A Trip to Israel — V

Independence Day.

One day after Yom HaZikaron, with its wrenching memories of Jewish losses (see Yael’s  moving collection of pictures here), Israel turns to Yom HaAtzmaut, the celebration of its Independence (more great pictures here). 

The juxtaposition of the two days is intentional.  The losses made possible, or maintained, the miraculous state that is celebrated today.  The two holidays are thus actually a single two-day period of sadness and joy, and a remembrance of the unavoidable connection between them.

We get to sleep-in — we don’t board our buses until 9:00 a.m.  Then we travel to see the Burma Road, the bypass road built surreptiously in 1948 by the Israelis in 1948, high in the hills approaching Jerusalem, working at night in near silence between the surrounding Jordanian and Egyptian armies. 

The construction of the road broke the life-threatening siege the Arabs had on the highway between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, saved the lives of the Jewish residents of Jerusalem, and maintained the Jewish claim to the city.

The building of the Burma Road was a feat of endurance and ingenuity.  It was conceived and engineered by the legendary American WWII vet, Mickey Marcus, and constructed by gangs of young Jews brought in from Jerusalem who surreptitiously hacked and bulldozed the lifeline out of the steep terrain. . .  [H]undreds of men would traverse this area at night on foot, hauling heavy sacks of flour to Jerusalem.

Our guide took us to the top of the mountain to see the commanding 180-degree view of the highway far below, and we rode the length of the Burma Road through the dusty back hills.

Then we went on to leave our own small imprint on Israel, by planting trees in the nearby forests maintained by the Jewish National Fund.  There are many lush green forests in Israel, covering entire hills in beautiful shades of emerald.  The JNF representative tells us that 230 million trees have been planted in Israel, turning the barren, rocky hills into living monuments to life and effort.   It all looks natural, but the JNF representative says that 90 percent of the forests are the result of human plantings. 

We walk up a hill to a patch of brown dry land, rocky with stones.  The JNF has already dug little holes for us to place the small saplings in, and laid an irrigation pipe that will nurture what we leave behind.  Rabbi Wolpe reads a prayer for planting the trees:

Heavenly Father

Thou who buildest Zion and Jerusalem

Take pleasure in Thy land

And bestow upon it of Thy goodness

And thy grace.

Give dew for a blessing

And cause beneficent rains

To fall in their season,

To satiate the mountains of Israel

And her valleys,

And to water thereon

Every plant and tree.

And these saplings

Which we plant before thee this day.

Make deep their roots

And wide their crown,

That they may blossom forth in grace

Amongst all the trees in Israel,

For good and for beauty.

And strengthen the hands

Of all our brethren,

Who toil to revive the sacred soil

And make fruitful its wastes.

Bless, o Lord, their might,

And may the work of their hands

Find favor before Thee.

Look down from Thy holy habitation,

From heaven,

And bless this land

That it may flow again

With milk and honey.

And let us say:  Amen.

We all set to work digging out some dirt below the rocks to fill up the holes in which we have placed the little plants.  It takes a while, and the experience of actually planting a tree, dirtying our hands in the land of Israel, and leaving behind something that will grow in our absence is immensely more moving than the more extensive financial contributions we have all made to the JNF in the past.  We dedicate our small efforts to our children and parents.

I watch as the Jewish Current Wife finishes her plantings, saying her own prayer, and taking out her bottled water and lovingly pouring some of it on her new tree — thereby, I fear, inadvertently creating the first spoiled West LA tree in Israel (note to JNF:  only Evian for tree number 7 in row L).  I wish I could post the picture of her looking up from her work and capture the sheer grace of her effort.

After the tree plantings, we drive on to a small hall somewhere in southwest Israel, where we have a barbeque lunch, dance and relax.  Across the field there is a wedding going on, and I walk over to look.  Israel is a very informal country — no one wears ties — and the wedding is no exception.  The bride is in a white dress, embroidered but not elaborate, and the groom wears a white shirt and kaki pants.  All the guests are dressed comfortably and informally.  It is a picture of simplicity and beauty amidst a joyous occasion, totally absent of pretension or show.  We might profitably bring this ritual back to West LA with us.

We board our buses and make the long drive back to Jerusalem.  The driver takes us through the territories just outside Jerusalem near Beit Jala, and we drive through the underground tunnels and over the overland bridges that Israel has built to limit the amount of driving through populated Palestinian areas.  The bridges include concrete barriers to protect against snipers. 

It is a reminder that, on the 57th anniversary of independence, the struggle to secure the land and live peacefully within recognized borders still continues.