Thursday, November 29, 2007

Three Lame Ducks



It was like a peace process re-enactment. An American President, an Israeli Prime Minister, and a Palestinian, eh... Chairman? President? Mob boss? And the rest of the actors showed up too. In Jeruslaem, activists took to the street. As before the disengagement, kids with kippot walked from car to car tying ribbons, this time gold for Jerusalem rather than orange for Gush Katif, onto car antennae. In our yeshivah, a few people came through passing out flyers, encouraging us to go to the demonstrations.

But it was all half-hearted. Bush has spent all his political capital and gone far into the red with is Iraqi misadventure, casting a long shadow on his own party's scant hopes for reelection. Olmert and Abbas were both selected as second-in-charge by their strongman predecessors, Sharon and Arafat, precisely because they were weak-willed and incapable of presenting any serious political challenge to their respective bosses. All three of them held the lowest political approval ratings amongst their respective societies on record. Abbas even lost an election last summer, but somehow he's still around.

And the protests lacked fervor as well. Instead of the 400,000 demonstrators who flooded Jerusalem when Barak attempted to give away the Temple Mount, only 10,000 filled the Kotel (Western Wall) Plaza. A few anti-Annapolis banners were plastered to public fences, and peace now also taped some small signs onto stoplights, but there wasn't even a serious bumper sticker campaign. The air was alive with apathy.

The summit itself went as expected. Everybody patiently listened to the Arabs list their demands and grievances, gathered to smile for a photo-op, and signed off on some mealy-mouthed press release about a Palestinian State, which was supposed to be created in 1997, and would now be created no later than 2008... try not to snigger, run for the bathrooms if you've got to laugh out loud. Olmert and Bush then left the larger gathering to have the more grown-up discussion about confronting Iran, and everybody flew home.

Olmert came home and preached to us about the demographic threat. The fear being that Arabs will soon outnumber Jews between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea, and will then demand Israeli citizenship to vote Israel into the grave. Just as Palestinian Nationalism is an fake imitation of Zionism, so too whatever comes to replace it will likely be a fake imitation of the anti-Apartheid struggle. Of course, these demographics threats are based on Palestinian Authority figures which wildly overestimate the number, and the Jewish birthrate continues to increase while the Arab birthrate declines.

Today is the 29th of November, the 60th anniversary of the historic decision of the United Nations to partition the land between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea into a Jewish and Arab state. The Jews accepted, the Arabs attacked, and they've never stopped. Israel's upper crust still doesn't get that the Arabs will never accept an independent Jewish state, even if it's squeezed onto the head of a pin. If the Jews have power, if they do not submit to the slavish sub-citizen status of all non-Muslims in the Islamic world, then the entire edifice of Islam, which means "submission," is disproved. The endless grievences are a bluff; the Arabs will never accept Israel not because of reason but because it's against their religion. I only hope it doesn't take Israel's rulers another 60 years to figure that out.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

My Haifa Tiyul

I've been looking forward to tomorrow's tiyul (visit/trip/tour) to Haifa, Israel's northern city, for almost a month now. I paid my 200 shekels weeks in advance to reserve a spot. I moved my work schedule around so I could take the tour. Had it marked on my calendar for tomorrow morning at 8AM.

This morning at 8AM I received a phonecall.

"This is the OU Center. We're waiting. Are you coming?"

Oh, no! I looked at my calendar, and it was marked for Thursday. But then I raced to the website and noticed that it said WEDNESDAY! Not THURSDAY! AAAAAAUGH!

Needless to say, they left without me. So now I'm 200 shekels poorer with no tiyul, and no photos to show for it. And it was a perfect, clear day, after the first rains had cleared out the air. Great for photography.

Well, live and learn, I suppose.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Maaleh Chever

We made it to Maaleh Chever a few hours before sunset. This would definitely qualify as an "ideological" settlement. Far from the closest cities of Jerusalem and Be'er Sheva, a full half hour by car, the settlement guards the approaches to the east of Hebron. In a sparsely populated, wind-whipped, dusty region, Maale Chever is a small garden in the wilderness.



The entrance to Maaleh Chever.



