Goodbye Galilee

Yesterday Joseph and I walked around the Sea of Galilee. It's a long ways. More about that later.

We have one more week in Israel. Today (Friday) we''ll be driving South to En Gedi, Masada, and the Dead Sea. Internet access will probably be sketchy, but I'll do what I can. Shalom and God Bless.

Caesarea and Mt. Carmel

Monday morning we checked out of our hotel in Jerusalem and took a taxi down to the Tel Aviv airport to pick up a rental car. (We spent some time weighing the pros and cons of renting a car vs. just using taxis, and decided the car would be better.) From Tel Aviv we headed up Hwy 4 past Hi-tech business parks and banana groves to Caesarea National Park, on the Mediterranean coast.

Caesarea was built by Herod the Great around 25 B.C. The city included a large sheltered harbor which necessitated the construction of a breakwater out on the Mediterranean. To build the breakwater, large wooden crates were filled with sand, gravel, and volcanic ash and then sunk to the ocean floor. This mixture hardened into what we know today as concrete.

The Romans built an aqueduct to supply the city with fresh water. The aqueduct drops 20 cm per km, a slope of about 0.2%. It is hard to imagine how these ancient engineers achieved such a high level of precision with relatively primitive technology.

Ancient Caesarea was a thoroughly Roman city, replete with theater performances, gladiatorial games, and chariot racing. Usually when you place bets on racing, you bet on who is going to win and who is going to lose. When you bet on chariot racing, you bet on who is going to win and who is going to die. Rome was a cruel, pagan regime, and life was cheap.

Earthquakes destroyed the breakwater in 90 A.D., and the short-lived glory of the city began to fade. In the centuries following Caesarea's golden age, the city was conquered and re-conquered several times, each conquerer tearing down the previous temple or mosque or church and erecting their own favorite religious edifice in its place.

After the stifling streets of Jerusalem, it was refreshing to be out on the seacoast breathing the clean salt air. Unfortunately, it was a bit too windy for frisbee.

From Caesarea we headed inland to the Mt. Carmel area. Mt Carmel is not really a mountain but more of a lump, in the Missouri style. The drive up into the foothills was very pleasant and scenic.

It's difficult to get a picture of Timothy without a camera in front of his face, but I'll keep trying.

Though we had originally planned to go straight to Tiberias, we decided to spend one night in Nazareth instead because it was on the way and there were a couple things we wanted to see there. After checking into a hotel we hit the street to find some dinner, which turned out to be an Israeli sandwich chain called Chickers that was quite good. Best of all, there were fries.

Next up: Nazareth.

Last Day in Jerusalem

For every picture I'm posting there are ten that I'm not. There's simply too many. When I get back I may be able to do something more comprehensive. For now, I hope these posts will serve to give you some idea of what we are doing. Keep in mind that you can click on the pictures to enlarge them.

Sunday was our last day in Jerusalem, so it was packed pretty tight. We began by going to Hezekiah's Tunnel in the City of David. This is the tunnel constructed before the Assyrian siege to bring water from the Gihon Spring to the Pool of Siloam.

That picture is with a flash, to give you an idea of the size of the tunnel. It was completely dark inside, and you're obliged to use a headlamp or flashlight to find your way. There is still water in the tunnel, most of it about 12 inches deep. (One section near the North entrance is at least 2 feet.)

It was a pleasant surprise to find the water quite warm and not too high. All the same, we were glad to have the sandals. Squishing around in wet tennis shoes would not have been fun.

After exiting the tunnel we followed signs to the Pool of Siloam. Here you can see the original steps leading down to where the water would have been. Amazing.

As you recall, this is where Jesus sent the blind man after he had put mud and saliva on his eyes. (John 9) It makes one wonder how the blind man knew where the pool was, and how he got there. It's hard enough to find for those of us who can see.

Everywhere in and around Jerusalem there are soldiers carrying automatics. This soldier was part of a unit that was taking a tour of the City of David. This is Israel's off-season, so it makes sense to use this time to give the army a chance to see the history they are defending.

An overlook in the City of David. The Kidron Valley is down to the left (my right).

After going through the rest of the City of David and watching a short 3-D video, we headed back into the Old City via the Dung Gate to see part of the Archaeological Park that was closed on Friday. This section included Huldah's Gates and some Byzantine-era excavations of residential-type structures. Huldah's Gates, now filled in with stone and mortar, used to lead into the Temple enclosure.

