Jaffa. Jonah and the big fish

Jonah and the Whale

                Driving into the old Israeli port of Jaffa, which today is part of the modern city of Tel Aviv, I caught sight of a number of paintings of a huge fish, or whale perhaps. Then to cap it all off there was this large sculpture of a big fish. Then it struck me. Jaffa? This is the Joppa of biblical times and Jonah comes to mind.

That big fish in Jaffa with a smirk on its face. What is it thinking?

                When I think of Jonah I can't help thinking about a ditty that we young fellows would sing years ago. We called it Sunday School Stories, but I think it had a number of other titles. It began:

                Young folk, old folk, everybody come

                Join our little Sunday school and have a lot of fun.

                Be sure you check your chewing gum and raisins at the door,

                And we'll tell you bible stories that you've never heard before.

Then there was this verse with the line I always remember when the name of Jonah came up. It went:

                Pharaoh had a daughter with a most bewitching smile

                Who found the baby Moses in the rushes by the Nile.

                She took him to her dad who said, "That's a likely tale,

                It's just about as probably as Jonah and the whale."

Most of the stories, especially from the Old Testament were given a mention. Which ones depended on whom one was with. We would also have hours of fun sitting around making up our own versions. But getting back to Jonah. His contribution (with many slight variations) went as follows:

                Jonah was an emigrant, so runs the Bible tale,

                He took a steerage passage in the belly of a whale.

                He was crowded in the belly and was feeling so compressed,

                That he pushed a little button and the whale did all the rest.

                The details found in the biblical account vary somewhat from this. It has Jonah running away from the Lord, going to Joppa (Jaffa) where he paid for a passage to Tarshish instead of heading to Nineveh to preach to them about their wickedness. It is a colourful story full of irony and fanciful episodes. The part most people best remember is when Jonah was tossed overboard and swallowed by a whale.

                At which stage the biblical purists would say that it wasn't a whale but a "great fish" (Jonah 1:17). Nowhere is there a mention of a whale!

                It is comments like this that miss the point of the whole story. This is the attitude targeted by the original authors of the Sunday School ditty. Their complaint is not against the Bible, the stories, the message these stories convey, but against those who insist on taking a completely literal understanding. It is against those who argue whether it was a whale or a "great fish" or those who spend time trying to discover where exactly Tarshish might have been.

                The essence of this story is not in details such as these. It is at the end that the point of the story comes out. God has concern and passion for the whole world and not (as many Israelites though at that time) just for them. That is why Jonah was running away. He was running away from this truth with which he did not agree. He did not see why the sinners in Nineveh should be given the opportunity to repent and look to his God. Let them suffer and not taste God's compassion.

Guarding God's compassion? Not really, just a coastal cannon in Jaffa from the Ottoman period of occupation (1515-1919).

Mind you most people today would also think twice about going to Nineveh , or the modern city which has grown up where Nineveh was located. Today it is called Mosel in northern Iraq!

                I look at that big fish sculpture in Jaffa see the slight smirk on its face which seems to be saying: "You know, God still has compassion for the whole world, even for those you might think do not deserve his love. Nothing has happened to change his mind."

                And I say: "Fish, I agree with you. But the Jonahs of today are not running away but locking themselves away from the rest of the world."

                No, they cannot shut themselves away from this basic truth about God. Maybe a giant worm will emerge from the depths with its mouth wide open.

On Top of Masada

                Unlike the Roman soldiers of 1945 years ago who were struggling up a rampart, probably being targets for rock being hurled down from above, I sat in a cable car to arrive at the top of the Masada mesa. I could have walked up a zigzag path, steep and hot, but I wisely chose not to. Conserving energy, that what it is called. It also gave me more opportunity to see and remember what I saw at the top.

                And what did I see?

A Tristram's starling on Masada.

                I saw a number of blackbirds up there. Fairly friendly fellows they were too. The one shown on my photograph, looking less than happy, seems to be giving me a mouthful. He was, I suspect, merely complaining about the heat, lack of food and water and his usually quiet home being overrun by tourists levelling phones at him, or in my case a Canon (with, in this instance, a 55mm lens and exposure 1/250 at f 11).

