Tag: Islam

A Meditation on Yoga

          “Inhale, arrive on your mat.”

          It was my very first yoga class, and I was there because I aspired to touch my toes.  

          “Exhale, shiiiiine your love outward like a rainbooowwww,” the Lululemon-clad instructor crooned, “and remember: yoga is whatever you make it!”

          Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, westerners viewed yoga as an esoteric tradition: practiced on the fringes of orthodox Indic societies by magicians and priests; shrouded in superstition. But when Hindu monk Swami Vivekananda spoke about yoga at the 1893 World Parliament of Religions in Chicago, and when the physical fitness revival of the early 20th century swept the globe, yoga exploded into the mainstream. Hindu nationalists hailed yoga with a newfound vigor, touting its indigenous character. New Age hippies were equally enamored; since the 1950s, yoga studios have popped up around the globe, attracting celebrities from Marilyn Monroe to Adam Levine, while brands like Alo Yoga and prAna have seized the athleisure market. Suddenly, yoga is no longer a secretive lineage from the ‘exotic East,’ but a popular fad – a stretching routine. Yoga is…just exercise?

          “Inhale, stay.”

          I closed my eyes and an ethereal sitar tune began to play, transporting me to the Indian subcontinent of millennia past.

          The earliest known definition of yoga appears in India’s oldest text, the Rig Veda, dated 1500 to 1000 BCE. In these ritual prescriptions, yoga means ‘to yoke’ or ‘to connect;’ it is the action of harnessing a horse to a war chariot, therein submitting the horse to the charioteer’s will. Several centuries later, in the Upaniṣadic texts, yoga became a series of exercises for one to restrict the body and discipline the mind, usually as a means to seek metaphysical power or attain mystical union with god. The 3rd century BCE Kaṭha Upaniṣad asserted that yoga is “firm restraint of the senses.” As one harnesses a horse to a chariot, yoga harnesses the mind to the body. I was starting to understand this form of torture self-restraint as the instructor reminded me to return to my breath, even though we had been sitting criss-cross-applesauce forever and I couldn’t feel my feet. Whether the goal is to commune with the cosmos or simply to condition your quads, yoga is control.  

          “Exhale, downward dog!”

          I pressed myself up, relieved to distract my mind, only to discover a new kind of fatigue igniting in my legs and shoulders. My body began to shake, and I fought the urge to collapse back to the ground. Evidently, yoga is as mental as it is physical. In the Bhagavad Gita, the god Krishna tells royal warrior Arjuna that yoga is “skill in action.” He commands Arjuna to be a yogi to fulfill his divine duty–of slaughtering his own family on the battlefield. Like Arjuna, I failed to see the purpose of my excruciating position, and like Krishna, my teacher was strangely militant about demonstrating yogic willpower – albeit through core workouts, not holy war. Yoga, then, is the discipline to do what you may not want to; the patience to serve a greater good that you may not yet understand. Yoga is control.

          “Inhale, three-leg dog!”

          The room burst into a silent symphony of swaying limbs. The yogis around me contorted themselves into incomprehensible shapes, touching their toes in a thousand ways that I never thought possible. The teacher rattled off foreign words: śvānāsana, añjaneyāsana, uttānāsana…

          Āsana means “seat” or “posture,” and it is one technique by which yogis discipline their bodies in pursuit of spiritual power. Around 200 CE, āsana appeared as the third precept in the Yoga Sutra, an aphoristic text on yoga philosophy. At that time, however, the list of āsanas was limited to those suitable for seated meditation: sukhāsana, padmāsana, and vajrāsana. It wasn’t until much later, in the 13th century Haṭhapradīpikā, that āsana was elevated to a foremost priority. The Haṭhapradīpikā codified 84 total postures, and furthermore recommended bandhas (muscular locks), mudrās (gestures), dṛṣṭis (gazing points) and prāṇāyāmas (breath restraint techniques) to train and constrain the body. Yoga is control.

          “Exhale, warrior two!”

          The pace of class quickened, and the postures began to flow together, fast and fluid.  

          “Inhale, reverse triangle!”

          The music intensified, matching the rhythmic pulse of breaths in unison.

          “Exhale, extended side angle!”

          A bead of sweat dripped off my forehead.

          “Inhale, half-moon!”

