Holy Places and Reunion

I'm back in Jerusalem for a final week, and will bring these reports to a close with a compilation of the past few days.

Our sojourn in the West Bank Palestinian Authority, based out of Jericho and Bethlehem hotels, elapsed in a whirlwind. It was an interesting, if uneasy, experience to travel a week around a foreign territory where the protection of my U.S. passport held little significance. But we were treated to one memorable location after another, and the hospitality was consistently gracious. Such as:

One afternoon, we had a long tea, with Turkish coffee, at the home of our Palestinian tour guide's aged father, a retired history professor, who gave us his take on the politics of the region, a much more reasoned and conciliatory account than views expressed by the more contemporary generation. "We've been brothers before; why can't we get together now?," he asked.

Another discussion, this one with a Bedouin patriarch, his large family and several inquisitive goats, was celebrated over a substantial lunch, served on Persian carpets under a long billowing tent, deep within the Judean Wilderness. Quite exotic and delightful, were it not for the temperature, which we pale Americans estimated at around 120 in the shade. But it's easy to exaggerate, when you're served for several hours reclining on pillows like a Pasha. It took us almost an hour, on unmarked roads, to drive to this tribe. On arrival we found Bedouin Son #2, happily conversing on his mobile phone with another tribe across the desert. WiFi, Facebook and Twitter, however, are lacking.

NATIVITY
The highlight in Bethlehem, of course, is the Church of the Nativity. Here was one of the few sites in the Palestinian Authority where we saw numbers of other tourists from the West (I was beginning to feel conspicuous). The entrance to this church, constructed of massive stone, is a very low portal that requires all parties to bow. This "Humility Door" was also functional: Ottoman invaders, who enjoyed their leisure time by storming churches on horseback, were therefore discouraged from doing so. This church, like so many others in the Middle East, was reconstructed many times on the foundations of its predecessors. Portions of the main sanctuary reveal exposed areas of an earlier Byzantine mosaic floor of great artistry. The church's nave is laden with heavy Russian brass chandeliers, gifts of Nicholas II. Like the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, this church is administered by three Catholic sects: Armenian, Greek Orthodox and Franciscan. They battle bitterly (occasionally violently) over architectural territorial rights. We watched as Greek clerics dutifully polished the altar floor, while Armenians monitored closely, lest the Greeks polish an altar area out of their jurisdiction.









Ultimately, you descend to a lower level, where grottos appear from the earliest periods. The traditional site of the Nativity is within one. A sixteen-pointed silver star marks the traditional birthplace. Then a series of other tunnels reveal coves venerated over centuries for prayer by Christian pilgrims as locations of religious significance. Quite a complex.

ACHIEVING HEBRON
A visit to the city of Hebron was always on our itinerary, but the capricious politics of the area made our planning unsure. This was the area I most anticipated, so I was pleased when we were able to get to the checkpoint leading to the tombs of the Patriarchs. Hebron is administered militarily by the Israelis, so the army controls access to this religious site, the second holiest in Judaism and also revered by Islam and Christianity. This is the Cave of the Machpelah, burial place of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, and Jacob and Leah. Herod the Great constructed an imposing fortification over the determined area of the cave, its ramparts in traditional Roman style. And here was our first checkpoint confrontation of the day.









My impression is that each Israeli checkpoint is governed at the whim of its commanding officer. The woman in charge of this group, each armed with rifles, immediately challenged our collection of nine Americans with the jarring question, "Any Jews here?" (Images of another era jolted my thoughts.) But her question was practical. Our visit was at the Muslim side of the structure, the entrance to a mosque where Jews are very much unwelcome. Since six of our group, plus the Palestinian tour guide, were not of the Jewish persuasion, we prevailed upon them to move ahead, while we three, clearly the newest Chosen People, remained behind. Now the goal was to negotiate our way around the fortification towards the Jewish entrance, where the Ultra-Orthodox control the sites of worship. We passed through a total of four checkpoints, our trespass denied repeatedly by armed soldiers until we talked our way through to the next. At the final checkpoint, guarded by Israelis who emigrated from Ethiopia, we were asked for passports for proof of our religion, which I took as an odd request (outside of Nazi Germany). Once again, much verbal negotiation ensued, mobile phones and cameras were confiscated, military intervention was concluded, and we finally entered the promised land.

This was worth the intrigue. As soon as we began to climb toward the entrance, we were enveloped by an aura of holiness. It was Shabbat morning, and lines of Orthodox Jews, their children filing behind, enthusiastically made their way to all available corners of the fortification for prayer. They seemed to be grouped into small communities. The more we climbed, the more numerous these enclaves of prayer. Finally, we reached the height of the parapet, the actual memorial sites. This is the Jewish portion of the indoor complex, on the opposite side of the Muslim mosque. Various small worship areas were crowded with celebrants, but embedded in one side of this room was a religious sight I'll long remember. The ark was open, and worshippers were engaged in chanting blessings over the Torah portion for the week, the same Torah portion being read that day throughout Shabbat in synagogues around the world. To the right of this activity was the tented ornamentation above the actual burial site of Abraham; to the immediate left, the burial site of Sarah. Here was the ultimate intersection of tradition and the moment. We lingered in this environment as long as we could, then reluctantly retraced our steps back to the mosque.