                This blackbird was actually a Tristram's starling. They are noted for their black, black appearance with bright orange feathers at the bottom of their wings. These feathers stand out quite remarkably when the bird is in flight, but sitting here on a rock my young fellow seems to be bashfully hiding his colours. If you, dear reader, look carefully you will be able to make them out.

                Why the name, Tristriam's starling, you may be wondering. Henry Tristram was an English clergyman living in the nineteenth century who seemed to have spent an inordinate amount of time travelling. One wonders how his parishioners took to this! His travels also took him to the Holy Land and in 1868 he published a book, Natural History of the Bible. This naturally was about Palestine and surrounding areas. A few years later (16 to be exact) he released another of his works, descriptively named Fauna and Flora of Palestine.

                Besides being a clergyman, a traveller and author he was also an ornithologist. It was probably because of this string to his bow that this bird, seen here on top of Masada, was named in honour of him. No doubt it had a local name before bearing Tristram's name but what it was, I do not know.

                Now the good Reverend Tristram being an ornithologist was probably enthralled to spend many hours observing the habits of these Masada blackbirds but after a few friendly words, hearty thanks for posing for my photograph (actually I took more than one) I was happy to bid him farewell and look further.

                Standing on the edge of the plateau, I did look further, a good deal further. This time I looked into the distance where I saw the blue waters of the Dead Sea. This view was quite scenic but it did not hold my attention for long. What really caught my eye was something much closer, down at the base of the plateau. This was the stone wall outline of one of the Roman legion's encampment areas. It was remarkable that after two millennia the stones were still there, not removed from where the soldiers, or their slaves, had placed them during the year-long siege which had taken place here.

What 2000 years can do to a Roman encampment at the foot of the Masada plateau.

In a way this answered a question which has often popped up when reading about, or visiting the site of, a city which had undergone siege warfare in its history. The question is this: What do soldiers do during their long hours of boredom, during these long days, and months, sitting and waiting for the opposition to starve into submission? This question probably arose out of a statement I have heard in various forms, each with the same meaning. War is something described as long periods (90%, 99%) of boredom punctuated by moments of excitement (sheer terror).

                So what do soldiers do when laying siege to a city? It became clear to me what the Roman soldiers did. They built stone walls. Here in the Judean Desert stones were plentiful, so they built stone walls.

                Enough daydreaming, let's move on.

                "There is time now for you to climb down to see the lower level of Herod's palace. This was where he had his private, luxurious rooms."

                "Sounds good. Let's see how the other half lived 2000 years ago."

                "Other half? Decadent rulers, perhaps."

                "Point taken, but what did you mean by climb down?"

                "Yes, it's on a ledge way below the main level of the plateau's top."

                "And?"

                "We will need to walk down some steps."

                We, as a group had become a little wary of steps, whether that be "a few" or "some". These terms can translate into widely differing actual numbers. Hence a request for a more definite number.

                "How many steps exactly?"

                "I don't really know. For some it might be more than for others. It probably depends on your state of fitness."

                Half of us chose to go. We were most likely "the others" who thought our fitness was up to it. We arrived comfortably at Herod's private chambers. The views were spectacular. The remaining structure gave signs of its previous beauty. All agreed that it was well worth visiting and a half-group photo was shot as evidence of our successful descent.

                "Now we need to walk back up."

  "How many steps were there? Did anyone count them as we were coming down?"

                "No."

                "Jim, you and I will count them on the way back. Now no stopping or we might forget where we are up to. See if we arrive at the same number."

                Agreed, and at the top we compared tallies. 168 was Jim's total. I had 169. Then I remembered a comment my wife often makes; "He always exaggerates his athletic prowess."

                Now back at the top it was time to cool off in the caldarium after the 168/9 steps climb. Before you hasten to correct me, I want to point out that there was shade in the partly restored caldarium. In its original operating mode it was a hot room, probably for Herod's privileged guests. I am always amazed at the level of technology evident in these ancient ruins from Roman times. In this room one could clearly see how it operated. I was impressed with the technology, sure, but not with the concept, even though some fanatics point to the health benefits of being over-heated.

                I have never been a fan of overly hot, excessively humid weather. I prefer sitting in my study with the AC set at 25 degrees, when outside it is a humid 40.

Roman technology in the hot room. Under floor heating with vents to allow the hot air to warm the guests.

