Israel Day 9 – Tuesday – Galilee

Tuesday was election day, which meant that our favorite guide Jared had to return home to vote, and as a result we heard from Yisrael, a different voice about Israel with a focus on security measures.  It was a day spent with the sacred waters of Israel, and deep reflection, with an oddly militaristic bent.

We had pulled into the city of Tiberius in the dark, but we awoke to a beautiful sunrise over the Kinneret (known to us as the Sea of Galilee) from our hotel.  The Sea of Galilee is neither a sea, nor is it in Galilee technically. Galil in Hebrew means ‘rolling waves’, like the rolling waves of mountains and hills that we would see later in the day.  The ‘Sea of Galilee’ is actually in the Jordan River Valley.  It is, however, the lowest freshwater body on earth (the Dead Sea is the lowest non-freshwater body), and situated near a fissure in the techtonic plates.  There are 17 hot springs surrounding the Western side of the Kinneret, with water as hot as 140 degrees F and several types of minerals present.  The area has been used for healing baths for centuries, and some posit that this is why Jesus centered his ministry in this area - where there were the most sick people in need of healing.   

Kim and Nilsa testing the hot spring

We visited Hamat Tiberius, the location of one of the oldest synagogues in Israel and now a national park.  (Hamat means ‘hot’ in Hebrew).  The synagogue was discovered in 1921 during road construction.  There were several synagogues built over the centuries in the same place, but the second one is notable because the mosaic floor features both the symbols of Judaism - the Holy Ark, the Shofar, and 2 Menorahs - and a circular image of the Greek God Helios with the astrological signs encircling it.  Four women adorn the corners representative of the seasons. The idolatrous symbols trespass Jewish law in a synagogue, which leads one to think that the rules may have been relaxed in a time of coexistence with the Hellenistic populations of the time.  There is Hebrew labeling the names of the astrological symbols, but some are misspelled or upside-down, perhaps indicating the Jewish population having some fun with the Roman belief system.

Below the statue it reads, "Feed My Sheep"

I overheard our professors telling the guide that with our particular group and religious focus, that a visit to the Sea of Galilee is more meaningful than most of the holy sites we saw in Jerusalem, and I couldn’t agree more.  The ideology of the kibbutz - the sacredness inherent in growing your own food and working ‘holy’ land - echoed in my head as we arrived at the Galilean shore.  Here is where Jesus fed people.  Here is where he multiplied the bread and fishes to feed 5000 (Matthew 14). The road to Emmaus, where Jesus appeared after crucifixion to two strangers but only became recognizable after breaking bread with them, is near Tiberias (Luke 24).  It’s on the Sea of Tiberias (another name for the Kinneret) where Jesus appears for the third time to seven disciples and has them cast a net that overflows with fish, and joins them for breakfast (John 21).  Over and over again, we see that it was only in eating together that the disciples recognized Jesus.   

We visited the water at the Church of Primacy, where the Franciscans planted a church in the 4th Century to commemorate the spot where Jesus reinstated Peter chief of the Apostles (a central theme is Apostolic succession of the Pope). And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter [Greek, Petros], and upon this rock [Greek, petra] I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. (Matthew 16:18).  Regardless of my feelings on Apostolic succession, the current Church of the Primacy (built c. 1933) was a place of subdued beauty and peacefulness for our meditation at the Sea of Galilee.  Also in the 4th Century, Byzantine Christians planted a church on the site of the Sermon on the Mount, now known as the Church of the Beatitudes.  It is a gorgeous structure situated overlooking the sea.  The church is octagaonal, symbolizing the 8 beatitudes, which are referenced in latin within the sanctuary.  Many people pilgrimage there for deep prayer, as the nuns on the microphone continually reminded us to ‘be quiet!’  

After lunch we drove through the Golan Heights to the Tel Dan Reserve. The Golan Heights provides beautiful sights, but we did not stop at any point because the area is riddled with landmines.  There are signs all along the roadway announcing in three languages for people to keep out. The Golan Heights borders Israel, Lebanon, Syria and Jordan (technically it is still recognized as Syria under international law).  When the border was drawn after the 1948, the Syrian Golan Heights overlooked the valley below, that was part of Israel.  Throughout the 20 years between the 1948 and 67 war, the ceasefire line was a sight of violent exchanges from both sides, but Syria had the topographical advantage of firing from the heights into the valley.  In the 1967 war (the 6-day war) which involved alliances of the surrounding Arab nations, Israel first repelled the Egyptian forces and captured the Sinai desert in the first few days. As a secondary initiative, they launched forces up the mountains in the Golan in order to take the highlands and secure the safety of the villages below (at least, this is how our Isreali guide told it), and it was secured in only 48 hours.  In the 1973 Yom Kippur war, Syrians entered the country through the Golan and it was a major fighting front.  Some of the landmines were planted during the fighting by both sides; many more were placed by Israel in 1974-75 to prevent another border crossing from Syria. 