In all, tthe three week tour was much fun, with amiable company, and we covered a lot of geography. I'm now in an apartment in Jerusalem with ten friends from home. We have been studying Torah together each month since 1989(!), have long aspired to visit Israel together, and if we don't kill each other before the week is out, will share accommodations in the Rechavia section of the city.

So, I'll conclude with my favorite photo of the collection for this trip, which symbolizes the piety we experienced so often at the Western Wall.









For this trip, the journal is closed.

Location:שדרות בן מיימון,Jerusalem,Israel

Politics and Monasteries

I'm really enjoying my time in the West Bank, despite the realities of the Middle East. Here are people whose political views, on the whole, do not mesh with mine and whose violent extremist party would just as soon see the State of Israel disappear. But the typical Palestinian is no more a gun-toting extremist than is the typical observant Muslim. Their take on the history of the region is colored by three generations of rigid historical indoctrination and firsthand experiences with geographic expulsion. Nothing excuses the provocation of violence. But the youngest generation is boiling with resentment and implacable in its view of international politics. I've noticed no optimism for a resolution by either Palestinian or Israeli. This is the time of another historical pivotal point for the region, with the status quo wearing thin.

And yet the residents here in the West Bank couldn't be more gracious and genuinely welcoming. Clearly, the U.S. tourist dollar is a big factor. But despite America's support as an ally of Israel, there has been no overt animosity during our time in the West Bank. Here there is desert hospitality and a comfort level I didn't anticipate.

THE WORLD CUP
This afternoon, the World Cup competition began in South Africa. Enthusiasm for this event throughout the Middle East can only be compared to the bastard coupling of Mardi Gras and the Super Bowl, multiplied by a factor of ten. At least half of all the network newscast time on CNN International and the BBC Network has been dedicated to preparations for the first game. I'm very happy for them. Here on the West Bank, Brazil is clearly the favorite (politics again? Brazil now supports Iran), as the Palestinian citizenry proudly sports T-shirts and green and yellow flags.

TEMPTATION AND MAR SABA
Trust me. There are lots of steps in the Middle East. Yesterday we took a cable car from the Tel Jericho excavation site to the "next mountain," Mt. Temptation, so named because of a purported altercation between Jesus and the devil. (Hometown advantage: Jesus won.) It was midmorning when we started up, and the temps in the Judean Desert were getting there. After disembarking, we proceeded to climb some 200 often steep steps up a mountainside to a Greek Orthodox church commandeered by a very nervous little man who preferred that no photos be taken. Here's a photo from that experience.









BTW, there were also 200 often steep steps down.

Today, we visited the beautiful Mar Saba Monastary, said to be the oldest Christian monastery in existence. Another cliff dwelling Once again, steps. But what a place.









Regrettably, only four of us could enter: the site is exclusive to male plumbing, as women entering the cliff-clinging hermitage would be too distracting to resident monks. A monk with perfect English (originally from Connecticut) brought us to the tomb and various sacred locales of the patron saint of the monastery, Saint Sabas. He was a 5th Century ascetic monk whose remains remain on view inside a glass case. For someone who's rested there 1,600 years, he's remarkably (de)composed.

Next: Nativity, Patriarchs and another Farewell Dinner

Into The West Bank

We're bouncing along in a small bus, through the bustling city of Nablus. This was known as Shechem in the Old Testament: the city of Jacob, the town between two mountains where Joshua brought the Ark of the Covenant, home of the Samaritans (Good, Bad or Indifferent) and the burial place of Joseph. The city center of this town, the largest Palestinian population on the West Bank, teems with shops crammed with its citizens. Most women wear liberal black Arab attire, with their faces exposed, but local boutique windows sport more revealing garments and western formal wear that, we are told, are chosen by many woman for festive occasions. Within this city is an overpopulated refugee camp that has become cluttered with permanent makeshift structures during the past 60 years.









MANY CHECKPOINTS
The direction is Jericho, in the Jordan Valley, our home base for the next three nights. In this day of roaming Roman ruins around Nablus and the Samarian city of Sabastia, we've passed through several checkpoints armed by either Israelis or Palestinians. As part of the agreement for its establishment, the West Bank is a patchwork quilt of governing entities. They fall unto three categories: Palestinian-run, both militarily and administratively; Israeli-run militarily but Palestinian in administration; and, Israeli-run for both. Just as Israeli soldiers stroll the streets of Tel Aviv with rifles slung over their back, so do Palestinian soldiers in the areas they control militarily, such as Nablus and Jericho. (It takes some time getting used to the latter.) It's the expectation of both governments that an eventual Palestinian State on the West Bank will be controlled entirely by Palestinians, but negotiations are nowhere in sight, security issues for Israel remain thorny and the conservative wing of Israel's governing coalition continues to press for more West Bank Israeli settlements.

