Israel, Day 1 – Monday, January 14th - Jerusalem

Today was a day of orientation and touring of Jerusalem, which, in this country, means archeology – and lots of it.  We remarked later that it was like overconsumption of archeological and religious artifacts.  The truth is, in Jerusalem, it is very difficult to throw a stone and not hit something (if you can avoid hitting someone – it is very dense) without some historical, religious, or political significance.  This is exponentially more true in the Old City.

The streets of Jerusalem are a bit chaotic, with pedestrians, some very intolerant drivers, and trams that whiz through the streets intermittently.  You learn quickly to reverence the traffic signals. The first thing us Chicago flatlanders noticed were the hills. For some reason, that never sinks in until you are hiking continually up, huffing and puffing, for 10 or 15 minutes.  We know from biblical sources that the Judean people lived in the hilltops and highlands.  But it’s not until you are here, looking at the panorama of layered houses and buildings, that you understand.  And when you stand at a lookout point across a wide valley and realize a few hours ago, you were standing on the opposite ridge, it’s both humbling and powerful. 

Our guide, Jared, stopped us just past a major thoroughfare to point out that we had just crossed the Green Line, or basically the hypothetical line that was drawn when fighting between those intent on a Jewish state and the native population of Arabs came to an end in 1948.  It is the defacto border between West Jerusalem, which is officially in the state of Israel, and East Jerusalem, which is technically part of the state of Palestine (if there were such a thing).  The line is hypothetical because 20 years later, Israel responded to allied coordination of bordering Arab countries with superior military might and managed to capture much more territory than the UN recognizes based on the 1949 peace agreement.  This is how Gaza, Golan Heights, and the West Bank came to be under Israeli occupation.  Stopping here, at the Green Line, was noteworthy because it was not.  Not tense, not guarded, not anything like what you expect when you hear ‘Israel Palestinian border’.  There are remnant bullet holes in the buildings, but those are from long ago.

And then, suddenly, you are in magic bible land that has everything you’ve ever heard or read about in scripture right there in front of you, and you can touch it. And it’s surreal and unbelievable.  They say the most recent wall in Jerusalem is ‘only’ 500 years old.  After many incredible views of the walls and topography, you never quite get used to the sight of the valley stretching from Wi-Fi and fast food to third world poverty on the Palestinian side.  Or the prevalence of the archeological digs that may or may not prove the City of David exists, may or may not prove Jews originated from that spot, but may NOT be stopped because any pause in the digging might lead to land disputes, supreme court cases, and questions about whether the digging will resume.  And, the project may be funded by the Christian Right.

While you can doubt whether this particular ruin, dug under Palestinian homes in East Jerusalem, actually ever held the Davidic genealogical line (there is debate among archeologists about whether any of the evidence verifies even the existence of this dynasty), you cannot ignore the true antiquity of the structure.  We learn about the ancient King, Hezekiah (1000 BCE), who built the town walls and fortified the area, waiting for attack.  You see, Jerusalem is prime ancient real estate.  In the desert hills of the Ancient Near East, any people looking for a home need, first and foremost, a water source. Jerusalem is set upon a ridge at the base of two valleys – therefore easily defendable on three sides – and located right next to an underground spring.  Knowing that the Ancient warring Assyrians would, sooner or later, arrive to take the ancient city, King Hezekiah strategized to avoid surrender, and millennia later, we get to learn his strategy through the lens of archeology.  To be sure to protect his people and his water source, Hezekiah set about digging a tunnel from the spring, under his wall and entire city, digging it on just a slight slope so the water would flow naturally through the tunnel into the town’s cistern and save the city in a siege.  In fact, there is mention in the Assyrians’ history of amassing outside of a Judean town, but departing without gaining access.

