Hello my dear friends,
I did have the best of intentions to post daily as I walked along the green line.  Never mind … even if I had been able to connect to the internet, by the time we stumbled back to our rooms after each jam-packed day (and night) I could barely stay awake long enough to fall into bed.  Then we were up each morning between 6 AM and 7 AM, back on the bus,  to begin all over again.  I’ll only be able to touch on the highlights at first because I suspect I will be processing these experiences for many weeks and months to come, but I think this is as it should be.  I came to the Holy Land to see for myself, to take myself inside stories much more textured than the repetitious, sensational and calamitous sound bytes  hammered into us daily by the media.

In fact, last night, just moments before I collapsed, it occurred to me that I’m much clearer on what I won’t be writing about than what I will.  For example, I won’t be telling you that the security fence or apartheid wall (depending on your perspective) is an ugly and menacing symbol of diplomatic failure, that the Arabs despise it and Israelis defend it, that the separation barrier has indeed reduced the number of suicide bombings in Israel, but has left much of the Palestinian population (particularly in areas where the fence encroaches well inside the parameters of the original armistice agreement, or green line, with a sense of desperate hopelessness and I would guess in many cases suicidal thoughts.  (One interesting “factoid” Gershon mentioned yesterday:  according to Israeli military profiling of suicide bombers, over 90% of perpetrators suffered recent loss of a family member or close personal friend attributed to the occupation.  They were unable to link these incidents to any other common metric.  In other words,  they are not religious fanatics seeking “martyrdom,”  or from the poorest, most economically deprived refugee camps, or political zealots trying to “drive Jews to the sea.”  Another myth, busted….)    I will NOT be telling you that the most commonly heard claim on both sides is, “This is MY land, MY land, MY land.”   After three days of listening and walking and more listening, I’m not prepared to declare a winner to this timeless debate.  In fact at this point, I’m not sure it even matters.  Antiquities link everyone in one way or another to bits of real estate all over the world. Particularly in this region, I have visited sites dating to so many struggling civilizations my head is spinning.  (BTW, including Masada, which I have not had time to write about, although I will eventually….)

Indisputably, the fierceness of claims on both sides are directly proportionate to the intense desire to remain rooted to historically and spiritually significant land as well as to the perception and/or political reality that there is nowhere else to go.  On the Jewish side,  every draftee into the army takes an oath that “Masada will never fall again.”  Each Palestinian will happily accompany visitors to terraces supporting generations of extended families and their olive groves dating back centuries.  I won’t be telling you of the viral hostilities and suspicions deepening with every politically stupid decision and action taken by  authorities on both sides, until today  it has reached epidemic proportions far more deadly than swine flu and infecting every encounter and conversation in the Holy Land.

I  see how very easy it is  to find whatever you come here looking for …  if you’re a conflict junkie, there is plenty here to fill news channels of every continent.  If you seek to secure a Jewish homeland for all eternity this narrative is easily accessible.  If you’re looking for the oppression of the Palestinian people under occupation, this is also simple to document.  None of this is for me – I came here with the intention to find stories of promise, providing a different framework, a vocabulary of hope and new ways forward in order to slowly dig our collective way out of the noise and violence.  Because I came with this intention, I am happy to report that the Walk the Green Line experience did not disappoint.  In the posts that are to follow, I have chosen to set my sites beyond the narratives of one side or the other and instead focus on the stories of people of good will on all sides who are finding creative and innovative ways to live together under immensely challenging circumstances.   Sorry, I’m out of time for now … but I will write more of the highlights as soon as time permits.  I have missed you all and am anxious to see you on my return.
b’shalom,
Elissa

Dear Friends,

I am writing now from the Golden Tulip on the Dead Sea.  It is  Tuesday night – two days ahead of the actual Walk the Green Line .  I must write quickly because I have limited wireless time.  I want to  document my journey and save  complicated feelings and reactions for a later date.  The hotel is perched on the very edge of the Dead Sea in a community called Ein Bokek.  We arrived here in the early evening, after traveling several hours from the west coast of Israel.

We spent a leisurely morning  on Monday enjoying a sumptuous Israeli breakfast in Amirim so we got a very late start to our day.  Never mind…  we managed to reach the  northern tip of Israel’s west coast and tour the Grottos at Rosh Hanikrah.  Once again this is where northern Israel and  southern  Lebanon touch… more to follow on this as time permits.    Following our visit to the grottos, we drove to the archeologically layered ruins of Akko (Acre).   This site dates back to the 13th century and has remains from the crusades and beyond.  Although not exactly my favorite period in history, it is certainly an experience to wander inside a history.

