The gate of humility

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Jerusalem – An early start was required today to avoid a long lineup at the restricted entry near the Jewish holy site of the Western Wall. Gila reminded us to bring our passports, to leave any pocket knives we might have behind, and if we were bringing Bibles with us, to leave them on the bus. All these precautions were to make the security check go as smoothly as possible.

The Western, or Wailing, Wall is the portion of the wall of the ancient Temple that was accessible to the Jews after the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans in 70 AD and the subsequent pagan city that was built there. It was built by Herod and has become one of the holiest shrines of Judaism.

The checkpoint we went through brought us to an enclosed ramp that leads up to the huge plaza around the Dome of the Rock. As we ascended the ramp, we could look down on the many pilgrims praying at the wall.

After a visit in the plaza and a close-up look at the magnificent mosque, tiled in blue designs and ringed at the top on its eight sides with the elaborate script of the Koran and topped with its pure gold dome, we came down by another route back to the Western Wall.

Men were directed to the left and women to the right – and we had no sense of exclusion as we joined the women, some Jewish and others from other faiths and countries, in our approach to the wall. Every little chink in the ancient stones was stuffed with tiny bits of paper, on which people had written special prayer requests. We could hear weeping and see people pressing their foreheads against the stones.

On the other side of the screen, the men were dressed in black with long prayer shawls, some wearing tall black hats and long curled forelocks. They recited from small prayer books in their hands, and some rocked back and forth as they put hearts, minds and bodies into the fervor of their devotions. It was an amazing sight.

Our next visit was to the Shrine of the Book, a modern museum dedicated to the Dead Sea Scrolls that were discovered in a cave by two Bedouin shepherds in 1947. In the courtyard of the building is a fascinating 1:50 scale model of the ancient city of Jerusalem from the time of Christ. It was easier to see the relationship between the court of Pontius Pilate, the Via Dolorosa and the crucifixion hill with everything laid out in an area the size of a couple of parking spaces.

Inside we learned about the discovery and examination of the scrolls, and we saw the clay jars in which they were found, plus some actual sections of the scrolls themselves. The roof of the shrine resembles the shape of the clay lids on the scroll jars.

Our bus set out for Bethlehem, dropping our guide Gila off near her apartment before we left the city. She does not have access to Bethlehem as an Israeli citizen, so they had arranged for a Palestinian guide to show us this part of our itinerary.

As we drove toward Bethlehem, Heather, our Craig Tour leader, led us all in renditions of “O Little Town of Bethlehem”, “Once in Royal David’s City” and other carols, which all took on new meaning! We even caught sight of a shepherd leading a flock of sheep and goats on the hillside as we approached the town.

We were glad when Aschraf, our new guide, brought us first to a restaurant for lunch before we headed for the Church of the Nativity. Sightseeing is hungry work, and we tucked into our falafel and shawarma sandwiches with a good appetite.

Great rounds of applause rang out as Rafik, our driver, navigated our large bus through Bethlehem’s narrow streets, made more challenging by parked cars, other buses, and pedestrians.

The Church of the Nativity has a very plain façade of cut stones, with no ornamentation or even a sign out front. At the bottom of its high outer wall, tucked in a corner, is a low stone door no higher than a person’s shoulder, and no wider than one person. So, no matter how important you might be, or how numerous your group is, you must go in one by one, and you must stoop down to get inside. It wasn’t always like this, but when Muslim invaders barged in on camel or horseback, desecrating the holy place, a deterrent was required, so this low door has been the only entrance ever since the 16th century.

The spacious sanctuary inside is devoid of pews, and the altar is adorned with magnificent chandeliers and censers, suspended from the high ceiling, and behind it are icons faced with gold and silver. Greek Orthodox, Armenian and Roman Catholic churches share the building.

We bunched closely together near the doorway to the grotto beneath the main church floor, waiting our turn to file in. It was a lengthy wait, because of the crush of pilgrims and also because our progress was halted while a group of Catholics and then Armenians commandeered the holy space to conduct short services. We jostled one another as we descended the steps and filed one by one through another narrow door to the space below.

