Words on Walls

Duke Today just posted an article discussing the BorderWork(s) Humanities Labs and interviewing Robin Kirk, my advisor.  The article includes a couple of audio clips of me reading two of my poems “Durham” and “After Abeyei” to the right of the text.

Here’s the article in Duke Today:

http://today.duke.edu/2012/02/borderworks

At the beginning of A New Geography of Poets is a quote that I find quite meaningful in light of my year of writing.  The quote is as follows:

“There always was a relationship between poet and place.  Placeless poetry, existing in the non-geography of ideas, is a modern invention and not a very fortunate one.” -Archibald MacLeish

This collection of poetry is organized thoughtfully and unconventionally; the compilers and editors, Charles Stetler, Edward Field, and Gerald Locklin organize the poetry in accordance with where the poets live.  In the introduction, the editors explain their motivations for compiling the collection, writing, “It is not our interest to settle for mere landscape poetry but to choose poems that reveal the spirit of the place and of the poet, aiming for a balance between inner and outer geography” (xvii).  This intention behind the collection aligns almost exactly with the direction of my exploration of the relationship between poetry and poet this semester.  Last semester, I began to think about how to write on the topic of walls and borders, mainly in the context of social divisions.  What followed was a period of more serious contemplation about the significance of place in poetry, whether real or imaginary, foreign or familiar to the poet.  In particular, the idea of internal landscapes began to fascinate me as I considered how to write about the human experience.  While not many of the poets openly draw a connection between inner and outer landscapes, this collection admirably highlights the connection between poet and the places about which they write, allowing unspoken parallels between human being and landscape to come into focus.

Best of Faiz Ahmed Faiz (2011) by Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Faiz’s work, translated from its original Urdu into English brings with it a sense of honesty and richly visceral language.  While I often hesitate to read translations of a poet’s work simply because some of the rhythm and sounds are inevitably lost in translations, Faiz’s work often seems to transcend the boundaries of language.  As I look to shape my own writing style and poetic voice, I find myself particularly drawn to the manner in which Faiz’s personal life mingles with his philosophical and existential musings in his poetry.  Faiz’s poem “The Subject of Poetry” perhaps demonstrates this coexistence of themes most aptly.   He writes:

“On every side stand high walls on constant guard

Behind which is buried the youth of countless men and women,

On every side are seen the burial ground of dreams

That illumin the minds of millions till today…

These are, and there must be many such subjects more…

But her softly opening lips

And her body’s bewitching curves

Work a magic unbelievable….

These are the subject of my verse,

The haunts of a poet’s mind,

And nothing else.”

Not only is this poem fascinating in the way that it shifts theme so quickly and unapologetically, but I also find it quite encouraging as a writer.  So often, I find myself intending to write about a particular topic and then writing about something else altogether.  This shift in subject matter can even prove a bit embarrassing; I find myself moving toward a notion of poetry as the vehicle for solemn and well-formulated musings on the human experience and the richness of life and I suddenly discover in the midst of writing that I am putting down on paper an experience that most readers would find far from serious or even eloquent.  Faiz reminds me that there is a place for poetry that speaks of simple thoughts and the distractions, joys, and occurrences of the personal life.  In fact, he reminds me that these “less profound” moments are often the most relatable and perhaps even the most personally relevant for many readers.

I often forget how closely intertwined reading and writing are.  I know that many writers insist that in order to hone the craft of writing, one must read as much as possible and as consistently as possible.  Still, sometimes sitting in front of a blank page I imagine that my lack of inspiration stems from forces much deeper than a simple lack of reading.

