On previous returns to the USA we had used South African Airways (SAA) from Johannesburg to Houston to New York. Sanctions against South African had made that option less appealing and more expensive. Our last few trips had been on KLM Dutch Airways connecting from Johannesburg to to Amsterdam and to New York. For this trip, there was a new option that would take us from Johannesburg to Tel Aviv and on to New York via El Al, Israel’s national airline.
We flew into Tel Aviv as Pegi was 33 weeks pregnant. We would spend a week touring Israel and then continue to New York. That would be her 34th week—the limit of eligibility to fly internationally.
I had considered moving to Israel to serve in the IDF in the early 1970s before Pegi and I married in 1976. [See 23 — Honeymooning in a War Zone). I had abandoned that idea when I realized that my current involvement in Christianity would not go over well in Israel.
We landed in Tel Aviv in May of 1986 one year before the First Intifada which brought a wave of terror bombings from December 1987 until September 1993. Israel had emerged from the ruins of the Holocaust and the founding struggles after 1948-49, the Suez Crisis of 1956, the 7 Day War of 1967, the Yom Kippur War of 1973 and the Entebbe Raid of 1976 as a fertile and vital nation. Jews had called this land their home since Abraham had been directed there by God in the 19th century BCE. But with two major expulsions by foreign empires in the 6th century BCE and 1st century CE, the surviving indigenous Jewish population was a small and politically insignificant minority.
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries there was a small but steady return of Jews mostly from Eastern Europe as a result of increasing antisemitism and community wide persecutions. When Hitler and his engineered Holocaust resulting in the death of 6 million Jews (almost one-half of the world Jewish population) had been crushed, waves of European Jewish survivors sought return the land that had been home for almost 4000 years.
To experience the emerging modern nation made up of Jews who had returned from over 100 nations was an eye-opening experience. Pegi and I thought that we had found meaning and purpose serving the God in southern Africa and fully expected to return to our work there, but there was something speaking to our hearts about Israel that was even more powerful. We didn’t quite know what to make of all of this then. Looking back however, my Jewish identity was beginning to awaken. From that “7 days in May” was another significant event that would frame our future. [See chapters 4-12 for the first 7 days in May.]
We checked in to the Sheraton on the beach in Tel Aviv to rest up after the long trip that started with a 12-hour drive from Harare to Johannesburg, South Africa followed by a 10-hour flight to Ben Gurion airport outside Tel Aviv. Modern Tel Aviv was a stunning city that rivaled anything we had seen in our travels. The Sheraton was a five-star hotel overlooking the the beach and the blue mediterranean waters.
After changing out of our wilted travel clothes, we took the elevator up to the rooftop restaurant. The maitre d’ asked what type of dining we preferred — handing us a couple of menus. I selected a juicy hamburger from the beef offerings. I was hungry for a really good hamburger. The beef in Zimbabwe was great, but you couldn’t find a good hamburger anywhere in southern Africa. Since Sheraton was an American-based hotel, I figured that they would have something more like what I was hungering for. Pegi, at almost 34-weeks, selected from the “dairy” side of the menu saying she wanted something lighter. The maitre d’ frowned and said that meant we would each be sitting in different sections of the restaurant. I had forgotten that Israeli restaurants would follow kashrut (kosher) guidelines. We opted for the front of the menu with both of us selecting meat options—so we could sit together!
The next morning, we rented a car to tour Israel on our own. I didn’t like organized tours—I still don’t. As you can tell from just about every chapter in this story, I like to find my own way—discovering things for myself before fully embracing them. Our exploration took us to Jerusalem and the Jewish Quarter where we had falafel for the first time. We did end up accepting help in the old city from an Israeli who offered to show us around. After about 30 minutes with him, we found out that he was a tour guide and we were now his clients. So, he wasn’t just being nice—he was engaging in his regular business. It was only as he was leaving us at the Western Wall that he revealed that he was expecting to be paid. We negotiated a reasonable payment of US$20 which he was happy to get rather than Israeli shekels, although he gave us the impression that he normally got more!
After he left us, we explored some shops and found ourselves at a large gate guarded by two Israeli soldiers. It was an entrance to the Temple Mount/Al Aqsa Mosque plaza. The guards saw that we were obviously tourists and said, “It’s okay. You can come in!” So, we did! They obviously didn’t think that we were Orthodox Jews who would not walk on the former Temple grounds. I was unaware of this Rabbinic prohibition at the time. After all, I was Jewish by birth, not education. There were innumerable customs of which I was unaware in Jewish practice. And I was totally ignorant of Muslim beliefs and practices. This was two decades before I would begin my studies of world religions and my PhD.
We climbed the stairs that led to the plaza which was virtually empty that time of day. As we wandered around trying to imagine where the various buildings of the Temple complex would have stood, we held hands as we normally did in public. Pegi was in the late stages of her pregnancy and we were alone and in a very strange place. It was natural then that Pegi would cling a bit more strongly under the circumstances. As we were preparing to exit the plaza, I saw a man gesturing at me frantically and shouting something I couldn’t make out. I assumed that were walking somewhere that we shouldn’t. We approached him since he was near the exit and he continued to gesture and shout at us.
I finally understood as he shouted, “You must not hold hands! This is a holy place. You defile it by touching a woman!”
I replied, “It’s okay, she is my wife.”
