The Tour Part II

June 19th, 2008 Palestine Monitor Office, Ramallah, the West Bank

Thursday was another early morning as we headed south, through Area C (under Israeli control; Bethlehem is Area A, or under Palestinian administrative authority) of the West Bank, to Masada. The buses drove through the Jordan Valley, making a brief stop in what was referred to as the “Valley of the Shadow of Death.” The writer of the Psalms was possibly referring to this actual location. Bleached peaks collapsed into canyons aching under the sun. Adam and I went running down into the valley and up a lonely hill, providing an incredible panoramic view of the abandoned landscape.

We continued on to Masada. This imposing plateau, close to the Dead Sea, rises 1,300 feet back to sea level. A few of the group decided to hike up, so we trekked the Snake Path in the 105 degree heat. I finished the hike in less than thirty minutes. Herod the Great built a fortress on the summit of Masada between 37 and 31BC, and it became the last stronghold of the Jewish rebels in 72AD before falling to the Romans. But the Jews would not be made slaves. Instead of surrendering, lots were drawn and a group of men killed the 936 people in the community until the last man took his own life. When the Romans entered by way of the ramp that they built, everyone was dead except for a few who hid in a cistern. However, Josephus’ account of this remarkable story has been severely questioned by archaeological evidence. The primary archaeologist of Masada has been accused of falsifying evidence in order to give Israelis a heroic historical account. Even so, Masada is still an amazing place.

I basically ran down the Snake Path, which wasn’t the best idea considering my ankle and my knee. Sports will mess you up. We left Masada and went to the Ein Gedi Spa for lunch and then floated in the Dead Sea. The mountains of Jordan were slightly hidden in a thick haze. From there, we drove to the village of Jiftlik in the eastern part of the West Bank, close to Jordan. I had written a story about this place a year-and-a-half ago and was excited to return, especially accompanying a large American tour there. The doctor of Jiftlik, and Kirsty, spoke to us about the situation in the village and the extreme level of poverty. Visiting such places is sobering. I hiked part of the hill behind the village. Stones still hold the metal roofs in place. (See the first blog post for the story I wrote about the village)

We continued on to the Sea of Galilee and checked in at the Royal Plaza Hotel in Tiberias. I was extremely disappointed the first time I saw Lake Kinneret in 2001: it was so small. For some reason, this really bothered me. I think, in a way, this sort of marked the beginning of me thinking differently about many things. I began to realize that not everything is what I thought it to be or what I had been taught. For the next five years, I intentionally envisioned the Sea of Galilee as a minute spot of water to counter the previous disparity between the image and the actual thing. However, when I came back in 2006, I was shocked by the large size of the lake. My little plan worked.

One of the members of the group invited Sean and me to visit with a Messianic Jewish Zionist friend of hers who came to visit. We sat in the lobby of the hotel and listened as he talked about his views. I got chills as I listened, disturbed by what I was hearing. He offered a very sketchy history of the land, saying that this area was a deserted wasteland before 1948, that this was “a land without people for a people without a land.” According to this man, one of the greatest myths ever accepted by the world since those propagated by Hitler, is that Palestinians exist.

“There is no such thing!” he exclaimed.

He explained that part of the reason why violence is so prevalent in the land today is because the Israelites did not obey God when they were told to wipe everyone out. Evangelical Christians often skip the Gospels and go immediately to Paul’s writings; this man seemed to have skipped the Gospels and gone back to a very literal interpretation of Joshua. I am scared by people who try to use the Book of Joshua as a model for contemporary political action. Zionism is a relatively new ideology, beginning in the last two hundred years, and was very secular in its inception. Religious groups have since jumped on board and the acceptance of this worldview has skyrocketed, and is widely embraced, in conservative Christian circles. I cannot accept a view of God that not only allows, but encourages, blatant injustice and oppression. In this man’s perspective, Jesus was the public relations officer for the glorious future political state of Israel. This man offered a very interesting interpretation of Matthew 25, when Jesus says that whatever we do to the least we have done to him. Because this story precedes the Crucifixion, Jesus was quite obviously talking about the Jews, quite simply because Jews were the only ones crucified, and given the location of Matthew 25, the “least of these” that Jesus is talking about is the Jews. And the Jews also meant the state of Israel. So, according to this man, Jesus says in Matthew 25 that we are to be judged according to how we treated the political state of Israel.