                The tour around the plateau continued. There was so much of interest on top of Masada - old synagogue, Christian church, columbarium, bathing pool, large rock cisterns, store rooms, remnants of wall decorations, rock walls (can't get away from these in Israel), the enormity of Herod's whole project. So much to see.

                After spending hours walking around mostly under a hot sun, in and out of store rooms, up and down steps, I was pleased I had a return ticket for the cable car.

Masada

Masada

                Masada is remembered as the site where  the last stand of the Jewish rebellion against the Roman occupation in A.D. 70 took place. After years of very unsettled times - and rebellion was in the air at the time of Jesus - things finally came to a head. Enraged by the actions of the Roman procurators (Governors), Pontius Pilate being the best known of these, and stirred on by the Zealots, all out war between the Jews and the Romans broke out in A.D.66. The uprising was finally crushed by Titus in A.D.70 when he broke Jerusalem's defence, completely destroyed the temple and raised the city.

                The city was destroyed, the land conquered but there was still a number of strongholds in the rebels' hands. The three main areas of resistance were Herodium, Machaerus and Masada. Herodium was a fort which Herod the Great had built on the summit of a man-made, circular hill 12 kilometres south of Jerusalem. Machaerus was a fortress east of the Dead Sea - now in the country of Jordan - in which it is thought John the Baptist was imprisoned and executed. These two were quickly conquered without a great deal of effort on the part of the Romans and also without great loss of life. Masada remained defiant.

King Herod the Great's fortress and palace were situated on this mesa which rose 500 metres above the Dead Sea. Today the ruins remain.

                Masada was in the Judean Desert, 50 kilometres south of Jerusalem overlooking the Dead Sea. Again it was Herod who had a fort and luxurious palace built on the top of this steep-sided mesa when he was in power. It was built as a refuge for himself and his family. The cliff-like sides of the mesa rose very abruptly to a height of 400 metres and a successful attack up these slopes would not be possible.

                Already in A.D. 66 at the outbreak of hostilities, a fanatical Galilean zealot, Eleazar, and a group of his followers occupied this fort. From here he had been able to make raids against the Romans in the surrounding areas and then retreat to relative safely. Now with Judea conquered, he and his band stood alone against the might of the Roman forces. And the victors would not allow his resistance to continue.

These remaining stones show the position of the Roman wall which once encircled this fortress.

The storerooms of Herod's fort. The partly restored ones contain memories; the unrestored the rubble of two thousand years.

Thus began a long period of siege warfare in order for the Romans to overcome this remaining nuisance.

                Over a period of many months the site was completely surrounded by a circumvallatio - a wall which ensured that those on the mesa top could not escape. Then a massive rampart was built, rock by rock, higher and higher, to gain close access to the walls of the fort - at least in one place. This allowed the Romans to bring their siege machines up to the wall which was soon breached. The defenders had built a second wall inside the outer one, and this hindered the progress of the attackers for some time. After it had been set alight and was crumbling the Zealots knew that the next day would see the Roman soldiers begin their slaughtering.

                Realising their hopeless position, and knowing the fate of the women and children who were also living there, the decision was made to commit suicide and deny the attackers the taste of blood. Next morning the Romans found only dead bodies and a burnt out palace - a hollow victory. Thus the spring of A.D 73 saw the end of this Jewish uprising against the Romans.

                This is a cruel tale, a barbaric tale, a tale of pride and determination against overwhelming odds. It is one that has been printed indelibly in the annals of the Jewish people. It is similar to others which come to mind, fights which can't be won. It is the gallant defeat which is remembered. Remember the Alamo, or the landing at Gallipoli?

                I sat on a rock up there in the ruins of the Masada fort, among the ruins of those many lives and thought: " Tonight I am going to die." Not "tomorrow I might be killed in battle," or "tomorrow I might escape death in battle but be taken prisoner by the Romans and eventually (probably soon) die in chains." No, I thought, "tonight I am going to die."

                "I have fought against the Romans, against those rulers who have oppressed my homeland, and lost my battle. I leave a land still ruled by foreigners. Death is the reward for my efforts, for my worthless efforts. Do I welcome death? Do I feel cheated? Was I born to die unrewarded? I ponder in doubt. Is my trust in my God so great, is my belief in an afterlife strong enough to combat doubt?

                "Of one thing I have no doubt. Tonight I die."

