Travel Biography - Week 51.

 An Issue to be Resolved.

Hint: For a close-up of the pictures, just click on them.

When I published last week's blog, a link went to my Facebook wall, Twitter, and usually two Facebook blogging groups. However, since I'm writing about the 1993 trip to the Middle East, I also submitted a link to a third blogging group specialising in Theology. With this one, it's the discretion of the administrator to either allow or refuse the link to be published. Happily, it was allowed through, and the link attracted up to fifteen comments and ten laughing emoji.

All the comments were about referring to this East Mediterranean territory as Palestine and not Israel. This has reminded me of the 1990s BBC Middle East Correspondent, Orla Guerin. Although a major national broadcaster such as the BBC is meant to be strictly neutral on all political, national and international affairs, Ms Guerin was biased in favour of the Palestinians, especially during the days of Yasser Arafat, the leader of the Palestinian Liberation Organisation, or the PLO, in constant clashes with the Israeli Government.  

At Hebron, 1976, looking at the Fortress of Machpelah.

Section of the underground Cave of Machpelah.

In many ways, I understand the plight of the Palestinians. They had lived for centuries in what we call the Holy Land in relative peace. Then, since the 1917 Balfour Declaration, which initially allowed the Jews to return to their former homeland, the Arab Palestinians had always been up in arms. And who can blame them? And so, conflict after conflict erupts between the Jews and the Palestinians, with the climax of the 1967 Six-Day War, when the Jews brought back Jerusalem Old City with its Western Wall under its own national sovereignty after defeating the Egyptian, Jordanian, and Syrian forces. After more than 2,550 years of foreign rule since the conquest by the Babylonians in 586 BC, that victory by the Israelis was nothing short of a miracle.

And so, some 2,700 years earlier than the present, the Prophet Isaiah in the Old Testament of the Bible, asks whether a nation can be born in a day or come into existence at once.* Indeed, that would be impossible for the human mind to fathom. Yet, on May 14th, 1948, the British Mandate withdrew from Palestine, and on the same day, the sovereign State of Israel was declared. 

And so, that was the situation when I visited the Holy Land for the first time in 1976. I was a guest to a Palestinian family who lived in Silwan, south of Jerusalem Temple Mount, and within the Kidron Valley.

Scale model of the Second Temple, Holyland Hotel.

One of the venues I had the privilege to visit was the Fortress of the Patriarchs in Hebron, in the Palestinian Territory of West Bank. This structure was built by Herod the Great, who also embellished the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem shortly before the birth of Jesus Christ. With a Muslim guide (compulsory at the time) I was able to enter and saw for myself the Cenotaphs of Abraham and his family, namely his son Isaac and grandson Jacob (renamed Israel by God himself) and their wives, Serah, Rebekah, and Leah.

Indeed, Abraham's firstborn son Ishmael was held to be the father of the Arab race, and this is taught in Islamic mosques to this day. However, one detail I find interesting is that although the Hebrews up to and during New Testament times refer specifically to the Jews, actually, the name originally applied to the sons of Eber, on the line of Shem, and the fourth generation after Noah, and Abraham's ancestor. And if the earth was divided during the time of Eber's son Peleg, then it could be assumed that Eber lived before and during the Judgement of Babel and the ushering of different languages. If the name Eber is the root word for Hebrew, then it can be said that the Arabs too, were once Hebrews, even the descendants of Lot, Abraham's nephew, who fathered Moab and Ammon alike, whilst Jacob's brother, Esau, both the sons of Isaac, was the father of the Edomites.

Hence, what I call the Big Three of the Arab world, Moab, Ammon, and Edom, look to be still with us to this day and apparently, will be rescued by God from the threat of extinction sometime in the future, according to Bible prophecy.** But the word Palestinian, seems to have arisen from the Hebrew word defining the Philistines, the arch-enemy of Israel up to the time of King David.

The original Philistines were never Hebrews. Rather, they were the descendants of Casluh, the son of Mizraim, the father of the Egyptian race. Mizraim was one of the sons of Ham, Noah's youngest son. Abraham's firstborn son was Ishmael who, apparently intermarried with the Midianites,*** the descendants of Midian, one of the other sons of Abraham and of his concubine, Keturah.

There was never any divine law against intermarriage, except for the sons of Jacob. Little wonder that the Hebrew race eventually narrowed down to the Jews only. But buried in the Cave of Machpelah are the fathers and mothers of the nation Israel. And the massive enclosure stands as a sentinel to the rest of the world that this particular land was given to the sons of Jacob (renamed Israel) by divine decree. Hence, when the Jews began to pour into the land, on May 14, 1948, at least the western strip of the land was rightly called Israel.

Near the summit of Masada, on the Snake Path.

