight against them; and I cannot but esteem it as a favor that God hath granted us, that it is still in our power to die bravely, and in a state of freedom, which hath not been the case of others, who were conquered unexpectedly. It is very plain that we shall be taken within a day’s time, but it is still an eligible thing to die after a glorious manner, together with our dearest friends…
Let our wives die before they are abused, and our children before they have tasted slavery, and after we have slain them, let us bestow that glorious benefit upon one another mutually and preserve ourselves in freedom as an excellent funeral monument for us. But first let us destroy our money and the fortress by fire; for I am well assured that this will be a bitter blow to the Romans, that they shall not be able to seize upon our bodies, and shall fail to our wealth also; and let us spare nothing but our provisions; for they will be a testimonial when we are dead that we are not subdued for want of necessaries; but that, according to our original resolution, we have proffered death before slavery.”
And that’s what they did. They chose noble death as followers of Jehovah over slavery under the Roman hand, a circumstance which would have made practicing their religion impossible.
Masada stands as a symbol of Jewish nationalism, of what the Jews hope never again to have to do in order to prevent enslavement by another tyrant, another culture, another religion. Today, boys and girls have their mitzvah ceremonies in one of the two oldest temples ruins in Israel, and new army classes swear their allegiance to the State, all on the plateau of Mount Masada. And just as the Palmach brigades climbed the snake path up the mountain to learn about their heritage as Jews, so Jews and Gentiles today climb up the mountain at dawn (or, as in our case, take the three minute cable car … hey, it was high noon and hot out!) to understand or to remember the ancient history that has led the State of Israel to the fragile place it is today.
Getting to Mount Masada from Tel Aviv (on Aaron’s “adventure ride,” as I affectionately coined it in attempt to avoid motion-sickness) has revolutionized my understanding of the stakes in Israel. No sooner had we left the sand filled sea region, and briefly crossed through the hills region, than we entered the mountain region and also crossed our first check-point.
The check point was simple enough. Israeli military guarded the road and, seeing our Israeli license plate and Jewish guide, waved us through immediately (I’m quite sure Aaron didn’t even slow down). Crossing the check-point was so simple, in fact, that it seemed like we were going through the FastLane or EasyPass lane at a toll-booth. We were surprised then, when Aaron informed us we were in the West Bank. What?!?!? The West Bank? But we are right next to Jerusalem? And the Israeli and Palestinian settlements can’t be more than half a mile from each other!
And yet, before the barbed wire and fences were constructed ten years ago, the suicide bombings were happening at an alarming rate. And even today, though the success rate of suicide bombers is low, the Israeli army still catches an inconceivable number of wanna-be-terrorists attempting to take their own lives, and the lives of others, on religious missions.
Back to the impact of Masada … taking ones own life in the face of danger does not strike me as a particularly Jewish value. Nor does racial profiling. And yet in the case of the Zealots at Mount Masada, where the stakes were so high (think Live Free or Die), the Jewish people in that place chose a most heroic ending to their own story. Our guide, Aaron, encouraged us to take home the message that the dead Zealots express on Masada: we can never again let the Jews be forced to answer the question, slavery or death. That lens on Israel helps put so many of the country’s policies and practices into place. While perhaps not excusing racial profiling, the stakes are so high in Israel that the policy almost seems to make sense … and indeed it is saving lives. Similarly, the Dead Sea is receding three feet every year, but Israel also needs to quench the thirst of a growing population and currently has not established a better alternative than diverting water from the Sea of Galilee.
At 9:00 this morning, Israel traded five imprisoned Lebanese (including at least one known terrorist) in exchange for the bodies of two Israeli soldiers. For two years, since they were captured at the Lebanese border, no Israeli knew for sure if they were dead or alive. Today we learned they were dead, and we know that at least one had been from the start of the conflict with Lebanon in 2006. In a country with a population of less than six million people, two individuals, two soldiers whose parents were promised they would be brought home dead or alive, today’s exchange is both controversial and progressive. It can be seen as extending an olive branch, as weakness, as standing by one’s word, or as a distraction from other scandals. One can speculate that it will ensue trust between the Jews and Arabs, and that the leaders of Hezbollah will use the story to their own political agenda. Regardless of the arguments for or against this exchange, it is undeniable that the stakes are high in Israel, and there is little room for error. After 26 years of being interested in and studying Jewish culture and the history of Israel, I feel I have only begun to understand what the stakes truly are for this nation and all of the people of this region.