“I do not want to see anyone suffer,” the man said. “I hate to see children hungry. But this is God’s land and we must obey what God wants and we can’t let social or humanitarian issues get in the way.”

My uncle Rob joined us later and very respectfully countered much of what the man had to say, asking questions and presenting the story from another angle. He did an excellent job, and I respect him immensely for the way he handled the discussion. I sat quietly the entire time, realizing that it was best for me to remain silent that night.
The next day we explored the sites around the Sea of Galilee.

(written June 20th, 2008 Karamah, Ramallah, the West Bank)
We drove to the Mount of Beatitudes, a possible location of where Jesus related his most famous collection of teachings. Some have thought that Matthew’s and Luke’s Gospels contradict one another, because one states that Jesus ascended to a hilltop in order to teach, while the other relates that Jesus descended to a level place to speak. This mount embodies both of these traits, consisting of a high summit that slopes into a wide plain. Also, the difference in the two versions can also be attributed to the disparate audiences of the writers: Matthew, writing to a Jewish audience, may have wanted to create an image of Jesus as Moses, climbing to the mountain peak in order to fulfill the Law. Luke, on the other hand, who wrote to a Greek (or Gentile) audience, may have wanted to emphasize Jesus relating to the people, coming down to them.

A small church now sits on top of the mount. The area around the sea is green and blossoming. I could imagine Jesus walking from group to group as he repeated his teachings, drawing extensively from his surroundings as he searched for metaphors and similes that would illuminate (and, sometimes, hide) his message. We found ourselves next in Capernaum (or Kafar Naum). A Catholic church, strangely resembling E.T.’s spaceship, hovers over an ancient dwelling believed to be the home of Peter, with whom Jesus stayed. Very, very early Christian tradition supports this claim. A hole in the floor of the unique church building provides a view down into the small home.

The group piled onto a boat, somewhat modeled after first-century fishing boats, that would take us across the lake. The captain noticed that we were an American group, so a huge flag was lifted and the U.S. national anthem blared over the loudspeakers. I cringed, and turned away to look at the water and the hills. Some really embarrassing gospel music came next, but I was soon relieved of the pain when Rich Mullins was played and redeemed Christian-themed music. One of the crew demonstrated how fishermen would cast their nets before we arrived at Ein Gev, where we ate fish (go figure) and took a brief swim in the sea. We then continued to Gergesa (or Kursi in the Torah), where both Matthew and Luke record Jesus releasing a legion of demons into a herd of pigs, another story which contains some amazing symbolism. Our last stop was at the Jordan River Baptismal Site. No evidences supports this as the place where John the Baptizer, as his name implies, baptized his cousin. The site is simply a place to remember that event. Many people, dressed in white, were lined up to be immersed in the river.

That night, our old family friend Joseph Shulam spoke to the group. A Messianic Jew originally from Bulgaria, he is the son of Holocaust survivors and was a student of my grandfather’s at Lipscomb University. While my family and Mr. Shulam differ immensely on certain issues, he has been a close friend to the family for forty years. He came to speak about the theology of the land from a Messianic Jewish perspective. Although Mr. Shulam is a very opinionated and expressive man, his words on this occasion were nothing like that of the gentleman the night before. Hopefully, though, the group heard implications in some of things he said that caused them to pause and think again.

Sean, Adam, Alisha, and I woke up at 5:30 the next morning and hiked up the tall hill behind the hotel, crawling under barbwire and wading through the fiery-colored grass. Soon, the sun emerged from behind the mountains on the far side of the Sea of Galilee and sent a white path, framed in sparkling orange, across the wrinkled water.

