Up into the Golan

Upon arrival in Israel, my companions for my final week here expressed their reservation for travelling anywhere much beyond the Church of the Beatitudes/Capernaum – completely understandably, given how much of a 'hot' area this part of Israel has been in recent troubles. During my first stint in Jerusalem way in back in the last days of January, I met with the Guide who was with me on one of my previous Pilgrimages to the Holy Land – Sa’id. He mentioned that, as I was spending a little more time than usual up in the Galilee, it would be good to visit the Golan Heights as it is a beautiful area…. but to check with someone local as to what the situation was.

Having driven around the Sea of Galilee on our first day – and seen just how beautiful it was – one of the party (I shall not reveal which!) surprised us other two by suggesting it would be good to journey up into the Golan to explore the area. I checked with one of the staff at the hotel and he said it had been very peaceful for a while (he then said two weeks, which didn’t sound like ‘a while’ to us J ) and so, after our jolly sail on the Sea of Galilee) off we went.

The Golan Heights are beautiful – absolutely beautiful. The views across the mountains and valleys are breath-taking and, as with the whole of Palestine and Israel as I have journeyed this last month, the snow and rain means that the Spring flowers are out and the place is ‘alive’ in a way that the arid months of Summer belie as possible.

Gamla Nature Reserve is set high above the North-Eastern area of the Sea of Galilee and is reached via a long and winding road (to quote a well-known song) along which every part of the scenery one can see is a delight. I should add that the route takes you alongside some military zones with tanks strewn here and there to adorn the horizon. We were ‘amused’ to note the plan of the park advised that there were landmines alongside the paths, as well as military firing zones. These were, of course, not areas into which we strayed…

The day was sunny, the tanks were way behind and off we set along a path that was bordered by wild blue Lupins and small purple Iris. It was so quiet as we set off – with just the call of a very few

birds to accompany our first steps. (I have no idea what the birds were, alas, as I could only hear them, not see them.)

The Park is home to the Gamla Falls – an 80 metre waterfall that thunders down from a very small stream that has meandered its way across the hills. You can hear nothing of the falls until you are almost on top of them. Ahead of reaching, all is silent except form the occasional singing of the birds along the pathway. There is delightful moment though at the point at which one walks over the crest of the top of the ravine when the ‘air’ bursts into life with the sound of an array of creatures - frogs/toads, unrecognisable creature sounds that added to the cacophony. Cows in the distance mooed and I am sure there was a sheep calling too – although it probably was a toad! The sounds of the creatures gave way to the babbling of the stream at the head of the waterfall, and then there came the sound of the waterfall itself. The viewing platform for the waterfall was a further 100 metres or so, and already we had walked a good thirty minutes. By this time I was becoming impatient. Much to the bemusement (amusement?) of one of my companions, I have never seen a waterfall before and I was really wanting to see my first! I had seen rivers of water cascading down the hills of Skye and the mountains of the Highlands of Scotland some years ago whilst driving ahead of a tremendous storm during which the roads that I was driving along were being closed behind me. Stunning as these were, I didn’t think they counted as the real thing (I was going to write McCoy, but that seemed too obvious a descriptor!)

So after the silence there came the cacophony of wildlife that made me laugh and smile with delight at the suddenness of appearance and range of sounds, and the initial sound of the babbling and thundering water, but then there was silence again as we headed over the rise of the other side of the gorge-head until we reached the viewing platform where the sound was tremendous. It was a stunning sight on a beautiful day, and the view down the valley, as the narrow gorge spread out ahead of us was lovely too.

Only in Palestine and Israel have I had so many conversations about football though.

When we arrived at the viewing platform a family was there, the father of whom was taking a few minutes to meditate to the powerful sound of the crashing water. I didn’t notice him at first as he was laying on the edge of the platform wall. When he sat up, we got into conversation that ranged over my travels, what it was that drew me back to this land… and his favourite football team – Arsenal. I know nothing about football – but he did. His sons love it and play regularly, he is a football coach and he watches football every Saturday afternoon (I didn’t think Jews were allowed to watch football, or do anything, on Saturday afternoons – but maybe it depends on Orthodox/Liberal they are?) This was another of those delightfully surprising moments and conversations that have filled the time that I have been in Palestine and Israel.

-          I am from Britain so I must follow football (I don’t!)

-          I have visited a number of times so there must be something that draws me back (there is).

-          London is a place that many people have either visited (and loved) or wish to visit because they know people who are there or they have seen it and it looks like a good place to visit (it is).