The Palmach Museum, which we visited yesterday, follows the story of one paramilitary brigade in the 1940’s as the Jews first fought to shepherd their kin out of the dangers of World War II, and then fought the Palestinians, British, Saudi Arabians, Syrians, Egyptians, Lebanese, etc. in the war for Israeli Independence. The museum contains no artifacts, original documents or relics, but instead seeks to immerse the visitor in the world of the members of the Palmach, so that we might feel the tensions, the stresses, and passions with which they risked their lives in this decade. The museum was moving and informative, but on its own cannot explain why the Zionist movement has sustained, and why the tensions in this region are equally strong and stubborn.
Aaron, leading us along the ridge at Masada, brought us 2,000 years back in time. With this temporal journey he helped us (Gentiles, at least) see the bigger picture that our Jewish friends and family feel every day. Mixing geological and topographical fact with written history and current events, Aaron, son of holocaust survivors, shared with us what Masada means to him: the physical symbol of the current Jewish necessary attitude, never again.
The story of Masada (or as Asher has now coined it “most hot-a”) is simple. In 77 a.d., the Romans quashed the Jewish rebellion, as they systematically defeated the three Jewish strongholds in Israel. The temple in Jerusalem fell, and the only critical mass of free Jews was the 1,000 member community that had fled Jerusalem two years earlier and settled at Masada. The mountain, next to and 1,300 feet above the Dead Sea, has a flat plateau, is completely isolated from the neighboring mountains, and was well equipped with water cisterns, food storage, and armory thanks to the embellished palace built by King Herod at the turn of the millennium (which he visited only five times before his death). In 77 a.d., 10,000 Roman soldiers surrounded the mountain in eight camps (the ruins of the camps are clearly visible (and quite impressive) from the top of the mountain), waited for the Jews to surrender for six months, and eventually began to wage an assault on the walls of the fortress. The Romans built a ramp (exploiting enslaved Jews as laborers), and used it to break down the wall. Inexplicably, they retreated for a night’s rest, with the intention of slaughtering the entire community in the morning, a task of which they would have been fully capable.
On the mountain plateau, Aaron showed us the restored walls, function of the aquaducts, and the beautiful Roman bathhouse build by King Herod. He explained to us the background of the Zealots and helped us understand the proximity to the closest, and one of the most ancient, Kibbutzim, En Gedi (10 miles), and also Jerusalem (a 2-3 day walk). We alternated between finding shady spots on the hot and unusually humid day (Washington weather seems to follow me), and seeking quieter spots away from the noticeably frenetic and loud group of Christian tourists (perhaps it was the synchronized shouting of “Hallelujah” at the edge of Herod’s personal palace, shouted to hear the admittedly impressive echo across the Dead Sea, that tipped us off).
Aaron also showed us the spot where archeologists found 10 stones with Hebrew names written on them, the lots casted at the end of the story of Masada, when the besieged Zealots decided to kill themselves rather than be enslaved by the Romans. Ten men were selected from the community of 1,000, and they drew lots to decide who would be the one to kill the ninth (after all of the others had been thrown off the plateau) and kill himself. Clearly, the decision to choose death over fighting the Romans cannot have been easy, but Aaron asked one of us to help us learn the Zealots motivation by reading the words of their leader, Ben-Yair. Asher read the following to us out loud:
Since we, long ago, my generous friends, resolved never to be servants to the Romans, nor to any other than to God himself, who alone is the true and just Lord of mankind, the time is now come that obliges us to make that resolution true in practice. And let us not at this time bring a reproach upon ourselves for self-contradiction, while we formerly would not undergo slavery, though it were then without danger, but must now, together with slavery, choose such punishments also as are intolerable; I mean this, upon the supposition that the Romans once reduces us under their power while we are alive. We were the very first that revolted from them, and we are the last that fight against them; and I cannot but esteem it as a favor that God hath granted us, that it is still in our power to die bravely, and in a state of freedom, which hath not been the case of others, who were conquered unexpectedly. It is very plain that we shall be taken within a day’s time, but it is still an eligible thing to die after a glorious manner, together with our dearest friends…
Let our wives die before they are abused, and our children before they have tasted slavery, and after we have slain them, let us bestow that glorious benefit upon one another mutually and preserve ourselves in freedom as an excellent funeral monument for us. But first let us destroy our money and the fortress by fire; for I am well assured that this will be a bitter blow to the Romans, that they shall not be able to seize upon our bodies, and shall fail to our wealth also; and let us spare nothing but our provisions; for they will be a testimonial when we are dead that we are not subdued for want of necessaries; but that, according to our original resolution, we have proffered death before slavery.”
