Thank you Israel!

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I completely underestimated the enormous historical, political and theological significance of Israel. And suddenly found myself in overwhelm as it began to sink in that I was in one of the most complex places in the world. Combine this with a phase of my own internal confusion over issues that have previously come and gone, and you begin to get the stage for my own exploration of this fascinating place. I knew from the beginning I would be coming to Israel, but mentioned it to few as to not wanting to worry those people who were already worried, even more. It was unthinkable to plan a large trip abroad without a plan to the Holy Land. For in its borders lay some of the most sacred places known to mankind. In addition I had met on my travels many whom lived in Israel, who had invited me to come visit, and that was a good sign. My border crossing from Jordan was to be a telling story, although I didn't know it at the time, of what laid ahead of me in Israel. Normally a busy crossing, I walked alone in the ghosttown like border area that connected Israel to Jordan. The place was completely deserted, and I read my book as I waited for someone to come stamp my passport allowing me to leave Jordan. Finally someone did show up, smiles were exchanged and he wished me well as I walked across the empty space between checkpoints. The corridor was lined with a chain link fence on both sides, that had red and white signs hanging on it warning to not leave the pathway because of mine fields. Hmmm, not the place to go play. I had been coached by my friends from Israel that arrival in Israel would most likely be greeted by a million questions from security personal. And they were correct. She asked me where I was going and specifically what I intended to see and whom did I intend to meet. Thankfully I had read the guidebook a little the night before and had gotten a couple of ideas, like Jerusalem and Bethlehem. It got trickier when she wanted specifics, but in a sincere face I stated that I only had just read the guidebook the night before and that I was going to see first hand what was there. She smiled and apologized for asking me so many questions. But since she was a nice young woman, in nice fitting jeans and somewhat attractive, I didn't mind. After a thorough search of my bag and the end of all the questions, I was told to leave with a smile, and "welcome to Israel". The moment you cross the border there is a different intensity in the wind, it as if someone plugged into the atmosphere an electrical socket and each breath you take has a buzzing sharp edge to it. This I noticed long before I arrived at the bus station, where I discovered a terminal full of teenage, machine gun toting soldiers on there way to someplace. But that didn't bother me, and I wondered to myself as I looked across the bus isle at the guy with his perched up AK47, if I had been traveling to long not to be disturbed by such a sight. I arrived in Tel Aviv and started calling those I knew, making an attempt to allocate time and create some kind of plan. First Stan, then Tamar, Neta, Moran, Itamar, Nomai, and Maya. There were a few others that I didn't get to, for no personal reason, but do to my own internal struggle of being overwhelmed by so many people pulling on me after being a lone traveler for so long. To those people, I apologize and hope you understand. I was caught in between being a lone traveler and visiting family and the internal tension that rises from the difference. But after a little time of studying the map and beginning to comprehend where people lived, a planned started to fall into place. And I would also be smitten to forget to acknowledge that Neta took it upon herself to be my self-appointed tour planner. And after a couple of days of visiting people and exploring Tel Aviv, I headed for Jerusalem, Israel's spiritual heart and for many the holiest city of all. Moving from the modern metropolitan city of Tel Aviv to the ancient and walled city of Jerusalem was more then just moving back in time. It was as if God himself had picked me up by the collar and dropped me into the middle of this incomprehensible maze of energy and feelings connected together by narrow winding streets that had invisible barriers that allowed only certain souls to pass. Jerusalem is a mass of endless sacred holy places that one could spend a lifetime exploring, and some do. I had two days. My list had three top priorities, first was the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which is the site where Jesus was crucified, buried and resurrected. The Western Wall, the only remaining physical evidence of what was once the Jews holiest ancient building, now an open-air synagogue. Finally the Temple Mount and Dome of the Rock, according to Islam, heaven on earth, as the place where Mohammed launched himself to the heavens. This last place was off limit do to current tensions, so I let it go for another day or another lifetime. The other two I visited several times, at various times of the day and night. It was in these places and while walking through the corridors that connected these places that I would rediscover and nurture my amazement of mankind's ongoing struggle to express his relationship with the divine. For there is no other place in the world where so much means such different things to so many. And in this timeless place, the countless spirits have left their imprint on the rocks and stones used to construct and reconstruct this holy place called Jerusalem. This place vibrates to its own unique rhythm with such a profound magnitude that it is impossible not to be brought to your knees in humility. My first destination was the Church of the Holy Sepulchre; it would be the first of several visits here, as I slowly began to appreciate where I actually was. The structure itself is an unorganized mess of rooms and attachments belonging to various churches of the Christian faith. It was by pure luck that I showed up as the Catholics held their daily 4 PM service, walking through the church singing their gagorian type chants. It gave the place a sense of reverence as the saintly voices echoed through the stone chambers. I followed them around the complex as they went from sacred place to sacred place, offering my own silent voice that sang in my heart its own song of gratitude and praise. For in me has always lived an unshakeable love for the Son of God known as Jesus. To be here in this place was bringing my own faith and history to life to be expressed in the physical world. No longer were they stories from the bible, but you could touch, feel and smell the very place where Jesus once walked and lived. And it was deep reverence that I offered my prayers of gratitude not unlike the many others I offered at the multitude of shrines of different religions as I traveled along my journey. For with them all I have approached these places with deepest love that knows no color, no language and no time, only the purist love from the soul that makes us all part of the same humanity. Inside the church there is a tomb where they laid the body of Jesus. It is a small stone structure with a tiny doorway leading into a small room that has an even tinier door opening to a very small room. It is in this room where they laid the body of Jesus. As I waited to enter the room, I silently touched the stone walls to feel chiseled carvings and remind myself that I was here and not in some kind of dream. There were few people around which allowed me to have the space and time to enter the sacred room at my own pace. When I finally did enter the room, I knew I was in a place like no other. As I knelt there, with folded hands resting on the stone, I knew I had come to a place that had been waiting for me for a long time. As I kneeled there, first my arms and then my entire body felt as if I had stuck my hand into an electrical socket. It didn't startle me, for I was aware of its divine nature and allowed it to reach in and touch my soul. When I was finished, I then went to the place where the crucifixion took place, and knelt before the altar. While there I lit a candle of gratitude and prayer for my Grandmother whose endless prayers follow me everywhere, for my family and friends who have given me so much, for my guardian angels whom I have been blessed with for protection, for all who have shared their hearts with me touching me so, for all here who have come before me, all who are here now, and all who come after me in this place,\133\133 peace be in their heart always.