Two days ago, I began to read poetry again, for the first time in a few weeks.  One of my advisors had suggested the writings of Faiz Ahmed Faiz, an Urdu poet.  As I began to flip through the pages of Faiz’s “Best Of” Collection, I felt myself longing once again to write.  I applied to Duke’s Archaeology trip in Israel largely because I imagined that the experiences of the trip might allow me to write new kinds of content in my poetry.  While I consistently wrote journal entries during my two weeks in Israel, it wasn’t until two days ago that I began to write any poetry about my time in the Holy Land.  Among the most marked effects of my experience writing this thesis, I have found my notions about the compositions of poetry largely de-romanticized.  Of course, I had been writing poems for several years before beginning this project, but over the past semester, I have been struck again and again by how important consistency and revision are to writing the pieces I hold the most dear.  Below I leave you with an example, a poem about the Jaffa Gate that I wrote not while enjoying the sunset in Jerusalem but rather after mulling over the experiences of the trip for many days and finally sitting down to see what I might write, a little nervous that I might produce nothing at all.  Thankfully, that wasn’t what happened.

At the Jaffa Gate

the walls here are
barricades and             fortresses
so stubbornly a part of the landscape they feel alive
battle-worn from centuries of holding in tradition
and spent from straining against newness mercilessly pressing in
(change has little patience in this city)

but,
this century, this season, this afternoon
stones are scattered
sliced by shops and stalls
tourists flow like tides around the gates
maybe slowing to let their fingertips brush the past
maybe
but,
soon enough they will forget
to wonder if the wall is armor or art

it is both, i think
soaking in the stillness of the sun’s last rays
it is both because now it stands scarred
by swirling sands of time, by the desert’s fury, by man’s greed
yet as day sinks to darkness
for a second the stone is gilded gold and
glows delicately, as proud and pretty as a sculpture
healed for the ten thousandth time by the cooling of the day
armor and art

16 January 2012

And now, something by Faiz:

Bahar Aayee (Spring Has Come)

By Faiz Ahmed Faiz

I write this final entry on Israel from back on Duke’s campus.  Our trip ended with a wonderful morning at Caesarea and an afternoon at the coastal town of Akko.  The next morning, we pulled away from the Kibbutz Ginosar when it was still dark to make it to our flight out of Tel Aviv on time.  Twelve hours later we were on the ground in Newark, New Jersey.  Modern travel can make it difficult to find the occasion to reflect on experiences abroad.  Suddenly I find myself tossed back into the hectic rhythm of a semester at Duke and the landscape of Israel seems impossibly far away in space and time.

During our last day, one of my classmates, Jamie, mentioned that he felt that the parts of the Israel trip that were important to him would shift over time, with different facets of the experience taking on a special significance at different moments and places in his life.  I feel similarly.  Already, I feel the significance of certain days shifting and growing.  As we traveled to over thirty archaeological sites during our time in Israel, even the most spectacular of artifacts took on an ordinariness toward the end of the trip.  Now, in North Carolina, I’m beginning to miss the archaeological richness of the Israel.  It seems unbelievable that such a small corner of the world could hold such a wealth of archaeological treasures.  Now, in my mind, the sites of Bet She’an and Sepphoris begin to stand out.  Bet She’an is home to perhaps one of the largest tels in the region.  Our visit to Bet She’an came toward the end of the trip, and as we climbed to the top, I found myself beginning to think more like an archaeologist, wondering what stories each of the layers told just beneath our feet.  It soon became clear that the stories were manifold.  Saul and David were said to have lived at Bet She’an and the city also thrived during eras of Roman and Byzantine settlement, with the remains of bath houses, amphitheaters, and roads commemorating the settlements during those periods.  The notion that the structures in a single small region can bear testament to centuries of settlement strikes me as near-miraculous.  I wanted nothing more than to able to envision the city as it was at each era; it is difficult enough to imagine the city at one time in its history but to be able to sift through the various layers of structures and symbols is even more difficult.  In retrospect, I would have loved to have spent much more time at Bet She’an in order to sift through the time periods and more fully appreciate each era in the city’s history.

