Here you can browse through my blog posts prior to February 2022. Currently I'm sharing my travel experiences, candid opinions, and what's on my mind solely on my Facebook page. — Rick
Imagine standing on the Mount of Olives, looking over at Jerusalem, and then looking into the camera to say, “The land Israelis and Palestinians occupy is, for a third of humanity, literally holy land. And Jerusalem marks its sacred center. To Christians, this is where Jesus was crucified and resurrected. To Muslims, this is from where Mohammed ascended to Heaven. And to Jews, it’s where the Temple of Solomon stood. The crossroads for three great religions, the Holy Land has been coveted and fought over for centuries.”
Sometimes this work — what I sometimes playfully think of as tour guiding for couch potatoes — is so exciting that I can’t say my lines without losing my composure.
When filming (or traveling) in the Holy Land, you need to expect the unexpected. In a land of three faiths, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday are all Sabbaths — triple the religious holidays (and problematic-for-our-work closures) than in other places. On the morning we planned to film important “on camera” bits from the famous viewpoint of the Mount of Olives, we hit a perfect storm of cruise ships and religious pilgrims, causing a jam-up of at least a hundred tour buses on a winding lane designed for little more than donkey carts. Hoping to salvage something — as we had a tight and demanding itinerary for that day — we jumped out of our car (so it wouldn’t get ensnared in the mammoth traffic jam), hiked quickly to the viewpoint, realized it was impossibly crowded to get any good work done, hiked through the ancient cemetery below, and found a quiet little perch upon which to film. We got our “on cameras” done just as a truck with a loudspeaker came by to say, “You are standing on private property and must leave.”The golden dome on Temple Mount marks a spot considered sacred to a third of humanity. Under that dome is a sacrificial stone with gutters to drain the blood spilled upon it by pagans long before there was a Jewish faith. It’s the stone upon which — according to Muslim, Jewish, and Christian tradition — Abraham prepared to prove his faith by sacrificing his son, Isaac. Pondering the tumult and persistent tragedy caused by the fact that three religions share a single holy rock, our cameraman, Karel, wonders if God doesn’t just have a wicked sense of humor. (And thank you to Baha’is and Hindis, and other faiths for choosing other places to call holy.)Filming at the Western Wall was easy…as long as we didn’t need to film women worshipping, since our cameraman wouldn’t be allowed in that half of the open-air synagogue. (When we filmed here 13 years ago, we had a female camera operator. Consequently, our Western Wall shots for that episode were of women praying.) We had complete access, along with all the happy uncles making home videos of the festival of bar mitzvahs going on, and the footage will be vivid and joyful. As we explain in our script, “A thousand years before Jesus, King David united the 12 tribes of Israel and captured Jerusalem. His son, Solomon, built The First Temple right here. It was later destroyed, and The Second Temple was built. Then came the catastrophic year for the Jews: A.D. 70, when the Romans destroyed their temple, ushering in the Diaspora. That’s when the Jews became a people without a land and dispersed throughout the world. The western foundation of the ancient wall that surrounded the temple survives. Here — at what’s called the Western Wall — Jews mourn a horrible past and pray for a better future. The square operates as an open-air synagogue. The faithful believe prayers left in cracks between the stones of the Western Wall will be answered.”Sorting out things in the Holy Land compared to in Europe is like going from checkers to chess. I am so steep on the learning curve, and it was critical for us to have good guides (like Abie Bresler, our Jerusalem guide, shown here) all through our shoot. (Abie was the perfect fixer. For example, when my producer Simon said that the little loaner white yarmulke they give visiting tourists didn’t “pop” on film, Abie found me a classy black one to wear in a snap.) I started our Israel show saying, “I’m wearing my yarmulke and I’m ready to learn.”
Visiting several Israeli settlements (built over the border from Israel in Palestinian West Bank territory, and therefore controversial), I can see the appeal of these neighborhoods — especially for young families. But I’ve learned that these settlements embitter the Palestinians as much as violent resistance embitters Israelis. And the more settlements are built, the more the West Bank becomes fragmented, and the more difficult a mutually agreeable two-state solution — or any solution — may become. While I hope it’s not true, the aggressive establishment of these settlements today could haunt Israel’s prospects for a happy resolution of the tensions in the Middle East tomorrow.
If you can’t see the video below, watch it on YouTube.
From my experience traveling here, I’ve learned that it’s all about control of land. That’s the crux of the problem between Israelis and Palestinians, and symbols of that ongoing struggle are everywhere. Israelis are developing settlements — secure and fortified communities on the tops of hills — and, in doing so, are reaching far into internationally recognized Palestinian territory.
Supporters of these settlements make the case that developing this land is justified because the land was unused, and because the language of the treaty designating it Palestinian was open-ended (“until a final status agreement is reached”). And many Jews (and Evangelical Christians who are inclined to support them) believe it is God’s will that they occupy Biblical “Judea and Samaria,” which is what they call the West Bank. I chatted with several settlers to get their perspectives.
Terminology is a delicate dance in the Holy Land, and settlers (who don’t refer to themselves as that) have their own strict vocabulary. In the ongoing debate, many in Israel make the case that “Palestinians” are actually Jordanians, and that the word “Palestine” comes from the ancient Philistines — a completely different race from the Mediterranean. (It occurred to me that you could attempt to discredit plight of our “Indians” in a similar way.)