THE DWINDLING SAMARITANS
We spent about an hour with one of the high priests of the Samaritan sect, which is based just outside of Nablus. Once a major religious order in the time of Jesus, the Samaritans now number only a few hundred. I was surprised to learn how closely their rituals are based on Judaism. Their text is the first five books of the Old Testament, all major Jewish holidays are celebrated with pomp and severity, and their language is ancient, not contemporary, Hebrew.









But that's where the similarities part. Only the first five books are sacred; anything written after that, regardless of the religious influence, is considered irrelevant. And female participants have become so sparse that the Samaritan religion will likely disappear within a few generations.

JOSEPH, YASSER, RAMALLAH AND TEL JERICHO
We made many discoveries in and around Nablus. One of the most interesting was being admitted to the site where Arab tradition holds that Joseph (of the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat) was buried. For those that may not recall their Old Testament, the mummified remains of Joseph were carried out of Egypt by the Israelites during the Exodus and returned to his hometown of Shechem. In today's Nablus, the site does not get the respect of one so venerated by Judaism and Islam. The tomb is exposed to the elements in a decaying chamber with an open, ruined ceiling.









The Palestinians claim that this will be rectified in time. Not surprisingly, the memorial to Yasser Arafat is splendiferous, with two Palestinian soldiers standing over that tomb on solemn attention. (I did get a kick out of peeking back after our group had exited, to see one of the soldiers doing his stretch calisthenics.)

Ramallah is the capital city of the Palestinian Authority, and it's booming. All the governmental ministries are here. It's population is energetic and very hospitable, including the military. Most of the activity was local, with very few tourists among the masses. We made our way through a large shopping bazaar that, like most similar areas in the Middle East, had just about everything imaginable for sale, with barkers encouraging us to buy their wares or try their food. During a break in shopping, I'm seen here discussing the price of eggplants with my new friend, Herman Finischel.









Our last stop of the day was at the remarkable Tel Jericho. Here is the original site of excavations at the oldest continuously occupied city on the planet.









Stone fortifications go back 8,500 years, some 5,000 years before Joshua encircled the town, blew his trumpets, and the walls came tumbling down. It makes me want to reread Michener's "The Source."

Tomorrow: a final day in Jericho, and Bethany.

Deserts and Desserts

I'm kind of getting used to the desert. Kind of. We're on the road, zooming through the Negev on our way back to Tel Aviv, having just enjoyed a day with the Bedouin in their village of Lakia. The Negev is very different from the Judean Desert of the Dead Sea. The latter is a confluence of sedentary chasms interspersed with mounds of salt deposits. We spent a very hot day in Land Cruiser jeeps, weaving our way between mountains of limestone. Fun, if incendiary. The Dead Sea resort areas are popular havens for those hoping to experience an inferno without any residual Dante.

This is the southern desert of Israel. Endless miles of flat expanse are dotted with hundreds of Bedouin enclaves, each governed by a tribal sheik. We spent the good part of a day with these most hospitable people, as they showed us their fine artwork (principally embroidery), their goats and sheep, their freshly kurded cheeses (bone dry for desert preservation) and the most precious commodity, their children.



Most nuclear families here contain ten children, whose modern lives couldn't be more different from that of their parents. Modern Bedouin in Israel have converted from tents to concrete structures within small tribal cities, although homes retain a colorful tented area so as not to lose nomadic tradition. The elementary school we visited could have resided on Main Street in any small Midwestern town, if you replaced the Hebrew and Arabic under colorful nursery rhyme wall hangings with English. Kids all wore contemporary kid attire, and the school's computer room was pretty much what you'd find in the States, except that the room also doubles as a bomb shelter ("Duck and Cover" drills are not retro here).



We were served a delicious lunch of freshly-baked chicken (we had noticed our meal strutting around earlier), Mediterranean rice and vegetables, humas, and hot pita bread that we watched being baked on the back of a cast-iron pan in the next room. Some of the Bedouin women then answered translated questions about the rigid mores of tribal life, and how far they have progressed to change them. That they were still wearing traditional garb, but their daughters can purchase tank tops and thongs, spoke volumes. Happily, there were no beheadings during or after our lunch.