And that’s what they did. They chose noble death as followers of Jehovah over slavery under the Roman hand, a circumstance which would have made practicing their religion impossible.
Masada stands as a symbol of Jewish nationalism, of what the Jews hope never again to have to do in order to prevent enslavement by another tyrant, another culture, another religion. Today, boys and girls have their mitzvah ceremonies in one of the two oldest temples ruins in Israel, and new army classes swear their allegiance to the State, all on the plateau of Mount Masada. And just as the Palmach brigades climbed the snake path up the mountain to learn about their heritage as Jews, so Jews and Gentiles today climb up the mountain at dawn (or, as in our case, take the three minute cable car … hey, it was high noon and hot out!) to understand or to remember the ancient history that has led the State of Israel to the fragile place it is today.
Getting to Mount Masada from Tel Aviv (on Aaron’s “adventure ride,” as I affectionately coined it in attempt to avoid motion-sickness) has revolutionized my understanding of the stakes in Israel. No sooner had we left the sand filled sea region, and briefly crossed through the hills region, than we entered the mountain region and also crossed our first check-point.
The check point was simple enough. Israeli military guarded the road and, seeing our Israeli license plate and Jewish guide, waved us through immediately (I’m quite sure Aaron didn’t even slow down). Crossing the check-point was so simple, in fact, that it seemed like we were going through the FastLane or EasyPass lane at a toll-booth. We were surprised then, when Aaron informed us we were in the West Bank. What?!?!? The West Bank? But we are right next to Jerusalem? And the Israeli and Palestinian settlements can’t be more than half a mile from each other!
And yet, before the barbed wire and fences were constructed ten years ago, the suicide bombings were happening at an alarming rate. And even today, though the success rate of suicide bombers is low, the Israeli army still catches an inconceivable number of wanna-be-terrorists attempting to take their own lives, and the lives of others, on religious missions.
Back to the impact of Masada … taking ones own life in the face of danger does not strike me as a particularly Jewish value. Nor does racial profiling. And yet in the case of the Zealots at Mount Masada, where the stakes were so high (think Live Free or Die), the Jewish people in that place chose a most heroic ending to their own story. Our guide, Aaron, encouraged us to take home the message that the dead Zealots express on Masada: we can never again let the Jews be forced to answer the question, slavery or death. That lens on Israel helps put so many of the country’s policies and practices into place. While perhaps not excusing racial profiling, the stakes are so high in Israel that the policy almost seems to make sense … and indeed it is saving lives. Similarly, the Dead Sea is receding three feet every year, but Israel also needs to quench the thirst of a growing population and currently has not established a better alternative than diverting water from the Sea of Galilee.
At 9:00 this morning, Israel traded five imprisoned Lebanese (including at least one known terrorist) in exchange for the bodies of two Israeli soldiers. For two years, since they were captured at the Lebanese border, no Israeli knew for sure if they were dead or alive. Today we learned they were dead, and we know that at least one had been from the start of the conflict with Lebanon in 2006. In a country with a population of less than six million people, two individuals, two soldiers whose parents were promised they would be brought home dead or alive, today’s exchange is both controversial and progressive. It can be seen as extending an olive branch, as weakness, as standing by one’s word, or as a distraction from other scandals. One can speculate that it will ensue trust between the Jews and Arabs, and that the leaders of Hezbollah will use the story to their own political agenda. Regardless of the arguments for or against this exchange, it is undeniable that the stakes are high in Israel, and there is little room for error. After 26 years of being interested in and studying Jewish culture and the history of Israel, I feel I have only begun to understand what the stakes truly are for this nation and all of the people of this region.