The Chever river, flowing from Chevron (Hebron,) passes through the Valley just below, so the government decided to name the settlement "Pnei Chever," "Facing the Chever [River.]" The residents were not consulted on the name, and wanted something more uplifting, more elevated, and so they named it "Maaleh Chever," the Chever Heights. The settlement still appears on a maps as "Pnei Chever."



We arrived and made our way to the Caravans (trailers.)


Michael immediately crashed.

Don't look directly at those blindingly white legs. They can do permanent retinal damage.


No, DON'T!


Meanwhile, the guys get ready...




... and I take a walk around the Yishuv.




Looking eastward. A decent sized playground, with well-tended flora. The white buildings and farms in the background are now-permanent Bedouin encampments which have sprung up over the last several years.




I couldn't tell if this fading poster featured right-wing activists now in prison, or victims of terror.


Looking north.


The kids are all dressed up for Shabbat already.




And the adults hang out on the lawn.




This is not a humans-only settlement.




Sunset to the east. On a clearer day, you can see the Dead Sea from here.





The guardpost at the entrance to the settlement.

"Hey, you? Why are you taking pictures?"




Our two Dutch students, getting in a last smoke before Shabbat.



And after Shabbat, the camera comes right back out...


Havdallah


We did kiddush levanah (the blessing of the new moon,) and afterwards, some dancing around.



It was a good time, let me tell ya.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Thanksgiving

In Israel, Fourth of July is gone, and X-mas is almost unnoticeable. But Thanksgiving is one of those things that olim seem to cling to. It may be it's Jewish origins (the Pilgrims read about Sukkot in the bible, or as they called it the "Feast of the Tabernacles,"and were inspired to imitate it.) It may be it's neutrality; since Thanksgiving has no religious or patriotic overtones, it is one of the few American holidays permissible to religious Jews since it doesn't cause a question of dual loyalty. For whatever reason, I'm not giving up Thanksgiving. And it's handy that Moish and I both telecommute, so we had the day off. The get-together was at his place, with some other guests invited as well.
Dina made sushi...
And Moish worked on the turkey.

That night, I gave Moish's friends Eric and Devorah back to their small but growing settlement, Yad Binyamin. I ended up staying the night and leaving Friday.


Yad Binyamin is in a quiet part of the Merkaz (central) area, about half an hour by car to Jerusalem when there's no traffic. But there's usually traffic. Hundreds of housing units are now being built.

There are also the internal refugees from Gush Katif (Israel's former Gaza settlemtents, destroyed in 2005,) or as many prefer to be called, "Expellees," since "Refugee" would imply that they left willingly. They still in temporary housing without a permanent home 2 1/2 years after their expulsion.

I continued on my way Friday morning and made it out to Ashdod at around nine, where Gali was waiting for me.


Here he comes!

Happy to see me?
Ashdod by the sea.
We took some of the computer components I had brought into the country during my trip to America, and bought some more stuff at a computer store where he gets a special discount. Spent the rest of the day building my new system.


I spent Shabbat at Bnei Darom, and Motzei Shabbat (Saturday night) headed back to the city for a shidduch.


Yaffo street at night. They have these funky lights hanging over the street.

Kikar Tzion (Zion Square), at the Ben Yehuda mall. A good place to meet people.


The moon behind speckled clouds.

Well, that was my mini-vacation, so I'm back to blogging now. It sure was nice to get out of J-town for a few days though.

Friday, November 23, 2007

Susiyah and Maaleh Chever

The lowest-rated American administration in memory will this month meet with the lowest-rated Israeli administration in history to negotiate the re-dismemberment of the holy land. This, of course, for the benefit of the only Palestinian government to run for election in history, an election which they actually lost over a year ago, it seems like a great time to pay a visit and see what's really happening on the ground out there in Injun Country.

Our intrepid Machon Meir fact-finding team gathered outside the front entrance to the yeshivah.


The bus, like the Yeshivas, Ambulances, concert halls, and, well, just about any public property worth over $50,000 in this country, comes with a plaque telling us which charitable souls paid the bill.


Our route today will take us near Beit Lechem (Bethlehem,) the birth city of King David, down to Chevron (Hebron,) where the Jewish patriarcs are buried, and then veer west out into the Judean Desert.

As we wind through the stony hills, some of the kids get a bit antsy.

