Questions in Israel

After my first and hopefully not last visit to Israel, I can safely say it is God8217;s own country. A clicheacute; for sure but as most clicheacute;s are often accurate and true, this is the best way I can describe Israel.

After my first and hopefully not last visit to Israel, I can safely say it is God8217;s own country. A clicheacute; for sure but as most clicheacute;s are often accurate and true, this is the best way I can describe Israel.

We did a whirlwind tour that had us discover a myriad of miracles in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv and areas around, leaving us sometimes emotionally drained to mouth-opening awe. My first flirtation however was not quite so enthralling. I was detained at the airport and questioned several times about my identity and whether I had any Muslim blood sic.

After visiting the Holocaust museum and the Children8217;s Memorial, the persecution against Jews seemed more cold-blooded than I had ever realised and I understood that life had not been beautiful at all 60 years ago and sadly not even now. Extremely agitated, I could feel my heart thumping like a percussionist beating on bongos. I learnt that it was a horrendous and torturous fantasy of a German doctor to inject the TB virus into children and then ruthlessly wipe out any remains, leaving not a trace of proof. This is one of the least harmful acts; the others are blood curling.

We saw the Dead Sea Scrolls that gave us the teachings of the Bible, the 14 stages of Christ, from being condemned to death to where his body lay in a tomb. The Wailing Wall beneath and the Jewish/Muslim/Christian/Armenian quarters make Jerusalem the king of all cities.

The markets were lively and the falafel delicious. King Herod8217;s Masada Fort was architectural genius. Floating in the Dead Sea with a mud pack and a pre-sulphur bath was psychosomatically therapeutic. Watching Zubin Mehta conduct his much loved Israel Philharmonic Puccini8217;s Turendot a pleasant windfall. We made it to Haifa to see the beautiful Bahai shrine, the Golan heights and even fit in Nazareth.

I stayed the night in Tiberias with the most spectacular view of the Galilee. After all the delicious Israeli wine, I was tempted to try my luck in the sea but what with my alarming consumption of kosher meat I knew I would most certainly sink.

The two places during my trip however have left me with a lot of unanswered questions, and sadly some can never be answered. For instance, a part of Jerusalem, Mea Sharim, where the Orthodox Jews live are waiting for their Messiah to salvage them.

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While they wait, they are so steeped in their orthodoxy that they refuse to blend in with the rest of Israel. They8217;ll be damned if you voice your faith in Christ and they the men will most certainly spit at you the women if you are indecently dressed capris and a T-shirt.

After visiting the army and going to the dreaded border shared between Palestine and Israel, I had a glimpse of the children in the war room. There were 18-year-old girls scanning the computer for possible terrorists. Do not the Jews of Mea Sharim realise that these children are their Messiahs? They have thousands not one. These are God8217;s children who go to war and leave their parents at the age of 18 who have seen their brothers and friends die or survive severely handicapped. They are out every night knowing they may never come back.

Do they not realise that if they do try and help, these children might be able to prevent their own children from being part of a war. The first prayer from every Israeli mother is to prevent her children from going to war. They don8217;t dream of health, love, laughter. They live in constant fear, hoping their children never grow up so they can never be taken away by the army.

It frustrates me but I suppose there are some things the persecuted just can8217;t forgive and forget. Maybe I don8217;t blame the authorities for questioning me about Muslim blood.