And speaking of food, Israel is not a good place for a diet. Every delicious combination of Mediterranean meat, veggie, starch and grain has found its way to our plate, to great acclaim. We've become connoisseurs of the quality of falafel and humas, which vary greatly from purveyor to purveyor. My favorite meal has been, of all things, the hotel dinner buffets. Why? Well, there's this kosher cooking requirement in Israeli hotels that particularly suits lactose-intolerant me. At meals where any meat is served, all courses are dairy-free, including tables of desserts. My chocolate fix and (what's left of my) sweet tooth are more than satisfied at these feasts. Another point in favor of fundamentalism.

We're back in Tel Aviv, and my room overlooks the blue Mediterranean. Once again, it's like I'm at Miami Beach, but everyone has youthened by about 60 years. Amazingly, tonight is our Farewell Dinner for those concluding the main two-week tour. Nine of us proceed tomorrow, with a new guide, for a week in the Palestinian West Bank. It should be enlightening. I'm not certain about Internet access, but will report when I can next connect.

This and That

Some observations, in no particular order:

BACK IN TIME TO SAFED
Safed or, depending on your Hebrew pronunciation, Tsfat, is a time travel experience located just north of the Sea of Galilee. Here a robust population of Chasidic Jews and Kabbalists (Madonna (contemporary version) nowhere to be found) mix mysticism with a Bohemian community of Israeli artisans. On entering the center of town via winding cobblestone paths, we were met by friendly, engaging yeshiva students, many from the U.S. Each was dressed in traditional Chassidic garb: wide-brimmed black hats, black jackets and slacks over white shirts, and the ever-present curling hair locks (pais) and prayer shawl fringes (tsitsit). They were eager to answer questions on life experiences and plans for followup study at their Chassidic center of gravity, Brooklyn. A short walk to a couple of small, ornate synagogues allowed us to look back in history on the home turf of some of the biblical scholars whose writings I recognized. This was one town I wish I had more time to explore.

A SHRINKING RESOURCE
We arrived at the Dead Sea area of Israel after five nights in Jerusalem. This is the lowest elevation on earth, and one of the most desolate except, of course, for the oases and large tracts irrigated for agriculture. Climate change has claimed part of this terrain, as the Dead Sea is much changed since my last visit. It now is reduced to two basins, connected by a canal; water from the Jordan River feeder has a diminished flow. Clumps of chalky white salt collect along the coastlines. But it's still a major resort, with mud baths and its palliative mineral water an international draw.

CAVES AND FORTRESSES
We began today with a tour near the caves of Qumran, an area not too far from Jerusalem, where the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered.






We earlier viewed restored scrolls at the Israel Museum, and it was exciting to see the area where this benchmark of antiquity was originally uncovered, quite by accident, by Bedouin goat herders. The scrolls are the oldest copies of the Old Testament, and its Hebrew lettering is remarkably readable. It was pretty warm to be roaming the desert (the temp was well over 100), and we welcomed a break at the Ein Gedi oasis, where tall desert waterfalls cool the soul, if confuse the eye. Then on to the cliff fortress of Masada, site of the last resistance to Roman rule around 70 C.E., where 1,000 Jewish zealots chose suicide over capture and slavery. These were the last free Jews in Israel prior to the diaspora. Although we were on the summit in late afternoon, the thermometer was highest for the day, and an hour was about all we could tolerate. But it was a wonderful experience to be in such an historical highlight.

SUNDOWN ON FRIDAY IN JERUSALEM
The Sabbath in Jerusalem is observed like nowhere else in Israel, a country which, on the whole, is not religious. But in the Jewish Quarter, late Friday afternoon begins a flurry of preparation for Shabbat. Observant Jews, dressed in the finest attire, hurry to the Western Wall, their children in tow, to be certain to arrive ahead of sundown. Orthodox men sport long black jackets; their sons mirror the style. Head coverings, however, reflect the area of Europe from which they emigrated. The most interesting were the Eastern European Orthodox Jews, whose round fur hats are elegant, if exotic. We asked if there was a special historic significance to the style. No, they replied, it just was cold in Eastern Europe!






One beautiful tradition, of which I was unfamiliar, is the desire to separate the workweek from the Sabbath by enjoying the aromas of mint and rosemary, both of which were at the individual worship areas, and sniffed throughout the evening prayers. I was also moved by the graciousness of these devout Jews, who characteristically take every twist and turn of their rituals with great solemnity. Nevertheless, every one of the men I spoke with was pleased to take the time to answer my mundane questions and include all of us in the joy of their Shabbat.

PERSPECTIVES
We had the good fortune to spend an hour today chatting with a young Palestinian woman, a journalist, who shared her take on the conflicts of this region and the future of the Palestinian people. Her perspective on the history of this troubled area was quite different from mine, but it was refreshing to engage with an educated and articulate advocate of the Palestinian position. I am not optimistic that the complicated territorial issues facing Israel and any future Palestinian State will be easily resolved. Everything here is either black or white, with lots of heavy historical baggage dragged behind. It appears that most Israelis now support the establishment of a Palestinian State, but under what conditions and within which borders is anyone's guess.