But having said that, I have no qualms against the Palestinians. Especially in 1976, I was treated well by them and I was offered hospitality for a payment. And that included a visit to the site of the Cave of Machpelah (a name meaning a double cave.) I had the privilege to enter the fortress built above the cave. But then, being such a neophyte and so uneducated, I thought that the inside of the fortress was the cave itself, and the cenotaphs the actual tombs. I knew nothing of the fact that the original cave was buried underground.

Yet, such an experience had opened a door to a wealth of knowledge of the land's history tied to the Bible. The more I realised the truth about the Cave and those buried in it, the more awestruck I felt. My realisation was that only the patriarchs of the nation of Israel were buried there, and no one representing any other nation, and furthermore, marked by a sentinel that survived intact the wars that followed over the centuries, eventually inspired me to re-visit the Holy Land 17 years later in 1993, with a far greater knowledge of its history and culture than I had in 1976.

Masada.

In 1993, I was based in Jerusalem, but this time spending my entire visit on my own, I didn't get around to revisiting Hebron until my 1994 trip. But I did return to Bethlehem and the Dead Sea. However, there were two sites I hadn't visited in 1976, but I did this time. This was En Gedi, near the west coast of the Dead Sea, and Masada, a 400-metre-high Herodian fortress built on the summit of what could be classed as a mesa. After an Egged Bus journey from Jerusalem Bus Station, I saw that on the east side of the mountain, a hiking trail known as the Snake Path winds its way to the summit from the entrance kiosk. What a hike I had! By the time I reached the top, I was feeling knackered but still in high spirits. From the summit, I had a magnificent view of the southern end of the Dead Sea. I spent the rest of the day examining the 2,000-year-old ruins, including a vast water cistern dug into the ground and still coated with a smooth, waterproof material. Not only did the cistern supply enough water for the whole summit community, but it also filled a mountaintop swimming pool.

An excavation on Masada, with the Dead Sea behind.

As the east side of the mesa was 400 metres high, the west side was 300 metres, as it rose from higher ground. A ramp, built by the Romans in AD 73 enabled the Roman troops to break into the summit fortress in their attempt to enslave the 967 Jews who took refuge there. However, instead, they found all but two women and five children still alive. The other 960 Jews either deliberately killed each other or committed suicide rather than submit to the Romans. Whilst at the summit, I saw the ramp in place, still intact. On the North side are the remains of Herod's palace, which offered a view of the Dead Sea. From Snake Path, I was able to see the outline of a Roman fortress, a derelict playing card on the Judean Desert, near the base of the mesa.

There were several other tourists there, mainly as part of an escorted tour group. But they didn't use the Snake Path to reach the summit. Rather, they took advantage of the cable car system that also connects the entrance gate to the summit. 

En Gedi.

One particular day, I took an Egged Bus to En Gedi which is on the route to Masada. I alighted at En Gedi, a nature reserve and spring resort on the side of a hill facing the Dead Sea. Just up the road was En Gedi Beach, on the west shore of the Dead Sea. On another day, I arrived here to bathe in the syrupy water of the salt lake.

En Gedi Nature Reserve.

Refreshing myself at an En Gedi Waterfall. Ahh!

But it was En Gedi that had impressed me more. It has a cave, the traditional site where David had to hide from King Saul's wrath, consumed by jealousy after his young rival defeated the giant Goliath, and won the heart of the nation. Nearby was a waterfall, its cool, freshwater cascades enabling a rich oasis to flourish in otherwise a Judean desert. A trail led out of the nature reserve to lead away across the desert, offering views of the Dead Sea below, then passing first a waterhole where several backpackers were sitting around and socialising. Further on, the trail continued south, towards Masada, and passing some ruins of what archaeologists believe was a 5,000-year-old Chalcolithic Temple. This was a suitable turn-around back to the nature reserve and finally to the bus back to Jerusalem.

At a desert Waterhole, En Gedi.

A Meeting at Christ Church Anglican, Jerusalem.

During my stay in Jerusalem, each of the two Sundays, I attended Christ Church Anglican, which is just inside Jaffa Gate and before the start of Souk David. In other words, a short walk from the hostel. The services were good and blended well with Middle Eastern culture.

Distant view of Chalcolithic Temple with the Dead Sea.

Detail of the Temple, 3,000 years BC.

There was a young British man who I became friends with. His surname was Jackson, and as we talked after the service, he began to encourage me about volunteering for the Israel Trust Of Anglican Churches. In Britain, the organisation was known as Christian Ministry to the Jews. Gradually, I became impressed with the idea of staying for longer than the two weeks I had already spent, and actually making a contribution towards the welfare of the State, whichever form that would take. He gave me some leaflets with whom to contact. By the time I was ready to fly back home, I felt a tinge of hope and excitement within. A volunteer in Israel? I wonder how I could turn that into reality?

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* Isaiah 66:8

** Daniel 11:41.

*** Judges 8:24.

Next Week: Preparing for the start of the 1994 Trip to Israel - with a big difference.