Emotional moments

An Emotional Moment

                Emotional moments can arise at any time in any place, out of the blue. In the most pedestrian of places a thought, an overheard word, a glimpse of the unexpected can cause emotions to come bubbling to the surface. A renewal of one's baptism in the Jordan river, repeating one's marriage vows in the Cana chapel, the celebration of a Bar Mitzvah at the Western Wall these are occasions  which can bring on a rush of emotion. I'm sure that each person who has gone on a pilgrimage tour of the Holy Land can point to a site or an experience which has left an unforgettable emotional  impact.

Emotional waters.

I want to place one of my emotional moments at the Yad Vashem Memorial. It was not, however, the memorial itself, but rather an experience that happened within the memorial.  It was related to, but distant from, the main thrust of the memorial's purpose.

I had wound my way through the various displays, the oral testimonies, the graphic photographs, a depiction of the final downfall and defeat of the Nazi's monstrosities and was sitting alone in one of the final rooms. Projected on the walls were relevant statements written by a whole variety of people. I was reading and absorbing each of these statements. They were insightful, thought-provoking, delivered from the heart. How I envy these people who can express so clearly, so succinctly, what many of us feel but lack the ability to verbalise. I was completely absorbed.

                Bare hard seats, bare walls, reading one and then waiting for the next.  Do these words give comfort? For the person of religion it is faith that gives comfort. For all that, faith in one's fellow can also be a great source of comfort. Here in this bare room, in some unexplained way, comfort could be found in the words projected on a silent surface. Awaiting the next quotation I was awakened from my mind wandering. I was suddenly aware of our Israeli tour guide, Gail, sitting beside me. I sensed, I felt her extreme emotion which was reaching out for recognition and understanding.

                I sat and did nothing. Whether by osmosis or simply the power of the moment, that emotion vibrated powerfully within me as well. But I was emotionally immobilised to respond. Nor did I, or could I speak. The moment tangled my tongue.

                I sat and did nothing. Here was a fellow person steeped in emotion, crying out for a sympathetic touch, a reassuring arm, and I proved inadequate for the task. Finally I reassembled myself, put down the camera case I was holding in my right hand and determined to reach out, put my arm around her shoulder and show some solidarity. But the moment had passed. She had stood up and was moving forward with her life. The next site awaited her tour group and they couldn't find their way there without her.

The sun will always shine. God is near.

                Maybe my wife is correct. " Why," she had often said," do you sit and analyse everything before you do anything? It's not uncool to show some emotion."

                 "Uncool", did she say that?

P.S. These thoughts were written initially on an Emirates' dinner serviette somewhere high over the Indian Ocean on my long journey back to Australia. The serviette also bears marks of the Mongolian chicken which I had selected in preference to the backed perch fillet.

Accommodation in Israel

Israeli Accommodation

                A good friend of my wife (of mine as well) who travels quite extensively comes home and colourfully relates her overseas experiences punctuated with terms such as "our limo driver", "champers", "the Qantas Lounge", "five stars", "twenty four hour room service". You get the trend? And the Brandenburg Gate she visited, the Eiffel Tower or the Guggenheim in New York  - to name but a few - don't really sound like the places I once spent time admiring. Well perhaps not admiring, but at least ticking off my bucket list. But we each bring home different memories!

                 She is not only interested in her own travels but also expresses interest in other people's trips. When I arrived home from my two weeks pilgrimage to the Holy Land one of her first questions  was, "How was the accommodation?"

"Carol*, my dear," I replied," my single supplement gave me no less than a queen-sized bed nightly, and indeed in one hotel, two queen-sized bed in the one room. I felt like a king surrounded by all those queens. I slept in a different spot on each of the four nights I was there!"

                Only kidding!

                Our Jerusalem hotel merged beautifully into the hillside. Here fate gave me a third floor room. This proved to be a problem in itself for I was always confused whether to go up or down to get to my home base there. It was a problem wherever I was in the hotel. Who ever heard of checking in at the front desk and then having to go DOWN to get to the third floor? And I could never remember whether to take lifts A, which took me to one section of the huge hotel or lifts B, which had me trying to open the wrong door.

A confused guest at the hotel not knowing whether to go up or down to arrive at the third floor.