          My feet hurt. My breath burned in my throat. I wanted very badly to be done. 

          “Exhale, chaturanga dandasana!”

          Really? Push-ups? I thought this was supposed to be relaxing.

          “Inhale. Pause.”

          I laid down on my back. The sensation of movement lingered in my tissues as my breath slowed.

          In the Yoga Sutra, āsana is merely a step taken to prepare oneself for samādhi: a pure state of meditative consciousness. Yoga is citta-vṛtti-nirodhaḥ: “the stilling of the turnings of the mind.”

          “Exhale. Rest.”

          I dropped into śavāsana: the pose of the corpse. The air in the studio quieted. My body softened, my mind stilled. For a time, I was neither sensing nor sleeping, but simply experiencing. Yoga is the absence of sensory intake; both this moment of uncanny stillness and every moment that builds up to it. First, yoga is just exercise, and then it is control. But ultimately, yoga is surrender.

The Truth About Birthright Israel- Part Two

          In my previous post, I wrote about my “Birthright” trip to occupied Palestine in 2018. “Taglit-Birthright Israel” is an Israeli government program that sponsors ten-day trips for all young Jews. I am Jewish on my mother’s side, so I decided to take advantage of the program.

          Before embarking on my journey, I was quite unfamiliar with the socio-political controversies surrounding modern Israel. This ten-day trip certainly opened my eyes, and I was shocked by how viscerally I was confronted with conflict.

          Yet, I had several Jewish peers who went on “Birthright,” and when they returned, they were enamored and entirely uncritical of the Israeli government. They spoke of forming lifelong relationships, connecting with their heritage, and of course, the delicious Israeli food. I was deeply disquieted by the differences in our experiences, which appeared to me as blatant indoctrination. Is a free ten-day trip really all it takes for young people to overlook human rights violations?

A Precursory Disclaimer on Antisemitism

          Jews have been systematically persecuted since the advent of Judaism, circa 1000 BCE. Around 70 CE, the Romans destroyed the Jewish State of Israel, causing Jews to scatter across the globe. In the centuries to follow, Jews were pushed out of Russia, Austria, Germany, and many other countries across the globe, forced to seek asylum in foreign lands where they were despised due to religious conflict and ethnic stereotypes. The most obvious example of this hatred is the Holocaust, wherein 6 million+ Jews were murdered on the sole basis of their ethnic identity. These antisemitic biases and crimes persist today, as evidenced by the Pittsburgh Synagogue Shooting in 2017 and, more recently, the infamous hip-hop artist’s public hate speech towards Jews.

          I provide this context to remind my readers that Jews have been and still are a targeted minority group throughout the world. For this reason alone, I felt it important to write a separate article on the beauty and complexity of Jewish culture that I experienced while in occupied Palestine.  By splitting my travels into two separate articles, I acknowledge that I risk conveying a holistic view of Israel as entirely good or entirely bad. To the former, this trip taught me a lot about global politics and Jewish history. To the latter…well, let’s just get into it.

Some Quick Historical Context

          Zionism — a nationalist movement that espouses the creation of a Jewish homeland — emerged in the late 19th century. Jews yearned for a place to call their own; a spiritual center; a refuge free from discrimination, abuse, and violence. The new Jewish state, named Israel, was established in 1948 in the region historically known as Palestine. Zionists claim that this region, often regarded as The Holy Land, belongs to the Jews, for Jewish texts describe Jerusalem and surrounding areas as a sacred site for Judaism—the Promised Land.

          One tiny problem: the Promised Land had already been promised to others—specifically, the Palestinian people, who had settled on that land for centuries preceding 1948.

         This territory has been a source of conflict for so long that many consider it irreconcilable, and indeed, the conflict continues to this day. Since 1948, Israel’s military occupation has forced Palestinians into smaller and smaller areas in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. Those who remain with their homes and communities in occupied Palestine face daily persecution from Israeli Defense Forces, which often culminates in destruction of Palestinian property or bodily harm. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict has consistently affected civilians and produced a disproportionate number of casualties from the Arab side, in large part due to Israel’s resources and military power. I implore my readers to research the continued violence against Palestinians in their ancestral homeland. Vox is a good place to start.

