The Final Daze

The Monday after Petra was to be a routine drive back to the King Hussein Bridge to drop of the rental car and return to Palestine. Like much of the rest of this excursion, we found that these plans were not meant to be. The adventure on Monday came again in the form of car problems. We decided to take the mountain road down to the Dead Sea and follow the highway along the Dead Sea back up to the Border crossing. The mountain road was very steep and very deserted. Both would play a role in a rather precarious position in which we would find ourselves very quickly. The clutch on the manual transmission minivan burned out when we were about half way between one civilization and the next. We were stranded on a very hot desert road and it had been more than a half hour since we had seen another car. In an unfortunate stroke of poor planning, we also had less than two bottles of water between the three of us.

One car passed rather quickly after our breakdown but did not stop. I opened the hood of the car in the universal signal that we were having trouble and Frs. Carl and Steve wandered down around the next curve to see what was beyond. Just as they disappeared around the curve, a truck with three men in it passed and stopped to see if they could help. I was able to communicate with them that the problem was with the clutch. As they were examining the problem, a 2nd truck with Frs. Carl and Steve and another man drove up. We consulted (as much as we could) and determined that the car could be driven in a single gear – the engine had to be turned off and the gear chosen and then the engine started. So we decided that the best thing to do would be to drive the car back up the hill in 2nd gear and the men who were headed in that direction would follow us and show us to a mechanic. That plan worked liked a charm. About 45 minutes later, we are at a shop and the mechanic had determined that the problem was not something that could be repaired in his town and that the car would need to go to a shop in Amman. At that point, one of the young men who had accompanied us to the shop sort of took charge. He asked me for the rental contract and called the company in Amman to explain, in Arabic, what our situation was. There were a number of options floated, but ultimately, it was decided that we would leave the car at that garage, take a taxi the remaining way to Amman, and the rental car company would take us to the border. Within minutes, a taxi was there and all our gear was transferred and we were on our way. Once again, we had been the subject of remarkable hospitality. The young men who aided us were certainly no more than 25. But they were young men who put the best foot of their country and culture forward. When we offered to pay them for their troubles, they were offended. It had simply been their pleasure to help and they made it clear that it was what was required of good hospitality. The rest of the afternoon in Jordan, although an hour behind schedule, was uneventful.

It was funny that when we got to the King Hussein Bridge Border Station and had cleared Jordanian Customs and were told to report to the bus that would take us across the bridge, we arrived to find the bus’ engine compartment open and the driver and another man working on replacing some parts. We laughed at our trip filled with mechanical problems.

Once on the Israeli side of the border, all the frustration we had experienced with car trouble came rushing back as we negotiated the car-wreck that is Israeli border control. It took nearly three hours to get back into Israel – and that was on a day when there were not that many people at the border crossing. It started out okay – we were shuttled in the direction of lines for non-Arabs that were much shorter. But eventually, we were in the same lines as the Arabs and there was not attempt to make it any easier for anybody.
I understand that it is easier to cross into Israel at the border stations to the south or the north where you are actually simply crossing into Israel out of either Jordan or Egypt. The reason the Allenby Bridge is more difficult is because you are actually not simply crossing into Israel, you are crossing into Israeli Occupied Palestine - I am not sure that the unwelcoming attitude that I encountered there was really directed at me, I simply got mixed up in the crossfire (so to speak). Like so much else I have encountered in Palestine, it seems the Israelis have gone out of their way to make things as unpleasant as possible for Palestinians who have the right to pass back and forth across the border to visit family or to travel further abroad. Of course this is all done for the sake of security, but anyone with a little bit of common sense could make the process a lot more efficient. (e.g., my passport was checked by four different officials between the time I got off the bus on the Israeli side and the time I was able to actually leave the border check station. Because ten or twelve lines were reduced to a single line this process took more than 2 hours and two of the four people who checked my passport did nothing but hold me up. They did not stamp my passport and they asked me the same questions that I had already been asked by two previous people.) I am more convinced than ever that the ridiculousness I experienced at the border is just one more example of how Israel tried to make things difficult and uncomfortable for the Palestinians.

Back in Jerusalem, we made our plans for our final days. Here is the plan – we would have our last class on Tuesday. Then on Wednesday, we would rent a car and head up to Nablus to see Jacob’s Well and Mt. Gerazim. Then we would have a final dinner out in Jerusalem and take Fr. Gregory to the Airport for his late night flight to the US. We would keep the car overnight, then use it to go up to Mt. Scopus to take sunrise pictures and to go to the Mosque of the Ascension before turning it in. We then decided to find out if it would be possible to rent a car in Jerusalem on Wednesday and turn it in at Ben Gurion Airport on Thursday night. The cost of the car rental for a day would be about the same as the cost of the taxi to the airport.