 

3000 years later, the tunnel is still flowing with water.  We walked the 1800 feet of wet darkness with flashlights, water shoes, and, honestly, moments of panic on my part.  You could feel where the pick axes dug into the walls, and the abrupt turns where they were trying to make both ends of the tunnel meet in the middle, dozens of meters under ground. (How did they manage to dig this tunnel?  The only theory is that they managed to determine their direction by noise through limestone– banging on the walls, yelling to each other when the tunnels got near, and perhaps being guided by someone above ground, pounding on the earth along the city wall).   

Don't I look panicked?

Jerusalem’s ‘Old City’ denotes not the ‘City of David’ that’s being excavated, but the walled-in portion of the city in East Jerusalem that existed for centuries through Ottoman Rule and holds most of the monotheistic religion’s holy sites.  The Old City has 4 (not equal) quarters; a Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Armenian Quarter, noted for the concentration of each ethnicity living in each section.  (Armenians, just FYI, have been in Jerusalem since the first century and converted to Christianity in 286 CE, and have claimed a portion of Jerusalem ever since.)  We walked quickly through the market (‘schuk’ in Hebrew or ‘suk’ in Arabic) to a majestic structure shown on maps as David’s Citadel.  This was the northwest corner of the Old City, (within the city walls), which in ancient times was the weakest position (all the other walls were surrounded by steep cliffs).  King Hezekiah may have been the first to try to fortify this corner with extra towers and height; the Jewish Hasmonean Dynasty added walls, but King Herod added 3 massive towers and additions about 30 years before the turn of the century – and so it’s more aptly called Herod’s Castle.  (It was named ‘David’s Citadel’ by Byzantine Christians, but it echoes the modern tendency in Jerusalem to name all things ‘David’ – from the ‘City of David’ excavation site to streets, hotels and bridges – partly in hopes to validate both the Jewish state and to reinforce tourism for modern-day Christians). 

It was impossible not to be transfixed and transported by Herod’s Castle at night, backlit and enchanted by projections and soundtracks.  We went to see an artistic lightshow depicting the history of Jerusalem, described as an interesting juxtaposition of modern the modern with the ancient, but the experience started before we even entered the gate.  The path to descend to the stage ringed the walls of the tower, and as we turned each corner, every shadow, wall, and crevice provided a new kind of beauty and mystery.  The creators pulled liberally from structural artists, graphic artists, and other gifted people.  Music seemed to rise up from the stones themselves.  It was truly enchanting.  When the show began, the overwhelming, saturating magnificence of both the historical setting, beauty, and talent of the art surrounding you was astonishing.

We were not supposed to take pictures of the lightshow, and I assumed that meant after we were seated, so I tried to capture some of the setting on the walk into the show.  (I may owe an apology to the venue’s authorities).  But, the pictures don’t come close to capturing the experience.  If you are ever in Jerusalem, this light show is a must-see.  It’s also an interesting mix of Jewish and Jerusalem history, ending in a declaration of the state of Israel.  The art featured in the lightshow depicts Jewish periods like Israelite prosperity, Babylonian Exile, destruction of the temple, and Roman occupation; also Byzantine Christianity, Mohammed’s Night Journey, the fire and horror of the Crusader period, and the Ottoman Empire.  At the very end, out of a dark blue background with triumphal music comes a 7-candle Menorah emerging steadily and proudly until it is larger than life.  With that, the words ‘pray for peace in Jerusalem’ emerge in Hebrew, English and Arabic.  Hours after learning about the multitude of religious and ethnic diversity found in the Old City of Jerusalem, and sitting in what was supposed to be, back in 1948, Palestinian-governed East Jerusalem, the last projection left me with an a stark impression of propaganda.

