Sunday began with a morning visit to the City of David, an archaeological site and open-air museum located just outside the walls of the Old City, adjacent to the Kidron Valley. The origins of the City of David go back 3000 years, to the time when the young king conquered the Jebusite city of Jerusalem, unified the tribes of Israel, and made Jerusalem his capital. Excavation is still going on, but there is much for visitors to see. A modern sculpture of a harp, or lyre, the musical instrument associated with David marks the entrance to the site. Looking to the north, you can see the steps that led from David’s city to the Temple Mount. The remains of several mikves (ritual baths) have been uncovered, a reminder that people had to cleanse themselves before entering the area of the Temple.
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| Entrance to the City of David |
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| Looking north from the City of David to the Temple Mount |
Our focus on the history of Jerusalem continued at the Israel Museum, where we viewed a huge model of the city as it looked in the year 66CE, during the Second Temple period. At that time, the ancient city was more than twice the size of the Old City today.
The collections of the Israel Museum are so extensive that an hour or so is woefully inadequate. After viewing the model of Jerusalem, I used my time to look at the Dead Sea scrolls exhibit in the Shrine of the Book. I knew that in a few days, our group would be visiting Qumran, where the scrolls had been found. I’ll tell you more about that in a future post.
After the museum visit, I set out on my own for a visit to Hadassah Medical Center’s campus in Ein Kerem. Many people know of the Chagall windows at Hadassah Hospital. However, relatively few people are aware of the history of the organization and the scope of its important work.
Hadassah is an international volunteer organization that was started in the early 20thcentury by Henrietta Szold, a Jewish American woman, after she visited Palestine and saw the appalling conditions the new immigrants faced. There was a nearly complete lack of basic health care. Szold was especially troubled by the high rate of infant mortality. When she returned to the U.S., she decided to put her Jewish values into action by organizing women to raise money to provide emergency care for infants and mothers.
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| I passed by this photo as I walked through the corridors of the hospital. |
Hadassah, the organization Szold founded, dedicated itself to bringing the highest level of medical care to the Middle East. It went on to start clinics, treatment hospitals, medical and nursing schools, and research facilities. Today, Hadassah has two world-class medical centers in Jerusalem (Mount Scopus and Ein Kerem), where patients from around the world receive care without regard to religion, nationality, race or income and where researchers develop pioneering treatments for diseases such as diabetes, multiple sclerosis, macular degeneration, and more.
Over the years, Hadassah has expanded its role in Israel, funding a variety of educational programs for immigrants and at-risk youth. And its work isn’t confined to the Middle East. Hadassah doctors and nurses routinely travel to less developed countries to provide medical care and to train local practitioners. When disasters occur anywhere in the world, Hadassah is among the first organizations to respond. In the United States, Hadassah supports programs aimed at advancing women’s health and wellbeing. Because of its long history of humanitarian work, Hadassah has even been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.
I was fortunate to have arranged in advance for a private guided tour of the sprawling campus, which is like a small city. In fact, when the taxi driver dropped me off, I thought for a minute that I couldn’t be in the right place. It looked like I was in a busy urban shopping mall. But by following signs, going up and down escalators, and walking through multiple corridors, I made my way to the medical center’s soaring main lobby and the office where my guide was waiting for me.
In addition to having a chance to study the twelve beautiful Chagall windows in the hospital’s synagogue, I visited several other parts of the medical center. As we walked from one area to another, I couldn’t help noticing the cross-section of society. From women in hijabs to ultra-Orthodox men in tall fur hats, all are welcomed at Hadassah. We went up into the Tower, to see patient floors. As soon as we stepped off the elevator, we were in a wide open space with floor to ceiling windows looking out into a peaceful scene of nature. Each floor in the Tower provides this type of tranquil refuge for patients and their families.
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| Rest and reflection areas like this one are on each floor of the Tower. |
At the entrance to the emergency center, we encountered two medical clowns whose job it is to put younger patients at ease. Like the hospital’s operating rooms, the state of the art trauma facilities are located underground because of security concerns. In the event of an attack, they can continue functioning without interruption. There’s even a set of special doors that can seal off the area from chemical weapons.
I was very impressed with the Children’s Pavilion. First of all, there was no antiseptic “hospital smell.” My guide explained that Hadassah scientists had invented an odor-free antiseptic soap in order to make the pediatric patients feel more at ease. The patient-centered approach could also be seen in the color and animal coding that makes it possible for the youngest patients to find their way around. Palestinian and Jewish families mingled in the waiting area. In fact, 30% of the patients in the Children’s Pavilion are Palestinian.
I was thrilled to see all that Hadassah has done and is continuing to do, and I felt an even deeper commitment to this extraordinary organization, of which I’m a life member. I only wish others in my OAT group had been able to join me for this tour.
The uplifting experience at Hadassah Ein Kerem was in stark contrast to the sobriety of the next morning’s visit to Yad Vashem. If there’s one place in Israel that’s always on the agenda for visiting foreign dignitaries, it would be Israel’s official memorial to the victims of the Shoah (the Hebrew word for the Holocaust). The Yad Vashem complex includes a history museum, art gallery, library, learning center, school for Holocaust studies, and landscaped outdoor areas as well as archives housing the world’s largest collection of Holocaust-related documentary material.
We began our visit with a walk down the Avenue of the Righteous Among the Nations and into the Garden of the Righteous Among the Nations, where trees have been planted and plaques have been engraved to honor the memory of those Gentiles who risked their lives to save Jews during the Holocaust.