Out plans went well right up to the car rental. We had tried to go to Nablus and Mt. Gerazim earlier in the trip but had approached it from the north on our way home from Meggido. The lines on the map all connected where we were with the thriving town of Nablus, but security walls and border crossings are not marked on Israeli maps. After trying numerous approaches and being turned away at border crossings, we had simply given up. We knew however that the way was opened from Jerusalem to Nablus and made our plans to go that way. I was particularly excited about visiting Jacob’s Well – it is one of those Biblical places whose location we are absolutely sure and it has always excited my imagination a little. The problem with the car rental was our plan to pick it up in Jerusalem and drop it off at the airport – a plan we had come to like very much. If, however, you are going to do that, you have to rent from an international company like Hertz, Avis, or Budget. No problem. Except when I went to pick the car up I found out that there was a problem. The larger car companies consider the Palestinian Territories another country and their insurance will not cover your travel within them. We had canceled our reservation with the Palestinian rental car company and there was no turning back at this point.

Foiled again by the reality of a partitioned West Bank. At that moment, I was so happy to be going home and not having to deal with this any more. There is no consistency or sense to the idea that Palestine is a “separate country.” The problem is that for more than 60 years nobody, Arab or Israeli, has taken the responsibility for the hard work of creating that “separate country.” Into that vacuum step all kinds of crazy non-solutions. When it suits Israel, Palestine is a “separate country.” Otherwise, “This is our God-giving country.” I have had to show my passport more in the last seven weeks than in the rest of my life combined. And at any moment, my fate and ability to travel was at the whim of a loaded-gun wielding teenage IDF member. Generally that did not cause me any problem; it was simply inconvenient. But it was a constant, in-your-face reminder of the reality I was living in. I remember the bus ride returning from my second visit to Bethlehem – everybody had to get off the bus and show their passport at the border check-point. No problem for me – but we were all held up as they did some sort of deeper check on the credentials of two Palestinian teenagers. I do not begrudge Israel its security, and God knows that there are Jews who wished that all Palestinians were dead and there are Palestinians that wished that all Jews were dead. As I have said before, there is blood on everybody’s hands. And this was yet another reminder that there seems to be no will, nationally or internationally to resolve the differences that keeps this entire country ghetto-ized.

Glad I got that off my chest. Ok – we had to rework our plans. That was okay, there were a number of sites on the south and West side of Jerusalem that we wanted to see. We would simply go to them instead of Nablus and Mt. Gerazim. We headed south to the village of Abu Ghosh at which there is a beautiful Olivetan Monastery with a Crusader-era Church. It is well preserved and stands on ground that has been important in antiquity, the Byzantine-era, the Middle Ages, the Muslim era, and even in the modern era. Abu Ghosh is down the hill from Qiryat Yearim, the village which marks the border between the tribal lands of Benjamin and Judah.

Qiryat Yearim is distinguished as the one time resting place of the Ark of the Covenant. The Ark was in the “fields of Yearim” between its being returned to Israel by the Philistines (1 Sam 6 – great story) and King David’s bringing it to his new Capital in Jerusalem (2 Sam 6). Today, the hill at Qiryat Yearim is surmounted by a pretty little 20th Century church of Notre Dame de l’Arch d’Alliance (Our Lady of the Ark of the Covenant), which is crowned by a massive mother and child statue. In that sculpture, Mary, the Ark of the New Covenant” stands on the old Ark of the Covenant.



One of Abu-Ghosh’s distinctions is that during medieval times, it was remembered as the Biblical town of Emmaus because of some faulty calculations on somebody’s part. When we left there, we headed to the Trappist Monastery of Latrun, a site with a more ancient claim to the be Emmaus. We know fro certain that this site actually bore the name of Emmaus – it is first mentioned as the site of Judas Maccabeus’ camp in 1 Macc. 3. It is recorded as Emmaus in many early Christian writings. The name was changed to Nicopolis by the Roman Empire, but Christians continued to identify it as the town mentioned in Luke 24. (In fact most scholars reject this claim and there are at least two other sites that claim to be Emmaus today). There we visited the Trappists and prayed in their beautiful church. There are also ruins of both Byzantine and Crusader Churches that recall the historic identity with Emmaus.



From Latrun, we headed further west to the town of Modi’in to see the graves of the Maccabees. This site is a disgrace. IT is well marked, but there has been no attempt on the part of the modern State of Israel to recognize the Maccabees as the great Jewish heroes that they are. When I think of the millions of dollars spent to turn Masada into a symbol of modern Jewish nationalism, I wonder how come a small portion of that could not be spent to clean up the site of the Maccabee’s resting place. It should be a great place of pilgrimage. (and that’s my 2 cents worth…) There is a modern IDF memorial at this site which also pays homage to the Maccabean graves by the inclusion of pyramidal structures that recall the eight pyramids that Josephus tells us marked the graves of the Maccabean heroes in antiquity. I was glad to see this little nod at least.

From Modi’in, we headed back toward Jerusalem and made a stop at Rama at the tomb of the Prophet Samuel. This is another one of those mixed, Jewish, Muslim sites that is hard to comprehend. No one doubts that this is the actual resting place of the prophet. There are ruins of antique and medieval monuments on top of which a modern mosque has been constructed. The mosque is still active, but the place is crawling with ultra-orthodox Jews, who have established a synagogue in one part of the mosque. OF course this demands that there are soldiers there around the clock enforcing the right of the Jews to be there. It was an odd juxtaposition to see no one but Jews there, but to hear the Muslim call to midday prayer proclaimed from the minaret. The militarization of a sacred site – just one more reminder of the schizophrenia of this place… It was hard to be inspired here.