Across the West Bank, hilltops have sprouted tidy Lego-like communities…little boxes on a hillside. From a distance, you can easily distinguish Israeli developments (cookie-cutter, with uniform red-tile roofs, like these) from higgledy-piggledy Palestinian ones.Settlements are planned communities — beautifully landscaped and designed, offering the same modern conveniences and efficiency you’d expect in an American gated community.Over half a million Israeli Jews now live in settlements in the West Bank. These planned and secure communities come with all the comforts. And, with Israeli government subsidies for housing and transportation, young Jewish families can afford to live here and commute back to Israel proper. For many, it’s a deal too good to refuse.I enjoyed meeting and interviewing this smart couple who are raising 10 children in one of Israel’s biggest and most modern settlements. Chatting in a café at their mall, they explained how the settlements make perfect sense to them. They acknowledged that the rest of the world may not like it (referring to the “rest of the world” as just another opinion). Describing their community as a “city” rather than a “settlement,” they were clearly thankful to have a place to raise their children according to their values in a secure and affordable environment.I enjoyed a beer and a chat with this resident of a simple and rustic settlement in the Jordan River Valley. He said he was here not as a Zionist staking Jewish claim to a land the Bible promised them, and not because attractive government subsidies made it economical, but because it was quiet and offered his young family a back-to-nature home with wonderful neighbors. “You never see the stars in Tel Aviv like we do here,” he told me.In another settlement, I met a 24-year-old man who just bought his house and was thrilled to invite us in. He and his buddy gave us an interview on their balcony with a vast and unpopulated view. They made the same claim I’d heard from other residents of these settlements: The land was going unused anyway, so why shouldn’t industrious Israeli Jews develop it? They can pump in water from desalination plants and build a slick freeway infrastructure to provide a fine place for people to live. When I asked these young men if there’s a good and peaceful future in this region, I was struck by how matter-of-factly they said, “Only if the Palestinians move east across the Jordan River and into the country of Jordan.”Spending time in Israeli settlements built in the last decade or so in the West Bank, on Leave It To Beaver streets under the red-tile roofs of cookie-cutter homes, I felt as if I were in California. Gangs of happy-go-lucky children on their bikes were eager to befriend me, and there was a relaxed vibe.With a Palestinian car, we couldn’t drive into this community. Walking to the gate of the settlement with our crew and a big camera, I asked, “Can we enter?” The guard said, “Why not? It’s a free country.” The guard next to him added, “God bless the American dollar.” As we were leaving, he said, “Enjoy your economy.” For some reason, I found myself pondering that odd farewell for the rest of the day.Just like Palestinians have their political art, Israelis do, too. But it’s a little prettier. Decorating the parking lot of a settlement shopping mall, this mural shows the father of Zionism, Theodor Herzl (who, in the 19th century, was instrumental in establishing the notion that the Diaspora Jews scattered around the world since A.D. 70 are destined to have a Jewish homeland in the Holy Land with Jerusalem as its capital). The Hebrew here says, essentially, “Let the dream come true.”
After a busy day of filming the major Christian sites along the Sea of Galilee, I enjoyed this view from my hotel window in Tiberias.
If you can’t see the video below, watch it on YouTube.
We worked a long day, and it went very well. Here are the eight sequences we covered in the script today:
A short drive up Israel’s coastline, and then into the interior, takes us down — 700 feet below sea level — to the Sea of Galilee. Israel’s top source of water is fed and drained by the Jordan River. This area has long been popular with Israeli vacationers and pilgrims. For Christians, Galilee is famous as the place where Jesus did his three years of ministry and where so many Bible stories are set.
In the Jordan River, the faithful believe John the Baptist baptized Jesus. And today, Christians from all over the world come here in droves to affirm their own baptism with a dip into that same fabled river.
Long before tourism, and even long before Christ, the economy around the Sea of Galilee was fishing. At the Kibbutz Ginosar, a museum contains a boat that dates from the time of Jesus. Recently discovered and excavated, it’s likely the same kind that those first disciples fished from. This busy north end of Galilee is where Jesus walked on water, calmed the storm, and talked fishermen into changing careers.
In the Bible, Matthew writes, “As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Peter and Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. ‘Come follow me,’ Jesus said, ‘and I will make you fishers of men.’”
Pilgrims and the faithful come here to worship and be inspired. In this church, a rock marks Mensa Christi — the place were Christ, resurrected after his Crucifixion, ate with his disciples and said to Peter, “Feed my sheep.” For Roman Catholics, this is a very important site, as it established the importance of Peter — the first pope — among the disciples.
Tour buses shuttle the crowds from one sight to the next. Another church is built upon the place where, according to the Bible, the five thousand who gathered to hear Jesus preach were miraculously fed by a few fish and loaves of bread. This mosaic is from the original church that stood here in the fifth century.
And this church, perched high above Galilee on Mount Beatitude, marks the place where Jesus gave the Sermon on the Mount. Beatitude is Latin for “blessing.” The faithful from every corner of Christendom come here to remember how Jesus said, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God. And blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.”
I wanted to give our viewers empathy for Israel’s unenviable position: surrounded by threatening Arab states. That’s why we filmed at the Gadot Lookout, on the Golan Heights, a former Syrian pillbox looking down on the Sea of Galilee (Israel’s primary source of water — critical in the days before desalination).
Our guide Benny explained that after Israel was created in 1948, its neighbors generally held the high ground around its borders. Then, with a bold victory in the Six-Day War in 1967, Israel surprised all of its enemies (essentially destroying Egypt’s air force on the ground in minutes) and quadrupled its size. To the north, they could have waltzed right into Damascus. But Israel just wanted buffer territory — and to hold the high ground. Today, Israel seems to have a passion for being on the tops of hills, whether with military bases or with residential settlements.Standing atop a former Syrian pillbox, we look down into Israel. From the script: “For a generation, Arabs could lob shells into the towns, kibbutzim, and farms of Israel below. This is an example of why the high ground matters. Today, Israel — determined never again to live under its enemies — controls this and all the high ground around its borders.”Looking out from this pillbox over the Sea of Galilee, as Syrian soldiers did for a generation, I could understand why Israel felt the need to take the Golan Heights for its own security.