After three hours of sitting in the church, I went for a walk and wandered through the streets until I found myself in front of the Western Wall. The wall is the only remaining part of the once grand Jewish Temple that, according to those who know, is filled with the divine presence. I had heard so much of this place, but knew so little. I sat in this sacred place and absorbed the passionate air becoming almost intoxicated by the richness of such devotion. This too was an unforgettable scene, as the full moon rose above the great wall that was illuminated by lights, with men and woman leaning against it in prayer. Not knowing the history of such places can limit the depth of appreciation of the moment. I felt in myself a hunger to know and understand more of the scene before me, but had to trust it would reveal itself over time. My main responsibility at this point was to be aware as possible of the nature of this special place. In the evenings I would work my way back to Moran's home by local bus. She lived with her parents outside of Jerusalem, and like every home I visited; they stuffed me with food and gracious hospitality. The bus rides were always an experience in themselves, as each person was eyed as they stepped onto the bus by the other travelers. The sad scenes of suicide bombers have taken their toll on the spirits of those who ride the bus. It showed in the eyes of the passengers trying to live their ordinary lives, and even more sadly it doesn't appear to be changing anytime soon. After Jerusalem, I made a trip to Bethlehem, birthplace of Jesus, and in the Palestinian Territory. The understanding of the latter didn't come till later. Climbing into a minibus as described by my travel guide, we eventually had enough people to make the trip. As we traveled down the road, I remembered thinking to myself, "wow this road is small, the impression I had from looking at the map that it was a real highway. We bounced along for a while, and then suddenly turned off into an olive grove and wound our way through the orchard as branches brushed against the sides.