Moving Moments in the Holy City

BELOW THE TEMPLE MOUNT
We got an early start today, heading out just after 7 a.m., as we had an appointment in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City. This was our allotted time in the ancient tunnels that weave their way under the Western Wall of the Temple Mount. The area abutting the Wall was as busy as usual and would be mobbed today, since Thursdays and Mondays are the days when bar mitzvah ceremonies are allowed to be celebrated at the Wall.

The main tunnel runs parallel to and directly beneath the Western Wall, for a distance far into the Muslim Quarter. It exits at the first Station of the Cross, where the trial of Jesus took place. In the tunnels are labyrinths of arches and Roman streets, all existing during the time of the Second Temple, but during the Muslim Mamluk era packed with rubble, covered and constructed upon.









It was eerie and thrilling to walk along the foundations of the Temple Mount and touch the huge chiseled stones constructed there at the time of Herod the Great. As we made our way through the curving subterranean passages to the area nearest the base of the Temple structure, there was a palpable aura of sacredness. In fact, the stone we touched directly under the "Holy of Holies," the site of the Ark of the Covenant, is not the chiseled limestone of Herod, but rock that forms part of the summit of Mount Moriah itself. Even within the tunnels, this is a site for adoration and prayer, crowded with Jews who seek their closest connection to this most venerated location: for them, the center of the earth.

TODAY I AM A MAN
On returning to the street level of the Wall, the plaza was alive with celebration. The rite of bar mitzvah was occurring in about a dozen locations along the Wall and in its plaza. Each family would herald the event by parading into the plaza, lead by timbrel drums, the blowing of a shofar (ram's horn) and singing. The lads marched with their proud Immediate family under a white "chupah," which I've previously only seen reserved for bridal couples.









As the assemblage of family and friends approached the Wall, women split off to their isolated area. But they were not to be deprived of witnessing the ceremony. For most of the bar mitzvah services were strategically placed adjacent to the women's section. The ladies stood on chairs so that they could lean over the separating demarcation, chant along with the service, and pelt the bar mitzvah boy with wrapped candies at the conclusion of the event. The noisy, if joyful, miasma goes on all day in this crowded plaza of high solemnity mixed with ceremonial mirth.

HOLOCAUST
We spent most of yesterday revisiting history. Yad Vashem is the national memorial complex dedicated to the six million Jews who perished during WWII. The Holocaust is an integral and complicated subset of Jewish identity, and none express this more articulately than Israelis. I won't go into detail on the main museum exhibits. They are effective in setting up the historical perspectives leading to the War, the horrible events that followed and their aftermath. There were, however, two aspects of our day at Yad Vashem that most affected me:

THE CHILDREN'S MEMORIAL
Among the War's loss were 1.5 million Jewish children. To memorialize the cumulative impact of this loss of generations that could not follow, a building was constructed whose architecture reinforced the "unfinished" element of a shortened life. Within its darkened circular chamber one gropes along a path lit by the reflection of hundreds of floating candles. This is, in fact, a deliberate optical illusion: only five candles are reflected by a myriad of small mirrors, symbolizing how many multiple unrealized lives were impacted by the loss of the initial number. The only sound is a human voice, slowly recounting the names and countries of every child chronicled as having perished in the Holocaust.

TESTIMONY OF JACK
Throughout the museum, there are video testimonies by those who endured the unimaginable, from the onset of Jewish persecution in the 1930's through the horror of the War and, for those few, liberation. We had the honor of spending about an hour and a half in a private meeting with such an individual. His name is Jack, a man in his late 80's, who patiently, and with great dignity, shared his experiences in detail, from his teenage endurance of an eight day cattle car journey from his home in Greece, through his years at Auschwitz, the death march, and his unlikely survival, the only one of his large family to have done so. To say that being in his presence was a memorable encounter is gross understatement. I don't know that any one of us will be unchanged by our time with this remarkable person.

That's it for tonight. I just returned from dinner in the garden restaurant of the King David Hotel. It's probably the best known hotel in Jerusalem, and it was delightful to spend an evening on its cool terrace overlooking the twinkling lights of this ancient city. One more day in this area, then on to the Dead Sea.

Into Jerusalem

There are certain sites on this planet that, no matter how urbane a man considers himself to be, simply take one's breath away. Standing at the base of the Sphinx, and staring in awe at the Pyramids of Giza, is one. Climbing around the ruins of the massive Angkor Wat complex in Cambodia is another. But the hands down winner in goosebump provocation is a first view of the Temple Mount from the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem.






