Israel in black & white
Under the ever more powerful sunlight, the fresh green color of the Getsemani gardens shines in an unreal way. Church towers rise into the blue skies, palm trees engulf the sunshine and olive trees sound their unsettled foliage. Breaking the morning silence I hear the mysterious and profound prayer of the Islam, in an eminently Jewish city.
This is Israel, the most disputed piece of land on earth since history began. It is fascinating how three religions, three different cultures ignore each other’s prayers and practice their own rituals within only a few meters distance. Shalom! Shalom! Shalom! Peace in the language of David, as nowhere else in the world is peace more desperately needed as it is in this place, claimed together by the Jews as their Biblical country, Christians as the birthplace of Jesus and Arabs because of the Dome of the Rock from where the Prophet Mohamed raised to the sky. Israel: a country of great beauty and mystery whose creation required the sacrifice of thousands of people.
I am looking out the window of the minibus from which I saw the whole Israel. The edge of a steep slope hangs a group of houses: toy-like cubes scattered here and there among patches of green. I am told that it is the latest settlement area built for the last Jewish settlers who came here mainly from the ex-Soviet space. I am rushing to take pictures through the window; I wish I could get off the bus and visit such a house with its little patch of green, maybe some flowers or a tree still too young to bloom. The road snakes smoothly just a short distance from the Jewish villages under the Golan Heights. Then I see the border with the three rows of barbed wire; a colossal protection system. And I ask myself if happiness can exist in such place. Could this be the price of reconstruction for the new Israel, of the foreseen return to the motherland of this people that was scattered by its dramatic fate in the four corners of the world?
Israel in black & white
Under the ever more powerful sunlight, the fresh green color of the Getsemani gardens shines in an unreal way. Church towers rise into the blue skies, palm trees engulf the sunshine and olive trees sound their unsettled foliage. Breaking the morning silence I hear the mysterious and profound prayer of the Islam, in an eminently Jewish city.
This is Israel, the most disputed piece of land on earth since history began. It is fascinating how three religions, three different cultures ignore each other’s prayers and practice their own rituals within only a few meters distance. Shalom! Shalom! Shalom! Peace in the language of David, as nowhere else in the world is peace more desperately needed as it is in this place, claimed together by the Jews as their Biblical country, Christians as the birthplace of Jesus and Arabs because of the Dome of the Rock from where the Prophet Mohamed raised to the sky. Israel: a country of great beauty and mystery whose creation required the sacrifice of thousands of people.
I am looking out the window of the minibus from which I saw the whole Israel. The edge of a steep slope hangs a group of houses: toy-like cubes scattered here and there among patches of green. I am told that it is the latest settlement area built for the last Jewish settlers who came here mainly from the ex-Soviet space. I am rushing to take pictures through the window; I wish I could get off the bus and visit such a house with its little patch of green, maybe some flowers or a tree still too young to bloom. The road snakes smoothly just a short distance from the Jewish villages under the Golan Heights. Then I see the border with the three rows of barbed wire; a colossal protection system. And I ask myself if happiness can exist in such place. Could this be the price of reconstruction for the new Israel, of the foreseen return to the motherland of this people that was scattered by its dramatic fate in the four corners of the world?