On the floor under an altar on the right was a large 14-pointed silver star with an opening, about six inches across, revealing the traditional spot of Christ’s birth. On the other side, under a second altar, is the stone manger in which the Christ child was laid. It was strange for me to be back at this same place, 45 years after seeing it for the first time. I wondered how many thousands of people had filed past it in the intervening years!

We had a brief look at the Church of St Catharine, which stands by the courtyard outside the Nativity Church, and had the pleasure at the back of the sanctuary to listen in on a Eucharistic service being given in English. Then it was time to board the bus again and head out for some shopping.

We were taken to a large store full of local handiwork – beautiful olive wood figures, pottery, and malachite jewelry, all produced by Palestinian families in the area. The owner of the store spoke to all of us before we began to browse, showing us the types of products he had on sale and explaining how much our patronage meant to them. He told us how difficult it had been when unrest in the area kept the tourists away for years at a stretch and asked us very earnestly to pray for peace in this troubled land.

We had no idea how relevant his request was until, just a few minutes later, we learned from one of his sales staff, that another clash had taken place this very afternoon between Israel and the Palestinians in Gaza. When we checked the map back at the hotel, we saw that Gaza is a mere 30 to 40 miles from Bethlehem and Jerusalem.

Domes and minarets

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Jerusalem – We are in the Holy City at last. Our introduction was perfect – a panoramic view from the Mount of Olives with the stunning Dome of the Rock and the crenelated walls of the Old City shining in the afternoon sun. More on that later!

With one last farewell to the Sea of Galilee this morning, we headed southward toward Jerusalem, following the Jordan River on our left. The scenery alternated between lush plantations of bananas, olives and fruit trees, as well as fields of peppers and eggplants, and vast, desolate hills of sandy soil and rocks with stunted scrub bushes here and there, as vacant of life as the moon.

The Jordan River was not visible, but we could tell where it was by the vegetation that grew near it. Behind it to the east were the Golan Heights, and, as we continued southward, the hills of Gilead in Jordan.

Our first stop was Beit She’an, where a wonderfully preserved Roman-Byzantine city is laid out to explore. By the time we reached this spot, we had entered into an area under Palestinian authority, and had passed checkpoints and lots of compounds surrounded by high fences and barbed wire. This was the West Bank, a territory of great contention in recent years. All the highway signs were in Arabic and English, with no sign of Hebrew anywhere. However, we were not impeded in any way on our journey.

We sat on the cool stones of a magnificent theatre that could seat thousands while Gila explained about the site, which was only starting to be uncovered in her earlier days as a guide. A wide avenue lined on either side with columns was flanked by the ruins of small shops, and we explored the Roman baths and imagined what the temple might have looked like. At the north end of the site was a tel, or mound, and we could see that there were more ruins up top, but only two of us, me and Kristy, decided to use the free time we were allowed to climb up. The ruins up there were nothing to get excited about, but we got a magnificent view of the ancient city below us – and burned a few calories while doing so, especially on the way up!

On to Jericho next, where Joshua fit the famous battle when the walls came a-tumblin’ down, as the old spiritual goes. Gila had us sing it when we got there to refresh our memories, and then to make sure we had it right, she pulled out the Bible and read the story. She told us about Rahab the harlot, who hid two of Joshua’s spies in her home when they came to scope out the city. For her bravery, she and her family were spared when the city was eventually taken by Joshua’s armies.

Jericho is the world’s oldest continuously-inhabited city, and we saw a tower among the ruins that dated back to 7800 BC! We stopped for lunch at a truck stop outside of Jericho, where one attraction was a pair of camels that were available for rides. They joked that you had to pay two dollars to get on, and five dollars to get off if you wanted to give it a try!

As we continued toward Jerusalem, we could see the hills of Moab and a misty Mount Nemo, where Moses finally saw the Promised Land before he died. When we turned westward toward the city, we could still see a lot of desert by the roadsides.