For the night we made our way a bit further south along the coast to the guest house at Kibbutz Nahsholim, perched  on the edge Mediterranean.  From my point of view,   I had no  need to go  further.   If we were not scheduled to meet Tamara and her brother at the Dead Sea and to Walk the Green Line beginning on Thursday, I could have easily spent the rest of my stay at this spot.  When time permits, I will share more of my reactions to  the breathtaking Mediterranean coastline.

Oh, and hello from Hanoch and Trudy who very kindly delivered a computer power supply which made this blog possible….   Yes, technology has been a bit of a challenge.  Yeeeesh… both a blessing and a curse.

Another chance encounter to tell you about with Gunther Volk.  Tomorrow on to Masada.

oooops – over and out.

With each day, it becomes clearer to me why the fertile crescent has been disputed for milennia.  Last night we pulled into Avirim in the dark so first thing this morning we strolled to the overlook for a panoramic view back toward  the Kinneret and the hills of Galilee.   I have to agree with all who have ever laid claim to this land that there is precious little not to like, particularly in Spring when nature dresses every species in their gaudiest gowns.  Each flowering tree is more unbelievable than the next, arrayed in masses of shocking pink, or vibrant magenta or  dayglow orange blossoms.

We drove north to Metulla, home to one of the older kibbutzim in the northern most tip of the country where Israel and Lebanon touch.  We picnicked at the crest of this hilltop community overlooking cultivated valleys nestled in front of the disputed Golan Heights and heard the haunting call to prayer echoing across the valley from the Mosques across the border in Lebanon.    From Metulla we drove up into the Golan mountains, stopping for a hike at one of three streams that merge to create the headwaters  of the Jordan river.  The Banais Nature Reserve is home to archeological ruins layered one on top of the other from several historic periods including a Greek temple dedicated to Pan,  god of nature, the palace home to Agrippa II, grandson of Herod, and eventually a fortress outpost for Christian crusaders during the Middle Ages.  All this drama unfolds to the music of pristine spring waters collecting in pools, directed by aqueducts or running wild in cascading streams and waterfalls.  Again, I am struck by how many civilizations  have struggled for supremacy here.  To this day, ancient and mysterious Druze communities still persist nearby,  offering  allegiance only to each other. One highlight of the afternoon for me was spotting a wild gazelle (Arabian Oryx??) grazing in a field.  At first I guessed it to be a stray goat until I noticed the graceful horns stretching out from the top of her delicate head.

From there we had a long drive down the mountain and across the southern end of the Hula Valley to our last destination, the remote, mystical community of Sfat (or Tsfat, or Tzfat, or Safed, or Zavet). It took me awhile to realize all these names referred to the same place.  This area was home to Rabbi Issac Luria (the Ari), credited with assembling the definitive book of the Kabbalah, the Zohar.  Luria, fleeing the Spanish inquisition along with many other mediterranean Kabbalists, were welcomed to settle in Sfat by the Ottomans.  This beautiful and highly charged region developed a reputation as the heart of mystical Jewish life.  Few Jews today realize that the practice of celebrating  Friday night service, or kabbalat (welcoming) Shabbot, dates to this group of  Jews who marveled in appreciation of nature’s exquisite sunset display in full view from synagogue courtyards and balconies.   The Sfat experience includes visiting many of the restored (following earthquake in mid-19th century) medieval synagogues hidden away in the labyrinth of stone alleyways, squeezed between crumbling houses and still in use today by an influx of contemporary Hassidic Jews.  These and other religious Jews share the town with an even newer influx of bohemians, generic mystics and gifted artists, who all thrive on the “vibration” of the region, preferring this to the pace of modernity.  Having defied death several times trying to drive in  Israeli cities (including the outskirts of the old city of Sfat) I’m inclined to agree that walking narrow stone streets is far less life threatening.

Today we traveled east toward the Jordan border, and north through the dessert to the Sea of Gallilee.  Yes, I have to admit, I got on  a camel – ShuShu to be precise.  Really, quite a nice ride….