We arrived at that location late in the afternoon as the sun, dipping behind us, bathed the Old City in a golden glow that seemed to radiate back from the Moslem Dome of the Rock. Sweeping beneath us and up towards the eastern wall were the white limestone graves of thousands of Jews, whose great hope is to be among the first to enjoy rebirth when the Messiah descends from the sealed Golden Gate. Our guide poured cups of Israeli wine as we shared a blessing over our first gaze at Jerusalem. In the distance were the steps climbed by Jesus as he entered the City to approach the Second Temple; to our right, the Garden of Gethsemane, farther in the distance, the church that traditionally marks the crucifixion and resurrection. Out of our sight, but operating 24/7, the Western Wall, the most venerated religious location in Judaism.

Here we are at the junction of three major religions, whose holiest sites reside side by side, and sometimes one on top of another. It's also a city of fierce antagonisms between Jews and Moslems, and among the many Christian sects who battle for primacy over their most important traditional locations.

We began the next day by entering the Armenian Quarter of Jerusalem. Almost immediately, our group was bisected by a parade of very young yeshiva boys (barely a pais in sight), their parents and rabbis carrying boxes of books. These were the students' first "chumash," or prayerbooks, each wrapped in a velvet book covering and embroidered with the name of each first grader. I expect they were all heading to a ritualistic location to mark this inauguration of a lifetime of religious study.






We soon wound our way through the Jewish Quarter to our first sighting of the Western Wall. More goosebumps as we descended into the plaza, and made our way to the Wall. This is one of the original sections of the retaining wall of the Temple Mount built by Herod the Great. Above the Wall is Mount Moriah, now covered by the Dome of the Rock mosque. The holiest of all sites for Jews, it is traditionally where Abraham brought Isaac to be sacrificed, was the site of both the First and Second Temples and is considered the center of the earth, where God created Adam. It is also worshipped by followers of Islam as the site from which Mohammed ascended to heaven. The last time I was in Jerusalem, some 35 years ago, I was able to enter the Dome of the Rock and examine the top of Mount Moriah. Regrettably, that is no longer possible.

After a few minutes of prayer and reflection at the Wall, including the placement of personal notes within cracks in the Wall, we entered the area beneath an arch just next to the structure, where a synagogue has been created for private prayer and study. The whole experience was more moving than I can describe. We left the Western Wall plaza with reluctance. I expect to return during my extended stay here.

The other memorable address in the Jewish Quarter is the tomb of King David. A black marble sarcophagus exists under a velvet covering, which the Crusaders declared was the traditional burial location, and the structure itself can be examined and used as a site for prayer.






Directly above this tomb is a moderately sized hall that was identified as the site of the Last Supper. No coincidence, as Jesus was a descendent of David. It just reinforced the religious redundancy that keeps recurring here in moving and mysterious ways.

Next we curved our way within the Moslem and Christian Quarters along the Via Delorosa, the path of Jesus from trial to resurrection. At each of the 14 Stations of the Cross, a church or monument marks significant events. No matter to which of the many available religions you may subscribe, this is a moving experience. Over two millennia, countless millions of pilgrims have trod this path, reinvigoring their faith.

Politically, things are tense in the City, as some Moslem merchants have shut down their stores in protest to recent Israeli commando activity in Gaza. We'll be attentive to how far the protests escalate or if these events impact our itinerary, particularly next week in the West Bank.

Next time: More From Jerusalem and Galilee Highlights

Galilee, Part I

We're returning from a salmon dinner, walking along a ridge of the Golan Heights that overlooks the blue Sea of Galilee. This is Kibbutz Haruv, and accommodations here really are a cottage industry. Each cabin is surrounded by manicured lawns intermingled with sculptured flower gardens. Birdsong punctuates the sunset. Tomorrow morning, the Kibbutzniks deliver breakfast to our individual cabins. This is like a Disney movie. I think I'm gonna like it here.

It's been a couple of days since my last report, so I'll summarize some highlights.

BAHA'I, AND HOW ARE YA?
Reaching down toward the port of Haifa, the Baha'i Gardens is one of the beauties of northern Israel. The Baha'i faith, a relative newcomer among the mighty theologies of the region, holds this as a sacred site. A testament to color and serenity, the garden's 19 perfect terraces cascade in concentric waves. The photo doesn't do justice to its symmetry and grace.






NAZARETH WAS MORE THAN EXPECTED
At the time of Jesus, Nazareth was an insignificant village of about 300. It was several hundred years after his death that events important to Christianity were identified as having occurred in his home town. So I wasn't anticipating a major find in the Basilica of the Annunciation. This church turned out to be one of the most interesting architecturally and spiritually. The latest of five structuresu on the site, the 1969 complex impressed in many ways, including its status as the largest in the Middle East. An "upper church," almost anachronistically modern in design and scope, dominates an area filled with original art and mosaics from all the countries with major Catholic populations and rises to a 200 foot dome shaped like a white lily. But it was the "lower church" that had the most impact. A dimly lit sunken enclosure is built around the apse of a 5th Century Byzantine church previously on the location. This, in turn, is built around the grotto of Mary's annunciation, traditionally also her home. Overall, the site left quite an impact.