Visitors to Yad Vashem’s History Museum walk through a tunnel-like entrance into the thoughtfully designed underground exhibit space where photos, artifacts, video, and text expose visitors first to pre-Holocaust Jewish life across Europe, and then to the systematic destruction of the Jewish community. The story of the tragic events is told in a heart-wrenchingly effective manner. The lack of natural light in the exhibit space underscores the darkness of this chapter in human history. Finally, after passing through the chronology of the Holocaust, visitors emerge into an open space filled with abundant natural light and a sweeping view of the outside world.
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| Yad Vashem: the view upon exiting the History Museum's exhibit space |
Next, we visited the Children’s Memorial, dedicated to the memory of the 1.5 million Jewish children who lost their lives in the Holocaust. As we walked through in the total darkness, photos appeared like stars in the sky, accompanied by voices stating the names, ages and nationalities of the murdered children. The emotional impact was extremely powerful.
Afterwards, in the learning center, we spent about an hour listening to an elderly woman named Berthe describe her experiences as a young Jewish child living in France during the Nazi occupation. Although her parents were deported to the camps where they died, Berthe survived the Holocaust thanks to the selfless kindness of a Gentile family who took her into their home.
We left Yad Vashem in a sober frame of mind. But a well-timed stop at the Machne Yehuda Market helped dispel the gloom. The market brings together the entirety of Jerusalem’s diverse population: Arabs and Jews, religious and secular, rich and poor. While some members of our group headed to the restaurants, bars, and ice cream parlors, I was content to wander through the aisles where vendors displayed fish, breads, olives, fruits and vegetables, halva, spices, teas, and sweets. Even the display of kippot (yarmulkes) looked delicious.
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| I thought these kippot were a feast for the eyes. |
Several stands were already offering sufganiyot, the special treat associated with the upcoming holiday Hanukkah. It’s a big ball of fried dough, something like a jelly doughnut. However, much to my disappointment, there’s just a tiny dab of jelly inside.
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| Genuine Israeli sufganiyot for Hanukkah |
At least I still had an appetite for dinner. That evening, our group had been invited to share a meal with a haredi (ultra-Orthodox) family at their home in a residential area of Jerusalem. It was dark when we arrived at the modern low-rise apartment building so I didn’t get a good look at the surroundings. Alon told us that the residents of the neighborhood were almost exclusively ultra-Orthodox.
Our hosts, a very attractive young couple still in their twenties, welcomed us into their book-lined dining room. Sitting at a long table, we passed around bowls of salad and potatoes, and ladled out portions of cholent, a long-cooking stew that observant Jews generally eat for lunch on Shabbat. Its main ingredients are beef, beans and grains. To be honest, it was my first time eating this Eastern European Jewish dish.
We had a lot of questions for the haredi couple about their lifestyle, especially about the roles of men and women. We learned that it’s traditional in the haredi community for the men to spend their days (and much of their evenings) studying Torah and Talmud at a school called a yeshiva. It’s the woman’s responsibility to the family financially, and as well as to care for the home and the children.
Since ultra-Orthodox families tend to be quite large (8-10 children in a family isn’t uncommon), I can only imagine how burdensome this would be for the woman. However, the arrangement seemed quite natural and acceptable our hostess, who cares for the family’s four young children while working as a counselor for adolescents in the community. Like all ultra-Orthodox women, she was dressed modestly (fully covered arms, legs and shoulders) and wore a wig over her own hair. (Another option is to cover the hair completely with a scarf or hat.) As you might expect, this couple’s marriage was arranged.
Our haredi hosts made it clear that they want to prevent their children from coming into contact with the outside world. They send their children to boys’ or girls’ Orthodox schools. In the boys’ schools, the curriculum stresses religious subjects over science, math, and history. They also mentioned that neither they nor their children use cell phones or the Internet.
This attitude shed some light on the issue of compulsory military service, which is required of all Israeli boys and girls at the age of 18. At the present time, however, ultra-Orthodox boys are exempt from serving. The haredi political parties support this exemption but it has become quite a controversial issue in recent years. Based on our dinner table discussion, it seems that the ultra-Orthodox community is concerned that if the young men served in the military, they would come into contact with soldiers who had cell phones and Internet access. As we said farewell, I thought to myself how difficult it would be for me to cope with such an extreme and insular lifestyle.
The following morning, on our way out of Jerusalem, we made a stop on the Mount of Olives, in the garden of Gethsemene. According to Christian tradition, the garden, with its grove of olive trees, is the spot of Christ’s betrayal. Gethsemene means olive press, and the oil from the trees was used for anointing kings. Alon told us that some of the trees were over 1000 years old.
A 4thcentury Byzantine church once stood adjacent to the garden. However, the church that now stands there is much more modern, except for its ancient mosaic floor. Known as The Church of All Nations, the neo-classical structure was built in the early 20thcentury with funds donated from several different countries. When we pointed out the deer at the top of the façade, Alon noted that they refer to a passage in the Book of Psalms – roughly, “My soul yearns for you (G-d) like a deer yearns for running streams.”
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| The Byzantine mosaic floor in the church |
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| Looking up to the Old City walls from the church on the Mount of Olives |
It isn’t an exaggeration to say that Jerusalem is a city like none other in the world. Five days wasn’t nearly enough time. I already have a list of places I’d like to visit if I’m ever fortunate enough to return to Jerusalem. While I was in Israel, I read Karen Armstrong’s excellent book, Jerusalem: One City, Three Faiths, which I highly recommend. It greatly enhanced my understanding of all I saw.
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| Near the Old City, but much more modern - notice how hilly Jerusalem is. |
Of course, as much as I loved Jerusalem, I was also looking forward to our next destination, the Dead Sea.