The sites of Masada and Gamla seem particularly significant to me retrospectively.  Dr. Carol Meyers spoke often of the tendency in archaeology to focus on the unusual aspects of life suggested at a particular excavation, like the structure of government or lifestyle of royalty.  While archaeologists certainly should explore such concerns while conducting excavations, such questions should not be explored at the expense of gaining insight into the lives of the common people.  The sites of Masada and Gamla both spoke to the experiences of the common people, albeit under extraordinary circumstances.    At one point during the trip, one of our instructors asked the class whether the sites not associated with a specific narrative had less significance.  I believe the student responded that a lack of narrative did not seem to affect his or her experience of the site.  For me, however, imagining the experiences of entire communities in a particular setting holds much more power than simply learning about the features and functions of certain buildings.  The Gamla and Masada sites both emphasized that  large group of people lived, if briefly, at that location and that tumultuous events at that location molded their individual narratives there.  These sites facilitated my awareness that fully alive, intelligent, and creative human beings inhabited the places that we now excavate and study.  Such an understanding can certainly contribute to a fuller appreciation of the sites both as testaments to the advancement of human civilization and as places with strong human narratives.

Even though we visited the Church of the Holy Selpulcher on our very first day in Jerusalem, I think that it’s important that it enter into my concluding thoughts on the trip.  On our visit to the Church of the Holy Selpulcher, one of our instructors mentioned that the Church’s space is shared by six different Christian groups and that the interior of the church would reflect this division.  Upon entering the Church, one can easily see that the interpretation of the space is disjointed; there is not a strong sense of cohesion between the various rooms and alcoves of the church and even the way in which visitors respond to the assorted spaces and relics varies drastically.  I watched some visitors frantically snap pictures, looking for the perfect angle and lighting.  Other visitors knelt to kiss various relics, maintaining an air of devotion and solemnity throughout their time in the church.  This contrast confirmed and encouraged a slowly developing sense of just how starkly different in significance and meaning some of these sites can be for visitors.  As I mentioned in some of my earlier journal entries, I have often thought that I would visit Israel in a context of a pilgrimage.  Visiting these sacred sites in a scholarly context demanded a very different mental and emotional  approach to the trip.  While I certainly still felt a sense of reverence for the Holy Land, I found myself considering the sites and the narratives they represented from a much more analytical and objective perspective.  Particularly in Israel, it seems to me that archaeology takes on a significance to visitors outside of the scholarly community.  For some, biblical archaeology is simply interesting, but it seems important to me not to underestimate the sense of reverence that visitors may feel in response to these places.  For me, the potential for personal significance that these sites wield is all the more reason to research, excavate, and analyze with a strong sense of scholarship and integrity.

Our conversation today touched on what I consider to be some of the central themes of this course.  Some of the questions that came up either directly or indirectly were: (1) What is the purpose of archaeology? (2) Can archaeology bring about a social or political transformation, like peace and reconciliation between people groups in conflict? (3) Is the history or archaeology of an area more significant than the social and political climate in the present?  Less?

We explored these questions in light of the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians, working with a point made by Dr. Eric Meyers in one of his articles.  Dr. Meyers suggests that both Israelis and Palestinians share a common ancestor, the Canaanite, and posits that the realization that these two people groups share the same origin might serve to bring them together.  In some of our past seminar discussions, we’ve raised the question, “What is the purpose of archaeology?”  Certainly archaeology allows us to learn more about our collective past and the rise of human civilization.  However, I think that it is also essential to consider how archaeology can be applied to our world today.  Many of the archaeological sites that we have visited hold artifacts from centuries ago and even many millenia ago.  For me, these artifacts are beautiful and awe-inspiring independent of any implications they have for the present.  However, Dr. Meyers brings up an quintessential archaeological issue in suggesting that archaeology may possess the power to influence the present.

Over the course of our conversation, in the midst of the finished excavations of the formerly magnificent Iron Age city of Hazor, my classmates and I voiced a variety of opinions on the influence of archaeology on peace and reconciliation.  It seemed to me that the general consensus was that if archaeology could have an influence on the present by demonstrating to Israelis and Palestinians that they share a common origin, the effect of the archaeological conviction could only make a significant change in the political climate in conjunction with more current efforts, both logistical and ideological.