The Dome of the Rock is a 7th century structure, built by the Muslims around the stone where they believe Abraham was preparing to sacrifice Ishmael. (That's not a typo, that's what they believe.)

Because the precise location of the Holy of Holies is not known, by Rabbinical Law Jews are strictly forbidden access to the Temple Mount. Against this backdrop, the rending of the veil and the Christian's prerogative to enter the presence of God takes on an awful significance.

From the Temple Mount, Joseph and I split up with Timothy and Brittany for the afternoon, planning a slightly more ambitious programme. First we headed to David's Tower to see the exhibits there and then we began the "Ramparts Walk" - walking along the top of the walls of the Old City.

The walk is done in two sections, heading opposite directions from Jaffa Gate. The first section, to the South, goes around to the Dung Gate. The second, to the North, goes over Damascus Gate and ends in the Muslim Quarter near The Lion's Gate.

We went out The Lion's Gate and back to the Mt. of Olives to explore the area a little more and locate the Jerusalem panorama. Climbing up the mountain, we passed by the enormous cemetery (above) on the Western slope of the mount. I suppose this is how you reserve a front-row seat for the Apocalypse.

We reached the overlook and took some pictures. The local kids offer you olive branches, hoping you will give them a few shekels. After a few minutes we started back down.

On the way down we stopped at the Basilica of Gethsemane, a large church near the bottom of the mount. The splendor of the churches contrasts dramatically with the squalor of the streets.

There was a nicely maintained olive garden adjacent to the church, along with a reverent and beautiful declaration of trust. May we learn how to "watch" with Christ. (Matthew 26:28)

Leaving the garden, we headed back into the city to do some shopping before everything closed for the evening. We were able to purchase a used Nokia phone, along with a 60-minute SIM card, for $60. This has made it much easier to coordinate our adventures with Timothy and Brittany.

Shopping in Jerusalem is addicting. Because the bargaining process is so enjoyable, it's tempting to buy things just for the fun of it. Using a different currency doesn't help, because it's more like playing Monopoly than actually spending money. Oh well. I suppose one doesn't get to shop in Jerusalem every day.

After escaping the shopping district we located the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and stepped inside. We needed to meet Timothy and Brittany at the Western Wall Tunnels at 1900, so we hurried through. The church had the same disagreeable atmosphere as the Church of the Nativity, so we had no inclination to spend more time there anyway.

The Western Wall Tunnels, along the Western wall of the Second Temple, were fascinating. The Second Temple required 50,000 years of man-hours to construct. That's a lot of timecards.

Unlike Hezekiah's Tunnel, these tunnels are wide, dry, and well-lit. We were part of a guided English tour, led by a middle-aged Jewish man. By this time I was pretty beat, so I don't really have any pictures of the tunnels.

Time to hit the hay before we leave for Galilee and the North!

"It's a Complicated World"

These are the words of our taxi driver Abraham, in reference to the Palestinian-Israeli tension surrounding Bethlehem. You'll meet Abraham later today. First I need to tell you another taxi story.

In the morning we hailed a taxi and asked to go to the Mt. of Olives. Since there are four of us, we normally fill up a taxi, but this driver was already carrying one passenger, so Timothy negotiated a lower price and we crammed in. Unfortunately for the driver, the police didn't like this arrangement very much. We were stopped at a checkpoint near Jaffa Gate, where the driver received a ticket after 20 minutes of animated conversation.

This driver was a real character. When he got back in the car he lost no time in insulting the police: "He doesn't even know English: what does that tell you?" He apologized for the delay, but told us good-humoredly that at least it gave us an opportunity to see how the Israeli Police function.

When we were finally dropped off on top of the Mt. of Olives, we walked up the road a short ways to the Church of the Ascension. For a few shekels we were able to enter the church and climb the tower, which offered an expansive view of the surrounding area. We were told that on a good day you can see the Dead Sea.

After leaving the church we wandered through an olive grove in the Arabic section of the mount. Joseph and I made the mistake of stroking an old horse on the premises, which proceeded to follow us for several minutes, along with his donkey friend.

