From the Dead Sea to Jerusalem...

September 23 

Jerusalem

Today was, indeed, a day of contrasts as we traveled from the depths of the Negev Desert to the heights of the sacred Kotel (Western Wall) in Jerusalem. Leaving the Dead Sea after breakfast, we drove through the Negev, stopping first at the Ramon Crater, one of the three largest craters in the world. The barrenness of the desert, coupled with its majestic and fierce beauty, and the sheer size of the crater was one of those National Geographic pictures, except that I was in the middle of it, instead of turning the pages of a magazine. There are seven modern Bedouin towns in the Negev, but there are also many Bedouin camps scattered about; some tents and some tin shacks and the camels and hardy souls who tend them. After a while, we could see Beer Sheva on our left, Israel's thriving city created from sand; one of those “miracles in the desert”, except that this one was created with the sweat and toil of human hands.

During our visit to Sde Boker, home of David Ben Gurion, Israel's first Prime Minister, and a man largely responsible for the creation of this wonderful country, Eli gave us a history lesson, taking us back to the years of 1947 and 1948 and the intensity of those days. I felt like I was there and I could feel Eli's passion; so much more poignant because it came from a man who fought for his country in the 1967 war.

A visit, also, to the Naot Goat Farm where we sampled wonderful cheese and yogurt and met the owner of what has become a successful business enterprise in the middle of the desert was just another example of the determination and courage of the people who call Israel their home.

Arriving in Jerusalem in the late afternoon, we stopped at Mt. Scopus, site of the Hebrew University and a place I once knew well, where we had our first panoramic view of the city and shared wine and the welcome blessing. I will admit to being shocked at the hustle and bustle and the traffic; Jerusalem of today, like the rest of Israel, is far different from the Jerusalem of my memories. Not to say that this is a bad thing; just different and a testimony to the growth and development of this tiny country. From Mt. Scopus, we went to our hotel to rest and prepare for Shabbat.

A Shabbat service at the Western Wall has to be an experience like no other as hundreds of people, from the very religious to the merely curious, gather for prayer and song and celebration. I prayed; I sang; I rejoiced; I touched the holy wall. Walking through the Jewish Quarter of the Old City was a personal journey for me; the evening made even more memorable by having a “traditional Shabbat dinner” led by a most delightful Rabbi. And the food, a combination of Sephardic and Askenazic tradition, just kept coming...