My sister-in-law asked about our trip. “How was the group?’ She wondered. “They weren’t the type of people who put sweaters over seats, either on the bus or at meals.” I responded. Traveling with a group isn’t ordinarily my first choice but Israel is a destination that is enough of an adventure in itself. My husband and I didn’t need to be wandering around on our own. The fact that we liked everyone, that they weren’t “clicky”, that they didn’t rush to save chairs at the dinner table or “hosey” rows on the bus was a welcome surprise.
Six days in Israel passed by in a flash. After taking a look at the itinerary, I knew that each day and night would be jam-packed. But I hadn’t realized how emotional I would be or how politically riveted I would become.
Flying to Tel Aviv aboard Continental Airlines on a Combined Jewish Philanthropies Mission, I slept form 11:00 p.m. until 3:00 a.m. After that, I dozed off and on, watching my husband sleep beside me, listening to an infant fretfully crying, pacing the aisle, and studying the “air show”. We flew over so many seas: Ionian, Aegean, Black, and Mediterranean. Our group included Christians and Jews. I looked forward to visiting the Mount of Beatitudes where Jesus preached his well-known sermon: “Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth…” as well as the Western Wall where I would place prayers for family and friends in between stones that are thousands of years old and worn by the many hands that have touched them.
From the airport, we drove along the Cross-Israel Highway to Haifa. Along the West Bank, we saw the cement wall built at vantage points where gunfire could be perilously near. I never understood these borders until I viewed them up close. After sunset we arrived at Mount Carmel and gazed at the glittering lights of the city below, the semi-circular harbor, and the last beacon in the distance, southern Lebanon.
In the morning, we walked along a pedestrian route behind our hotel. We enjoyed the terraced Baha’i Gardens with their gorgeous array of color, the sparkling Gulf of Haifa below, the stucco buildings with their red tiled roofs, and the cypress and eucalyptus trees. Throughout that first day, we took time to learn about community initiatives that are settling five thousand Ethiopian Jews in Haifa. Some of these people walked from Ethiopia to the Sudan, five hundred miles across the desert. Others arrived on rescue airlifts named Operation Moses and Operation Solomon.
Toward evening, we dined in the port city of Akko where we saw layers of excavated civilizations: Roman, Crusader, Marmluk, and Ottoman Turk. We touched ancient sandstone, marveled at the pointed peaks of the Crusader archways, and smelled spices: turmeric, saffron and cayenne as we listened to the drone of the call to prayer in the distance. Akko has an Arab/Jewish population. We heard a theme that would become familiar. Arabs and Israelis can co-exist; it is their leaders who cannot make up their minds. Our security guard, Bissan, was Druze, an Arab Israeli whose family has inhabited this land for three or four hundred years. Bissan explained that the Druze are Persian Shia, very different from the Moslem Shia who infiltrated the Golan Heights and kidnapped Israeli soldiers last summer.
Approaching the Golan Heights the next day, we drove through the Hula Valley with its groves of almonds, olives, clementines, oranges and lemons. We could see snow-capped Mount Hermon in the distance and several kibbutzim as we approached an army outpost. On the Israeli/Lebanese border, we met impossibly young soldiers equipped with flak vests, grenades, binoculars and rifles. They explained that Israel has had sovereignty of the Golan Heights since 1967 when Syria gave up this area. Now it is strategically important for protection from the Hezbollah warriors who daily fire rockets from southern Lebanon. Months ago, Israel signed a truce but they are still attacked on a regular basis.
Above the Sea of Galilee near the Mount of Beatitudes, we passed fields of mustard grass, and fig, date, and banana trees. We saw Bedouins with camels, the green of the Jordan Valley and the golden glow of the sunlight. Jesus preached the Sermon on the Mount on a hilltop overlooking this pastoral scene. He was baptized nearby at Yardenit on the Jordan River, according to Christian belief. As we continued toward Jerusalem, we explored Beit She’an, a stunning archaeological project that has revealed a large Roman city. We could see mosaic tiles, streets, public baths, and even a 10,000-seat stadium.
The approach to Jerusalem required stopping at checkpoints. I could tell that the highway guards were wearing bulletproof vests. In these Judean Hills, I witnessed the clash of three cultures and three religions: the golden dome, the minarets, the church spires, and the Western wall. I listened to the chanting of Hebrew prayers, the church bells chiming, and the low humming sound of the call to prayer. We walked to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher where Christ was carried after he was crucified. This is a cavernous and revered shrine with chapels representing a number of Christian communities.
In the Arab bazaar, the aroma of incense was strong. Persian carpets hung from the rafters, vendors beckoned, men sat in pairs playing backgammon or sipping from small cups of black coffee. My husband and I bought lunch at a take out stand: small balls of falafel and shawerma, pita pockets filled with diced turkey, cabbage, lettuce, pickles, potatoes, and hummus. Some men walked by with kafiyeh, traditional Arab garb, covering their heads. Others wore tall black hats or large fur-trimmed brown hats, both indicative of various Jewish sects.
Later we visited Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum. Here the million and a half Jewish children who died are remembered in their own memorial. Rosa Goldberg, a baby, was arrested and deported all by herself. A two year-old Polish boy was taken from his mother who left behind a note in the cattle car that was transporting her to a concentration camp. Her note read: “How he must cry. Now he is all alone.” I could not stop crying and I could not speak. How can people treat one another this way? Whole villages were wiped off the map, families were fragmented, and populations were decimated. The Avenue and Garden of the Righteous Among the Nations is a ray of hope. The 18,000 names of non-Jews who risked their lives to rescue Jews are engraved on the garden walls. Two thousand carob and olive trees flourish on the museum property in honor of those willing to trade their own safety to protect others. One northern Italian family was asked why they had risked their freedom by hiding a Jewish family during the war. They responded that they wouldn’t have considered acting differently because each person’s destiny is intertwined with the next person’s.
Swimming in the Dead Sea was a playful relief. The chunks of salt were prickly underfoot. When we floated, our bodies were so buoyant that it was hard to put our feet down without holding on to a nearby pole. The landscape was the turquoise sea, the deep blue sky, and the towering sand mountains. Because the water contains 30% salt, nothing can live here. There is no plant or animal life in sight. After showering, my skin felt soft. Emerging from the locker room, the sign in front of me read: “Go in Peace”.
Our group had the unusual opportunity of meeting with Dalia Itzik, the Speaker of the Knesset, Israel’s Parliament, and Ehud Olmert, the Prime Minister. Both graciously thanked us for coming, and exuded confidence and power. Behind a heavy metal door, we felt as though we had entered an armored bunker when we walked toward Olmert’s conference room, and we probably had. We sat around a table with him and he looked into our eyes while he spoke. He explained that suicide bombers are thwarted daily, and that the Palestinian leader, Mahmoud Abbas of Fatah, has not honored the ceasefire. Olmert prays that “...maybe in a few generations, we will live in peace.”
In spite of the fact that they live under continual siege, I was impressed with the upbeat attitude and resilience of the people whom we met. The Israeli economy is thriving with a strong infrastructure. Social responsibility, perhaps because men and women serve in the military to directly defend their own country, seems to be built into the minds of everyone we encountered.