After lunch, we went to the quaint little village of Ein Kerem, in Jerusalem’s southwestern suburbs. At first glance, Ein Kerem seems like a little yuppie village (like Sausalito, or LaJolla, or Scottsdale) but it is a place full of Christian history. It is the place in the “Judean hill country” (and it is hilly) to which Mary hurried after the Annunciation. Here she went into the house of Zechariah and Elizabeth (Luke 1:39-56). Here we visited the beautiful little Church of the Visitation. On the plaza in front of that Church, there are plaques bearing the words of the Magnificat in many languages. After a short time of prayer in that Church, we walked back across the village to the Church of St. John the Baptist in which is a grotto in which John is said to have been born. Matching its sister Church, in the court outside St. John’s there are plaques bearing the words of the Bendictus in many languages.

After our time in Ein Kerem, the afternoon dictated that we go back to St. Stephens so that Fr. Gregory could make his final preparations to leave. We met for our departure at 6:30 and headed to the same restaurant in which we had celebrated Fr. Carl’s birthday on our first night in Jerusalem. We enjoyed a great meal and reflected together on the great experience we had enjoyed I these weeks. We were so grateful to Fr. Gregory for arranging this program and for inviting us to partake. He has been a marvelous host, teacher, and guide through history and Scripture. We took him to the airport and said our goodbyes and thank-yous for a wonderful experience.

On Thursday morning, our last in Jerusalem, Frs. Steve, Carl, and I left St. Stephens at 5 am and drove up to the Campus of Hebrew U on top of Mt. Scopus to watch the sun rise over the Jordan Valley. It was a cold, windy, cloudy morning, so we were not sure what we would be able to see. The pictures speak for themselves. We then made our way around the Mt. of Olives to catch the sun coming up over that site. Not quite as spectacular, but beautiful nonetheless. How often do you get to catch two sun-rises in one day?

After a quick breakfast in Jerusalem, we headed up the Mt. of Olives to see two sites that we had missed because of mid-day closures on previous trips – 1st we went to the Church of Dominus Flevit, which commemorates the Lord’s weeping over the unbelieving Jerusalem in Luke 19:41-42. We had not been able to get into the Church on a previous visit and wanted to see the view of the Old City through the Eucharistic-themed window behind the main altar.

From there, we headed to the top of the Mt. of Olives to the Chapel of the Lord’s Ascension. The Chapel is (since the end of the 12th Century) actually a Mosque. It is a small building contained with what remains of an octagonal Crusader-era Church building. Within the small building is a stone from which Jesus is said to have ascended. (Muslims believe in the ascension of Jesus and hold this as a sacred site.) Christian pilgrims are welcome and each year the Church is allowed to celebrate a Mass for the Feast Day on Ascension Thursday at this site. We had intentionally avoided this site on our Mt. of Olives retreat day because we were more focused on Jesus’ triumphal entry that day. Besides, there is something quite wonderful that the last site we saw in Jerusalem was Jesus’ last site in Jerusalem.

We spent the rest of the day packing and each of us made one last rip into the Old City. Each of us wanted one last time at the Holy Sepulcher. In the evening met to celebrate one more Mass in Jerusalem, offering our thanks to God for all the blessings of this time. Then, we loaded up the rental car, said our goodbyes and thank-yous to our new friends at St. Etienne and made our way to the airport near Tel Aviv.

We had similar flight times and were warned to check in at least three hours before our flight. It is still amazing to me that the security interview to get OUT of Jerusalem is as rigorous as the interview to get in. The large amount of incense in my bag (and its resemblance to rock cocaine) was somewhat troubling to the IDF. My keffiyas (Arab headwear) was a cause for concern even thought there were also kippas (Jewish headwear) in the same bag and I assured them they were simply souvenirs and not political statements. They asked a lot of questions, to which the answer (in any civilized, free society) is “none of your business.” But my desire to leave Tel Aviv constrained my tongue. And I played their games so I could go home. I did ask for an explanation two different times of why they wanted me to remove something, and both times was told, “we don’t have to explain ourselves” – 19 y.o. with M-16s sure can be bullies. This was on my list of things I would not miss at all.

My return trip to Tucson, scheduled to last 24 hours, turned into a 34 hour ordeal of missed connections and an extra day in the birthplace of our democracy. I guess I needed the extra dose of freedom, having just escaped totalitarianism. One highlight of my extended layover in Philadelphia was the two (yes, two) orders of bacon I had for breakfast in the airport. The waitress was somewhat amused at my order – 2 orders of bacon and a large coffee. She looked quizzical. “I don’t have to explain myself…” It was soooo tempting, but I told her – I have been pork deprived for a couple of months and I love bacon.

I am planning two more posts on this blog. One will be some theological reflections and the other will be my farewell to Jerusalem.

There are a lot more pictures of all the sites mentioned in this post at my picasa site: http://picasaweb.google.com/frbart.