Traveling kilometer after kilometer toward a horizon where  sky and ground blend together in  hazy shades of tan and turquoise,  the complicated questions of water – where it comes from, how it’s brought to the surface, what it’s used for and who controls it – take on whole new dimensions of significance.  I could sense an uneasy tension surrounding settlements artifically irrigated into existence out of the arid expanse of the natural landscape.  I kept reflecting back on how it must have felt to traverse this same region centuries ago on camels or donkeys, totally reliant on the generosity of neighboring tribes for dippers of water along the way.  I could almost see Abraham’s tent in the distance, open on all four sides as he scanned the horizon line in search of tired and thirsty travelers.

At last, the dirt and sand began to soften into hillsides brushed with grasses and small shrubs, which eventually made way for palms and other trees foreign to my uneducated eye.  Now that we were well clear of  city traffic, I  found it easier to attempt driving, and was pleasantly surprised to find myself cruising through what looked very much like the San Luis valley in southwestern Coloraodo.   If not for the palms (and of course the music of Arameamic languages) I would have thought I was near home.

Our first destination was Gan Hashlosha, an emerald necklace of  natural pools hidden off the major thoroughfare in  a lovely, fertile valley.  Initially, being hungry,  weary and overheated, we were especially agitated by the impossibly over-crowded parking conditions.  But once we made our way to the water, it was well worth the effort.   The natural park stretching along both sides of crystal, spacious pools tumbling from level to level down the valley seemed large enough to accommodate all visitors (although Esther did note that it gets  more crazy and crowded as the summer wears on).  I found this natural “mikveh” especially healing and floated the entire length of the first two pools in reverent ecstasy!

I could have easily encamped there for a year or two, but we had to move on.  As we tried to exit the parking lot our way was blocked by a GI-NORMOUS tour bus filled with Arab Muslim families.  Their bus was wedged between two lines of parked cars and they couldn’t move!   Here’s the best part, it was either wait there in the heat for what might have been hours, or take matters into their own hands.  After strategizing for a bit, a dozen young men gently lifted (yes, lifted!) one of the vehicles that was blocking the way and set it further off to the side.  They had to repeat this manuever three or four times, but finally managed to free the bus without a speck of damage to vehicles or bus.  I would not have said it could be done, and it turned out to be quite entertaining to watch!   Little did we realize that in less than an hour we would meet up with this same group in Tiberius.

As we entered the “seaside” town of Tiberius and started driving along the breathtaking coast, Esther casually suggested we see if we could find a boat trip to take us for a ride on the Kinneret, or Sea of Galilee.  We pulled up to  a curbside parking spot near a pier just in time to catch a “dance” tour heading out on the lake with a group of Arab families.  That’s right! We were delighted to find this tour was scheduled for our car-toting friends from Gan Hasholsha.  Esther and I went along as the only non-Arabs on the tour,  and made  quite a specticle of ourselves  dancing along side our friends — each of us photographing the other in unabashed amusement!  The music, the movement and the smiling eyes helped break through the painfully obvious language barrier.  (Word to the wise?  Learn another language my friends!!!!!)

We ended this beautiful day at a lakeside restaurant dining on a scrumptious serving of St. Peter’s fish, seasoned and grilled to perfection.  I’m not sure exactly what kind of fish this is, but I can tell you I savored every morsel.  Right now, I’m typing this from a village up in the Gallilee called Amirin, which I’m told is beautiful although it’s impossibly late and pitch dark outside.  Tomorrow I will see for myself.  I’m told you can see where we’re staying by going to www.mazaltz.com.  Accommodations are lovely.

Tomorrow we’re on to the capital of Kabbalism,  Sfat….     Ohmmmm, or is it, oooiiiiii???

Love to all,

Elissa

It is nearly impossible to describe the past couple  days here in  Jerusalem .   As someone who usually loves to play with words, at the moment, I find it difficult to muster a coherent phrase!    I’m precariously balanced on a surf board of stormy emotions and have little choice but  to ride them all the way to the sand.   Yesterday, our itinerary  began in the morning with a visit to Yad b’Yad (Hand in Hand – a bicultural, bilingual school, grades K-10 on the edge of  Jerusalem) and an extended interview with the school’s dedicated principal, Lior Aviman (more to follow on this….).   In the afternoon, we went to the old city of Jerusalem: to wander  the ethnic quarters, pay homage to the kotel, and to tour the archeological tunnels excavated under the wall and  temple mount (which, by the way,  is a MUST SEE tour and well worth the shekels for anyone  in any way connected to the Abrahamic faiths).  As only fate could arrange, yesterday happened to be “Jerusalem Day” which brought over 100,000 youth and families from every corner of Israel to the center of the city.    In the context of this blog, I can’t  begin to process the emotional tumult,  but I will offer one comment:   I’ve never experienced such a blatant show of military force in my life.  Many hundreds  of boys and girls crusied the old city brandishing  automatic weapons.  From my perspective,  this did very litte to make me feel more secure (although I have no idea what  authorities aniticipated).  Nevertheless, at every turn, I was repeatedly caught off balance  by  armed cadres of  young people behaving as if this were a perfectly normal state of affairs.