The day had started out gray and threatening, and by now it had started to rain. We walked down the hill, hoping to find the classic Jerusalem overlook spot, all the while getting wetter and wetter. Eventually we decided to give up and head over to the Israel Museum. (Joseph and I were able to return to the Mt. of Olives the next day, in much better weather, and found the vista point without difficulty.)

An unmarked taxi stopped on the road and Joseph negotiated a price to the Israel Museum. This driver, Abraham, spoke excellent English and turned out to be a constant stream of information and amusement. On the way to the museum he explained that he was a "Born-Again Muslim." Pretty cool, eh?

The Shrine of the Book (web photo)

The main attraction of the Israel Museum is The Shrine of the Book, an exhibit that houses the Aleppo Codex and fragments from the Dead Sea Scrolls. The Jews are called "The People of The Book" for a reason. In contrast to other ancient cultures, they perceived time as linear rather than cyclical, which is why they were the first to develop a comprehensive history. (A culture that views time as cyclical has no consciousness of or use for history.) As Thomas Cahill writes in The Gifts of the Jews:

Since time is no longer cyclical but one-way and irreversible, personal history is now possible and an individual life can have value. This new value is at first hardly understood; but already in the earliest accounts of Avraham and his family we come upon the carefully composed genealogies of ordinary people, something it would never have occurred to Sumerians to write down, because they accorded no importance to individual memories. For them only impersonal survival, like the kingship, like the harvest, mattered; the individual, the unusual, the singular, the bizarre - persons or events that did not conform to the archetype - could have no meaning. And without the individual, neither time nor history is possible. But the God of Avraham, Yitzhak, and Yaakov - no longer your typical ancient divinity, no longer the archetypal gesturer - is a real personality who has intervened in real history, changing its course and robbing it of predictability.*

Viewing the scrolls and codex was profound. I will need more time to do it justice. The scrolls were written by the Essenes, (pronounced in three syllables,) a sect of devout ascetics ascribing to a modified form of Judaism and living an isolated life in the desert:

They regarded the desolation of the desert as a symbol of purity, an eschatological paradise and a refuge from the corruption of society and culture.

The Aleppo Codex is a Bible that was written in Tiberias and dates from the 10th century A.D. A thousand years later, over 75% of it is still intact. I purchased a book about the scrolls and codex so I can return to this subject and explore it in greater depth later on.

Another prominent feature of the Israel Museum was a large outdoor model of Jerusalem, about the size of our lawn back home. This is a representation of what the second temple (70 B.C. - 70 A.D.) might have looked like. Unfortunately, due to the cold and rain, we weren't able to spend a lot of time around the model.

We ate a backpack lunch in a cafeteria-type area near the museum entrance. I discovered my relish for raw bell peppers is not shared by my traveling companions. After lunch we called Abraham on his cell phone to see if he would take us to see Bethlehem.

There seems to be four main categories of people here: Jews, Muslims, Christians, and those like Abraham who wish that everyone would just get along:

This land - it's not for the Jewish, it's not for the Muslims, it's not for the Christians - it's for everyone. Why can't they live together?

The name Bethlehem means "City of Bread" in Hebrew and "City of Meat" in Arabic, but the divisions within this city run far deeper than the meanings of names. Bethlehem is Palestinian controlled, and Jews are afraid to enter the city because of the ethnic hostility. Palestinians also harbor anti-American sentiment because of Bush's foreign policy and his part in closing the Gaza Strip.

But the knife of apartheid cuts both ways. The economy in Bethlehem is in sorry shape, and Bethlehem's Christian residents are dependent on foreign aid from the U.S. and Britain. To travel internationally, Bethlehem Palestinians must take a circuitous route through the West Bank and fly from an airport in Jordan.

This all adds up to a pretty tense and chaotic environment. Several days ago an Israeli soldier was shot at a checkpoint on the border of Bethlehem. Inside the city, it seems like just about anything goes. In Abraham's words, "The law is in the hands of the one who has the weapon."

As we drove up the hill to visit the Church of the Nativity, Abraham said "Here you have three churches built on top of a manger." When you think about it, it's a striking metaphor for how top-heavy Christianity has become over the last 2,000 years; countless bells and altars and statues all piled up on top of a tiny little manger built from sticks.