After Gamla we headed up to explore more if this part of Israel – heading towards Golan Winery (we weren’t overly taken with it) the Archaeological Museum where we saw a film that explained the fate of the inhabitants of Gamla many hundreds of years ago when faced with the might of the attacking Romans. It was a community with immense foresight that built its settlement clinging to the side of the ridge as it provided a marvellous defence, alas, the inhabitants ultimately fell to the might of the incoming conquerors of the land. Mass suicide was the route taken to avoid death at the hands of the invading forces – a tragic end to a community that lived in such a beautiful place.

Apparently, the FCO website advised that those exploring the Golan Heights should stay to the west of Route 98 (to the east is Syria) and remain at least 5km away from the border with Lebanon. This we dutifully did but, as we enjoyed the peace and beauty of this part of Israel, we could not help but comment – a good number of times – that not so many miles away, just over the peaks of a few mountains, the lives of so many people are being ravaged by both the political machinations of various regimes and the ongoing march of IS into various regions and lands.

Whilst we gave thanks for the beauty and the flowers and the lush greenery, prayer was offered for those who simply cannot enjoy any of these for they are facing the struggle to stay alive and remain safe in changing and challenging times.

Travelling in the Golan Heights, as with all the travelling over the past month, has made me realise more fully that this is a region of religious devotion that, for some, merges into a fervour that leads to fanaticism. I am a committed person of faith (although sometimes I doubt and question too – but I think (really I know) this is a good thing). I understand that there is a place where devotion to God is so passionate and so heartfelt that it overcomes all else – I have felt it in moments of prayer and worship. The desire for the annihilation of others who do not share my religion is not entirely within my grasp though but, as my father used to say, There but for the grace of God go I. My prayer for this land we call holy and the lands around it has increased in depth of understanding and, whilst I pray that God has it in her/his sights, I pray too that the people who seek for might and rule in this region of our lovely world may seek first the grace of the God we children of Abraham of worship, and that this grace will give way to a love for all humanity rather than a sense of despising those who do not share their views or way of worship.

The prayer for peace is deep and heartfelt today.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God

I have visited the Galilee three times – with this visit being the fourth. My view over the Sea of Galilee (also called the Sea of Tiberias and Kenneserat) has always been across from west to east. When the sun is shining the colour of water is a stunning blue - with the colours of sunrises being mirrored perfectly in still waters of mornings. Today the morning was misty and the water, perfectly calm and still, reflected back the more hazy view of the hills and mountains on the eastern shore.

Yesterday brought into view a different way of seeing the distant hills (some 12 kilometres across the water) as I journeyed in the car with my travelling companions right around the water’s circumference. Journeying south from Tiberias we swung round the bottom of the Lake and made our way north on the other side. The hills on this side are covered with what seemed a very different kind of foliage and fauna and appeared much less rocky to view – covered in green more densely that the eastern shore. How lovely to view the hills and mountains I love to gaze upon so much more closely. The love I feel for this place, and the sense of both gift and grace to be able to visit, pray and ‘be’ here, continue to grow. On previous visits, as we have made our way up the Jordan Valley, my mind and heart have always turned to Psalm 121, and so they have done so again during these past days.

On looking at the map, there was a small site on the eastern shore called Kursi. Discovered quite by accident when the road that we were driving on was being constructed, there are the remains the Byzantine era ‘Church of the Gadarenes’. The Church gives testimony to the miracle of the casting out of the demon (called Legion) into the pigs who then ran down the hill and cast themselves into the Lake. As it is on the far side of the Sea of Galilee, it is rarely visited by Pilgrim groups and this was to our advantage as we only saw two other people there the whole of our visit.

The remains of the church are more than in some places, and the mosaics that remain on the floor of the Church are quite beautiful. Bizarrely, there is an olive press in what would have been the North Aisle which, I imagine would not have been there when the Church was in use! (I couldn’t help thinking though, what an interesting on-the-side business it would be to be able to produce your own olive oil on-site or, even better, to have a wine press and produce wine!)

Up on the side of the hill there is a Chapel which is on the site of where the pigs were gathered (of which the miracle tells us there were two thousand) and this gives wonderful views across to the western shores of the Lake – albeit in the haze of the morning today.

This visit was a lovely way to begin our day of exploration of the ‘Lakeside Churches’, reading and recalling the miracles and words of Jesus as he carried out his ministry in this place. It is always so moving to be in the place where Jesus walked, taught, healed, listened, loved and revealed God’s  compassion.

