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
I can't believe that your journal has ended. I want to continue traveling with you...and esp hear how our Torah Study Group is experiencing Eretz Yisrael.
ReplyDeleteWith hugs from SF,
Howard