A quick internet search reveals claims that landmines are not only planted in security areas but around civilian (Arab) homes and villages, and casualties from these landmines are still occurring.  Some of the landmines are old, corroded, and occasionally wash up to the surface during the rainy season.  An Israeli politician launched an initiative for landmine removal in 2010, but another source said additional landmines are being placed as of 2011.  

We stop at a public park overlook because we are so close that we can see the border with Syria. Yisrael directs our attention to the peak of Mt. Hermon, another strategic point occupied by Israel, and the road to Damascus (site of Pauls' ephiphany?) apparent from the post. UN guards are patrolling the site, and Yisrael comments that the UN is only effective in border patrol when both countries want peace. Later, in the Tel Dan, we’ll be able to see the border with Lebanon. Yisrael, our guide, points out the military outposts at the top of each peak, as well as the army barracks along the route. In lessons learned from the 1973 Yom Kippur war, Israel does not intend allow itself to be caught unawares by an invasion through the Golan, since it would take 2-3 days to call up the national guard and transport them to the front.  Instead, it holds onto the highlands with constant surveillance and a military population at the ready. This was echoed in our last event of the night, a visit with Channa Manne, a social worker to deals with PTSD in the Israeli population of the villages in the valley below the Golan Heights.  Channa said that when people had reached their limit with the conflict, they would move to a location out of reach of the rockets.  But recent conflicts have proven that there is no place out of reach of the warfare of bordering Arab countries.  Which led me to ask, Is there peace potential in knowing there’s no place that’s out of range of rocketfire?  Does that increase the incentive for more justice and peace on the part of Israeli citizens?  Or is it too late?  When does hopefulness become naivete?


Reflection: Power

We spent time on the Mount in group discussion about ‘Blessed are the peacemakers’ - and what it means to create peace.  We had been advised to pay close attention to the word ‘peace’ while in Israel and the different meanings behind it depending on the speaker. (Is it just the status quo with no violence, or does it involve justice for the Palestinian people?) Then Dr. Thistlethwaite brought up Dietrich Bonhoeffer and posed a question about the cost of discipleship. (Bonhoeffer was a German Lutheran pastor from Nazi Germany. He looked to the church to oppose the policy of the Nazis, specifically the seminaries, but found compliance.  So he founded a dissenting church, the Confessing Church. He also traveled to the US during this era, but felt he must return to Germany to do his part against the Third Reich. Ultimately, he orchestrated a failed assassination attempt on Hitler, and was executed.)  

In view of the grand church built with support from the Italian Government under Benedito Mussolini from 1936-38, we contemplated what should be the ideal of tolerance, and what do we have the power to oppose? As liberals, we aspire for a society of tolerance, but how far does that tolerance go?  What is our responsibility to stand up to evil or interrupt injustice?  I’d like to believe that, had I been alive in the rise of the Third Reich, I would have taken a stand against the anti-semitism as much as I try to use my power to be in solidarity with other oppressed people like immigrants in the US or Palestinians in Israel. But the truth is, I’m not sure any of us know what we would have done in the face of such evil. During our layover in Amsterdam, I visited the Hollandsche Schouwberg, a theater located in the heart of the Jewish Quarter. Initially a popular location for shows, it became restricted to Jewish performers and attendees only under Nazi occupation, and eventually became a place where Jews reported for deportation. The museum of course displayed pictures and items from the nearly 100,000 Dutch Jews that perished in the Holocaust. They also documented some of the underground initiatives working against the regime, including the creation of false documents, an underground newspaper, and the kindergarten across the street that smuggled Jewish children out of Holland while hosting a school.  

I asked the curator, with a point of Dutch pride (my ancestry), why it seems like there was greater resistance to the Nazis in the Netherlands than anywhere else.  (After all, I’ve heard the story of Anne Frank, hidden by the Dutch, since I was a child).  She frowned at my naivete, and said while there were 4 groups of resistance in Holland during the Nazi occupation, there were plenty who did nothing, and others who collaborated with the Nazis for profit. (The award in Holland for turning in a Jew was seven guilder). The thing unique to Holland was the sheer number of Jews living there - over 100,000 - a number equaled only in the Eastern bloc countries.  And unfortunately, the Dutch tendency to be extremely orderly and organized meant that the Jewish population was documented on file before the Nazis ever arrived, making deportation easier in Holland than other locales. Again, it’s a case of which narrative is chosen and promoted.  History is written by the victors, those who end up with power. The Dutch have chosen to portray themselves as a people of tolerance and integrity, but it’s only part of the story. I have the incredible urge to ask my parents about everything they ever heard from their parents about the Holocaust.

In this current conflict, Israel has the ability to broadcast their narrative about the Palestinian intransigence much more so than the underdeveloped, un-Western Palestinian nation can broadcast their abuses. Shared culture, technology, language, and religious heritage all makes Western countries more receptive to listening to the narrative from the Israel perspective. The Palestinians feel that the world has forgotten about them, or doesn’t care. Our (conservative) narratives about Arab cultural differences, muslim jihad, and ‘their’ indifference to violence further buffets the power of the Israel-as-victim narrative. And the Palestinians are stuck with very little power.