Today we explored some really beautiful archaeological sites: Tel Dan, the location of the earliest arch in architectural history as well as several waterfalls, Nimrod’s Castle, the remnants of some fantastic Islamic constructions from the 13th century, and Hazor, one of the most extensive Iron Age settlements in the region.  As I mentioned before, I think that these sites can stand alone as a beautiful testament to the history of humanity.  However, the notion that archaeology can also contribute toward political and social progress or healing just adds to the significance and beauty of these sites.

A niche at Banyas, which may have housed a statue of Pan at one point

Looking down from Nimrod's Fortress, a Crusader-era Muslim fortress

Looking down from Nimrod's Fortress on the valley below

Some Arabic script from Nimrod's Fortress

The oldest arch in the history of archaeology at Tel Dan

A waterfall we came across during a nature walk at Tel Dan

A tree at an overlook at Tel Dan

Today’s article  “Layers Upon Layers Upon Layers” creates a parallel between New Testament narratives and archaeology.  The author, New Testament scholar John Dominic Crossan, highlights the ways in which both archaeology and biblical texts are multi-faceted and reveal a number of perspectives.  While I disagree to some extent with the overarching statements that Crossan makes about biblical texts, I am becoming increasingly aware of the ways in which archaeologists and governments pull away some levels of archaeology to reveal others.  Interestingly, this “pulling away” of layers was quite evident both yesterday and today as we explored some of the sites around the Sea of Galilee.  At the beginning of the trip, it seemed to me that the focus on archaeology in Jerusalem was on the Second Temple Period, when Jews still worshipped in a standing Temple.  However, upon entering the Galilee region it seems to me that most sites are much more focused on the time period around the 1st century, the time of

Jesus.  At least, the sites that have artifacts that could belong to the 1st century emphasize these finds in particular.  This phenomenon seemed particurlarly evident at Capernauam.  The ruins of the city contained remains from the Byzantine period, and even as early at the 13th century BC according to Murphy ‘O Connor, the site is set up in particular to highlight finds of the 1st century, particularly structures that Jesus himself may have known of or even used.  Central to the ruins of Capernaum is the house of St. Peter, which enjoys a status as the centerpiece of the site, highlighted by a modern church that hovers above it.

I know that the attention to the 1st century ruins makes sense, as it allows Christian pilgrims to view sites relevant to the Christian faith.  As a Christian myself, these sites are important to me.  However, it seems strange to me that the focus of so many of the archaeological sites in this area is on the 1st century.  Another example comes to mind: Today we visited the Museum in Nazareth, which displays a reconstructed 1st century village, creating a setting somewhat like where Jesus might have lived.  One of the central features of this village is a wine press that our tour guide said probably dated back to the 1st century.  When our group was back on the bus, our TA Ben Gordon explained that dating wine presses with pottery sherds is notoriously difficult (the method that the tour guide explained experts used to date the wine press).  Pottery sherds might have fallen into the press or been intentionally moved there to level out the press at a later time.  However, it makes sense that a recreation of the Nazareth Village would err on the side of proclaiming an archaeological find to date back to the 1st century, as it allows their guides to proclaim to tourists and pilgrims that Jesus “most likely looked upon and may have even used this wine press”.  While I appreciate the opportunity to piece together some semblance of an understanding of 1st century life and I am thankful to be told when a particular archaeological find may have been present in the time of Jesus, this experience and others have made me sensitive for the price that archaeologists, curators, and other scholars may pay to make such statements.  Certainly the significance of artifacts in the Galilee region increases when a find can be dated back to the 1st century, but I find myself wondering how many pieces have been dating incorrectly in an overeagerness to make finds relevant to Christian pilgrims and interested tourists.

The bottom of a pillar at Sephoris

Overlooking Sepphoris

Looking down on some of the excavations at Sepphoris

Mosaics at Sepphoris

The beautiful landscape of Israel from the bus

A 1st Century Boat- The Jesus Boat!

