The first day in Israel had been disturbing. The right wing talk of the guide was less than helpful. Sadly, what made Israel, at least this day, seem so much like southern California was the feeling that I’d inadvertently turned on American talk radio. The guide’s anti- Palestinian rhetoric was delivered in the international language of hate. It was obvious to any observer that the Palestinians don’t enjoy the same standard of living as the Israelis. Most Israelis have had the opportunity to travel, and have benefited from Western secular education. They are heavily subsidized by American relatives and sympathizers. There is no AIPAC for Palestinians. In some cases, Palestinian communities have no access to electric power or clean water. It was hard to see the Israelis as the underdogs.
I’m sure the guide had reasons for hating Palestinians. They aren’t all saints and victims. The Goldstone report, which I read as objective reality, accuses Palestinians in Gaza of war crimes. After this first day in Israel, I was pessimistic about the country. I am not a Middle East expert. I am not qualified to pass judgment. I can only say what I saw. If a lot of Israelis are as racist as our guide, and if many Palestinians are as well, then there is no hope for peace in Israel.
The next day in Jerusalem was better. For one thing, we had a different guide. It was through the same agency, Patra, that the cruise ship contracted with. Both tours seemed geared toward devout Catholics. I encourage anyone who plans on travelling to Israel to do better research than I did, and find a tour geared towards particular interests. It is possible that most people who visit Israel want a religiously-directed tour.
Jerusalem was lovely. We stopped on the Mount of Olives, and had a panoramic view of the Old City. It was a wash of golden brown. It’s easy to why someone called it “Jerusalem the Golden.” We stopped at the Church of the Agony, also called the Church of the Twelve Nations. Twelve countries financed its construction, built on Gethsemane, the spot where Jesus was betrayed. We saw the old Jewish Cemetery, where rabbis and holy men of the ages are buried. From there we went to the walled city. Our first visit was to the Wailing Wall.
The Western Wall, or the Wailing Wall, is the sole remnant of Herod’s temple. The devout believe it is the closest place on earth to the Divine Presence. Men and women go to different areas to pray; you wrote down prayer requests on a scroll of paper and push it between the bricks. It was very moving. Anything more I say about it will sound trite or maudlin.
We walked through the narrow walls of the city, past numerous cramped market stalls. Catholics have the Stations of the Cross, a tradition not shared by the Eastern Orthodox or Protestants. We passed stations five through twelve, and went to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. It was built outside the city walls, over the site where Jesus was crucified by the Romans. The church is broken up into chapels, each of which is owned by a different Christian sect. There is the rock where tradition says Jesus’ body was prepared for burial, and a grotto some believe was Jesus’ tomb.
The reverential aura was broken by a loud mouth woman from Mexico who kept asking, “Is this a church or a mosque?” There were crosses and pictures of Jesus everywhere, and she thought it was a mosque? The various priests and clergy of the various sects apparently get in to fist fights over access to the chapels, our guide told us. They show these tussles on Israeli television: it’s Israel’s version of reality TV. In fact, there is so much acrimony between the Catholics and Orthodox and Protestants and Coptics, the keys to the building are kept by a Muslim family.
This same Mexican woman kept demanding our guide stop so she could shop. The itinerary was full, and we were slated for shopping in Bethlehem. This gal was not amused by being told to wait. We ate lunch at Pavilion, a great big buffet diner. There was more great Israeli food, more yummy brisket and roasted chicken.
People write about the “Jerusalem syndrome.” Each year, a given number of tourists who visit Israel have a breakdown, and believe they are the Messiah or a prophet. As lovely as Jerusalem is, the air is heavy with religiosity. At the first table where I sat in the cafeteria, I was accosted by a Messianic rabbi. He was telling folks that the problem with Israel was the same as the problem with America: the left wing. Lefties, according to this jerk, have deliberately sabotaged both Israel and America by allowing immigrants in. I took my plate and moved on. Before I walked off, he was talking about his daughter’s courtship.
(to be continued)
Showing posts with label travel to Israel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel to Israel. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Impressions of Israel Part 2
Mid-day we stopped at the Jordan River. The water was green, from the flora in the water. There was a tourist shop, and people had the opportunity to wade in the Jordan, or, if they had pre-arranged it, to be baptized. Many people were being baptized: they wore white robes, and a pastor or priest dunked them backwards in the river.
We ate lunch that first day in a kibbutz. The kibbutz movement in Israel, this experiment in social communism, is on the wane. Israeli politics are veering more and more to the right. The few remaining kibbutzim are inhabited by older people--- folks my age. The food was delicious: I had the best brisket I’ve ever eaten. I sat across from a lovely young woman from Panama. She was thoroughly enjoying herself. I was trying to stay optimistic, although I was getting weary of seeing churches every five feet, and tired from the guide’s endless happy talk. It was becoming clear our young guide was a right winger. He said that the only politicians in Israel that were really able to accomplish peace were on the right. God help us.
The Panamanian woman smiled and said to me, “You have to be Christian to really appreciate Israel.” A piece of cucumber salad fell from my open mouth, and before I could stop myself, I added, “Or Jewish or Muslim.” It seemed to me that Muslims and Jews had as good a claim on Israel as the Christians. The woman stopped speaking to me.