Tiberius found me in a second floor room (i.e. the floor above the main reception area) overlooking the Sea of Galilee. How wonderful a place to pull the curtains and say "Good morning" or "Good night" to the world outside. And here I could spend time sitting on the balcony day-dreaming, meditating, projecting myself back two millennia. So this is peace. This is contentment. Embrace me with your quietude, oh sweet waters!

                In Tel Aviv I reached great heights - floor eight. Marvellous, I think, I can watch the sun setting over the Mediterranean. Bad thinking!! Some rather unimaginative architect had drawn the plans for my room to look East, away from the gentle sea breezes. And what do I see as a substitute? I see the tops of emerging sky-scrapers in the distance, the tops of tenement blocks and the dust and noise of a building site in the foreground.

                As King David of old, my eye ran over the flat roof tops, but apparently this was not the time for bathing. Even if it had been that evocative hour, the tops in my view allowed no room for roof-top bathing.

                Oh Dear! They seemed to be the depositories for unused, worn out and broken household stuff. I can imagine the householder below these flat-topped rooves thinking, " out of sight (up there on the roof) , out of mind." No, mate. Not out of sight of the visitor who pulls the hotel room curtain aside to see the blue Mediterranean. And I thought of my wife who is always agonising about my stores of treasures which may be of use some day. "Thank God we don't have flat roof tops," would be her immediate response to this Tel Aviv scene.

No space for a bath tub on the roof of this Tel Aviv apartment building.

Back to my friend Carol. "But how many stars?" she would want to know.

                "You know, Carol, there on my balcony overlooking the Sea of Galilee, with the clear sky above, I thought of Abraham (of Biblical fame) when the Lord took him outside and said," Look up at the heavens and count the stars - if indeed you can count them." I never yet have looked in a Michelin star chart to see if I've had a good night's sleep."

*  The name has been changed to protect the innocent.

Western wall, wailing wall

Wailing Wall

                Talking about walls....  No visit to Jerusalem would be complete without a visit to the Western (Wailing) Wall. Why, you may well ask. Assuming that I am a Hindu, or a Christian or an atheist, why should I want to visit the Wailing Wall? That's for Jews, isn't it? I must admit that I did visit this wall, but I didn't visit it as a follower of Judaism but as a Christian. Why? Merely because it was on our itinerary? Had it not been on the official listings, and our guide had not taken us there, would I still have visited it?

                And I didn't just view it from afar, but I took the time to go right up to it and touch it. So why, you may well ask again. By doing this, i.e. standing and touching the wall, did I experience some spiritual insight, some inner feeling that somehow I was closer to God?

                Many questions. And answers? All visitors must surely have their reasons for taking time out to see the wall and their answers would mostly depend on their religious position.  I venture to suggest that each person there would probably respect every individual's attitude towards this monument.

I paid my respects at the Western Wall.

The Western Wall (Wailing Wall) is really one part of the massive retaining wall structure that King Herod the Great had constructed around the Temple Mount to enlarge the flat top area. It was on this area that his great Temple complex was built. Looked at purely in this historical light it can be regarded simply as the visible part of an ancient, stone retaining wall. This in itself is interesting and grabs one's attention. That's what one of Jesus'  disciples had in mind when he said (in Mark 13:1), "Look Teacher! What massive stones! What magnificant buildings!" Today people can still wonder at the workmanship seen in the wall. To Judaism, however, these "massive stones" are more than just part of a retaining wall. They have deep religious significance. They are part of the religious experience of these people. Being close to the original site of the temple building many still perceive God's presence residing here, and this makes it a most important pilgrimage and prayer site. This is a place where these believers can come close to God's presence.

                This concept of a divine presence takes us to the heart of  how one perceives God. My understanding of a divine presence probably influenced my attitude towards the wall. I see God as a sacred presence not dwelling in a specific place but present everywhere. Remember the Psalmist who asks of God (Psalm 139: 7-10)? "Where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend into heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in hell, behold, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the utmost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me." 

                And the words of Paul in Athens, quoted by Luke in Acts 17:28 makes God's presence even more personal: "in him (i.e. God) we live and move and have our being."  So I can honestly say that I felt no closer to God here than at any other place or time when my thoughts turned "heavenward".