ROMAN RUINS AND CRUSADER FORTS
Caesarea was a pet project of Herod the Great, who wanted to create a Roman harbor to rival Alexandria. He proceeded to build an artificial enclosure that became an engineering marvel. Once completed, he expanded the area to allow Caesarea to become one of the major cities in the Province. A hippodrome, as in Rome, provided chariot races and gladiator bouts. But it was the large amphitheater, currently restored to its former state, that provided me the most interest. While I was there, they were setting up a big rock concert. But I also was aware that this was the site, in front of a cheering crowd, of the torture and execution of ten Jewish sages, including Rabbi Akiva, following the Bar Kochba revolt in the 2nd Century. It was hard to reconcile the two spectacles.

Caesarea also hosted a significant period under the Crusaders. But its archeological finds paled in comparison with the treasures of Akko (Acre). Here the Crusaders dominated for 400 years, creating one of the greatest ports of commerce in the Middle East. Remarkably, many of the Crusader structures remain undiscovered. As in much of the Middle East, entire levels of civilization are created over the ruins of a previously dominant resident. Such was the case of the Crusader ruins of Akko. We traversed miles of beautiful Gothic fortifications and reinforced tunnels, yet most are still claimed by sand and stone.






And the Crusaders were such an influential entity in the Middle East, until the Mamluks, an unruly Arab hoard, arrived in the 13th Century, outnumbered the Crusaders 10:1, obliterated them to a man and leveled all their construction. So much for sustainable urban planning.

Coming up: more from The Galilee

Ambiguities

We're in small bus, tearing our way towards Nazareth via Haifa. The day began with our departure from Tel Aviv. I've enjoyed this city, with its high energy level. But there's also ongoing large construction everywhere, as the city limits continue to expand and traffic congestion presages future urban challenges. Along today's route, terrain is rocky. Villages and small towns peek out between the hills and atop its ridges. Out of nowhere, and seemingly out of place, emerge small industrial centers; tall buildings hosting the Israeli headquarters of Intel, IBM and Google, among many others. Am I climbing Mount Carmel or entering the Silicon Valley? I feel like I'm between two worlds.

Israel is a country defined by its ambiguities. Down one side of the street Jews and Arabs of both genders demurely walk, garbed in the strictest of religious attire. Up the other side caper similarly youthful men and women out of another era: ours. Although most of the Israeli population supports efforts to secure a strong Jewish state, a vocal and influential minority would prefer that Israel not exist at all, and consults publicly with Arab opposition. Most of the country's Jews are secular and moderately observant, as contrasted to the Ultra-Orthodox, whose rigid adherence to tradition brooks no deviation from the Law.

Nothing brought this into focus more than two lengthy conversations within a 24-hour period with very different representatives of Jewish Orthodoxy.

MY WAY, OR THE HIGHWAY
Dinner last night was in the dining room of the yeshiva (place of learning) of the Jewish Orthodox Community of B'nei Brak, outside of Tel Aviv. After a tasty traditional meal of cholent, a stew slow-cooked for twelve hours that's typically reserved to conclude Shabbat, we interacted with a representative of the student body. The philosophy I anticipated was the philosophy delivered, but I had never been exposed to this line of fundamentalist absolutism and found the experience more than a little disturbing. This encounter wasn't designed to be confrontational, and no one in the group, Jew and Gentile alike, was judgmental. But my impression, reinforced throughout the evening, was that this 19-year-old had been brainwashed into espousing facets of an almost cultish religion. He challenged us repeatedly to ask the hard questions. His answers, however, were repeatedly out of the same playbook, prefaced by "Well, the Rabbis explain ..." None of his comments dispelled the impression that a fundamentalist, of any religion or political bent, has an interpretation that completely justifies his definition of reality. There's no argument necessary; it's the law. As we departed the yeshiva, I privately inquired why he did not begin the meal with a "hamotzie," the traditional blessing over bread. He confided that it would have been inappropriate, as there were non-Jews present. Unstated, of course, was his perception that no one in the room, save his community members, was in any way Jewish, as even those who profess to observe the religion in a less than Ultra-Orthodox fashion are not adherents of the true religion.

ORTHODOXY ON A COMMUNE
Today lunch, and a relaxing afternoon, were spent with a family on an agricultural commune in Galilee. Here, we experienced a different view regarding religious observance. But first, a word about a commune vs. a kibbutz. The latter is a socialist construct, where everyone shares work on the community's projects and its products. The commune is a structure of individual farms (or other endeavors), each privately owned, but where neighbors interact as a community regarding common needs and defense. (More like our pioneer communities in America.) I was surprised to learn that kibbutzim never exceeded 3-4% of the Israeli economy; communes were more the norm. I guess kibbutzim had better PR. In any case, we began the meal by preparing our own focaccia bread and toppings from scratch (up to our elbows in flour, but pleased with the results).