The Church was gaudy and reeked of cheap oil, so we did not linger. Despite Abraham's contention that this was the holiest place in the world for Christians, I found Skull Hill and the Garden Tomb to be much more spiritually affecting. It is Christ's resurrection - not his birth - that is Christianity's raison d'etre. (1 Corinthians 15) No one denies He was born. Muslims deny that He died, and Jews deny that He rose. Christians believe. Selah.

As we headed back to Jerusalem, Joseph quizzed Abraham about driver licensing and transportation laws. It seems that driving in Israel is serious business. Taxi drivers must carry a special license, have mechanical knowledge, and be trained in first aid and emergency response.

Abraham: "A taxi license here costs $4,500.... 20,000 shekels."

Joseph: "That's a lot!"

Abraham: "It's a Holy Land."

Indeed.

On the way back to the hotel Abraham took a short detour, explaining that in certain neighborhoods Orthodox Jews will throw stones through the windows of cars that are driving on the Sabbath. (Funny how driving a car breaks the Sabbath but throwing a stone through a car window does not.) So the city has adapted itself to these inconveniences.

Unfortunately this is not the greatest picture, but that is Abraham selling us some books about Israel out of his trunk. He was an incredibly charismatic person and difficult to refuse. Really, Middle-Eastern merchants make their living by being friendly. Their ability to create instant rapport is astonishing, and very different from the stand-offish Western style.

That concludes Saturday. Tomorrow, Hezekiah's Tunnel and the Dome of the Rock!

*Thomas Cahill, The Gifts Of The Jews, (New York: Doubleday, 1998), 94

In Tiberias

Hello everyone! That's our rental car, parked at an East-facing overlook near Mt. Carmel. We're now in Tiberias, on the Western shore of the Sea of Galilee. The hostel where we're staying has a good wireless connection, so I'm going to try and catch up on the blogging a little. I will continue doing a post for each day, at least for now. There is much to tell.

Going to Galilee

It's Monday morning and we're preparing to pack, grab breakfast, and get on the road toward Galilee. I'm now two full days behind on the blog, and I do not know what the availability of internet will be over the next two weeks. Unfortunately, this may be the last post for awhile. Shalom and God Bless You.

A Day in the Holy City

Evening view from our hotel window

Shalom and Good Morning everyone! Since I'll be writing about taxis, eating, and shopping, I should talk a little about money first. Israeli currency is the Shekel, which is equivalent to about 28 cents. It's a good value point, because it doesn't need to be fractionally divided (all prices are in whole shekels) and yet it still works well for larger purchases. (I think there is such thing as a half-shekel, but I haven't seen one yet.)

We're doing a lot of walking. Jerusalem is mostly intersections, and finding street signs can be tricky. All the street crossings use audible crosswalk signals that sound like a pulsating sprinkler: tick - tick - tick - tick - tick - ticktickticktickticktick..... When the ticking sound speeds up, the green pedestrian lights and it's safe to cross.

The first thing we did on Friday was browse the Armenian Museum in the Armenian Quarter of the Old City. I had a special interest here due to my strong Armenian heritage.

The museum is housed in a large two-story building with a courtyard in the center. It seems it may have been a monastery at one time, but I'm not sure.

Being here has increased my sense of the tremendous significance of words, history, and language. (I'll return to this subject when I tell you about the Dead Sea Scrolls.) There was a painting in the museum of St. Mesrop Mashtodz and the founding of the Armenian language.

"And he saw not a dream in sleep, not a vision while awake, but in the depths of his heart there appeared to the eyes of the soul a right hand writing on rock, for the stone retained as tracks are traced in snow."

The Genocide of 1915-1917 still weighs heavily on the Armenian consciousness. There were numerous posters both inside and outside the museum with a map showing the extent of the murderous event and an injunction to "Demand and remember April 24: The day the Armenians mourn the death of the victims of the first genocide of the 20th century."

This is the east side of the second story portico. There were pigeons flitting about in the sun-filled central courtyard. It was one of the most peaceful places we've visited so far.

After the museum we walked down to the Southeast corner of the city and visited The Jerusalem Archaeological Park. We walked the ancient road along the western wall of the temple, and toured the adjacent courtyard while listening to the Muslim call to prayer being broadcast from the Mosque above. I have pictures of this but they require a bit more explanation and can wait until I get back, which will also conserve space in this already long post.