Quit messing with the air conditioning!

Rolling along, we pass through sudden patches of green, forrests islands in the desert sea, the Jewish settlements of Maon and Karmiel, a few of the small number of places Jews have been permitted by the government to live in this contested wasteland. One can only imagine what could be done with this soil if the energy of the settlers were to be truly unleashed, without the endless decrees and restrictions from above.

Maon, through the bulletproof glass.

The same photo, after enhancement in Paint Shop Pro.

We pass through Kiryat Arba, which one might call a Jewish suburb of Hebron, or at least it will be again some day once they can tear down the fence surrounding the neighborhood and open commerce with the city again.

Vineyards and a gas station outside Kiryat Arba.

The end of our ride brings us to Sussiyah, an archaeological ruin of an ancient Jewish village which existed after the destruction of the Second Holy Temple.

Susiyah, at bottom of map.

Standing on a hill near Sussiyah, looking west towards the Arab town of Yatta, built on the remains of the ancient Jewish village of Yuttah.

Yehoshua. He looks tough now, but get him near Kryptonite.

Yonatan wanders around.

Susiyah was a Jewish city of average size. It existed from the 3rd to the 9th century, C.E.. The city was built on three hills with agricultural areas between them. The main street of the ancient city leads to the synagogue situated on the top of the southern hill. Within the city there are many courtyards and caves used as dwelling, workshops, and storage areas.



Another burial cave, this one with a cover stone to be rolled in front.


Jewish custom of the time was to bury the deceased in a field for a year, allowing the flesh to decompose. After a year, the family would then collect the bones and bury them in the family cave. The entrance area to the cave was carved out of the ground by hand, and was a traditional place for family picnics.


Beyond the caves lie the city walls.


By the time the village was founded, the Romans had centuries earlier cleansed the Jerusalem area of Jews, and the overwhelming majority of the survivors had been exiled to Babylon, or hauled to the far reaches of the Roman Empire to serve as slaves.

And now, on to the city.

Like most of the villages in ancient times, Susiyah survived on the usual staples of the region; wine, olives, and goat products.


Our guide, standing in one of the many wine presses discovered around the city, outside the city walls, describes the winemaking process.

In the distance, one of the Arab settlements that dot the region. This is one of the outskirts of "Bani Naim," which translates to "Children of Pleasantness," a bit ironic given their hostile relationship with the Jews of Judea.

In this area, the southern Judean desert, south of Jerusalem and further east of the continental divide, the climate is already far dryer. With no local river to feed the town, water was supplied mostly through freshwater cisterns which collected the rain. The streets are lined with gutters and water collection systems.




These water collection systems feed into cisterns carved from the rock. Many of the cisterns hold water even to this day. The cisterns provided and additional source of revenue for the townspeople, who could sell some of their water to passing travelers.

Yours truly on the city walls.

I'm a little too terrified of falling to smile here.
Lars leans on the city walls.

The geology of the Judean hills lends itself to two levels of construction; above-ground brick houses and buildings are made from brick hewn from the local stone. But the hard stone is only a few feet deep. Beneath is much softer limestone, which can be easily dug out. So the town was also built half underground, with the hard rock surface supporting the passing people and wagons above.

A stairway down to a sort of wine cellar.

Brick buildings.

The site still echoes with its Jewish past. Doorways show carved hollows where mezzuzot, the parchment placed on the doorposts of every Jewish home, used to fit.

Homes were also decorated with menorahs, in memory of the temple which had been destroyed a few centuries earlier.

Some of the guys tracing out the menorah inscribed into this stone, once a part of someone's home. I tried to get a shot of the inscription but it didn't come out clearly enough in the harsh light.


And next, into one of those underground rooms.


While above ground the village remains in ruins, with walls only a few feet high, and building stones still strewn about, the underground sections remain largely intact.

Underground, in the Potter's Cave. Note the charred carbon deposits on the roof, the remains of ancient fires which once warmed the room.

One relic that can be found anywhere and everywhere; pottery shards. The pots were used for storing, cooking, eating, and just about anything you can think of. After five centuries of village life, the shards of a million shattered bowls litter the ground.

Kneading

The site includes a makeshift pottery wheel, a bit more modern.