Today’s article and discussion on pilgrimage and tourism colored much of the day for me and I wouldn’t be surprised if it colored much of the trip retrospectively.  We discussed an article by Tony Cartledge on Christian pilgrims in the Holy Land.  After reading the article, it seemed fairly clear to me that its focus was on eschatology and the Zionist eschatological beliefs of a particular group of Christian evangelicals.  However, we spent the entirety of our seminar time on the set up for the eschatological portion of the paper, discussing the variety of ways in which Christian pilgrims respond to the Holy Lands.  In summary, the article notes a tendency among Orthodox Christians to venerate all of the relics in the Holy Lands and to focus mainly on the churches that are present in Jerusalem and the surrounding area.  Cartledge paints Catholics as more contemplative in their visits to the Holy Land, still venerating certain buildings, but largely using their pilgrimage experience for entrance again into the “real world”, unlike the Orthodox Christians who see the pilgrimage primarily as a way to prepare themselves for death.  The article devoted much of its space to a discussion of Protestants, and in particular Evangelicals. Cartledge notes that Protestants feel a much stronger connection to the geography of the Holy Lands rather than the holy buildings and relics and come largely to “walk where Jesus walked”.  Cartledge goes on to discuss the interactions between the State of Israel and various evangelical Christian groups, making a strong case that Israel pours funds into encouraging evangelical Christians to visit Israel in hopes that it will foster or confirm Zionist ideology among these Christians and increase support for the state of Israel.

At this point during the trip we are seeing more evangelical Christians than ever before.  During our time in Israel, we ran into some groups that looked that they might be Protestants, particularly at the site of the Garden Tomb which is known for being very popular among Protestants.  At the Kibbutz Ginosar, where we are now staying, it seems that there are several church groups visiting, including one that looks like it may be an evangelical group from Texas.  I think that there’s a lot of truth in Cartledge’s statements about  the Protestant desire to “walk where Jesus walked”.  As a Protestant, I find myself much more drawn to sites like the Sea of Galilee and the Mt. of the Beatitudes than the Church of the Holy Seplecher, which seemed large and dark and hectic.  In spite of the truth in Cartledge’s article, I found many of the statements made during class discussion today frustrating, like “tourism and pilgrimage seem nearly identical in the contemporary world”.  From a Christian perspective, it seems clear to me that pilgrimage and tourism are two very different entities.  In fact, I thought that Cartledge defined the two terms quite helpfully in his article, decribing pilgrimage as moving towards the center of one’s world and tourism as moving away from the center of one’s world.

Interestingly, this trip seems to me to be neither tourism nor a pilgrimage.  Certainly I enjoy the Biblical sites that we visit, but the point of visiting them in not veneration but rather to consider their archaeology and connection to contemporary politics and national identities.  Perhaps pilgrimage, tourism and academic ventures all have some aspects in common, like a sense of excitement, interest, or satisfaction upon reaching and exploring particular areas.  However, the “take away” of each of these three kinds of journeys seems distinct to me.  To equate pilgrims to tourists seems to me disrespectful to their sense of veneration for the land.  Similarly, to avoid to an archaeology course as simply toursits would disregard their substantial interest in connecting to the land historically with intellectual rigor.

Gamla

The Sea of Galilee in the evening

Caparnaum; A Byzantine Temple

I love the sky in Galilee

Our group gravitates toward large bodies of water. First the Dead Sea and now the Sea of Galilee!

I felt some sense of finality today as we zipped up our suitcases and rolled them away from the Rosary Sisters Convent.  I really enjoyed the chance to stay in a non-hotel environment and to have some daily interactions with the nuns who lived in the convent.  Driving out of Jerusalem also felt bittersweet; as excited as I was to continue on to Galilee and to see some of the sites associated with the ministry of Jesus, Jerusalem was so rich in history and culture and so thought-provoking that I found myself sad to leave.