Gila told us to look out for Bedouins, who inhabit some of these areas. I had remembered seeing them back in my teens, camped in wilderness areas under low black tents, with their goat herds and kids scampering about. A much sorrier sight met my eyes this time, because they have become tied down to the government-funded water supply, so their once portable tents have given way to more permanent shacks made of scrap wood or corrugated metal, and they no longer roam freely.

The elevation from Jericho to Jerusalem rises 800 meters, so the bus was carrying us uphill most of the way. On the horizon we could see some of the buildings and towers of the Holy City, and then the apartment buildings of the suburbs came into view. We then drove through a long tunnel under the Mount of Olives, and when we emerged we could see the whole city spread out below us, with the magnificent Dome of the Rock shining in the afternoon sun!

We stopped at a lookout point on the Mount for a brief orientation as we gazed over the city. Just below us we could see a huge Jewish cemetery where each grave is covered with a stone box, with inscriptions and a niche where candles are burned on the anniversary of the person’s death. Small stones are left on top by loved ones to mark their visit.

Across the way we could see the great walls of the city, the golden Dome of the Rock and beyond it, the darker domes of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Dozens of minarets towered above the Muslim quarter, and we could hear the wailing call to prayer wafting across the valley.

We stopped at the peaceful walled Pater Noster convent, where large ceramic plaques are displayed on its many walls showing the Lord’s Prayer in more than 100 languages. Gila asked us what languages we knew in our group, and we found the French, German, Italian and English plaques. Val did a great job reading out the Italian prayer! It was such a lovely way for all of us to appreciate both the varied heritage of our group, and the amazing number of languages (some of which I’ve never heard of) whose speakers recite these special words around the world.

Before we left the Mount, we visited the traditional site of Christ’s ascension, marked by a footprint in the rock. This rock is under a domed building with a hexagonal courtyard around it that has been both a mosque and a church in different eras. It was not easy to make out a footprint, but we all snapped pictures of the spot anyway!

In another feat of expert driving in tight traffic, our intrepid driver Rafik brought us safely to the Grand Court Jerusalem Hotel on St. George Street in Jerusalem. Once again we felt spoiled as our Craig Tour leaders figured out registration, room assignments and baggage delivery while we simply put up our tired feet and pondered the adventures of another special day.

Up to high places

Monday, November 12, 2012

Jordan Valley, Israel – Bible stories came alive again today as we visited Nazareth, Cana and Mount Tabor, all on the western side of the Sea of Galilee. Gila, our wonderful Israeli guide, gave us even more insights into the physical and social context of places we visited, adding new layers to the stories we know so well.

The modern environment through which we traveled today did not relate in any way to the Holy Land pictures in the Sunday school books. Square buildings of concrete blocks lined busy streets with shop fronts displaying glittered evening gowns, car parts, oranges and pomegranates or shoes.

We first headed for Nazareth, arriving via Cana at rush hour, which allowed us to observe daily life at some length as we inched through the traffic. It was interesting to see quite a few more signs in Arabic in this region, and to glimpse mosques and women in hijabs. Gila told us that this type of garb is a more recent development; very few women dressed this way in the earlier years of her career as a guide.

The Church of the Annunciation was our first stop. It is a two-layered building, constructed over the traditional site of Mary’s home. A grotto-like area in the church’s lowest point marks the place where Mary was told by the angel Gabriel that she would conceive and bear a son. After climbing a spiral staircase of 51 steps, we found ourselves in a much larger, newer church above the old one, dedicated to Mary. Gila said it’s the three-M church – Mary, modern and multinational.

Contributions from countries around the world went toward its construction in the 1920s, and on the walls were large and varied depictions of Mary with the name of each donor country. Canada’s was brown and abstract. The one by Japan showed a black-haired Madonna whose gown glinted with real pearls. The US contribution was a Mary made of small plates of steel. France gave a portrait that appeared to be made of porcelain.

To get to our next site, we strolled through a narrow shopping street, or souk, with small shops selling plastic toys, scarves, glittering jewelry or hunks of meat hanging out on great hooks! All the merchants were Arabs, and it was very much like the souks of Syria and Lebanon that I had seen when I lived in the Middle East as a teenager.