Pottery in ancient times was like the bumper stickers of today. Ancient shards have been found on the site with inscriptions supporting various political factions, or with declarations of "Herut Tzion" (Liberty for Zion,) a complaint against the Roman occupation.


In this case, a more contemporary oil lamp with an inscription which simply reads "Susiyah."

Above is a shot taken in another underground room. In this case, a rainwater cistern is on the other side of that brick wall to the left. The cistern still holds water.

Yours truly, at the steps to the shul (synagogue.)


While Susiyah stretched out over three hilltops, the shul (synagogue) of Susiyah was located at the top of the highest hill, as was typical of Jewish settlements of the post-temple era.

From here, the highest point, we can look back over the ruins of the ancient settlement. The wall you see running down the middle of the photo marks where the original main boulevard of the city was.

To get a better view, Michael Harroch walked over the ruined arches for some perspective. Of course, I would never do that. It's not that I'm afraid of heights, I'm just afraid of falling and dying.


Here, we see a mosaic praising the family which donated funds to build the shul.

Inside the shul, archaeologists discovered a much larger mosaic floor. Apparently, the custom at that time was to sit on the floor and pray, much like the Muslims, rather than the contemporary arrangement of sitting on chairs.


So where did all the money needed to build this shul come from? After all, we're in the desert, not a region known for material wealth.

Well, the main product seems to have been olives, which were pressed in this cave.

The locals have rebuilt some of the olive presses, restoring them to their former glory.

Unlike the grape presses, in which juice is extracted from the grape by simply stepping on them, olives are far more tough, and have to be crushed under a rolling stone.
Here, I'll demonstrate!


The dregs are then placed in a press to extract even more oil.
We traditionally refer to the month of Cheshvan, typically in October/November, as "Mar Cheshvan," or "Bitter Cheshvan." There is a tradition that this refers to the bitterness of the fact that Cheshvan is the only month with no holidays, and it follows immediately after Tishrei, which is full of the High Holidays (Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Shmini Atzeret, and Simchat Torah.) But an alternate understanding is rooted in Eretz Yisrael, the land of Israel. Cheshvan is the month where the olive pressing began. The first olives of any year are always the most bitter, hence, "Bitter Cheshvan."

There's plenty more to explore here, like this cave:

Where does it go? Who knows? Maybe the Ark of the Covenant is in there. But there's no time to crawl through it now, because Shabbat is coming soon. Our next stop is Maaleh Chever, where we will be spending Shabbat in the company of the local settlers.

We made it to Maaleh Chever a few hours before sunset. This would definitely qualify as an "ideological" settlement. Far from the closest cities of Jerusalem and Be'er Sheva, a full half hour by car, the settlement guards the approaches to the east of Hebron. In a sparsely populated, wind-whipped, dusty region, Maale Chever is a small garden in the wilderness.

The entrance to Maaleh Chever.

The Chever river, flowing from Chevron (Hebron,) passes through the Valley just below, so the government decided to name the settlement "Pnei Chever," "Facing the Chever [River.]" The residents were not consulted on the name, and wanted something more uplifting, more elevated, and so they named it "Maaleh Chever," the Chever Heights. The settlement still appears on a maps as "Pnei Chever."

We arrived and made our way to the Caravans (trailers.)

Michael immediately crashed.
Don't look directly at those blindingly white legs. They can do permanent retinal damage.

No, DON'T!


Meanwhile, the guys get ready...

... and I take a walk around the Yishuv.

Looking eastward. A decent sized playground, with well-tended flora. The white buildings and farms in the background are now-permanent Bedouin encampments which have sprung up over the last several years.

I couldn't tell if this fading poster featured right-wing activists now in prison, or victims of terror.

Looking north.

The kids are all dressed up for Shabbat already.

And the adults hang out on the lawn.

This is not a humans-only settlement.

Looking to the East as the sun sets. On a clearer day, you can see the Dead Sea from here.


The guardpost at the entrance to the settlement.



"Hey, you? Why are you taking pictures?"

Our two Dutch students, getting in a last smoke before Shabbat.

And after Shabbat, the camera comes right back out...

Havdallah

We did kiddush levanah (the blessing of the new moon,) and afterwards, some dancing around.

It was a good time, let me tell ya.