2 - Skype's Newest Convert
Part 1:
Knowing it would be over 10 hours after take-off before we would land in Tel Aviv, I buckled into my middle seat (H of K … big plane), and mentally prepared myself for two movies, two meals, and hopefully some zzzz’s. Shortly after take-off, I began scrolling through my very own movie choices. With over 300 options to choose from (probably 200 films, half of which have been dubbed in languages other than English), initially I quickly scrolled through. But then, remembering that there was no hurry to do anything on a 10 hour flight, I slowed down considerably, and decided to watch Man of the Year followed by 27 Dresses (why? Well … why not!?!!?). I was thrilled to have a personal television screen, and also to learn that we had electric outlets at our row. With all improvements, I am learning, something is usually lost, and in this case, along with the electronic upgrades has come the demise of complimentary wine and beer. Susan had encouraged me to get myself a pity-present as a consolation for missing the family-fun-flight, so I decided to splurge on the $5 for a glass of vino … perhaps it would make me more sleepy.
Long story short, the family in the row behind us kept me up nearly all night complaining that they couldn’t sleep, but we arrived in Tel Aviv safe and sound, customs was a breeze, all of the Birthright groups and I collected our bags, and I happily let my really nice taxi driver take the route with lots of detours to our sea-side hotel.
Part 2:
I was certainly relieved to get to the Tel Aviv Hilton. My taxi driver, who did rip me off by at least 30 sheckles, was really nice, and we talked about his history as a Russian immigrant, the reason for my travel, and some words that would help me get along in Israel. As in anywhere, saying thank you can go along way. Toda Raba (thank you very much), Schlecht (excuse me), and brevacacha (please) are my Day 1 words to master … sort of, we decided. Rabin, my driver, seems to think I will be fluent in three days … it’s a good thing I’ll probably never see him again.
But if I was relieved to arrive safely to the Mediterranean shores, my family was delighted. Before I had both feet out the door, out poured Dad, Susan, Asher, Rebecca, Nancy, Vicki, Michael, Robbie, and Janet from the hotel lobby … all hugs, shrieks, and helpful hands. I know that President Bush had a big welcome party for his trip last year, but I promise you that mine was equally, if not more, heartfelt.
Quick dip in the Mediterranean Sea (so warm that it’s really not refreshing, but amazing water to lounge in), followed by Oriental platters (falafel, hummus, tahini, eggplant, etc … let’s not forget, the Middle East is technically Asia), Isreali salads and $4 diet cokes (didn’t see that one coming), and then nine of us in the crew piled into taxis to go to the Palmach Museum to learn about the period between 1941 and 1950, perhaps the most significant decade in Jewish history in centuries (more on that experience later),
Part 3:
Thank goodness I took a nap after the Palmach Museum because we (now 13 of us) were about to have the experience of a lifetime.
Four taxi-cabs (we had another great driver, this time we learned that Mas means “tax”), and a half an hour drive, and the Richler, Ostro, MacWilliam, Nichols clan was climbing three flights of stairs to the childhood home of Solomon Nagata, Rebecca’s fiancé. Shlomo, isn’t with us on this trip (he’s keeping down the fort in Brooklyn), but we had the amazing opportunity to join Rebecca as she met her in-laws for the first time. The group of 13 of us was joined by Shlomo’s five sisters, two brothers, and each of their spouses and children. We are certain that at one point we had at least 30 people in a very small, not air-conditioned apartment. And what a warm, loving, welcoming family.
We walked in and were immediately brought to couches and chairs to sit at. We had hardly said hellos/shaloms (and in my case, Schmee Devon’s, my name is Devon … another first taxi ride gem of a phrase) when Shlomo’s family was dishing up homemade Ethiopian bread, lamb, curried vegetables (yarikot, strikingly similar to the French for beans, haricots), and salad. What an Ethiopian feast! Each of the siblings had been tasked with a dish, and the delights just kept on coming. Puppy said the motzi for the homemade Ethiopian bread, we were served traditional home roasted coffee, and pareve ice-cream to follow the meat meal.
Conversations babbled all evening, which is ironic because no one in the room is fluent in both English and Hebrew, and the evening pinnacled with Puppy giving a moving speech, which Rebecca translated (with the help of Diane, Nancy, and some of Shlomi’s sisters and cousins). Rebecca and Shlomi’s wedding is February 15th, and it would be the best present in the world for his family to be able to join us in New York for the ceremony. As a family, they walked for a month out of Ethiopia in 1984, were helicoptered from Sudan to Israel (child seven of eight was born on this trek), and have made a warm, loving life for themselves as Ethiopian Jews in Israel. A large mix of Jews and Gentiles, Canadians and Americans, we were totally embraced in their presence. Rebecca is marrying into a great family, and given the dynamics of both families (where word travels faster than lightening), it seems we will all have the great pleasure of further diversifying our blended family.