Wow, I thought, just like India, and didn't think much more about it. Arriving in Bethlehem the driver stopped, pointed upwards and said "church church". So I jumped out and walked on up to the church to find a deserted parking lot sitting in front of a huge church. The Church of the Nativity is a citidal over the cave where it is believed that Jesus was born. The huge structure is entered by a small door that you have to stoop to walk through, an act of humility enforced. The church was completely empty except for a few clergy walking about. A local man followed me around, who I ended up hiring as a guide to explain things. He paraded me through the different areas of the church explaining things that I would have missed otherwise. We went to the Catholic area where the Christmas Eve mass is broadcast world wide each year. He pointed out the bullet holes in the walls, left over remnants of the seig from last April. And below in the cave he explained where the manger was and the birthplace of Jesus. After my tour I wanderd back to this place, and sat there alone in the quietness and solitude, half giddy and half sad. I kept thinking about my Lutheran Pastors and how they probably would have loved to trade places with me at this moment. This place normally has a 2-3 hour line waiting to get to this point where I sat alone for ½ an hour, as I had my own internal dialog and prayer. For all those pastors I gave a prayer of thanks. Before leaving I took out of my pocket, a cross that I had purchased in Jerusalem for my Grandmother, and layed it on the stone that marked the birthplace of Jesus. After a few moments, I left the cave for the last time and went outside to figure out how to get home. While talking with my guide again he asked how was the border crossing coming in, it was then that I realized that we didn't cross any border crossing. Instead the minibus had snuck us in through the back way, and now I was in the Palestinian Territory. So I headed for the proper boarder crossing, and as I did, I walked past boarded up houses and store fronts. The area had a deserted erri feeling to it that revealed some of the ongoing struggle between these two nations. Crossing the border was easy as an American, which afterwards I hopped onto a bus back to Morans. My last day of exploring was spent at the Dead Sea where I conducted my own experiments of sitting on top of this strange water. The lowest place on earth at 410 meters below sea level, this place is like no other. As waves rolled in, I bobbed up and down like a bobber a few yards off shore in the clear salty sea. Rocks along the shore were coated with white salt crystals that had been deposited from some former wave and dried into sparkels glistening in the sun. After a shower, I went inland to hike up to David Falls, enjoying the solitude of nature and the uniqueness of a stream in the desert. Saying goodbye to Moran and her family, I shot back to Tel Aviv to join Neta for a trip to the Golan Heights to visit her Aunt and Uncle. I enjoyed the ride and the freedom of being in a car that could move where we wanted. We arrived at the farm in the late afternoon, after a little side trip of being lost, but no lost time as it showed us some unexpected scenary. Once again I was treated to some amazing home cooking, of the likes I've never known, and felt like I was beginning to make up for some of the former weight lose. The Golan Heights of upper Israel are beautiful, lush and peacful. It is a place where the soul can go ahhhhhh, and relax for a moment. Looking down on the Sea of Galilee you could see the entire area where Jesus once preached and performed various miracles. They were kind in showing me around the area, which even included a wildlife night spotlighting trip that reminded of days long gone when I would go racoon hunting with my friend Curt back in Nebraska. Except now the only thing I had to shot was a camera. The next day we toured around the various Christian Holy places, like where the Sermon on the Mount occurred, ect., and then they dropped me off in Nazareth where I spent a night sleeping in a convent of French nuns. After Nazareth I headed to Haifa to meet my friend Itamar, whom I had met in Australia. We sat around for a couple of days, catching up on life and discussing issues like woman, over beer. Then back to Tel Aviv to finish off my whirlwind trip and say goodbye. While in Israel I spent a great deal of time listening to the various interpitations and opinions of the issues at hand. The intensity and depth of listening was helpful to begin, and I stress begin, to gain some understanding of this place. It also made me tired and I felt it was time to move on to Egypt. Israel is truly a complex and amazing place. I will be eternally grateful to all those who offered such gracious hospitality, which there are so many friends and relatives who were so kind.

Stan, thank you for the chats about matters of Israel and the heart. Miss Neta, thankyou for sharing your friends and family with me, feeding me so well and taking such good care of me, plus explosing me to the Irish Pub.

Tamar, thankyou for meeting me on my first night in Israel and welcoming me. Moran, thankyou for sharing your family with me, and the insightful palm reading. Itamar, the chats were great and the topic one of my favorites. Namio, your sweetness and depth of heart still rules. Maya, thank you for your calm wisdom and the rakee treatment.

This lists is way to short to cover how I feel, but you get the idea. One of the best quotes I heard on my trip came from Neta's mom, " If I were young again, I'ld make more mistakes," so now I'm off to make more mistakes and see where they might lead me.

Love, Dean