I slept the entire drive to the nature reserve at Dan, the northern border of ancient and modern Israel. The gates of the old city are near a military bunker overlooking Syria and Lebanon. We then went to Caesarea Philippi, or Banias. We climbed up next to the towering rock wall, pricked with niches where idols were kept. Child sacrifices were performed in the mouth of a large cave that sunk deep into the stone. The bodies were thrown inside and, if their blood trickled out into the stream, then the sacrifice was successful. Banias, which would have been a very long walk from the Sea of Galilee, was a striking place for Jesus to take his closest followers. Simon, after following this man and watching him and listening to him and living with him, proclaimed here that Jesus is the Anointed One, the Son of the Living God. Whether or not Simon understood at that point the divine implications that would later become associated with his words, he was professing Jesus as Lord. There is a difference between Lord and Savior. Too often, I think, Paul has become Lord and Teacher, informing us how to live, while Jesus has only been consigned the position of Savior. Simon, however, knew that Jesus is Lord (Master, Teacher, and Savior), and not Caesar, not Mammon, not the U.S. government. Jesus then gave Simon the name Peter, “Rock,” as they stood next to an idol-filled rock wall, saying that on this foundation he would create his community of followers. The bloody cave was known at the time as the Gates of Hell, and perhaps Jesus turned and pointed at the gaping hole as he stated that the Gates of Hell, this present evil, would not overcome. Jesus really knew how to contextualize what he wanted to say.

We drove on to Nazareth, visiting the Well of Mary and walking through the marketplace. A church has been built over the first-century synagogue where Jesus read from the prophetic words from Isaiah. This dramatic passage in Luke 4 is probably one of my favorite stories in all of Scripture, where Jesus acknowledges that he has been anointed by God to preach good news to poor, proclaim freedom for the prisoners, recovery of sight for the blind, release the oppressed, and proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. Jesus fulfills this mission, this Good News. And all are impressed by it, my uncle Rob pointed out, until Jesus starts talking about the inclusion of the Gentiles. Then they want to kill him. Rich noted something else interesting: according to tradition, Jews stood to read Scripture out of reverence and then sat down to teach. If any man in history could have remained seated to read, Jesus was that man. But he stood because he was a devout Jew, respecting his culture, conforming in order to transform. So, he stood to read. He then sat down to teach.

(written at Café de la Paix)
We moved on to the Church of the Ascension, a gigantic structure built over the traditional site of Mary’s home. The most impressive part about the place is the courtyard, decorated with mosaics from numerous countries depicting Mary and Jesus in the style of their distinct cultures.

After dinner, Sean, Adam, and I spoke to around half the group about our experiences, telling them stories such as protests and my day in Hebron. Dad presented a slideshow explaining the decreasing size of the Palestinian territories. I think it was very effective. Anna was in Nazareth with her group from Bethlehem, so she walked up the huge hill to Nazareth Illit where our hotel was located to hear our little presentation. After we were done talking, she and I walked back down into Nazareth and all the way across town to her friends’ house where she picked up some of her belongings. I really like walking through these amazing places at night, when all the tourists are gone. I left her at her hotel and basically rock climbed back to my hotel. The road took too long, so I took a shortcut and scaled a few walls.

Sean headed back to Ramallah on Sunday morning in order to teach English and the rest of us met with the Nazareth Church of Christ on Sunday morning before leaving for Megiddo. The view from the ruins of Megiddo over the Jezreel Valley is beautiful. Rob talked about Revelation, pointing out that the point of prophecy is to call us to action in the present. The Book of Revelation is literature of the oppressed, which is a subgenre of Jewish Apocalyptic literature. The extravagant and abundant symbolism used by the writer is specific to these forms of literature.

Caesarea Maritima was the last stop of the tour in Israel. This place is very special to my family, because my granddad spent a number of years excavating here, and my dad and his brothers all spent summers digging here as well. Pooh talked to the group about the time spent there and life as an archaeologist. This was quite possibly the last time he would be speaking to such a group. Now in his late 70s, Pooh has begun to forget much of the incredible wealth of knowledge that he has accumulated in his more than fifty years of studying and teaching. My grandparents treated this as quite possibly their last trip to Israel and the Palestinian Territories, having been here nearly thirty times. At one time my granddad would take the microphone away from tour guides and correct them; now he sat quietly as a pilgrim, listening as my uncle Rob and my dad together assumed the position of leader. I watched my grandparents walk slowly through the ruins, holding hands and laughing as they reminisced. I have no problem admitting it: I choked up a little. They are two of most incredible, gracious, hospitable, giving, loving, and God-like people I know. I have been extremely fortunate, both because of my dad’s family and because of my mom’s.

