On the Road to Zippori

Each morning in Jerusalem began with breakfast before we headed out for the day to see the sites.

The condo we stayed in was perfect and the view, incredible. Stepping out onto our balcony, as your eyes looked to the left and began scanning the horizon, there was the yeshiva, the place where the Hassidic Jews trained in their study of the Torah and then the Old City with its larger than life, gleaming Dome of the Rock, an ever present reminder of the Muslim presence in Jerusalem. Again, the view was a visual paradox of the competing faiths always present in Israel. Today was different. After spending four days in Jerusalem, we were heading to Zippori, a small farming community in the Galilee region. This would enable us to easily navigate within Galilee where Jesus spent the majority of his ministry, with our home base not far from any one site.

Where Jerusalem was a mountainous city scattered with cinder block buildings, homes and lots of stone, the view before me now made me so thankful for the air conditioned rental car we had to travel in. All that you could see for miles was vast, clay colored desert. What looked like great mounds of sand was actually mountains of limestone. Nothing green was in sight, no sign of life, except the occasional Bedouin, a person whose home is the desert. The Bedouin travels this dry, hot, desolate land, with their camels and goats, living off the money they make from selling goat milk or pictures of tourists on their camels!

Soon the landscape began to change. We began to see green! The land had obviously been irrigated to support the immense date palm orchards we passed. Rows and rows of date palms grew the incredible, giant size dates we had already enjoyed. The dates hung in large clusters from the branches of the trees, sagging from the weight of their fruit not yet ripe for picking. To our right was the neat and orderly rows of palm trees that seemed to go on forever, to our left, the Dead Sea, a welcome site that seemed to quench the thirsty desert we had traveled through for miles and miles. The Dead Sea is the lowest point on earth. It is over 1,300 feet below sea level. The oxygen is so rich here that many with respiratory problems such as asthma or other chronic lung diseases feel much better than at above sea level elevations. The Dead Sea is also the site of resorts and spas. Many swear by the therapeutic effects of many of the Dead Sea components. It is not unusual to see visitors covered in the dark, Dead Sea mud as a sort of “mask” for the body. Because of the its location below sea level, the UVB and UVA are blocked so you can get a tan without fear of sunburn! Okay ladies, did I hear someone say “Road trip?!”….or should I say, “Plane trip?!”

Not long after the scenery had changed, we arrived at Qumran, where mountains of rocks had large holes quarried from their surface; the site where the Dead Sea scrolls were found. As I scanned the caves from a distance, a child like feeling of intrigue and adventure came over me like that of a Nancy Drew mystery I was determined to solve! “Which one of these caves is the one where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found?” I asked. “We’ll never know,” Rob responded, “They’re not telling.” I looked up again at the large cave like holes that dotted the mountainside and thought to myself, “Which one could it be? I would love to find out….” My childlike fantasy was interrupted by the reminder that we needed a cold drink and to move on. There was more to see….much more.

If Stones Could Talk

To look at the Old City from afar, except for the Dome of the Rock, it might appear to be just a city of ruins. That was what I pictured but as I passed through the Jaffa gate into the city for the first time, there was much more there than I ever imagined. It was early in the morning the first day we began to explore inside the city. What first caught my eye were the carts of fresh baked breads that were being hurried through the streets to their destinations.  This was a bustling city of restaurants, shops, bakeries, historical sites and the suk. Suk is the term used to describe the maze of alley like streets that take you throughout the city and are filled with vendors selling everything from fabrics, clothing, jewelry, meat, baked goods and your typical souvenir trinkets. Women could even be found sitting on the streets of the suk selling fresh vegetables. Part of the fun or frustration of buying anything in the suk was having to bargain with the vendors. Most of the time none of the items you saw would be marked with a price. The most important rule to remember was never pay the price they quote you. This could be fun but might take awhile. I would often say to Rob, “I’m just not in the mood to bargain today.” I remember haggling with a particular gentleman over a piece of jewelry. We went round and round. After we finally came to an agreed upon price, the man turned to Rob as he pointed to me and said, “She is a nice lady but she is a hard woman.” Rob much too quickly responded, “You ought to live with her!” (wink, wink) We were done shopping for the day.

The streets of the suk are paved with large, smooth stones worn shiny with age. Many of them are thought to be as old as the first century. I found myself on several occasions almost left behind as Neal, Ruby, Rob and I made our way through these streets to various places. I was so easily distracted by these beautiful stones and the history they represented. If stones could talk, I was sure they would tell of Mary or Martha (probably busy Martha) traveling the same streets to go to market to buy spices or grains.

The disciples’ dusty feet may have walked over these stones on their way to the upper room where Jesus exemplified the importance of selfless service by washing the disciples’ dusty, dirty feet. Jesus himself was certain to have walked these stones, helping to wear their rough surfaces down to the beautiful sheen that I now had to be so careful not to slip on.

These stone paved streets seemed to magically transport us back in time. Our winding, twisting and turning through streets that sometimes made me feel almost dizzy, inevitably lead us to a significant part of history that took place almost 2,000 years ago….part of Nehemiah’s wall, the place where Peter may have denied Christ, The Church of the Holy Sepluchre, the pools at Bethesda where a crippled man was healed by Jesus (John 5), the southern steps of the old city where Peter may have preached to thousands at Pentecost. Who would ever imagine that a path of old stones could take a person to such places? I had never imagined it before, but was beginning to now.

