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June 25, 2008

Exclusive: A Slice of Life in Israel Today – On the Road to Hebron

Ron Marlar

"Hebron is too dangerous. Do not go there," is the consistent advice given to me by Jewish, Muslim and Christian friends in the U.S. and Israel/Palestine. Such advice is not particularly discouraging, however, given the circumstances of Hebron and what attracted me to Hebron.

Hebron is home for about 700 Jewish believers. The believers live there to maintain a presence at Machpela - Abraham's Cave. They draw support from some 7,000 Jews in nearby Kiryat Arba. The Jews in Hebron live in a small corner of a larger area occupied by tens of thousands of Arabs. Likewise the Jews are limited to a small portion of Machpela for worship in comparison with the bulk of Machpela taken by the Arab Muslims.

David Wilder is spokesperson for the Jewish community in Hebron. He and his co-workers run tours of Machpela. He and other Jews consider Machpela second to the Temple Mount in Jerusalem as a holy site. Christians also regard Hebron and Machpela highly as do Muslims.

Followers of those three major monotheistic religions say they regard Abraham as the father of their people. Abraham is known as the first Jew, sent by God to the region from further east and north in the area of present day Iraq, Saudi Arabia and Jordan of today. Abraham is also known as a paragon of faith in God, one who listened to and obeyed God in all things even to the near sacrifice of his own son, Isaac.

Machpela is the burial site of Abraham, his wife Sarah, Isaac and his wife Leah. Markers and halls there also honor them, Jacob, Rebecca and in the Arabic annex, the so-called Joseph's Tomb, according to Jewish guidebooks about the area. Those buried there are known as the patriarchs and matriarchs of Judaism and Christianity.

Other significant archaeological finds confirm the Old Testament of the Jewish, both the Old and New Testaments of the Christian Bible stories, and most significantly that Abraham bought the land as a burial site from a Hittite named Ephron. Thus Jewish ownership of, and right to, Machpela is affirmed beyond any doubt by educated and reasonable people. So, also, is the right of Jews to Mamre, now known as Hebron, the first Jewish city in history.

As a Christian believer, I put Hebron and Machpela on my must-see list long ago. I heard first of David Wilder from a U.S. professional photographer friend, Mark Bernhardt, who is working on a photo book about life in the Holy Land today. I met David in 2006 at a conference on the shore of the Sea of Galilee.

In the enthusiasm of his presentation at the conference David knocked my borrowed watch off the podium. I knew right away David was a man after my own heart, willing to defend freedom, dignity and peace for all with all his strength, even with his life and that of his also-willing wife and children if necessary. They have come close. Their home has been shot into by Palestinian Arab Muslim radicals more than once. One time, bullets narrowly missed his daughter's head and buried into books on their living room bookshelf instead.

I could not turn down a two-year-long standing invitation from David to visit Hebron, Machpela and the other significant archaeological finds there confirming Bible stories of both the Old and New Testaments. He promised he would lead me in to the area if I came in a rental car, which I did, and that he would escort and brief me during my visit, which he did.

After arriving in Tel Aviv, primarily Jewish, spending two nights there and one in Joppa, mostly Palestinian Arab Muslim, I made arrangements via phone to meet David in Hebron. I went first to Beersheba to meet with Bedouin there. Then I drove to Hebron for the appointment with David.

Immediately out of Beersheba I picked up a Jewish hitchhiker on his way to Jerusalem. Hitchhiking is common in Israel as it once was in the U.S. during my youth. I am prone to pick up hitchhikers especially Israeli soldiers in uniform with their M-16s for conversations with and directions from them.

Since he was going to Jerusalem the civilian hitchhiker from Beersheba guided me to the northern approach to Hebron. I had intended to take the southern approach into Kiryat Arba, connect with David there and go into Hebron and to Machpela. The northern approach was just as well at first, actually less in driving time and only slightly further in distance than the southern route.

Within sight of the first hitchhiker after dropping him off, I picked up an Israeli soldier on his way to the checkpoint on the north side of Hebron. Both hitchhikers and David gave me clear directions for getting into Hebron and to Machpela from the checkpoint. The trick was a roundabout - traffic circle - a holdover now common in Israel from the British Mandate of 1920-1946.

I was about five minutes from Hebron, Machpela and the meeting place at a service station that David had specified when I entered the traffic circle. Direction signs pointed the ways to Hebron and Kiryat Arba. With Kiryat Arba still on my mind and avoiding Hebron until hooking up with David, I passed the roundabout exit for Hebron and took the one to Kiryat Arba.

I realized my error quickly, but by then was into the mountains and in one Palestinian Arab Muslim village after another, complete with at least one mosque and lots of people walking along the roads in Arab dress. At one point I saw Israeli soldiers walking in gulches and woods their rifles at the ready.

I drove back and forth, left, right, around and around, up and down trying to find the way back to the original traffic circle to take the exit to Hebron. I was talking with David via my Israel cell phone, fumbling with maps in English and Hebrew but unable to tell David where I was because I did not know, nor did he have a clue. All location and directions signs were in Arabic only as opposed to Arabic, Hebrew and English in Israeli-controlled areas.