Although the weather was warm, the air felt like winter. It was about two in the afternoon, and the wind picked up. It was beautiful at the kibbutz, flowers were still blooming. We drove on to Nazareth, to see, surprise, another church. There are two Churches of the Annunciation. The Orthodox disagree with the Catholics about the precise location where Gabriel visited Mary. The churches are about a block apart. Although Nazareth is under Palestinian control, we didn’t pass through any check points. The guide was quick to alert us to a pile of trash on the sidewalk; “See how dirty the Palestinians are?” he said.
The Catholic church of the Annunciation was built in the 1960’s, and there are murals on the outer wall from all the countries that donated money for its construction. The focal point of the church is a cave where Mary is supposed to have lived. I bit my lip, and didn’t ask how they could be sure Mary lived there, especially since the Orthodox thought she lived across the street. A few yards from this church, there was the Church of St. Joseph, built over Joseph’s carpentry shop. Modern scholars believe “carpenter” is a mistranslation, that Joseph was either a stone mason or day laborer. Of course, since they’ve spent all this money building a church, it would be a shame to acknowledge this mistake. At this point, after this visit to the umpteenth crowded, modern church, my mother, the clergyman’s wife whispered to me, “If I see one more church today, I’m going to become an atheist.”
The ride back to the ship was long and disappointing. Our Israeli guide launched into an anti-Palestinian tirade. He assured the group that Arab Muslims were dirty, lazy, and violent. His hate-filled rhetoric was very similar to the rants of anti-immigrant groups in America like the Minutemen. His tirade was so similar to that of any rightwing Republican in America: change “Mexican” for “Arab,” and it’s exactly the same. Even more disturbing was the reaction of my fellow travelers: they loved this kind of talk.
One problem with hate and racism is that once you’ve opened it up, you can’t channel it. Our guide found himself the target of racism. A Japanese woman asked him why Jews were so “standoffish.” She worked with a Jewish man who was very unpleasant. Why were Jews like that, she wondered. That gave the guide pause, but he quickly recovered.
(to be continued)
We ate lunch that first day in a kibbutz. The kibbutz movement in Israel, this experiment in social communism, is on the wane. Israeli politics are veering more and more to the right. The few remaining kibbutzim are inhabited by older people--- folks my age. The food was delicious: I had the best brisket I’ve ever eaten. I sat across from a lovely young woman from Panama. She was thoroughly enjoying herself. I was trying to stay optimistic, although I was getting weary of seeing churches every five feet, and tired from the guide’s endless happy talk. It was becoming clear our young guide was a right winger. He said that the only politicians in Israel that were really able to accomplish peace were on the right. God help us.
The Panamanian woman smiled and said to me, “You have to be Christian to really appreciate Israel.” A piece of cucumber salad fell from my open mouth, and before I could stop myself, I added, “Or Jewish or Muslim.” It seemed to me that Muslims and Jews had as good a claim on Israel as the Christians. The woman stopped speaking to me.
Although the weather was warm, the air felt like winter. It was about two in the afternoon, and the wind picked up. It was beautiful at the kibbutz, flowers were still blooming. We drove on to Nazareth, to see, surprise, another church. There are two Churches of the Annunciation. The Orthodox disagree with the Catholics about the precise location where Gabriel visited Mary. The churches are about a block apart. Although Nazareth is under Palestinian control, we didn’t pass through any check points. The guide was quick to alert us to a pile of trash on the sidewalk; “See how dirty the Palestinians are?” he said.
The Catholic church of the Annunciation was built in the 1960’s, and there are murals on the outer wall from all the countries that donated money for its construction. The focal point of the church is a cave where Mary is supposed to have lived. I bit my lip, and didn’t ask how they could be sure Mary lived there, especially since the Orthodox thought she lived across the street. A few yards from this church, there was the Church of St. Joseph, built over Joseph’s carpentry shop. Modern scholars believe “carpenter” is a mistranslation, that Joseph was either a stone mason or day laborer. Of course, since they’ve spent all this money building a church, it would be a shame to acknowledge this mistake. At this point, after this visit to the umpteenth crowded, modern church, my mother, the clergyman’s wife whispered to me, “If I see one more church today, I’m going to become an atheist.”
The ride back to the ship was long and disappointing. Our Israeli guide launched into an anti-Palestinian tirade. He assured the group that Arab Muslims were dirty, lazy, and violent. His hate-filled rhetoric was very similar to the rants of anti-immigrant groups in America like the Minutemen. His tirade was so similar to that of any rightwing Republican in America: change “Mexican” for “Arab,” and it’s exactly the same. Even more disturbing was the reaction of my fellow travelers: they loved this kind of talk.
One problem with hate and racism is that once you’ve opened it up, you can’t channel it. Our guide found himself the target of racism. A Japanese woman asked him why Jews were so “standoffish.” She worked with a Jewish man who was very unpleasant. Why were Jews like that, she wondered. That gave the guide pause, but he quickly recovered.
(to be continued)
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