The Synagogue Church was a small, plain building with an oil painting of Jesus reading from the scriptures to the townspeople, who drummed him out of town when he told them the prophesies were fulfilled in their hearing. Gila told us that the location was not authentic, but the church had been built in the form of early synagogues from Jesus’ time.

Back we went through the souk again, and on to the Wedding Church, dedicated to the first sign of Christ, when he converted water into wine at a wedding feast. Our tour leader, Peter, read the passage from the Bible, and we were able to file through the sanctuary where a group of couples, dressed in white, were renewing their wedding vows as they stood around the altar. At the gift shop near the church, we were invited to taste tiny cups of Cana Wedding Wine, the same type of wine used at weddings here since Jesus’ time. It was very sweet! Some of our group purchased small bottles of the wine to take home.

For lunch today, we had shawarma, a Middle Eastern pita with shavings of, in our case, turkey and lamb sliced from a vertical spit that rotates in front of a hot cooking element. Bowls of condiments allowed eaters to dress up their sandwiches at will. The proprietor grinned when I ordered our shawarmas in Arabic.

After lunch, our bus brought us part way up Mount Tabor. Tradition holds that this is the high place, set apart, referred to in the Bible, where Jesus took Peter, James and John to pray. A dazzling light transformed the face of Jesus and his clothing, and the disciples saw Moses and Elijah standing with him. Then they heard a voice saying “this is my son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him”.

The Church of the Transfiguration is at the very top of the mountain, and can be seen from far off from all sides. The road up the mountain is so steep and full of switch-backs that buses can’t navigate it, so we had to go up in mini-van taxis in groups of eight. Arab drivers from Shibli, the town at the base of the mountain, have a monopoly on this service, and they seem to enjoy tearing up the road at great speed, making blind turns with great abandon. As we stood in the upper parking lot waiting for the others to arrive, one of the drivers skidded into place with the door swinging open before he had even come to a stop!

The view from the mountain was vast on all sides, and lucky for us, it was clear and sunny so we could see all around. There were little villages, fields in the Jezreel valley planted with date palms or other crops, the rolling hills of Golan to the east and the city of Nazareth just north of the mountain. Big puffy clouds completed the scene.

Inside the church were beautiful mosaic panels on the ceilings with angels dressed in blue against a golden background, and behind the altar, a stained glass window with two huge peacocks facing each other and a chalice at the centre. On either side of the church entrance were two tiny chapels, one dedicated to Moses and the other to Elijah, just as Peter had suggested he should build for them after seeing them in the cloud with Jesus on the mountain top.

We enjoyed the peaceful garden outside the church before heading back down the mountain with the wild taxi drivers. Tonight is our last night by the shores of the Sea of Galilee. Tomorrow, Jerusalem!

And a post script: there were news reports at the end of the day yesterday of an exchange of rockets between Syria and Israel on the Golan Heights. We asked our guide Gila about it this morning and she said we were nowhere near the place where it happened, so I thought you might be pleased to know that.

Castle in the clouds

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Jordan Valley, Israel – Our observance of Remembrance Day took place at 6:45 this morning, before breakfast. Judy, one of the group members, brought poppies for each one of us, plus Canada flag pins, which were passed around after our moment of silence. Judy lost her son in Afghanistan and this was her first Remembrance Day since then, so it was particularly moving for those of us who knew her story.

We only drove for five minutes out of the kibbutz before turning off the road to visit the “Baptismal Site on the River Jordan”, just near the point where the river flows out of the Sea of Galilee. Gila, our guide, explained that scripture tells us Jesus was baptised in the Jordan River when he was in Judea, and this spot is in Galilee, so it isn’t the actual place where it happened.

Nevertheless, a large visitor centre, gift shop and access points to the river are all located here and it has become a major drawing point for all faiths. Pilgrims in white shifts crowded at the steps leading down, waiting their turn to be immersed in the water. I bought a small plastic bottle and scooped up some of the water to bring home.