We ate a quick lunch in a stone alcove beneath the southern Temple wall and then headed over to the Wailing Wall. After passing through security, we donned paper caps to approach the wall. The experience is hard to describe. One feels themselves an outsider, and yet is awed by the obvious significance of the place and the passion of the prayers that are offered here.

The devotion of the Jews is real, but seeing it up close made me wonder if sometimes we over-dramatize it. These worshipers are real people who bring their kids in strollers, pray for awhile, and then leave to have lunch or return to work or go home and watch football. This is just part of their identity, part of their way-of-life.

There was a large Police presence inside the Western Wall Plaza; it seemed to be some kind of headquarters. The Police here run their light bars continuously, which serves as a reminder of and metaphor for the constant threat of violence. We're getting good at bag checks and metal detectors.

The Temple Institute - where they are reproducing the equipment of the Temple - was closed, so we split up to explore the city and buy some food in preparation for the Sabbath. Joseph and I wound our way North through the city toward the Damascus gate, where by coincidence we met up again with Timothy and Brittany.

It's unfortunate that the camera does not pick up smells, because one's nose is definitely working overtime. The smoky smell of incense, the spicy fragrance of seasonings, and the reek of garbage all blend together for a formidable olfactory experience.

The city streets give one the feeling of being half inside and half outside. They are very narrow, and often completely covered above. Sometimes you will break out into wider streets or small plazas, where the air is somewhat fresher. Everywhere there is people.

The shops are small, deep, and crammed to overflowing. In preparation for walking through Hezekiah's Tunnel, Joseph and I purchased leather sandals from a sandal merchant in a small shop near Jaffa Gate. We talked him down from 200 NIS to 170 NIS for the two pairs. On larger purchases it seems you can usually bring the price down about 15-20%.

We also bought two types of bread: "bagel" and "Challah." (Challah is the braided egg-bread that Leah makes occasionally.) Bread costs about 7 NIS per bagel or loaf. The bagel was a bit too ethnic-tasting for me, but the Challah was quite good. (I still like Leah's version better. She can bake circles around the best of them.)

I was getting hungry for some real, colorful, crunchy stuff, so we found a produce seller and purchased some bananas, bell peppers, apples, and a carrot. Fruits and vegetables are fairly inexpensive: you can buy a small bag for just a couple shekels.

We exited the Old City via Damascus Gate, where there were more merchants selling everything from fish to tennis shoes to screwdrivers. It was impressive. Bazaars like this have that indescribable chaotic orderliness that the West has never been able to replicate.

From Damascus Gate we headed over to Skull Hill, one of the possible locations of Golgotha. There was a pair of geologists analyzing the site while we were there. One of them explained - matter-of-factly and with a strong British accent - that the cliff was composed of hard dolomites on one side, soft limestone in the center, and more hard dolomites on the other side. The symbolism was almost overwhelming. Selah.

I found this project for David in the rear of the bus yard in front of Skull Hill. A carburator rebuild and a little grinding work and she'd be good as new - eh, Dave?

The Garden Tomb (web photo)

The last stop of the day was the Garden Tomb. It took us a few minutes and a bit of walking to locate it, but thanks to Joseph's good memory and marvelous intuition we found it without too much trouble. When you enter the Garden Tomb compound, you feel as if you've stepped into another world. It is lush, tranquil, and quiet. A truly beautiful place.

Seeing the tomb itself was a profound experience. I can't do it justice here; ask me about it when I get back.

One of the videos in the Davidson Center, (part of the Archaeological Park,) mentioned the Greek sages' enumeration of the three wonders of Israel: "a sea where everything floats, a day when no work is done, and a temple without a single statue;" all equally astonishing to the pagan mind. Oh that God would make them astonishing to us all over again.

Next Update Coming Soon

The last few nights here have been rather noisy, but now it is the Sabbath and the night is still. I'm going to take advantage of the quiet and try to get some extra sleep. Tomorrow I will post some of my pictures and video from today's adventures in the Old City.

Peace!

Freestyle Worship Piano: Unlocking Keys

Keys tend to be an unnecessarily confusing and problematic area for most people. In this post, I'm going to attempt to bust some myths and give you a simple definition of keys; we'll talk more about actually working with and moving between them later.