Oh! And lest I forget … I’ve converted to be a Skype fan! Although Shlomo cannot be with us for these two weeks, he was completely present tonight at his family’s house. Through his computer and theirs, we were able to chat, see each other’s faces (including those of Rebecca’s pug, Tucker, and friends who came to her apartment for the occasion). Shlomo was able to be a part of the introduction of his bride to his family … all for less than pennies a minute. In this case, I do not see any losses presented as a result of this technological advance. We would have loved for Shlomo to be with us, and we are so glad that in essence, he was.
God gives us gifts of the spirit, in the case of the Nagata family, they have been blessed with hospitality. I am so grateful to have been a part of this warm family welcome and look forward to being a part of their welcoming party to the States, hopefully in February.
Knowing it would be over 10 hours after take-off before we would land in Tel Aviv, I buckled into my middle seat (H of K … big plane), and mentally prepared myself for two movies, two meals, and hopefully some zzzz’s. Shortly after take-off, I began scrolling through my very own movie choices. With over 300 options to choose from (probably 200 films, half of which have been dubbed in languages other than English), initially I quickly scrolled through. But then, remembering that there was no hurry to do anything on a 10 hour flight, I slowed down considerably, and decided to watch Man of the Year followed by 27 Dresses (why? Well … why not!?!!?). I was thrilled to have a personal television screen, and also to learn that we had electric outlets at our row. With all improvements, I am learning, something is usually lost, and in this case, along with the electronic upgrades has come the demise of complimentary wine and beer. Susan had encouraged me to get myself a pity-present as a consolation for missing the family-fun-flight, so I decided to splurge on the $5 for a glass of vino … perhaps it would make me more sleepy.
Long story short, the family in the row behind us kept me up nearly all night complaining that they couldn’t sleep, but we arrived in Tel Aviv safe and sound, customs was a breeze, all of the Birthright groups and I collected our bags, and I happily let my really nice taxi driver take the route with lots of detours to our sea-side hotel.
Part 2:
I was certainly relieved to get to the Tel Aviv Hilton. My taxi driver, who did rip me off by at least 30 sheckles, was really nice, and we talked about his history as a Russian immigrant, the reason for my travel, and some words that would help me get along in Israel. As in anywhere, saying thank you can go along way. Toda Raba (thank you very much), Schlecht (excuse me), and brevacacha (please) are my Day 1 words to master … sort of, we decided. Rabin, my driver, seems to think I will be fluent in three days … it’s a good thing I’ll probably never see him again.
But if I was relieved to arrive safely to the Mediterranean shores, my family was delighted. Before I had both feet out the door, out poured Dad, Susan, Asher, Rebecca, Nancy, Vicki, Michael, Robbie, and Janet from the hotel lobby … all hugs, shrieks, and helpful hands. I know that President Bush had a big welcome party for his trip last year, but I promise you that mine was equally, if not more, heartfelt.
Quick dip in the Mediterranean Sea (so warm that it’s really not refreshing, but amazing water to lounge in), followed by Oriental platters (falafel, hummus, tahini, eggplant, etc … let’s not forget, the Middle East is technically Asia), Isreali salads and $4 diet cokes (didn’t see that one coming), and then nine of us in the crew piled into taxis to go to the Palmach Museum to learn about the period between 1941 and 1950, perhaps the most significant decade in Jewish history in centuries (more on that experience later),
Part 3:
Thank goodness I took a nap after the Palmach Museum because we (now 13 of us) were about to have the experience of a lifetime.
Four taxi-cabs (we had another great driver, this time we learned that Mas means “tax”), and a half an hour drive, and the Richler, Ostro, MacWilliam, Nichols clan was climbing three flights of stairs to the childhood home of Solomon Nagata, Rebecca’s fiancé. Shlomo, isn’t with us on this trip (he’s keeping down the fort in Brooklyn), but we had the amazing opportunity to join Rebecca as she met her in-laws for the first time. The group of 13 of us was joined by Shlomo’s five sisters, two brothers, and each of their spouses and children. We are certain that at one point we had at least 30 people in a very small, not air-conditioned apartment. And what a warm, loving, welcoming family.
