Across Israel by Benjamin Ergas
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March 24th. Heathrow Airport, London
A dozen men gather at the Departure Gate. They have long curly sideburns, beards and knee-length black coats. Some were black hats, others simply knit kippots on their heads. Most are middle-aged. A boy is with them, holding a thick textbook in his hands. They don’t seem to know one another, but seem to have a common purpose. Settled in my seat, fascinated, I watch them convene in a corner of the lounge area. They are up to something, but I cannot quite figure it out… until they turn facing the concrete wall. These men have improvised a meditation area. They are now ready to pray.
Feet fixed, arms fully extended by their sides, heads bowed, knees bent, bodies swaying jerkily, these Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox Jews immerse themselves in their third daily prayer, the Ma’ariv. At first their meditation is quiet, each lost in their own private exchanges with God, their jerky physical movements allowing them to feel its presence more fully. Some ten minutes later, someone at the front recites short verses that trigger intermittent responses from the group, for another five minutes. Finally, with the evening prayer now completed, the group breaks up as spontaneously as it had assembled. They pick up their hand luggage left on the side and join the rest of us boarding the plane.
There is something quite singular about the Jewish culture. George Steiner in a book called “Errata” once pondered: how have Jews survived for more than two thousand years, despite persecution, attempts of annihilation? How have they thrived against all historical logic? How has the ancient Hebrew language stay alive while other ones (e.g. Latin and Aramaic) have faded away? The faithful would answer by referring you to the Old Testament: the discourse on the Elected People of Canaan chosen by Abraham. Steiner instead relies on their deliberate, disciplined practices of endogamy (75%+ rate) and self-isolation, and on the respect of social and religious codes transmitted through generations. Their sense of belonging, self-recognition and inner confidence, paradoxically strengthened through hostilities, has nurtured survival instincts.
Prayer as a group is the most highly recommended form of prayers in Judaism. The value of the community over the individual is seen as critical in ensuring their preservation, in mitigating their vulnerability. It is no coincidence that those men joined in collective prayer. It is only a four-hour flight to Tel Aviv. Wrapped up in a blanket, I go to sleep.
March 25th. Purim Holiday
“Twenty minutes to arrival. We remind you that it is forbidden to take photos of Israel from the plane.” We land at Ben Gurion. I’m impressed by the brand new $1bn airport terminal, its minimalist style and more fluid immigration checkpoint. Within 20 minutes we are out and on our way to Boya, a breathtaking sea-front restaurant at Sea Marina that offers the typical Israeli breakfast (eggs, toasts, salad, fruits, cheese) while ocean waves lap gently against rocks 10 feet away. My friend Ron (TV personality in Israel) is recognized, and we get free morning cocktails.
Today is the fifteenth day of Adar, the 12th month of the Jewish calendar: Purim, the most festive holiday of the year. It is the story of a young Jewish woman Esther and the survival of the Jewish people living in Persia… yet another story of “victory over oppression”, probably the most common theme for special holidays in Israel.
Purim in form is like a Jewish Mardi Gras. In the streets of Sheinkin, Dizengoff, Allenby and all over town, people across ages celebrate by wearing outlandish costumes. The light-hearted atmosphere contrasts with the sombre mood experienced in my first visit at the peak of the Intifada three years earlier. The festivities carry on all day long. In the evening, invited to a large private party in the studio of prominent local photographer Eitan Tal, I mingle for several hours amongst look-alikes of Yasser Arafats, Roman soldiers and Sheiks, to the mellow groove of house music.
March 26th. On the way to Tiberias – the Wall
Leaving behind Tel-Aviv, we drive east towards the Cross Israel Highway, a new north-south road equipped with electronic toll collection (wireless license plate readers) that will take us to Tiberias in Galilee. We pass dozens of young soldiers in beige uniforms toting guns near bus stops, as well as large green road signs with markings in Hebrew, Arabic and English. Beyond the roads, the landscape is dry and sandy. Within 45 minutes, we find ourselves driving on the outskirt of the West Bank, near the Palestinian city of Qalqiliya, or is that perhaps Tulkarm? For the first time I see the Wall – the “security fence” for the Israelis and the “Apartheid Wall” for the Palestinians. Although it is strictly forbidden, I press Ron to stop the car. I take a closer look…
The sight of the wall is disconcerting. It is a 20-foot high concrete structure (twice the height of the Berlin wall) that stretches for miles. Its foundations are firmly dug in a cement base. Further along the wall lies a watchtower, but I cannot see high tension wires, gates or troops on patrol here. I take photos from inside the car, discreetly.
What is striking is the way the wall cuts through this countryside, as one person puts it, “like a colossal devouring maw”. It is hard to see from the roadside whether this specific part of the wall is built on Israeli land along the established 1967 border, or in fact, as in many cases, cuts through Palestinian territories across agricultural fields, water reserves and communities, making Palestinian lives that much more miserable. Driving along, we pass road signs for Ramallah and Jenin. 30 minutes later, we arrive in Tiberias, one of the holy cities on the western shores of the Sea of Galilee. On the news tonight, I hear that 3,600 settlers are protesting Ariel Sharon’s proposed disengagement plan… a vocal minority, along with the ultra-Orthodox, that believes the Holy Land is for Jews and only for Jews. I switch off the TV.