The best definition of musical keys I can give is a preset range of pitch-settings for music. Another definition from dictionary.com is "the principal tonality of a composition." This definition is partly true, but it seems to indicate that the written key is itself part of the composition, which it is not. (All the Classical musicians are walking out on this class right now.) The opening paragraph of Wikipedia's entry on Musical Keys confirms my view that the concept can be a slippery one.

There are two things about keys I want to make absolutely clear: 1) a key is nothing more than a pitch-setting, and 2) a song's "key" has absolutely nothing to with the constitution of the song itself. This is easily demonstrated in that you can play a given song in any one of the 12 keys and it will still be the same song.

I know what you're thinking. If it doesn't matter what key you play a song in, why don't we just play everything in the same key, (C would be nice,) and save ourselves all the headaches?

There are several reasons why songs are written in particular keys. One is the varying tonal character that keys possess on different instruments. On the guitar, for instance, C sounds bland, E sounds bright, and G sounds rich and full. This phenomenon has to do with the tuning of the strings and the positions of the individual notes within the chord. It has nothing to do with the properties of the keys themselves, though it has given rise to the myth that keys intrinsically possess certain tonal characters.

Another reason songs are written in particular keys has to do with the song's melodic range. In general, this range can be described as falling into one of three categories: above tonic, below tonic, and tonic-centric. If the melody is mainly above the primary tonic, the song is above tonic. Songs like this tend to be written in the D-F range. If the melody is mainly below the primary tonic, the song is below tonic. Songs like this tend to be written in the Bb-D range. If the melody is distributed pretty evenly on both sides of the tonic, the song is tonic-centric. Songs like this tend to be written in the F-Bb range. Of course, there are many exceptions. This is merely an observation to help you understand the logic behind keys.

Melodic Range	Common Keys	Example
Above Tonic	D-F	How Deep The Father's Love
Below Tonic	Bb-D	Pour My Love On You
Tonic Centric	F-Bb	Shine, Jesus, Shine

For now, I just want to make sure you're comfortable with the idea of a key as a pitch-setting. The bottom line is that the key should be slave to the song, not the song to the key. You're the pianist, and you're in charge: there is no need to be bullied around by a bunch of shrimpy little sharps and flats. Next week (if I'm able to post) we'll develop this concept further and give you the knowledge and confidence to take charge and do a good job.

The Knesset, Yad Veshem, and Old City

[NOTE: Before we begin Thursday's adventures, I have one other thing to mention about trip-blogging, and that is that I may often load several posts at once. When you see a new post, you might want to scroll down a bit past the end of it to make sure you don't miss anything.]

Morning in Jerusalem
Falling asleep last night, I had a very strong sense of the immense weight of history in this place. Even though most of it is buried in the dark hundreds of feet below these streets, at times it feels like it's all piled up on top of you, bearing down on your chest with all of its massive significance. This is not Sutter's Fort.

This is the breakfast spread: hardboiled eggs, tangerines, cucumbers, and corn flakes. There was some bread too, and several dishes of a yogurt-like substance. No Peter, I didn't try any. Sorry.

Joseph and I took breakfast a few minutes before 8:00, and then set out on a brisk walk around the block, during which I purchased a wall adapter for my laptop for 5 shekels. When we returned to the hotel, Timothy and Brittany were finishing their breakfast and doing email. After they were finished, we turned in our keys and headed out the door.

This display rack was annoying me terribly: I so wanted to flip all the books around so that the spines were on the left. But Hebrew is written right to left, and Hebrew books are read back to front. So I contented myself with taking a picture.

Today was sunny, clear, and perfect for walking. Route-finding has proved a bit tricky so far, but we picked up a better map this evening which should make things much easier.

Your untiring and dedicated journalist.



The Knesset
The first item on the agenda for the day was a tour of the Knesset building. No cameras were allowed inside, so unfortunately I do not have pictures. Some stock web photos and my lush description will have to suffice.

The Knesset is the Jewish equivalent to the British Parliament, or our American Congress. The Knesset consists of 120 members who are elected by the people. The seating on the Knesset floor are arranged in the shape of a Menorah, with a designated seat for each member. There are fingerprint-reading touch screens at each seat for voting. The whole arrangement is obviously very well thought-out.