We walked in and were immediately brought to couches and chairs to sit at. We had hardly said hellos/shaloms (and in my case, Schmee Devon’s, my name is Devon … another first taxi ride gem of a phrase) when Shlomo’s family was dishing up homemade Ethiopian bread, lamb, curried vegetables (yarikot, strikingly similar to the French for beans, haricots), and salad. What an Ethiopian feast! Each of the siblings had been tasked with a dish, and the delights just kept on coming. Puppy said the motzi for the homemade Ethiopian bread, we were served traditional home roasted coffee, and pareve ice-cream to follow the meat meal.
Conversations babbled all evening, which is ironic because no one in the room is fluent in both English and Hebrew, and the evening pinnacled with Puppy giving a moving speech, which Rebecca translated (with the help of Diane, Nancy, and some of Shlomi’s sisters and cousins). Rebecca and Shlomi’s wedding is February 15th, and it would be the best present in the world for his family to be able to join us in New York for the ceremony. As a family, they walked for a month out of Ethiopia in 1984, were helicoptered from Sudan to Israel (child seven of eight was born on this trek), and have made a warm, loving life for themselves as Ethiopian Jews in Israel. A large mix of Jews and Gentiles, Canadians and Americans, we were totally embraced in their presence. Rebecca is marrying into a great family, and given the dynamics of both families (where word travels faster than lightening), it seems we will all have the great pleasure of further diversifying our blended family.
Oh! And lest I forget … I’ve converted to be a Skype fan! Although Shlomo cannot be with us for these two weeks, he was completely present tonight at his family’s house. Through his computer and theirs, we were able to chat, see each other’s faces (including those of Rebecca’s pug, Tucker, and friends who came to her apartment for the occasion). Shlomo was able to be a part of the introduction of his bride to his family … all for less than pennies a minute. In this case, I do not see any losses presented as a result of this technological advance. We would have loved for Shlomo to be with us, and we are so glad that in essence, he was.
God gives us gifts of the spirit, in the case of the Nagata family, they have been blessed with hospitality. I am so grateful to have been a part of this warm family welcome and look forward to being a part of their welcoming party to the States, hopefully in February.
Monday, July 14, 2008
1 - Birthright is alive and well
Hello everyone, and welcome to D-Blog!
I am at the Newark airport, finally, after spending the majority of yesterday afternoon and evening futily trying to get out of the Washington region. Lesson learned: if you're nervous about weather, go Amtrak.
This morning's travels have been much more smooth. I got a call from Dad as I was approaching my gate at DCA. The family had arrived safely in Tel Aviv and had already cleared customs. I'm sad that I wasn't able to be on the same flight to Israel with Dad, Janet, Susan, Asher, and Rebecca, but I've found that the excitement of the voyage is no less exciting on my own! After passing through the special security check-point to get to the Tel Aviv gate, I find myself surrounded by what seems like hundreds of eager passengers. Students going on birthright trips, secular and religious Jews, business persons, and me ... the only traveller in hot pink J-Lo pants, I'm sure.
But I bet I'm not the only person chronicalling my trip, either. The excitement at this gate is contageous, as people talk about why they are going to Israel, or how their trip to the States has been. For many of us, it seems, we are on our first trip, and it truly seems like a pilgrimage.
I think it's especially appropriate that we fly out of Newark. I hadn't expected to see the New York skyline as we arrived from DCA, but sure enough, the Empire State Building and Statue of Liberty stand out as monuments to all that America has stood for ... for world economy, for opportunity, for religious freedom. And yes, the Word Trade Center towers still are visibly missing, reminding us that we have a long way, as a nation, and as a world, to heal.
I anticipate that my pilgramage will mean many things to me. I look forward to connecting with my family, Jews and Gentiles, in a new way in these holy cities; I look forward to learning more about my heritage as a Christian; I look forward to spending a week at the "Miami of Isreal;" I look forward to experiencing being an "outsider" in a foreign country.
