On the eve of Yom HaZikkaron, the Day of Remembrance (more or less analogous to Memorial Day in the USA), Adam looked out our front window and discovered a stream of people flowing down Rechov Henreitta, our street. The stream kept flowing, so we were curious, got our shoes on, and joined the stream, heading towards the main square of Kiryat Bialik, a block away. Halfway there, a siren sounded. Immediately the stream stopped. Everyone stood still in their places (except Abigail). It reminded me a bit of the Jordan River waiting for the Ark to cross. "Why was it, ... O Jordan, that you turned back?" (Ps 114:5). As the sirens sounded, all across Eretz Yisrael, every person, every vehicle, every thought, stopped, listening, remembering those who fallen, in defence of this land. We had heard about this moment at the Chopinsky's home group, so we knew to stand still as well. The Chopinskys and Santoros had both shared with us that when a soldier dies defending Israel, the whole nation grieves, as for one of our own. The whole nation identifies with Melech David, when he cried for Yonotan and Sha'ul (Jonathan and Saul) in 2 Samuel 1:18, "Your glory, O Israel, lies slain on your heights. How the mighty have fallen!"
When the siren ceased its wailing, the stream resumed its course, and we soon found ourselves in a large crowd, gathering around the main square (or rectangle). Hundreds were seated, and perhaps a thousand more were milling around in the streets surrounding the square, for a ceremony of young people singing and old people making speeches. In front of the memorial to the fallen, a flame was burning. We found it still burning the next morning, surrounded by wreaths of flowers. As we stopped by that morning, a group of kindergarten-aged children lined up to pay their respects to their mishpochah.
So began our day trip to the Galil. The Galilee region is just an our away from where we live, but we took a detour that the Santoros suggested, then took another detour at Mount Tabor, believed to have been the mount of transfiguration. Matthew 17:1-2: "Yeshua led [three of his disciples] At up a high mountain by themselves. There he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun...." At the top of the mountain was a view of the Jezreel Valley and a Franciscan monastery and basilica, built on and near the ruins of an earlier church.
From thence we made our way down to the Galilee (Kinneret). The picture viewing the southern end was taken at sea level, looking down. On the other side tower the Golan Heights, which the Syrians lost to Israel in the six-day war and still want back.
At the northern end of the lake is Capernaum (Kephar Nahum). Once this was a bustling town on the Via Maris, a major Roman highway connecting Syria and Egypt, along which Yeshua found Mattityahu the tax-collector. When we visited, it was surprisingly quiet. In a reconstructed church there was a Byzantine mosaic celebrating the miracle of the loaves and fishes. On the way to Capernaum we had seen an actual fishing boat of that era which had been discovered in the mud along the lake just a few years ago. Another mosaic depicts just such a boat. Many flowering trees there welcomed our springtime visit -- when we visited in the summertime, the area was quite brown. The Franciscans who bought the site dug and found two synogogues, one from the fifth century, built on top of an earlier one from the first century: Yeshua taught here.
A few miles from Capernaum, just across the Jordan River, are the ruins of Bethsaida. They have only recently been discovered, because they are no longer alongside the lake; techtonic forces have apparently changed the landscape since then. Nevertheless, archeologists have found a fisheman's house, with implements of the fishing trade. It is an even quieter place (we were the only ones there), so long as one stays on the path -- there are apparently still land mines in the vicinity.
Bethsaida is within the bounds of Jordan Park, where we dipped our feet in the river and played in small waterfalls. In one grove, among willow trees and palm trees, I stood by myself and heard the wind speak, "I was here. It looked different, but it was lovely then, too." For the first time, I began to feel a little attached to the land.
From there, we drove north, through country that was lovely yet strangely virgin, under-developed, except for a couple of military outposts. Then we found a place I recognized from our earlier visit: a Syrian outpost that is now a monument remembering the soldiers who died capturing it in 1967. There are still bunkers and barbed wire on this site and probably more warnings about mines that we didn't read in Hebrew (the Syrians planted thousands of mines in the Golan area, but very little else -- alas, I've heard that the Serbians are planting thousands of mines in Kosovos). It looks down on the Jordan River Valley and across to kibbutzim which the Syrians used to shell regularly. Then it dawned on me why the area is still rather wild looking.
As darkness fell, we headed home (excuse me if Kiryat Bialik is temporarily our home). After Abigail woke up and fussed, I made a strategic decision to stop at a MacDonalds. There we met an American-born kibbutznik (and her two small children) whose father was the founder of the radio station at Lehigh University. She gave us her phone number; perhaps we'll visit her someday.
As we headed home, Adam spotted fireworks going off in the distance, above the shoreline. We thought we were missing it, but we got closer, there were more fireworks right along the highway. When we got back to our place and called the Chopinskys, Leah assured us that fireworks would be going off in various municipalities for a couple of hours! Adam and I went cruising and found ourselves under a canopy of fireworks among tall apartment buildings. After we got back, we watched more fireworks from our front windows and then from Adam's window in the back. When you've been independent just 51 years, and every year is a miracle (considering the enemies that would still like to destroy this small state and drive most of its inhabitants into the sea), independence is something to celebrate!
Shabbat shalom and blessings,
Glenn, Pamela, Adam and Amaliah