Perhaps the most impressive part of the Knesset was a large hall which contained a series of three tapestries created by Jewish artist Marc Chagall. The tapestries - which depict the present, past, and future of the Jewish people - required a team of 300 artists 4 years to complete. It is awe-inspiring to see the regal figure of King David granted a prominent part in this display. The legacy of the "sweet psalmist of Israel" is still strong in his native land, even after some 3000 years.

Yad Veshem
After enjoying some delicious homemade natural-food bars on the steps outside the Knesset, (thanks Connie!) we caught a taxi to Yad Veshem, the Holocaust Museum. (No pictures allowed here either: sorry.)

It is clichéd to say that words fail to describe the horror of the Nazi Holocaust, but it is true. Signs outside the museum stipulated that children under 10 were not allowed inside. Still, on the whole, the presentation was considerably less graphic than I expected.

The architecture of the museum is specifically designed to produce a harsh, sober atmosphere: bare concrete walls, slanting inwards over your head, cold and unfriendly. On one of the first monitors there were scenes from a Nazi book-burning event, along with an ominous quote from Heinrich Heine: "Where they burn books, they will ultimately also burn people." And so it happened.

The first section of the museum dealt primarily with the origins and nature of Anti-Semitism. Sadly, even Christianity has contributed to this heinous heresy. St. Augustine - that great bloody pioneer of Christendom - said that the Jews need not be slain, but should be scattered. Somehow the Church thought it appropriate to charge the Jews with Deicide, and argued that only a sub-human race would kill a God. This absurd accusation - besides disregarding the common fallen state of all humanity - defeats itself by willfully ignoring the obvious fact that Jesus himself was a Jew.

Similar to Solzhenitsyn's Gulag, Yad Veshem seemed to be mostly plain history. A people who have undergone such unspeakable tragedy have little time for spiteful elaboration or political speculation. They merely desire to state the facts, to remember, and to grieve. As one of the videos said, "Jewish life during the war was so rich with tragedy that any addition would subtract." It seems this was the philosophy guiding the creation of Yad Veshem.

Many would like to exonerate the United States from this travesty, but I'm afraid it can't be done. It is historic fact that the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave repeatedly denied asylum to desperate Jews. The U.S. fought WWII just like any other war - for political and economic reasons, not moral ones.

I found it was the little things that affected me the most. A crude doll bed made by a camp inmate for his daughter, with the Star of David hastily penciled inside. A pair of delicate wristwatches that belonged to two sisters, the small hands of the watches frozen in mute grief. Two long rich braids of glistening brown hair, cut without ceremony from the head of a 12-year-old by her mother, who knew it would be impossible to maintain her daughter's beautiful hair in the camps.

As Dostoevsky's Ivan says in The Brothers Karamazov, "The whole world of knowledge is not worth the tears of that little child to 'dear God.' I'm not talking about the suffering of grown-ups, they ate the apple and to hell with them, let the devil take them all, but these little ones!"* Thomas Cahill, referring to this quote from Dostoevsky, wrote in The Gifts Of The Jews that "the suffering of children is the greatest proof against the existence of God."** I think he is right.

One Jewish businessman was forced to liquidate his merchandise far below market value. With what money he received, he purchased a necklace which he hid beneath the floor of his house. Shortly thereafter, he and his wife were deported to a concentration camp, where his wife eventually died. The man survived, and returning to his house found the necklace exactly where he had left it. Although he was penniless, he would not sell it, choosing instead to keep it as a memorial of his wife. It breaks your heart.

The last room of the museum is a circular one ringed with hundreds of volumes full of the names and biographies of the dead. It is beyond comprehension. Before such cruelty and suffering, one is left without words, and must simply bow their head in silence.

Old City
Before dinner we took a short jaunt up to the Old City to see where it was and because we still had a little daylight left. I dropped my camera getting out of the taxi at Jaffa gate, so I had to do some repair with duct tape once we got back to the hotel. Thankfully, it's still taking fine pictures. Go Canon!

Young boy in alley: Old City - Armenian quarter

The Western Wall at Night

Looking South Over Downtown Jerusalem

We're planning to do more in the Old City tomorrow, and I'm hoping there are fewer camera restrictions. We'll see. For now, Shalom and Good Night.

*Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1990), 242
**Thomas Cahill, The Gifts Of The Jews, (New York: Doubleday, 1998), 252