Today we visited one last site in the Palestinian Authority.  Jericho was smaller than I had imagined.  The site claims to be the “oldest city in the world” but, as Dr. Meyers pointed out, it’s not exactly a city.  In fact, it’s a rather small settlement compared to some of the other sites that we’ve visited.  Jericho was particularly interesting to me as a Christian, because it’s one of the more popular Old Testament stories to tell children.  I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen the story of Jericho reenacted on a felt board or sung the classic “Joshua Fought the Battle of Jericho”.  As I’ve mentioned before on this blog, seeing these places in person that have been imagined vividly in my mind’s eye for years  has proved interesting.  One of the qualities of archaeology that I’m coming to love is that it still leaves much to be imagined.  As we move from site to site, I have to remind myself that these “old” things that we are looking at weren’t always old.  At our second site, Scythopolis, which was a city in Soloman’s empire, then a Roman city and the a Byzantine city, it was easy to become so fascinated by the beauty of the fallen pillars and cracked mosaics that I be completely taking aback by the various artists’ renderings of the city as it used to stand.  I think that it’s important to develop an awareness of these sites as formerly inhabited and I would love to be able to project how the city used to look, especially over the course of its evolution.  Of course, such a skill requires intensive training and years of study, but this growing desire to more fully grasp past of the sites we visit certainly gives me a greater appreciation for the explanations provided by the Drs. Meyers and our TA Ben Gordon.

Over the past few days, we’ve weaved in and out of Palestinian territory.  The distinction between the states of Israel and Palestine can be difficult to make, particularly because we have never had to show our passports at the border checks and instead drive straight through.  Also, Palestinians live in Israel (and are even Israeli citizens) and Israelis live in Palestinian territory.  We spent much of today driving between archaeological sites in Palestinian territory, first visiting the church believed to be the site of Jacob’s well/the well where Jesus spoke with Samaritan woman.  Then we moved on to the archaeological site of Shechem , which recently received 400, 000 euros from the European Union but seemed to have done very little with the monetary resources.  This failure to enhance the site was heartbreaking; as the Dr. Meyers’ pointed out, the finds at Shechem have the potential to draw in tourists from both the Palestinian territory and abroad.  In addition, the site could become a powerful teaching tool for young Palestinian students to learn about their heritage (and even their Canaanite origins, likely shared with the Jewish people, although this fact is still contested).   Our final visit today to Sebastia, the site of another of King Herod’s strongholds confirmed once again the discrepancy between the treatment of archaeological sites in Israel and Palestine.  This final site, home to some of the most spectacular ruins in all of the region, was a final confirmation of the difference in treatment of archaeological sites in Israel and Palestine.  There were almost no tourists to be seen and no signs labeling any of the structures.  The overarching explanation for this discrepancy seems to be that the Palestinian Authority simply does not have the resources to devote to the sites and that there is little interest in Israeli ruins among population of the Palestinian territory.

I don’t have much in the way of concluding thoughts on this topic.  While the lack of attention to these magnificent sites certainly inspires sadness, I certainly do not feel in a position to offer up solutions or even predictions about what will happen to these sites in the coming years.  As our instructors have emphasized throughout the trip, whether we like it or not, archaeology and politics are intricately intertwined.  I do not feel like I can project a hopeful future of increased tourism and public value for the sites at Shechem and Sebastia that we saw today; much would have to chance about the political climate, the sense of national identity, and even the valuing of archaeological sites in order for these places to become thriving tourist destinations.  Increasing awareness and interest may well be  a challenge for the emerging generation of Biblical or Islamic archaeologists in coming years and I look forward to seeing how some of the archaeological conflict in the area becomes resolved.

Church with the Relic of Jacob's Well

One of the many beautiful mosaics outside the church

A chandelier in the church

Again outside of the church

At Shechem

At Sebastia

From the top of Sebastia

Another view from Sebastia

A delicious meal at a rather deserted restaurant at the base of the archaeological site

Throughout my childhood and teenage years, whenever I thought about visiting Israel, I imagined walking up the steps of the Temple Mount, a landmark I had seen often in pictures of the Holy Land.  Today we visited the City of David Archaeological Park, located just below the south side of the Temple Mount.  I didn’t initially realize that I was at the same spot that I had envisioned for so many years.  For the past few days, we’ve been traveling all around Jerusalem and I’ve seen so many sites and landmarks that they’re all beginning to blend together.  In fact, it wasn’t until I actually began to walk up the steps that I realized that these were the same steps to the Temple Mount that I’d seen so often in pictures from friends and family who had returned from trips to Israel.