As we continued our drive around the northern shore of the Lake to visit Capernaum, Tabgha, the Mount of the Beatitudes and the place of Peter’s Primacy – in addition to the Orthodox Church of the Twelve Apostles (which I had never been to before) we remarked several times that we were close to the border with Syria. The hotel we are staying in and the places were visiting today are closer to Damascus than they are to Jerusalem and, whilst all is calm and safe here, we were conscious that for people not so far away across the borders live lives that are, sadly, a far cry from being safe and calm. It is, in some ways, sadly ironic that we visited the Church of the Beatitudes where we saw the words of the Beatitudes rendered in various written forms. Of course, one of the Beatitudes is Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God. As I read this, I was so conscious of the people who are not peacemakers. On a small and local scale, these people are those who seek to argue or act as ‘devil’s advocate’ when it is completely unnecessary – thus creating anxiety and tension where there need be none. On a larger scale, it is groups who seek to gain power and/or regime change at the expense of the lives and freedom of others – be that through hostage-taking, human trafficking, sex trafficking, drugs, illegal arms trading. And then there are the nations who ‘rage so furiously’ as they strive to gain supremacy, authority, financial gain, military might, oil, business… in all of these situations – local, national, international, global – there are, sadly, very few peacemakers – real peacemakers for whom it is not ‘peace at all costs’ but rather, peace simply for the sake of peace. For this peace gives liberty and freedom, not freedom to ‘do as you like’ but a greater freedom – the freedom to live a life that is free from anxiety, tension, fear and oppression.

For those not so far away from us here who have been captured or tortured, forced to renounce their faith, flee their homes or even murdered, the prayer for peace cannot be long enough or deep enough. It is a prayer that needs the will of people to bring it to pass though – and for this we need peacemakers. May the peoples of the world seek and find those who can seek peace, those who can speak peace and those who can keep peace.

Visual delights to start the day

With no particular focus for today, l made my way through the Zion Gate this morning. It is so easy to pass by the importance of that statement. I made my way through the Zion Gate. The place where I am staying is on Mount Zion. We read of this place countless times in the Scriptures – both Hebrew and Christian. It is a place of great importance for it was here that David captured Jerusalem from the Jebusites and realised that God had given the land into the hands of the Israelites (2 Sam 5:7). In the grounds of the place where I am staying are the steps upon which Jesus is believed to have walked leading up the hill away from the Kidron Valley. On Mount Zion stands the Dormition Abbey where Mary is held to have ‘fallen asleep’ and ascended to heaven (although it is also possible to visit the Tomb of the Virgin Mary where she is buried, here in Jerusalem, in addition to seeing The House of Mary in Turkey, where she is believed to have lived out her days with St John! To cover all bases, I've been to all three...) For thousands of years this Mountain has been of importance to God’s people, and it remains so today.

With no particular focus for today, l made my way through the Zion Gate this morning.

The places explored across the five or so hours of walking took in all the four areas of the City: Armenian, Jewish, Christian and Muslim. I discovered myself in the Jewish area by accident and so, out of respect for the Sabbath, made my way away from it. It was my sense of circumspection rather than anything else... how weird am I?!

The walk through the Gate took me initially past the Cathedral of St James. I was actually looking for the Mardigian Museum which I was told by the entrance keeper to the church had been closed for three years (for those who like a smile, check this out!) My Library copy of Dorling Kindersley’s book is not all that up to date then (2012 Edition - should have checked the website!) He told me I could go into the church – which I thought was only open between 6-730 in the morning (no chance of me getting there at the moment, I’m still on UK time!) In the courtyard that leads into the church itself, there was one of the most joyful depictions of Mary and the Infant Christ that I have ever seen. It was such a lovely image with which to start the day.

 
There are beautiful mosaics beyond the gates (which were firmly locked, alas). Beautiful mosaics and images is a hallmark of this City, all of which sit alongside the challenge of religion and politics. It's a confusing place.

Drifting on from there I came across the iron steps that lead you up to ‘A Walk on the Roofs’ where you do, quite literally, walk on the rooftops – mainly above the souk, but also above homes, churches, synagogues and mosques. There were bicycles up there, children playing, families making their way over the rooftops – as it was a much easier route than the busy, winding streets below. From the rooftops you can see across to the surrounding hills, but up close it is a fantastic mess of satellite dishes (no planning permission required, obviously!), make-shift covers to stop the rain getting into the souk below, a playground, some smartly covered areas of flooring with other area that are quite dangerous if you don’t mind where you step. There are many nooks and crannies – one of which I followed – finding myself, quite unexpectedly, on a veranda overlooking the Western Wall (previously known as the Wailing Wall). I was soon joined by some young Jewish boys, and an older Jewish gentleman. They didn’t seem to mind me being there and, whilst I have valued immensely the privilege of praying alongside Jews and Christians at the Wall on previous visits (usually for peace in this City of Jerusalem) it felt right on this occasion to be at a distance – praying, watching, waiting, remaining, hoping.

And so I moved on… down a staircase, briefly into the souk, and then out into the Muristan area where I spent a while listening to a guitarist playing beautifully soul-full music. It was lovely here, away from the crowds for a while…

With no particular focus for today, l made my way through the Zion Gate this morning. It was a good morning – with more to follow… which will follow in a later entry as this one is far too long already!