March 27th. The Sea of Galilee, Nazareth, Mount Tabor
The Sea of Galilee is the largest sweet water lake in the country (65km in diameter) and at 208 meters below sea level, the second lowest place in the world after the Dead Sea. After enjoying another stunning sunrise, I enjoy a morning run along its ancient shores… trying to remember details about that 2,000 year-old boat found buried in the sand in the mid-1980s, now housed in a refrigeration unit in Tiberias . This is the heart of the biblical land, the stage where many New Testament stories unfolded. Names on my local map resonate like it would for any Christian: Nazareth, where Joseph and Mary lived and brought up Jesus; Capernaum, the fishing community on the northern banks of the Sea of Galilee where Jesus made its home and recruited four of its apostles including Peter and Paul; the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus walked on water and around which dozens of miracles were performed, the Jordan River where John was baptized, Magdala, birthplace of Mary Magdalene, Cana, where water was transformed into wine… It is quite humbling to be walking in the footsteps of the early Christians.
The streets of Nazareth are dusty and deserted. I would have thought Easter Sunday would have attracted pilgrims and tourists, but the village appears closed for business. The distant sound of an Arabic call to prayer reminds me of the overwhelming Muslim majority living here – in this ultimately Christian town on Jewish land.
Nazareth is Israel’s only Arab city and home to the largest Palestinian population in the country (100,000). It seems that there have been very few investments made by the Israeli government in developing the town’s potential. We walk through the empty winding alleys of the hillside souk, and get lost searching for Mary’s Well, the water of which is said to heal miraculously.
Unable to find someone speaking Hebrew to guide us, we err in the maze and run into a prominent structure with a large grey dome: the Church of the Annunciation, where Angel Gabriel announced the Immaculate Conception to the Virgin Mary. It is cool and empty inside, but very grand, especially around the Holy Grotto. Paintings of the Annunciation cover the walls of the gallery above the cave while outside, the courtyard walls are adorned with mosaics of Madonna and Jesus provided by dozens of countries. Pope John Paul II had visited this basilica five years almost to the day. After eating some sharwarma on Paul VI Street, we leave Nazareth and continue our journey across Southern Galilee.
We drive by a rounded hilltop nearby. Signs indicate this is Mount Tabor, which rises about 600m above the plain of Jezreel. A middle-aged French-speaking Franciscan monk looking after the gardens of the Catholic basilica tells us this is the holy site of the Transfiguration, where Jesus spoke with Elias and Moses and was transfigured. We cannot go inside the church (missing out on a 12 th century altar erected by Crusaders as well as fine mosaics), but the monk encourages us to visit the nearby remnants of a limestone Arab fortress called al-Adil from the early 13th centur. From a terrace, I look down beyond the Bedouin village of Shibli into the lush and fertile valley of Galilee, somehow not surprised that over many centuries Romans, Arabs, Crusaders and Mameluks all established a strategic presence here.
March 28th. Morning. Caesarea
We make a final stop at the seaside port of Caesarea, about half-way between Haifa and Tel-Aviv. Caesarea is one of the most important archaeological sites in Israel, along with the old city of Jerusalem and the ruins of Masada, the desert fortress on a mountaintop by the Dead Sea where rebellious Jews resisted 1 st century Romans.
With only two other cars in the large parking lot, I am struck at how deserted the place is, despite its historical significance and dramatic coastal setting. The impact of the Intifada on the tourism industry remains severe. The sun is scorching hot. We walk through the scattered ruins, resting our eyes every so often in the cool shade of a Roman theatre or the vaulted gates of medieval fortifications.
Caesarea was a small Phoenician commercial port transformed by Herod the Great under Roman occupation into a capital of the Judean province in the 1st century AD. It was once the most important urban centre in the Holy Land. Apostle Paul was imprisoned here for two years (58-60 AD) before being sent to Rome. Little is left of the Roman city because future settlers recycled stones to build their own structures. I can imagine the layout of this Roman town, its network of streets and water system, its bathhouse, its amphitheatre and stadium facing the sea, its palaces as well as ingenious man-made harbour. The detailed 3D production in the museum is probably the most advanced interactive presentation I have seen on a site; it certainly helps showcase the city’s past.
Israel is located at the juncture of probably more civilizations and religions than any other country in the world. This is what makes it so fascinating. The history of the central platform that faces Caesarea’s harbour illustrates the depth of its layered past. The podium marked originally the city centre of the Persians (570-332 BCE) and the Greeks (332-37 BCE), then a base for a lavish temple dedicated to Roma and Augustus (1-3rd century AD), then the site of an octagonal Byzantine church (4-6 th century), then that of a mosque in the Arab period (6-10th century), then that of a Crusaders cathedral (10-12th century) under the French Knights of Garnier and King Louis IX, which was then destroyed by the Mameluk armies of Baybars and Salahadin (13-16th century), themselves displaced by the Ottomans, who were in the area until the end of the 19th century when they settled Bosnian Muslim refugees there…
March 28th. Afternoon. Ben Gurion Airport
Israel is a complex, intriguing and challenging country. I had just enough time in four days to see it through a handful of prisms: the traditions of black-garbed Orthodox Jews, the communal celebrations of resistance and survival, the physical impact of the Wall and the emotions it generates, the ancient sites of the Holy Land vs. the very young age of its host nation, the progressives of Tel-Aviv vs. the traditionalists of Jerusalem, Israel and its Arab neighbors… such a rich experience merits other trips to scratch further beneath the surface, beyond the scars that have so deeply marked this land of conflict.