At one point I drove past a building with two large, black paintings of Yasser Arafat on the wall. I was headed for a major highway into Hebron, the highway on which I wanted to be, but there was no way to get onto the highway. It was blocked by large rocks and steel girders alongside the major highway.

On the way up the hill, I smiled and waved at three Palestinian boys about ages 8-10. They smiled and waved. On the way back down the hill from the dead end I smiled and waved again. So did they. I looked in the rearview mirror of the Hertz rental car clearly marked as such and with Israel license plates as opposed to Palestinian plates. I saw a large stone arcing toward the car. It was thrown by the smallest of the boys.

A large stone thrown by a small boy it fell far short, but I decided it was time for a new plan. I stopped at a service station with a U.S. Aid sign out front. I asked directions of two Palestinians. As usual in Israel/Palestine they said go straight. A news flash: I know from prior visits, when asking directions here you are told always to go straight. The only problem with that is there are no straight routes in all of Israel/Palestine.

I went straight though for a few hundred yards until I saw a Palestinian man about my age in Western dress. He was hitchhiking. I picked him up and began learning quickly lots more Arabic and teaching him English. A few more hundred yards down the road he wanted to pick up another Palestinian, younger man also in Western dress. I did. Now outnumbered two to one I admit my anxiety grew.

With much pleasant chat and directions in Arabic from them we drove crookedly down from the mountain villages into Hebron. After more twists and turns we were on the Palestinian Arab Muslim side of Machpela. I parked the car and called David again. He told me Jews were not allowed to come where I was. My Palestinian Arab Muslim new friends bought an orange juice for me from a street vendor. Then they took me walking through winding paths of an Arab market - souk - to meet David past an Israeli Army checkpost.

David and I enjoyed several hours together visiting Machpela, some other archaeological sites, sipping coffee and chatting in his office, and meeting others of the Jewish community in Hebron. Then I headed back to Beersheba through Hebron, going straight of course, and stopping at every service station along the way to ask directions.

Finally I came to an intersection with many AK-47 rifle-armed Palestinian police. I stopped and asked the nearest police officer how to get to the road to Beersheba. He told me to turn right - yemin in Arabic as opposed to yemina in Hebrew - and of course then to go straight. After the usual twists and turns rather than straight I passed Kiryat Arba finally and was on my way more or less straight on the major highway I had intended to take to Hebron that morning.

Now comes the kicker. I came to an Israeli checkpoint about five minutes from Beersheba. I stopped and handed the attendant my passport. The attendant asked the usual questions: Where have you been? Where are you going? Who have you seen? Since this is not my first rodeo in Israel, I knew I should have said to Kiryat Arba, returning to Beersheba, and I have seen David Wilder, spokesman for the Jewish community in Hebron. Instead I said I had been to Hebron.

Immediately the armed Israeli guard said, "You go over there to that parking lot. Someone will bring your passport to you later." I obeyed.

Over the next hour I was interrogated by five Israeli armed guards, passed through an airport-type security screening gate and wanded. My luggage including my scuba diving gear was taken and passed through an x-ray machine several times. My backpack was emptied and checked. A security dog with an Israeli guard checked my rental car.

I stood, sat on a bench under a roof which, at that time of day, did not shield the sun's hot rays, and talked with a Palestinian woman, boy, and man unrelated to the other two. He had lived in Chicago for 11 years, was attending the Peace Center in Bethlehem seeking understanding and peaceful cooperation among at least Christians, Jews and Muslims. He protested loudly when the Israeli guards opened a container of olive oil he was taking along with other food items from Hebron to the Gaza Strip on a visit with relatives in the Strip. The Israelis surrendered his stuff - food and luggage - and let him go quickly after his protest.

I went into the nice toilet, came out, drank cold water from a fountain and decided it was time for me to protest to see if I could be released as had the Palestinian gentleman. I protested quietly, gently. An Israeli guard, a man about my age appeared, questioned me about my dive gear and told me I could go. So now I understand better and first hand why Palestinian Arab Muslims complain about Israeli security, checkpoints and the wall being erected between Israeli and Palestinian areas of their shared land.

At the same time I know still why all these things are essential for the Israelis in their attempts to protect themselves from the Islamic radical terrorists who commit homosuicidal - another of my made up words - bombings from time to time.

I understand all of it so well that I apologized to the Israeli guards for my being rude, protesting. I thanked them for their security efforts on behalf of protecting me as a visitor to their homeland. We smiled, shook some hands and exchanged shaloms before I got in my rental car and drove on to Beersheba for some much needed rest after a stressful but enjoyable day.

FamilySecurityMatters.org Contributing Editor Ron Marlar is a retired Air Force officer, college professor and seminary graduate who travels frequently to the Middle East to meet with and research both Muslims and non-Muslims living there. Feedback: editorialdirector@familysecuritymatters.org.

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