Food for Thought

My personality on trips can be a lot like the cartoon character pictured racing full speed ahead, dragging by hand the person behind him–whose feet aren’t even touching the ground! There is so much to see and do….let’s go! I don’t want to miss a thing! Thankfully our wise guides, Ruby and Neal, make sure that we take time for the essentials-a cool drink or iced coffee to cool off from the heat of the day, and a leisurely lunch or dinner.

Food is something that characterizes a place as much as its people and places of interest. It becomes a part of a place’s identity. Several foods have caught our attention since arriving in Israel. Israeli salad is a common salad served at restaurants by itself or as a side with entrees. It is a salad of diced miniature cucumbers, which are very sweet, tomatoes and onions tossed with mint, parsley and a vinaigrette dressing. A heads up, Hannah, Bennett and Laura, this is both a healthy and delicious salad so get ready for seeing a lot of it once we get home! The dried dates and olives here are huge! I never cared for dates but have loved the ones here. Restaurants often serve fresh dates as an after dinner complimentary treats.

If I had to pick a food that best describes an Israeli staple, it would be pita bread. It is nothing like any pita bread I’ve ever had. It is very soft and delicious. Pita bread is the complimentary bread served at restaurants like we would be served rolls or bread in the states. Pita bread is also what is used to make falafels. This is a common curbside food found everywhere in Jerusalem. It is as common here as hamburgers and hot dogs would be in the states. Falafels are pita bread stuffed with hummus, vegetables of your choice and falafels, a hush puppy-like food made of coarsely ground chick peas and spices.

Since Ruby and Neal believe that the dining experience is as important as the food itself, we have eaten in some of the most picturesque restaurants. Some of our favorites are: The Fish Restaurant on the Sea of Galilee, Dag Al Hadan on the river Dan

and Port Café on the Mediterranean Sea. It’s going to be hard adjusting back to reality when we get home- Go Lean Crunch, PBJs and sloppy joes….but we’ll try

A Proud Procession

If I hadn’t been in Jerusalem, I would have thought there was a big party that we hadn’t been invited to. As Neal, Ruby, Rob and I made our way to the Western Wall, a steady stream of Hasidic Jews passed alongside us and came towards us–men, women, families and babies in strollers. The Western Wall borders the temple mount and is the place Jews have come for centuries to worship. Their dress was as I described in a previous blog but this time I noticed many of the men wearing long, satin coats and big, broad fur hats.

Their gait was brisk and purposeful. Their countenance was serious and sometimes somber. They never made eye contact. If they were looking in my direction, they would avert their eyes. I felt a sense of arrogance, as if we were to be avoided as unclean. It seemed a procession of sorts, a proud procession.

We had to pass through a security checkpoint before entering the area of the Western Wall. No pictures were allowed. Before me now was a sea of black and white. There was about 100 yards partitioned off in front of the wall. This was divided in two. The left side was for men only to approach the wall. The right side was for women. On tippy toes I could see over the mesh partition to see into the men’s’ quarters. They were like busy ants, moving to and from the wall. Some sat in chairs quietly reading the Torah. Others gathered in circled groups singing and dancing.

Ruby and I made our way into the women’s’ side. The scene looked similar although more quiet and contemplative. We made our way to the wall. Women, many very young, were resting their hands on the wall, their eyes tightly shut, muttering prayers, reciting from the Torah, bowing, bobbing. Some with an arm outstretched, laid themselves against the wall, their faces grimaced as if in pain or distress. Thousands of little pieces of paper were stuffed into the crevices of the wall, prayers to God and pleas for the Messiah to come. No one left the wall with their back to it. They all backed up and away from the wall; “never turn your back on the king,” Neal explained.

My thoughts were racing. How do you take this all in? Shabbat for the orthodox Jew was more than a pilgrimage to the Western Wall. Most businesses close on Fridays by 2:00pm. Everything stops. Families gather in their homes. Wives begin preparing a special dinner. The Torah is read. This was all so foreign to me; their dress, the way they eat, their way of life, their worship, day after day, Shabbat after Shabbat, yet all for one who had already come.

I couldn’t help but think if Jesus were there that night and had said some of the things he had said to the teachers of the law in his day–“Have you not read?….” “Woe to you teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices-mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law-justice, mercy and faithfulness.”–there would have been a riot! Suddenly the persecution Jesus suffered broadened in my mind. He was disdained and discounted by those who should have known best it was him that all of the Old Testament pointed to. Those who should have welcomed and adored him I now pictured with their arms folded, sneering and ridiculing the King who had come. I am crushed when I feel the disappointment or disdaining of one person. Jesus-the God man, endured this from those it would have been least expected, his entire three years of ministry. His heart must have weighed heavy with sorrow and pain the cry of these echoing in his ears, “Crucify him!”

My own heart was heavy as my thoughts lingered upon this picture in my mind, even the next day. We ended that day with pizza for dinner and a cappuccino in the courtyard area of Ben Yehudha Street. A Korean group of about 30 were gathered in the middle of the square, singing.

I understood none of the words but recognized one, and the familiar tune that went with it, “Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna to the King of Kings!” Their singing was infused with excitement as they smiled, danced and clapped. Their joy for our risen Savior was so evident and a timely reminder that lifted my own spirit -Christ has risen! He has risen indeed

Shalom,
Lisa