The on-again, off-again rain continued today as we headed north along the west side of the Sea of Galilee toward Israel’s common borders with Lebanon, Syria and Jordan. We turned off to visit the ruin of the pagan temple to Pan, next to the river Dan, one of the sources of the Jordan River. A large cave provided a natural backdrop for the temple, and we could see decorated niches carved into the stone cliff where statues would have stood.

The town of Caesarea-Philippi is located here, and this is the spot where Jesus asked his disciples “who do you say that I am?”. When Peter replied that he was the Messiah, Jesus declared that “on this rock I will build my church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it”. Nor would the powers of pagan gods, whose temples were so close by.

The highway zigged and zagged upward as we approached the fortress of Nimrod. We could see the massive structure above us, with a commanding view of the entire valley below it. Wind and rain whipped our hair and jackets as we headed in to explore this Muslim fortress, built on the pattern of the many Crusader castles in this part of the world. Huge blocks of carved stone formed its walls and archways, and steep staircases led down to spooky dark places below. At the top we could look across in two different directions to see high points where other castles had once stood, within sight of each other, to keep a constant eye on any approaching enemies.

Nimrod was a hunter and he is mentioned in the Old Testament. Gila told us that he became puffed up with pride until a fly went up his nose and began to eat away at his brain. He asked that his head be cut off and thrown into the valley, and legend says this is why that valley became infested with flies.

The bus was a warm haven from the buffeting winds as we headed further along the road (which leads eventually to Damascus, we were told) for our lunch break. A Druze family ran the restaurant where we stopped. Val and I had labneh (goat yogurt) spread on a large round Druze flatbread, with a dish of fresh olives. I was glad the bread was warm.

By this time we were at the northernmost part of Israel, within sight of Lebanon and Syria. If the clouds had not been so low, we might have seen the snow-capped peak of Mount Hermon that straddles the border of Israel and Lebanon. We did make a stop a bit later when the ceiling had lifted a bit, and Gila pointed out, way off on the horizon, the outskirts of Damascus, temporarily made visible by the sun breaking through.

We could also see abandoned bunkers and barracks that had sheltered the Syrians during the Six Day War of 1967. Nearby was a UN observation settlement, and we passed an Israeli military base on our trek today as well. Gila had called ahead before we left Netanya to make sure it would be safe enough for us to venture this close to the northern borders, and fortunately it was. But it was clearly a place where tensions have long existed. Red triangle warning signs still dot the hillsides where Syrian land mines remain scattered.

The bus brought us southward again, this time along the Golan Heights on the east side of the Sea of Galilee. Our last stop of the day was at Kursi, the site of an ancient monastery and chapel. Delicate mosaic floors in beautiful patterns decorate the chapel area. While tour guides are not allowed to splash water on them to bring up the bright colours of the tiles, they were washed for us by the rain instead, and we could see delicate flowers and leaves. Invading Muslim fanatics had obliterated the animals and birds in the designs, as such depictions were against their laws, but they missed one or two lovely birds that we were able to enjoy.

The chapel was near Gerasene, which is the place where Jesus commanded the demons to come out of Legion, a tortured man, and enter into a herd of swine. The herd raced down a steep embankment and were drowned in the sea. They have located an area near the Sea of Galilee where there are steep banks, so they are confident that this is the right place. Jim, a member of our group, read that story to us as we stood among the chapel ruins.

We completed the circle around the Sea of Galilee, passing acres of banana plantations on the way. We had also seen avocado and mango trees, date palms, grapefruit and olive trees, grape vines, and peach and apple groves by the road today. And, having also seen cows and beehives, we knew we were in the land of milk and honey.

Blessed are the flexible

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Jordan Valley, Israel – Before breakfast today, Val and I walked down to the shore of the Sea of Galilee, just a few yards from our front door. We were standing at the south end, looking northward, with the town of Tiberius on the slopes to the left in the distance, and the Golan Heights on the east side. The water looked fairly calm, but dark rain clouds spat on us as we headed for the dining hall.