The "Birthright" Agenda

NOTE: I will continue to refer to my Taglit trip as “Birthright,” because I do not feel that Jews have any more birthright over that land than the people who have resided there for centuries. Furthermore, I use the terms “Israel” and “occupied Palestine” to refer to the same region; “Israel” in the context of the Jewish nation-state, “occupied Palestine” everywhere else.

Step One: Get them while they're young

          In the wee hours of dawn, I stepped afoot an Israel-bound plane with forty other young Jews. In my first attempt to make friends, I struck up a conversation with a girl seated next to me—a fellow brown-skinned, dark-haired, Jewish girl who could, like me, pass for “ethnically ambiguous.” I must have mentioned that I speak some Spanish (studied in high school and later in college) because she exclaimed,

            “Cool! I love Mexicans! I love your culture!”

            She’s confused, but she’s got the spirit, I thought. Chuckling, I said, “I’m actually half-Indian, half-American Jewish.”

            “Oooooh, so can you speak Indian?”

            Um…. there are 22 scheduled languages and hundreds of regional dialects spoken in India, none of which are called “Indian.” My father speaks Bengali, and I study Hindi. Common mistake—I didn’t fault her.

            Yet, this encounter set the tone for many of my future interactions with my fellow “Birthright” travelers. While many of them proved knowledgeable about Jewish customs and Israeli history, they also turned out to be uneducated, tone deaf, or even willfully ignorant to other cultures—especially Palestinian culture. For many of my peers, “Birthright” was their first time traveling outside of their home state, let alone by themselves or internationally. At age 20, I was older than most of the individuals in my group, who were primarily fresh out of high school and extremely impressionable to the ideas proposed by our tour guide and group leaders. I believe the “Birthright” agenda is heavily targeted towards those who have limited prior cultural exposures.

Step Two: Lure them to Israel

          “Birthright” is a shockingly generous program. The Israeli government pays for thousands of Jewish youths to visit every year, and there’s virtually no catch, besides having to stay for the entire ten days. If you leave early, or somehow get kicked off, you only forfeit a $200 deposit. Many travelers take advantage of the free overseas flight and continue to travel around Asia or Europe after the trip ends—“Birthright” makes no conditions as to when you arrive or when you leave the country, so long as you participate in the ten days of organized travel. They’ll pay for your flight home–no questions asked!

          Furthermore, the “Birthright” budget is by no means modest. We slept in 5-star hotels, gorged ourselves on gourmet buffets, and engaged in countless cultural activities that would have burned through a tourist’s pocket. The sheer luxury of this free program raises some questions, to say the least. Yet, if you’re Jewish, you would be stupid to not take advantage of this program. In this way, the “Birthright” offer is somewhat irresistible.

Step Three: Make them feel at home

          Israel boasts a developed free-market economy, with modern infrastructure that rivals many Western countries. The country’s prosperous economy allows for sophisticated welfare programs, a powerful modern military, and high-quality education systems. As a result, many parts of occupied Palestine feel comfortable and familiar for many American travelers—perhaps even uncannily so. Indeed, the difference between Israel and its neighboring nations—Jordan, Lebanon, and Egypt—is stark. The Tel Aviv skyline, the developed roads, the thriving technology industry…these factors point to colonial power, not a young sovereign nation sequestered in the Middle East.

          From my perspective, the logic behind this step is quite clear: shower the young visitors with lavish gifts so they won’t ask questions. At the beginning of the trip, I naively wondered if “Birthright” is an innocent ploy to boost Israeli tourism. As time went on, however, I started to feel as though I had been paid for my silence.

Step Four: Promote anti-Arab propaganda

          My fellow travelers’ true colors emerged quickly. Upon arriving at our hotel on the first night, one girl became restless and irate. She began to shout about having to sit next to a Palestinian woman on the plane ride, 

          “I bet she thought she was going to Palestine, huh? Well, she’s not. This is ISRAEL!” She followed her angry tirade with a stream of obscenities, prompting one of our group leaders to step in.

            “Hey now, I spoke to a Palestinian man on the plane, and he was actually very nice…” the group leader began weakly, but we all recognized the futility of his attempt. Even he seemed unconvinced. There was no further effort to counter her blatant hate speech.

          From that interaction onward, anti-Palestinian rhetoric became commonplace among our group. Other forms of hate speech also went unpunished (the N word was popular among my group—needless to say, none of us were Black), but remarks targeted at Palestinians seemed to be encouraged, even rewarded. These sentiments were propagated by our Israeli tour guide and our American group leaders as much as my fellow travelers.