Following a lunch of very fresh foods, we conversed with our host, whose farm harvests around 1,000 olive trees. An observant Jew (Orthodoxy is the only sect in Israel), his family encouraged him to travel extensively, and he graduated from Stanford. Yet, he returned to work and ultimately manage the third-generation business. His take on observant Orthodox Judaism was considerably more open than those at the yeshiva. Working to support his family (as opposed to participating in continual adult studies), completing compulsory military service and contributing to sustain the state were part of his lifestyle, although these are all refuted by Ultra-Orthodoxy. I was more comfortable with his acceptance of Judaism in the varied forms practiced in the U.S.

This dichotomy of religious belief will be prominent in upcoming experiences at the center of Orthodoxy: Jerusalem.

Next: Caesarea and the Crusader city of Akko.

First Impressions Aren't Deceiving

It's a long shlep, no matter how you slice it. Around 24-hours after locking up the condo, I stared through the window of a packed Boeing to just make out the emerging coastline of Israel. I was tired, more than usually crabby and overfed on that swell Delta cuisine. But this is my first trip back since the early '70s. I was more than a little excited and, well, rather moved to witness Tel Aviv, much larger than I remembered, filling the horizon.

We swooped south to Lod, where David Ben-Gurion International Airport resides, about halfway between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. I anticipated long delays during the heavy three-phase security program required on entry, but after sailing through the passport line, my bag was ready for pickup. It was fun chatting up affairs of the day with the many Birthright students making their first, and highly anticipated, journey. There were hundreds of them at Passport Control, and the streets of Tel Aviv are filled with kids in this program. I'm glad it's still viable, post-Madoff.

A cursory observation confirms that the demographics of Tel Aviv are skewed to the young. Most everyone on the streets, in restaurants and in front of or behind the counters are energetic 20-somethings. True, the university is here. But so are the jobs and other opportunities. And the sense of Sabra pride! Residents walk tall and with focus. There are things to be done and these are the ones who will do it. It's more than their nationalism, which is considerable (I've never seen so many flags on display, outside of Disneyworld). There's also a running theme of courtesy that prevails. I've met no one who hasn't gone out of his/her way to be hospitable and helpful. I understand that this is the norm throughout Israel and on the West Bank. I look forward to finding out.

THE TOUR
I'll go into detail on this tour later (sorry, I'm only in Day 2 of adjustment to the 10-hour time change). For now, I can report that the other 15 folks in this group are fine and fun, the guide is articulate and I believe we'll all enjoy the experience. Discussion of domestic politics almost reared it's two-headed form this afternoon, and we immediately established a no-fly zone ground rule. Will we ever get over the antagonism?



Here's a photo of sunset over the Mediterranean during a beach dinner with the group last night. The food was almost as delicious as the atmosphere.

JAFFA
Today we did a lot of walking around the City of Jaffa. It's probably the oldest seaport in the world, once servicing Jerusalem. When I was here last, I purchased the Kiddish cup used at my sister and brother-in-law's wedding. The markets are completely unchanged. Why not? There's 5,000 years of mercantile behind them. We enjoyed a fantastic lunch. I ordered shaved lamb (shwarma) and a salad plate; the person next to me chose falafel and an additional salad plate. What eventually made it to our table was a buffet of so much Middle Eastern food that we could barely push ourselves away from the table. The proprietor insisted, "Eat this. You must try that. If you don't like it, you don't have to pay for it!" Needless to say, we liked it all, including the extra humus, baba ghanooj and a myriad of spiced, pickled and fried veggies, each served on separate dishes. Have I mentioned the breads? Well, post-feast the bill converted to $12.50 each. I think I'm gonna like it here.

ART
Final note for today, then a power nap before we visit a yeshiva for dinner and a roundtable with Orthodox students. We spent a bit of time in a couple of art galleries in Jaffa. This community is strongly into the arts (think Montmartre). One sculptor, who shared some time with us, is very much into life-sized works. I'm pictured here informally conversing with, and inadvertently fondling, some of her denizens.



Tomorrow: overland to Nazareth, Caesarea, then Haifa.

Location:בן יהודה,Tel Aviv District,Israel

On The Road Again

I'm heading back to the Middle East on May 24 for a month, to tour Israel for 16 days, the Palestinian West Bank for 6 days, then back in Jerusalem for another week, joining friends from San Francisco.

Travels will take me to Tel Aviv, Nazareth, Golan and the Sea of Galilee, Jerusalem, the Dead Sea, Masada, Bethlehem, Hebron, Nablus and Jericho.

Stay tuned, for what I hope are somewhat regular reports, by linking to:

http://alzupdate2.blogspot.com/.