Our first stop this morning was supposed to be in Tiberius, for a boat ride on the Sea of Galilee. However, after filing off the bus and arriving at the dock, we discovered that all the boats were gone! Apparently the water had turned rough, so the boats had left without passengers to try their luck at the other side later, when the owners hoped it might be calmer.

So Gila, our guide, opted for Plan B, which was to visit the church of the multiplication of loaves and fishes, where there was an ancient mosaic floor from the fourth century. Gila explained that, prior to the fourth century, Christianity was forbidden, but once it had been declared legitimate, churches burgeoned all over the holy places where Christ was known to have been.

A large iron gate barred us from entering the church parking lot. A small sign, written in Hebrew and English, explained that today was the feast of the multiplication of loaves and fishes, and special services were being held until one o’clock, when the church would be opened to the public. Foiled again! But, being the seasoned guide that she clearly was, Gila reverted quickly to Plan C, making hasty phone calls to rearrange the schedule.

I reminded her of the extra beatitude, “blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape”! Not that she was, no more than anyone else on the bus. Shortly afterward, we arrived at Capernaum.

It was here that Jesus visited the home of Peter’s mother-in-law and healed her of her fever, whereupon she got up and served her guests. Ancient foundation stones of that house have been excavated, and a Roman Catholic church stands like a shallow bowl on pillars, suspended above the ruins. Just a few yards beyond this spot is the ruin of an ancient synagogue, where it is believed that Jesus read the scripture that prophesied his coming, to an astonished congregation.

Dozens of massive tour buses were parked everywhere, spewing out great crowds of pilgrims, dressed in ponchos or carrying umbrellas, who sloshed through the puddles to see the excavated section of the synagogue where the original stones were found. As rain pelted down on us, we listened to one group under the trees, singing a hymn in French to guitar music, while another listened to their guide speaking in an East Indian language, and still another chatted in Chinese as they passed by. It was wonderful to be part of such a throng, from the corners of the earth, gathered in one place to ponder its significant history.

Off we went for our rescheduled boat ride, on board a wooden replica of the types of fishing boats used by Peter and the sons of Zebedee. When we arrived near the middle of the lake, with the site of the Sermon on the Mount just ahead of us, Heather, our Craig Tour leader, read from her Bible the story of the great storm on the Sea of Galilee that Jesus rebuked, restoring calm to the waters and to the hearts of his terrified companions.

Before she began, the captain turned off the engine and we drifted, listening to Heather’s voice and then to the great silence that followed, as the sea rocked us gently and the wind blew softly and we all thought our own thoughts about the special place where we were.

Our next stop was the Church of the Primacy of Peter, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee at the spot where a resurrected Jesus offered breakfast to his disciples and asked Peter three times if he loved him, and to tend his sheep. Inside the church, the altar stands in front of a huge rock bulging up from the floor, and the air is scented and warmed by dancing flames from wax votive candles.

By this time, the gates of the church of loaves and fishes were soon to open, so we got there in time to be the first bus in line, and got in just a few minutes later. The small Benedictine church had a lovely courtyard with a gnarled olive tree at its centre, and inside we made our short visit to see the mosaic floor which, besides loaves and fishes, depicted whimsical birds and other patterns. Hordes of pilgrims and buses had come in behind us, so we made a quick getaway, heading for lunch.

Re-energized with lunch, we stepped out into better weather as shafts of sunlight broke through the clouds. Our bus took us to the Church of the Beatitudes, situated on the side of a hill where tradition says the Sermon on the Mount took place. When we were on the boat, our guide pointed out the hollow on the hillside that formed a natural amphitheatre for such an event, as well as the domed roof of the church we were now visiting.

The church is surrounded by beautiful gardens, but a fence prevents visitors from roaming on the actual hillside, which is uncultivated and covered with long yellow grass. A contingent of Polish worshipers, each dressed in a floor-length silky red cape emblazoned with a white cross and an iconic image of Christ, roamed the grounds, handing out small medals and cards printed with the same image and a lengthy Polish text on the back.