For me, one hightlight of the afternoon, was being greeted by a sharp-eyed lizard as I reverently approached the womens’ side of the Western Wall.  (BTW, can anyone explain to me why women have an area half the size of the men’s for praying?  This makes absolutely no sense at all….)  Anyway, the lizard was clearly at home, darting in and out of crevices of rock and stone.  She was an emissary of the past and the future, enduring well beyond the folly of humanity  playing out on a regular basis below her.

Today was set aside for Ein Kerem, a small village  on the outskirts of Jerusalem.  This holy experinece included a fender bender at the Hadassah hospital and a chance meeting with Salah, a Palestinian gardener and philosopher at the Ein Kerem Concert Music Hall, founded in 1991 by Polish Jewish refugees and renowned concert pianists, Bracha Eden and Alexander Tamir.  Salah spoke to us at length, describing his younger years working at an Ein Kerem convent serving handicapped children.  At 15, he walked 1 hour  from his village on the Green line to Ein Kerem in the morning, then  returned on foot in the afternoon.   Today, he spends two hours each way  at the Bethlehem checkpoint.  He describes himself as “mixed” – part Muslim, part Christian and part Jew.  And I promise, you will hear lots more from Salah when I have a chance to integrate this  experience to a  much greater extent.

Tonight, Esther and I attended a wonderful Shabbot service in Jerusalem led by Reb Ruth Gan Kagan (rabbi of the first and only Jewish Renewal congregation in Jerusalem).  We welcomed the Shekhinah with singing, drumming, prayer and chanting.  It was just what I needed in preparation for our departure to the Galilee.

This brief passage is far from adequate to describe the complexly knotted threads of this enigmatic place.  But it must due for now.  I think it will take many months to sort through it all….  But for tonight I bid you all shabbot shalom.  I am so glad you are “hanging with me” through all this.

Love and blessing,

Elissa

To my dear online friends and supporters

Today was my first full, and I  mean really FULL, day in Jerusalem.  Esther and I started  out on the journey by taking a Red Bus tour of Jerusalem – 2 hours riding atop an open air, double-decker bus.  We circumnavigated the city listening to an Israeli narration and cruising, in rapid succession, the countless historic vistas of this ancient, troubled city.  Little mention was made of  painful contradictions tugging at the keen observer at every turn.

At the conclusion of the tour, we walked to the open market outside the old city, providing total immersion in the “old world” grocery shopping experience.   We wandered by  Esther’s favorite spice shop crowded with stuffed gunny sacks  of the golden, green and russet spices that once beckoned people from every corner of the world to this region.  This was the beginning of a sensory onslaught, typical of open marketplaces.   City shoppers rushed along the narrow aisles, loading their hand carts with oven-baked bread, the curious “fan belt” shaped bagels, sacks of plump fresh vegetables, whole fish wrapped in paper,  even handfuls of gewy, gummy candies.  We couldn’t resist making a selection from one booth stacked with what must have been  a hundred different varieties of halavah.

We ended the afternoon at the Ambassador Hotel in East Jerusalem for one of the monthly IPCRI lectures – this one featured three speakers discussing various scenarios on the fate of Jerusalem.  This was not an easy couple of hours.  We were graced with thoughtful and nuanced presentations by Meron Benvenisti, Sarah Kreimer and Rami Nasrallah,  along with thoughtful commentary added by Gershon Baskin of IPCRI.  Everyone openly acknowledged that the situation was rapidly deteriorating as people on both sides with the means and capacity to leave Jerusalem were doing so in large numbers, leaving behind the populations trapped by extremes of  poverty and/or  increasing religious fanatacism – an explosive mix to be sure.

I must call it a night as I know one day will be more packed than the next.  Also, I’m being slightly technologically challenged as I try to get everything “encoded” before batteries melt away.  Love and blessings to all, Elissa