Jerusalem
– one place in the world I never thought to be. Yet here I am in a bus
travelling about in a modern city: sandstone buildings all about, apartments
blocks mainly three storeys high, hills and valleys covered with buildings,
good roads snaking around hills and patches of desert beside us some of the
time.
This
is the new Jerusalem. Not in the biblical term of ‘New Jerusalem’ – just the
Israeli new city.
The
Port was Ashdod on Israel’s West coast, an hour and a half by bus almost due
west of Jerusalem. We had to get up just after 5. My willingness to get up,
shower and breakfast at this hour is a significant proof of my desire to visit
this new Jerusalem in Israel of today. There were security details to complete.
Our tour was listed to leave at 8.25am, but we were advised to report to the
lounge at 7am.
Everybody
on board was advised they had to report to Israel Immigration and Security in
the cruise terminal before 8am, whether they were going ashore or not, so when we went into the terminal at
7am there were already about twenty queues maybe 30 deep there. An official
asked if were going on a tour and whisked us to the top of one of these queues.
The examination of our passports and faces was quick and elementary, the trip
out to the buses well organized and supervised, so I was surprised to find
myself sitting on a bus number 27 ready to go at twenty past seven in the
morning. Still fairly groggy, I admit – but ready for take-off.
Our
Israeli guide who introduced himself to us was an older Israeli, with a kind
face and caring manner. He was very knowledgeable about Israel and the biblical
Hebrew history. He was so full of the Hebrew history that it sounded like
someone may sound if they were talking about battles of the first or second
World Wars where they had a grandfather or uncle involved. We heard about
battles with the Canaanites, Joshua conquering the land, and about the
establishment of the state of Israel. He showed us the valley with its empty
fields where the shepherd boy David fought a lion and a bear to protect his
flock, and then fought and defeated Goliath. It all seemed so recent and
embedded in his story of his land.
It
was interesting how he dropped into his commentary little pieces of Jewish
(Israelite? Biblical? Or Torah?) wisdom such as you never go down. Any trip
‘down’ was really just getting ready to up. He suggested we should all look at
life this way. I felt he was sincere in his beliefs and commitment, and he had
a gentle way of sharing things important to him.
We
drove around the city of Jerusalem, viewing the Old Temple Wall, the distant
views of the old city, sites such as the new large hospital –the most advanced
in the Middle East – and the Military Cemetery where some thousands of young
Israelis killed in the various wars were buried. We made our first stop of the
day at the Yad Vashem Memorial for the six million Jews who were exterminated
by the Nazis in the Second World War.
Admission
is free as the site is funded by donations from Jews around the world, in the
hopes this disaster will be remembered and never repeated. So here I am –exploring.
Hall after hall is packed with pictures, historical documents, memorabilia and live videos of survivors describing some
aspect of the Holocaust.
I
am riveted by the stories. There was a ship carrying refugees who all had visas
for Cuba. When they arrived Cuba had changed its mind and the ship was refused
entry. It went then to Florida in hopes the USA would accept these people, but
was ordered out of American waters. With food and water running out the ship
eventually headed back to Europe and the refugees disembarked in Belgium where
they had to make their own way. Some managed to get to England, and some were
eventually sent to death camps as the Nazis overran more and more of Europe.
One
statement in large writing on a wall tells me that the Australian
representative at a conference about what was happening to the Jews said
something like Australia had no racial problems and was not willing to import
any. I feel embarrassed. I wonder if I
will feel embarrassed like this one day about our treatment of the current Asylum
Seeker of today.
One survivor on
a video is talking about going to school in Poland. Each morning the teacher
would read out the roll call. When children didn’t answer their name, the
teacher would stop and ask the class if anyone knew if they were sick, were
there family problems, or had they been taken. The children all knew. If they
had been taken she would take a ruler and pen and cross their names from the
roll.
There
are photos from camps, train lines and mock stations surrounded by stories of
what happened to the real people there. There’s a display under glass in the
floor of hundreds of old shoes taken from an extermination camp.
We
have forty minutes to go through this large museum in an extraordinary building
with section after section of horror stories. It did not take forty minutes for
me to become depressed and guilty about the hatred, cruelty and what happened
to these real people.
In
a separate building there’s the Children’s Memorial, where we go through a
darkened place lit by a few lights and mirrors reflecting these lights while
voices read out a list of one and a half million children who were killed in
the Holocaust. Each child’s name and age is read solemnly. Like “Judah Solomon –
six months old.” A slight pause, then the next name.
There
are six million trees planted around the Yad Vashem Memorial. One for each
victim. There is also an avenue of trees for the gentiles who helped and
sheltered Jewish refugees, and the last resting place of Oskar Schindler is
nearby.
I
left Yad Vashem with a heavy heart.
Our next stop is
the Museum of Israel, with a model of the historical city of Jerusalem out in a
depression surrounded by high viewing walls. The guide points out all the
salient buildings and historical significance. I’m afraid both Bruce and I
withdraw to the shade and some tables outside a refreshment café to reflect, sit
and recover from the morning so far. It is very hot out in the open.
An excellent
smorgasbord lunch in the cool of a very large hotel revives us. There is a huge
room with tables and seating for all the busloads from the ship.
The afternoon
programme consists of a visit to the old city, the Wailing Wall of old
Jerusalem where pilgrims from all over the world come to pray and push written
prayers into the cracks of the wall, King David’s Tomb and a trek up and down
all the hills of the Old City. The guide tells me I will not be able to do
this, so I wait in the bus, where the driver is resting as he has to drive to
Turkey tonight.
Bruce arrives
back exhausted from his trek through the Old City, as do most of the others.
The bus is very quiet as we drive the one and half hours back to the Sea
Princess for a late informal dinner and an early night- still full of my
reflections on Yad Vashem Memorial.
Next day
comments in the lift and dining areas are that it was ‘a good day’ whatever
people did, and all are grateful for a quiet ‘sea day’ to recover.