Crowds of other visitors filed slowly into the small octagonal building, where an altar stood in the centre and each of the eight beatitudes was displayed in Latin on the high arched walls above. It was moving to see hands folded in prayer, eyes closed in contemplation, and a reverent hush among so many people shuffling through.

The chaos in the parking lot broke the spell somewhat, as we marveled at our driver Rafik’s ability to swing past other huge buses with inches to spare, giving a horn blast when needed to warn wandering pilgrims or other buses nearby.

Soon we were on our way for the last leg of the day’s journey, a drive all the way around the Sea of Galilee and back to our kibbutz. Even those who had begun to doze off after our charged schedule jumped in surprise – as did both Gila and Rafik – at the sight of three adult camels and a baby camel, grazing by the side of the road! Gila joked that they had arranged the rendez-vous, but then admitted that it was a most unusual sight in these parts. An unusual ending to an unusual day.

Stones of Solomon

Friday, November 9, 2012

Jordan Valley, Israel – Flashes of lightning and the deep rumble of thunder might have stirred us from our sleep in the wee hours of this morning if our jumbled internal clocks had not already done so. Val was fully awake at about three, while I lasted till quarter past four before giving up and rising, wide-eyed, to check the view of the storm from our window.

Not long afterward, we could hear raindrops splashing on the street nine floors below, as the thunder and lightning rolled in from the sea. By eight we were all on the bus with our luggage stowed underneath, and it pulled away from the hotel as the light morning sprinkle turned into a downpour.

Gila, our Israeli guide, told us that the deluge was a blessing – the first rain they had had in a long time – and with all of us prepared with rain gear, not one person was heard to complain! Not out loud anyway!

Our first stop was at Caeserea, the site where the apostle Paul was called before King Agrippa to explain his conversion to Christianity, appealing eventually to Caesar for a hearing. A large Roman theatre, carved in a semi-circle into the hillside, still gets used today for plays and concerts. A few years ago, while digging some adjacent land for a larger parking area, they discovered a hippodrome nearby where citizens watched horse races centuries ago.

Ruins of a palace, which Herod had occupied, overlooked the Mediterranean Sea. He had a breakwater and artificial harbour built there to protect the area from the strong undertow, and archeologists say this is the earliest use of hydraulic concrete – a substance that hardens under water. We watched the waves crash up against the remnants of the Roman palace, and dodged puddles to have a look at Herod’s fresh water swimming pool next to its mosaic patio.

We got back on the bus to stop by the Roman aqueduct not far from the port area, and Val had a chance to finally walk to the water’s edge and put his hand in the Mediterranean on the sandy shore. Moments later the rain pelted down in earnest, so we didn’t linger there for long. The aqueduct was built to carry drinking water from a spring in Mount Carmel to Caeserea, making it possible for the city to become a major centre in its day.

Mount Carmel was our next destination, where Gila told us the story of the prophet Elijah, who held a contest with 400 prophets of pagan gods to prove whose god was real. The prophets prayed all day for their gods to bring fire down on an altar, without success, but Elijah upped the ante by dousing his altar with water three times before praying to the God of Isaac, Abraham and Israel to bring down fire. The flames consumed everything, after which Elijah put all the prophets to death. A large statue of Elijah wielding a sword over one of the 400 stands in the church yard there.

Our esteem for Rafik, our bus driver, grew considerably as he threaded his big rig between other tour buses to get off Mount Carmel and on to the restaurant where we stopped for lunch. We were ahead of the other groups, so we got served our falafel or chicken pita sandwiches in good time.

The highlight of today was our visit to Megiddo, an ancient fort built on a tel, which is the name for mounds in Israel that are good strategic spots for forts or castles. This spot was chosen by one civilization after another, so ruins were discovered upon ruins dating back to the Bronze Age. The great blocks of stone in the Bronze Age walls were rounded, but Gila showed us the walls built in the time of Solomon, when tools were more sophisticated, which have clean right angles and straight lines even today.