We ended the tour in Tel Aviv at the Metropolitan Hotel. Everyone was parting ways very early the next morning. This was a very unique tour. People were given new eyes on this trip and were asking different questions. Many told my dad that their lives were changed. I suppose you can’t really ask for anything more. I left soon after we arrived for the airport in order to pick up Nicole Dicken, a friend of Sean’s and mine from Harding University. Early last semester, I told her that she should just come over to Israel during her time backpacking through some of Europe. She found it hard to turn down the offer. Her plane came in a little late, which gave me time to read. Once she arrived, we hopped in a taxi and shot off for the city. Sean was back when we got there. The three of us walked along the Mediterranean for awhile, sitting on a peninsula of boulders that jutted out into the sea.

We were up and moving at 3. That is way too early. Most of the group headed to the airport to fly to Greece for a few days. Others flew home. And then around twenty of us boarded a bus and drove south to Egypt. I slept most of the long drive to Eilat. We had little trouble crossing the border, entering the Arab Republic of Egypt. Another tour bus picked us up and we entered the Sinai Peninsula. We stopped a few hours down the road for lunch at the Hilton in Nuweiba. I could never stay at a place like that. I think I would feel guilty. But lunch and a swim in the Gulf of Aqaba with a view of Saudi Arabia isn’t too bad. Several hours later we arrived at the foot of Mount Sinai.

Archaeologists and scholars do not support this as the place where Moses received the Ten Commandments, but sometimes I just don’t think that matters too much. You can’t really blame the Israelites for getting lost for forty years: the mountains and canyons form a natural maze. We all turned in pretty early (I went to bed at 8:30 to be exact), because our day was starting before daylight.

We were on our way up the mountain at 2 in the morning, following closely behind a Bedouin guide. Stars in the pitch-black sky gave us a little light as we hiked, enclosed by the blacker shapes of mountains. We moved around the crowds of people walking and the camels sitting on the path, eventually ascending a long series of steps to the summit of Sinai. A small church sat on the top, and a few of us climbed to the roof. Rich read from some of the desert monks as the sun rose through a sliver of orange and became melted gold painted on the blue-gray sky. The jagged mountains were now visible, puzzle-pieced to the spreading colors. I have seen some astounding sunrises on this trip, over the Mount of Olives and the Dome of the Rock, the Sea of Galilee, and Mount Sinai. Such experiences are almost enough to make someone a morning person.

Sean, Nicole, Adam, and I blazed our own trail over the rocks because too many people were on the road going down. We made it down pretty quickly, giving us enough time to run up another path that gave us a view back to Sinai. Once we returned to our lodgings, we all got showers and ate breakfast before returning to the foot of the mountain. St. Catherine’s monastery is nestled next to the rock. We were given a very brief tour because most of it is not open to the public. They actually have a large bush that some believe to be a direct descendent of the burning bush. I feel like that might be a stretch. Despite such farfetched claims, the diligent work of monasteries such as this has preserved many ancient writings such as the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures.

The group prepared to head to Cairo and we got ready to return to Israel. I said goodbye to Rich, the Byrams, and Ms. Pam, who gave me a box of Tim Tams (a delicious brand of cookies that I grew to love in Australia). She is a wonderful woman. I love being around these people. Rich invited me to spend Christmas with them in Australia. I’m holding him to that, although my mom and my bank account might not be too lenient.

(written June 21st, 2008 Palestine Monitor Office, Ramallah, the West Bank)
I slept the entire way back to the Taba border crossing. Our driver was very efficient, getting us from Sinai to the border in around two hours. We again had little trouble getting across, although my backpack was almost completely emptied. We got a taxi-bus into Eilat and picked up the rental car before heading off through the Negev Desert. I slept most of that drive as well, waking up as we drove through Makhtesh Ramon, the large erosion-created crater in the world.

We arrived in Be’er Sheva that evening and met with a number of medical students at Ben Gurion University, most of which were Americans. We had dinner with them and talked. My dad will be starting a rotation of medical students next year who will come to Ben Gurion and Ramallah for one month. Several of these students, who were all Christians, heard him speak at the medical school last year and wanted to meet with him the next time he came to Be’er Sheva. Dad talked about his history in the Middle East and told stories about working in the impoverished Appalachian Mountains, discussing how his faith is integrated into his vocation. The students seemed very encouraged, and shocked by some of the stories he told about healthcare in the mountains of Tennessee.

We continued to Jerusalem that night, leaving the car in the parking lot at the Notre Dame, and catching the last bus to Ramallah. We arrived late at our flat in Al-Masyoun. I was glad to have a night of sleep that lasted longer than four hours.