Seeing as so much of what I am studying at Georgetown is the composition and values of equality, I expect my frame of refence to shift considerable through this trip. At the Newark airport, we all seem equals. We all go through metal detectors and have our bags checked ... we all wait in line ... we all look forward to free wine/beer on our international flight :) What will we experience in Isreal? How will I be received on my first taxi ride? How will authority be manifested and received in Tel Aviv? Will that be different from Jerusalem? Will I ever want to come back after our Ethopian feast with Shlomo's family?
They're beginning to call us to board our aeroplane, so I'm going to jet (pun intended). I hope you'll check back as I write about my experience and try to verbalize what I expect will be complex impressions.
safe travels,
Devon
PS. A friend of mine sent me this prayer. Thank you in advance, friends and family, for all of your prayers for me and mine as we travel to the Promised Land.
One who sets out on a journey should recite the following prayer once he leaves city limits: May it be Your will, Hashem, our God and God of our forefathers that You lead us in peace, guide us to peace, that we reach our destination with life, gladness, and peace. May you rescue us from the hand of every foe, ambush, bandits, and evil animal along the path, and from all manner of catastrophe that occurs. May you send your blessings in all our handiwork, and grant us grace, kindness, and mercy in Your eyes and in the eyes of all who see us. And listen to the voice of our supplication because You are God Who hears prayer and supplication. Blessed are You, Hashem, who hears prayer.
I am at the Newark airport, finally, after spending the majority of yesterday afternoon and evening futily trying to get out of the Washington region. Lesson learned: if you're nervous about weather, go Amtrak.
This morning's travels have been much more smooth. I got a call from Dad as I was approaching my gate at DCA. The family had arrived safely in Tel Aviv and had already cleared customs. I'm sad that I wasn't able to be on the same flight to Israel with Dad, Janet, Susan, Asher, and Rebecca, but I've found that the excitement of the voyage is no less exciting on my own! After passing through the special security check-point to get to the Tel Aviv gate, I find myself surrounded by what seems like hundreds of eager passengers. Students going on birthright trips, secular and religious Jews, business persons, and me ... the only traveller in hot pink J-Lo pants, I'm sure.
But I bet I'm not the only person chronicalling my trip, either. The excitement at this gate is contageous, as people talk about why they are going to Israel, or how their trip to the States has been. For many of us, it seems, we are on our first trip, and it truly seems like a pilgrimage.
I think it's especially appropriate that we fly out of Newark. I hadn't expected to see the New York skyline as we arrived from DCA, but sure enough, the Empire State Building and Statue of Liberty stand out as monuments to all that America has stood for ... for world economy, for opportunity, for religious freedom. And yes, the Word Trade Center towers still are visibly missing, reminding us that we have a long way, as a nation, and as a world, to heal.
I anticipate that my pilgramage will mean many things to me. I look forward to connecting with my family, Jews and Gentiles, in a new way in these holy cities; I look forward to learning more about my heritage as a Christian; I look forward to spending a week at the "Miami of Isreal;" I look forward to experiencing being an "outsider" in a foreign country.
Seeing as so much of what I am studying at Georgetown is the composition and values of equality, I expect my frame of refence to shift considerable through this trip. At the Newark airport, we all seem equals. We all go through metal detectors and have our bags checked ... we all wait in line ... we all look forward to free wine/beer on our international flight :) What will we experience in Isreal? How will I be received on my first taxi ride? How will authority be manifested and received in Tel Aviv? Will that be different from Jerusalem? Will I ever want to come back after our Ethopian feast with Shlomo's family?
They're beginning to call us to board our aeroplane, so I'm going to jet (pun intended). I hope you'll check back as I write about my experience and try to verbalize what I expect will be complex impressions.
safe travels,
Devon
PS. A friend of mine sent me this prayer. Thank you in advance, friends and family, for all of your prayers for me and mine as we travel to the Promised Land.
One who sets out on a journey should recite the following prayer once he leaves city limits: May it be Your will, Hashem, our God and God of our forefathers that You lead us in peace, guide us to peace, that we reach our destination with life, gladness, and peace. May you rescue us from the hand of every foe, ambush, bandits, and evil animal along the path, and from all manner of catastrophe that occurs. May you send your blessings in all our handiwork, and grant us grace, kindness, and mercy in Your eyes and in the eyes of all who see us. And listen to the voice of our supplication because You are God Who hears prayer and supplication. Blessed are You, Hashem, who hears prayer.
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