We climbed down a long flight of stairs that led to the water source for the fortification, and through a tunnel hewn into the rock that was meant to protect that source from invading armies. The view from the top was breathtaking, overlooking the wide sweep of the valley of Jezreel, with Mount Tabor in the distance, and fields of date palms and other crops like patchwork below.

Megiddo is the place, according to the Revelations of John, where the great battle between Good and Evil will take place. That’s where the term Armageddon comes from.

Our final destination today was a kibbutz called Maagan, where we will be spending the next four nights. Rafik stopped the bus at a lay-by on the road next to a sign that said “Sea Level” so we could look down at the town before we actually got there. In addition to great tracts of farmland, we could see the Sea of Galilee dotted with little sailboats, and beyond it, the tall brown slopes of the Golan Heights, and, to the south, the hills of Jordan.

Huge thunderclouds puffed up overhead, catching the last rays of the sun. It was a spectacular sight! We glimpsed the Jordan River as it flowed southward out of the Sea of Galilee on our way to the kibbutz. Lucky for us, the rain that began the day only came down a few times, with plenty of sunny bits in between, so it was a very full and relatively dry day of touring.

An aisle for an aisle

Thursday, November 8, 2012
Netanya, Israel – We made it! After what seemed like an interminable flight, we are on the ground halfway across the world, sitting in the comfort of a luxurious suite on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea in a city an hour’s drive north of Tel Aviv, where we landed earlier today.

“Today” is a rather uncertain term for us at the moment. There is a seven hour difference between here and Canada, so while the local clocks are telling us it’s close to supper time, our internal clocks are saying mid-morning! And in a rather plaintive tone of voice too.

To backtrack a bit, we left Ottawa yesterday at lunchtime, headed for Toronto. Upon our arrival, we hiked almost the entire length of Pearson International Airport to get from our arrival gate to the one where we would depart for Israel. Fortunately, there were moving sidewalks and all we had was our carry-on luggage. Then the waiting game began: more than three hours before we would take off again.

The sun was sinking to the horizon in a blaze of red and orange as we, and 298 other passengers, boarded the plane and took off at last. When we had gone online back home to print our boarding passes, we discovered that Val had a window seat on one side in row 21, and I had a window seat on the other side in row 20! Not the friendliest arrangement for our 12-hour flight. However, we hoped someone would be willing to switch.

As we found our seats and the other passengers theirs, we saw that both of us were next to people whose spouses were across the aisle from them in the middle section. So if anyone switched with our seat partners, we would be separating spouses! Oh well, as one of our tour companions put it, we would be sleeping most of the time anyway. Not entirely true. In all, we must have totaled an hour and a half, tops, of sleep. But we managed, in any case!

The TV screen on the seatback in front of us showed a tiny image of a plane making its way across the North Atlantic, over France, Switzerland, Greece and Turkey, headed for Tel Aviv. It also indicated how many hours and miles to go, what speed we were traveling, and even how cold it was outside (minus 77 F in the middle of the night!).

I pushed up the window blind after some hours of flight and marveled at an ink-black sky studded with huge stars! They seemed so close! Then, a few hours later, I peeked again and the sky was paler, with a copper-coloured horizon ahead, hinting at the sunrise to come. Having bid the sun goodbye in Toronto not that long beforehand, I really felt like we were in a race toward the new day.

Snow-capped mountains in Greece gave way to a thick blanket of cloud below as we continued eastward. Finally the clouds cleared and we got an excellent view of the sprawling city of Tel Aviv below before landing at Ben Gurion airport. It was great to feel the rush of fresh warm air entering the cabin when they opened the door of the plane!

We were bleary-eyed but otherwise fine as we approached the baggage carrousel. Once all our tour people were assembled, we boarded a bus that took us through Tel Aviv and northward along the coastline to Netanya, where we settled in our hotel rooms for some catch-up sleep. But not before we looked from our ninth-floor windows at the blue Mediterranean lapping at a wide strip of sandy beach where bathers paddled among the waves.