This realization prompted some further reflection on the unique nature of this trip.  I remember that as we discovered the possible political agendas in relation to archaeological finds of Masada, Dr. Eric Meyers said something along the lines of: “Probably only about one in one hundred groups, maybe even one in one thousand, have the same kinds of conversations that we’re having at this site”.   It’s hard not to be occasionally struck speechless at some of the sites we’re visiting.  For many of the students on this trip, these places are of special significance to their faith and they’ve long desired to come to Israel.  However, over the course of the past few days, we have been encouraged not just to marvel over the beauty and importance of some of these sites but additionally to think critically about how information about the sites is presented and what the agendas of the presenters may be.  Such discernment, I think, is critical to becoming a well-educated and even wise scholar and human being.  Many of the sites we have visited have distinct points of view: the Garden Tomb was very vocally evangelical, while Masada and the Burnt House in the Jewish Quarter expressed some Zionist sentiments.  I initially imagined visiting the Temple Mount with a church group or at least with other Christian travelers.  The conversation that I would have with such companions at the site would be undeniably different.  The importance of the steps would lie in the fact that Jesus may have walked them—and even taught on them—rather than on how archaeologists have dated them and explained their architectural features (like the short step, long step progression).   I’m coming to really love this aspect of Israel: I see other touring groups around the various sites in Jerusalem and outside the city and know that they are experiencing the country very differently from me.  I don’t write this in favor of propaganda or one-sided representations of historical people and places, but only to explain how humbled I am by what this small region of only a a few thousand square miles has to offer such a wide range of people.

No pictures today.  I accidentally left my camera battery in the hostel!  More soon though…

Last night I wrote just after arriving back at the Rosary Sisters after spending the evening in Bethlehem celebrating New Years.  I wrote about the events of the day, but didn’t give any details on the New Year’s Celebration itself.  I have to devote some space to it on this blog, even though it wasn’t necessarily part of the curriculum, because it seems to me to be one of the most immersive cultural experiences that we’ve had thus far. Of course, the goal of this trip—and this course— isn’t necessarily to have a cultural immersive experience.  At least, the goal is not to understand Israeli or Palestinian culture as it exists today.  Instead, we devote most of our waking hours to exploring the ruins of ancients cities and dwellings, piecing together cultural as it existed many hundred and even many thousand years ago.  In fact, our interactions with the present-day residents of Israel/Palestine are rather minimal.  We’re getting to know the nuns who work at the Rosary Sisters Hostel where we stay and we occasionally see Gabi, our travel agent here in Israel.  We also have had several local scholars come and speak to us in the evenings, but again our focus even during these conversations are on the people and civilizations of the past.  I write this not as a complaint, but rather as an observation.  I think that this trip has been very well planned and in many ways I do feel culturally immersed; only, I feel culturally immersed in civilizations spanning the centuries and millennia before the present day.

New Years Festivities!

However, our time celebrating the New Year in the restaurant last night made me reconsider the value of interacting with locals today.  Up until that point, I had given my interactions with Israelis and Palestinians very little thought, with the exception of showing appreciation for their care in hosting us or in coming to speak to us.   However, last night, surrounded by hundreds of Palestinians celebrating a holiday, I was struck with the same sense of culture shock that I had experienced while living in Belgium, intentionally trying to absorb and adapt to the local culture.  Suddenly, I became aware of just how different social practices were, from dancing to eating to interacting with one another.  My classmates made some comments about how we seemed so tacky compared to them and how much we had to learn about their culture.  It seems to me now more important to strive to better understand present-day Israeli and Palestinian culture over the course of this trip.  Granted, the cultures present in this region today differ drastically from those cultures that we study as we visit various archaeology sites.  Still, parallels and connections abound and I don’t want to miss them.

Outside the Rockefeller Museum. Lots of beautiful artifacts!

The view from the top of Herodium.