                While there I did see evidence of how many people regard the wall as a sort of divine post box. I saw firsthand the practice of placing prayers on paper and leaving them in the wall. Writing prayer points on pieces of paper and pushing them into cracks in the wall appears to be a cute custom to me and I read that more than one million pieces have to be removed yearly. My brief, silent prayer was not written down and left behind.

                Its importance to many was easily seen. How thrilling it was to see next to the so-called Wailing Wall, groups exhibiting the joy of religious belief. I am referring to the groups which were celebrating the bar mitzvah/ bat mitzvah of a family member. The square was packed with happy, carefree followers of their Lord, those who were dancing and singing for joy to the Lord.

                When I really think about it all, my attendance at the Western Wall was probably prompted by an interest in history, a curiosity as to the mature of those "massive stones" and a show of solidarity to those who regard the wall as something much more than inanimate stones. And yes, it was on our official itinerary.

Experiencing joy and excitement next to the Wailing Wall.

Israeli Walls

Don't fence me in

What is it with powerful people and walls? Take the recent example involving the U.S.

President-elect Donald Trump which the media enjoyed bringing to the attention of the world. Mr Trump stated during his candidacy announcement speech in 2015: "I will build a great wall - and nobody builds walls better than me, believe me - and I'll build them very inexpensively. I will build a great wall on the southern border, and I will make Mexico pay for that wall. Mark my words." Is he, and other wall builders, so blinkered by megalomania that they have not been able to see the lessons which history has to offer on "walls"?

Mr Trump wants  to keep people out of his country. I remember being in Berlin in the 1960s, a few years after the Berlin wall had been built. The East German leader, Walter Ulbricht, in collaboration with the Soviet President, Nikita Khrushchev, wanted to wall the people in. They wanted to stop the people leaving their homeland. They billed it as an Anti-Fascist Protection Wall to keep western influences out of communist East Germany. Few would disagree however that this Wall of Shame, as West Berlin's Mayor, Willy Brandt, called it, was purely to imprison the East Berliners. A name cannot hide an intent.

That wall lasted fewer than thirty years. The few bits and pieces that remain today attract some curious, history-orientated tourists, and serve as a reminder to the stupidity of attempting to imprison populations.

Admiring an eyesore in Berlin in the 1960s.

One could also argue that the Great Wall of China is experiencing, only recently, its main effect on China, many hundreds of years after its construction. And it is drawing people to the country as tourists rather than trying to deny them entry.

Walls seem to be built strongly into the psyche and written emphatically into the history of the people of Israel. It seems as though ever since the Israelites set foot into this area they have had a thing with walls. Around 1200 B.C. after crossing the Jordan River from Moab at the end of their desert wanderings they were confronted by the city of Jericho, the gateway to Canaan. And the city was surrounded by a wall.

To push on into Canaan, to their planned destination, they would have to move through Jericho territory. Jericho would have to be defeated to have this access. But it was heavily defended. Joshua, the Leader of the Israelites, lay siege to the city, as the writer of the Book of Joshua wrote (Joshua 6:1): " Now Jericho was tightly shut up  because of the Israelites. No one went out and no one came in."

We are not told how long the siege lasted because immediately following is the remarkable story of the walls of Jericho collapsing in the face of the Israelite processions. This surely should have been an indication to the Israelites that walls do not achieve their stated purpose. They represent merely an annoying impediment in the onward march of history.

Jerusalem also has often been defined by walls. It is interesting how today archaeologists are endeavouring to determine the exact location of the various walls in Jerusalem's history - the first wall, the second wall, the Turkish wall, the third wall. None of these, history enlightens, was able to achieve its primary purpose. Yes, they all came tumbling down.

Now driving through these ancient biblical lands one again can see walls being erected. What an unsightly structure was seen when passing from the Palestinian lands around Bethlehem to Jewish Israel. How can a six metre high blight on the landscape be justified? This was the Israeli West Bank Separation Barrier. It was being built, as those in power claim, as security against attack by Palestinians extremists. Others have called it an Apartheid Wall, a segregation wall. Is Israel creating a ghetto for itself? Not only will it be a 700 kilometre monstrosity running through the countryside, many in the world see it as a blight on the integrity of the Israeli nation.

History tells us that it also will not fulfil its purpose.

Mr Netanyahu, tear down those walls! Make friends and not enemies.

A separation wall in Israel