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Reflection: On Guard

While everything we learned today – geography and topography, high walls, deep water tunnels - echoed how ancient Jerusalem attempted to guard itself from attack from other empires, I found myself on guard towards the experience of Israel.  I have a strong tendency to favor the underdog – a tendency, a gift, a passion and a curse that has had a huge effect on my life, sending me into organizing, then to Seminary, and to be interested in Israel.  And in this context, I arrive in Israel with the strong impression that Palestine is an underdog and Israel is a bully.  I didn’t sign up for this class to see holy sites per se, but to understand this foreign conflict, which mesmerizes the whole world.  And from what I’ve learned, my deep well of righteous anger is burning for the Palestinian exiles, refugees and citizens in the state of Israel. Upon arrival in Israel, I am having trouble finding the excitement, summoning the friendliness and compassion, rendering the respect and deference I prefer to have when I go abroad.  While there were armed guards as we passed through the ancient gates, it was much more peaceful and collaborative than I expected after our reading and research.  We could walk on residential streets, from East to West Jerusalem without much notice except nicer homes (and a security guard with a radio in his ear announcing our approach).

First View of Palestinian homes in East Jerusalem

I kept analyzing faces, wondering if Palestinians around us (and I can’t pretend that I know who is Palestinian and who is not, other than the presence of an American accent or a kippah) were resentful of the presence of these American tourists with a Jewish guide.  I kept wondering what they were thinking.  In every section of Jared’s educational talks, I’m watching for evidence of Nationalism or Palestinian sympathy.  While I don’t doubt his character, or that our CTS professors would ever allow us to tour Israel with a (heavily) biased guide, I’m still on guard. Most places I look, I see injustice. I don’t know how one sits back and allows some stuff.  Why are the Jewish areas so nice and the Palestinian side so run down?  There is no doubt about the economic disparity between both sides.  Yet, I read an editorial on the plane about Israel withholding $100 million in tax revenue due to the Palestinian Authority in retaliation for the PA success in being recognized as an EU non-voting member – a vicious abuse of power in blatant form.  Israel says it wants peace, but when Palestine has a diplomatic, peaceful success, Israel punishes them for that, too? I noticed the darker skinned men doing landscaping and hawking bagels along the route – not unlike our racial divisions and labor roles in America; the darker the skin, the harder the work.  I saw several Palestinians begging today (preying on gullible tourists, I know) but was still afflicted with immense guilt about my immense wealth in the face of their situation.  When Jared said, regarding the 4 quarters, “Palestinians live on top of one another…but they like it that way” I couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Seriously? Are you sure they are not just desperate?’ I don’t know what to be mad about – but I’m guarded, not as able to get excited about my surroundings.

All this brings me to our final event of the evening, the light show at Herod’s castle.  First of all, the name ‘Herod’ conjures up images of Jesus Christ Superstar, as our hero is dragged in front of a gluttonous king who could pardon his fate, but cared not.  (Although I understand now that it was likely Herod the 2^nd who interacted with Jesus, I didn’t know that at the time.)  Sitting in the midst of ‘Herod’s Castle’ was as astonishing as the way the art brought it to life.  The light and shadow, beauty and mystery, ancient and modern made it nearly a holy experience.  That is, until the last frame. I was still confused, as the film was concluding, not to see any direct homage to Jesus’ experience in Jerusalem – since it seemed as though the film was marking the significant and worldly history of the city.  But when the Menorah appeared, alone, with brazenly triumphant music and continued to enlarge – alone – to symbolize Jerusalem today, the experience turned sour for me.  It wasn’t images of Jewish life and tolerance in a modern age, or depictions of the life lived there now. Moreso, it was simply the Menorah as sort of a Messianic crown.  It felt like, “and now we victorious and amazing Jews have Jerusalem” – without any reference to the 27,000 Muslims we just learned live in the Muslim quarter, or the Christian or Armenian presence.  I kept holding my breath, waiting for some acknowledgment – perhaps a smaller Crescent Moon, or Coptic Cross in the background – of the religious diversity of modern Jerusalem.  Rather, it seemed to ignore their presence and be homage to Nationalism.  Then, finally when something did appear, it was ‘pray for peace in Jerusalem’ – as if Israel was not part of the problem, but helpless victims in the conflict.  Obviously crafted for Israel tourists, it left a very sour taste in my mouth.