He shouted even louder as he drew closer, “I don’t care if she is your sister! You can’t touch a woman in this holy place!”
Then he reached out to try and pull our hands apart. This made Pegi hold my hand more securely. I explained that we were leaving, refusing to allow him to pull us apart. He kept screaming at us until we exited through the gate. Interestingly the guards who had invited us in were nowhere to be seen.
The man who had reprimanded us was undoubtedly a Muslim. And we were defiling the second most sacred place in Islam. We didn’t mean to offend. We were just totally ignorant of local beliefs and customs. It would only be years later when I realized the offense we had given him. Thank goodness he didn’t know of my Jewish descent. We could have stirred up and real hornet’s nest:
- After all, I was a descendant of Abraham’s son Isaac whose mother was Sarah. Muslims trace their spiritual heritage to Ishmael—Abraham’s son by Hagar. Strike one!
- I was a Christian, therefore an idolater. Strike two for Muslims and Jews!
- I was an American tourist. Strike three!
- Potential Breaking News: Apostate Jewish-American member of Christian cult sparks tensions on sacred Temple Mount.
I guess it was a good thing that he probably recognized we were simply ignorant tourists. And we were!
We decided we had seen enough of the Old City. We had hotel reservations in Tiberius on the sea of Galilee. We spread out the road map of Israel that we had been provided by the car rental agency. It showed two main roads leading to Tiberius:
- We could drive back to Tel Aviv and follow the coastal road along the Mediterranean toward Haifa and then east to Tiberius.
- We could drive straight north out of Jerusalem and take the road through the Judean hill-country into Tiberius. I reasoned that it would be the most biblically scenic route.
It hadn’t occurred to me that we would traveling through the heart of the West Bank Palestinian Territories. There were no checkpoints or signage that I saw marking off this territory in 1986. This was a year before the 1st Intifada began. We just followed taxis and limos as they had proceeded down the road. I was concerned that there had been no highway number signs or street names in view. There were just the occasional signs pointing to Nazareth. I guessed that maybe this was deliberate with potential enemies on every border and dismissed my worries. But, I had not considered the rough mountain roads and the discomfort Pegi would endure as pregnant as she was!
We came to a fork in the road where there was a sign pointing to the left for Nazareth. Yet, all the taxis and limos went right. I decided to follow the sign to Nazareth which we later discovered was misplaced and pointing the wrong way! We went to the left and found ourselves approaching some small farms. The main road we were on had all kinds of rocks and boulders obstructing it. We turned off onto a side road to one of the farms—really small farming plots each the size of a football field. I saw some workers and asked them if they spoke English. One person responded. I told him we were lost and he gave us directions back to the fork in the road telling us the correct road had been to the right. “You should just follow the traffic!” I thanked him and we were on our way.
After a long and bumpy drive, we arrived exhausted at our quaint 4-floor hotel in Tiberius. It was the middle east and the temperature was almost 90 degrees. We had booked an air-conditioned room, but instead of an air-conditioner, there was a hole in the wall where and air-conditioner had been! Apparently it was out for repair. The front desk said that it was the only room left! So, we checked-out and drove to a nearby modern hotel that overlooked the water.
This hotel was at least 15 floors and had all the modern amenities. We rode the elevator to our room which was already comfortably chilled. It was just like what we had experienced in the Sheraton in Tel Aviv. We were ready for a meal and a good night’s sleep! However, it was about 5:00 pm on a Friday which meant that the hotel kitchen was already closed for Shabbat. All room service could offer us was vanilla ice cream. Well, at least the ice cream would be cold!
Nevertheless, we needed something more nourishing than ice cream. We had experienced a similar experience when we first arrived in Rhodesia in 1976. [See chapter 24 - “Two eggs Boss? You sure?” https://confessionsofawanderingjew.blogspot.com/2009/03/two-eggs-boss-you-sure.html]. So, we took a walk along the lake where we found a Christian-owned restaurant still open that served fish—probably expecting to see other hungry tourists.
I really don’t remember what we did the next day or the remainder of our car tour, except stopping to pick up an Israeli soldier at a bus stop. He was heading back south to the Tel Aviv area on leave from his national service. He didn’t speak any English, but it was reassuring having him with us to give us directions back along the coastal route! Oh yeah, there was a stop to see the archaeological remains of Jericho where we found a petrol station where we found our favorite South Africa beverage, Appletizer (carbonated apple juice). And, there was the kosher hotdog stand outside Tel Aviv—yummy!
Here I was, a Jew in Israel for the first time and I only remember ignorant mistakes I made and the food we ate! I really had very little idea of Jewish life. What I did know was the the reality of the Shema:
שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ יְהוָה אֶחָד׃
Sh'ma Yisra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.
Hear, Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.
בָּרוּךְ שֵׁם כְּבוֹד מַלְכוּתוֹ לְעוֹלָם וָעֶד
Barukh sheim k’vod malkhuto l’olam va’ed
Blessed be the Name of His glorious kingdom for ever and ever.
[And the rest in English]
And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might. And these words which I command you today shall be upon your heart. You shall teach them thoroughly to your children, and you shall speak of them when you sit in your house and when you walk on the road, when you lie down and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign upon your hand, and they shall be for a reminder between your eyes. And you shall write them upon the doorposts of your house and upon your gates.
I didn’t know it at the time, but the next major life event would trigger the rediscovery of my Jewish soul — the birth of Abigail.
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