          For example, the Birthright itinerary always includes a visit to Israel’s borders with Syria and Jordan so that travelers can “gain a real understanding” of Israel’s geo-political positionality in the Middle East. This “real understanding” turned out to be a slew of propaganda which cast Jordanian and Syrian people as uncivilized, violent warmongers. Our tour guide, standing with his back to the arid Syrian plains, gestured broadly across the farmlands and said casually,

          “We always see explosions over there.” Inevitably, this remark prompted several ignorant questions: How often do they bomb Israel? Have they ever targeted a Birthright group? Are Syrian women educated? Are they all forced to build bombs? The conversation was unproductive once again, serving only to heighten fear and distrust. As for perspective gained on Israeli geopolitics, we were evidently meant to view Israel as a perfect victim, helplessly sandwiched between primitive Arab countries with no means of self-defense. Records of military spending will no doubt have a different story to tell.

The invisible boundary between Israel and Syria

          At the Dead Sea, our tour guide declared that the Jordanian government is purposefully polluting the saline water to gain control over it. He conveniently neglected to mention that Israel is equally to blame for the Dead Sea’s lowering water levels and rising number of contaminants. In reality, the two countries’ refusal to cooperate threatens the Dead Sea far more than the pollutants of either country alone. Israelites have historically accomplished great feats in water management (see Part 1), but their inability to work with Arab neighbors may cause irreparable damage to their historical and religious landmark. 

          The anti-Arab discourse came to a head in Jerusalem. On a rooftop overlooking the Old City, our tour guide began to lecture about the Temple Mount, the Western Wall, and other sacred geographies. He recounted the First Temple and its fall to the neo-Babylonians, then the subsequent Second Temple and its fall to the Romans. Then he pointed to Al-Aqsa, the plaza beyond the Western Wall. Barely bothering to conceal his disgust, he sneered, “they stole our temple.”

          Dominion over the Temple Mount, or Al-Aqsa as Muslims call it, has been central to global religious conflict for centuries. This location is a sacred site for all three Abrahamic traditions–Judaism, Christianity, Islam–whom all constantly vie for control. However, the claim that Muslims stole the Temple Mount is reductive and historically questionable. 500 years span the gap between King Herod’s Second Temple and the construction of the Dome of the Rock; if anything, the Romans should be on trial, for their temple to Jupiter was the first to replace its Jewish predecessor. Our tour guide’s accusation mirrored the broader Zionist ethic, which tends to ignore historical chronology in favor of spiritual entitlement. 

          All this hateful rhetoric against Arabs was underscored by a bizarrely cheerful spring break energy. Out of all the planned activities, my peers were mostly interested in clubbing in Tel Aviv, partying at the beach, and drinking in our hotel rooms. We were shuffled from marketplaces to gift shops to malls, urged to shop for handicrafts and try authentic local cuisine. Ironically, many of these uniquely “Israeli” dishes (shakshuka, hummus, falafel) are just shameless appropriations from Arab cultures. But my peers were far too busy spending their shekels at upscale boutiques to think critically about colonial exchange networks.

Step Five: Instill Zionist loyalty

          Much like American education, the framework of “Birthright” is infused with an Israeli nationalist spirit that strategically penetrates the pathos. The “Birthright” itinerary takes young Jews through Israel’s national cemeteries, war forts, and great historic battle sites. These morbid locations work in conjunction to illustrate the endless plight of the Jews. Simultaneously, the educational core glorifies Jewish history to justify the creation of the Zionist State.

          Through all of this, my group was drinking excessively, hooking up with one another, and attending “Birthright”-sponsored EDM mega-events that celebrated the founding of Israel. At the mega-event I attended in 2018, a sponsor implored the audience (thousands of Birthright travelers) to act as ambassadors and sway public opinion in Israel’s favor when we returned home. I was shocked by his bold request, but when I glanced around me, my peers were smiling and cheering—they had been drinking for hours by that point. I guess alcohol makes the propaganda go down easier. 

          There was also a distinct undercurrent of peace symbolism throughout the trip.  I mentioned in Part 1 that we were each given a dove to release for seemingly no reason. Later, we took a tour of an olive oil factory, where the saleswoman really emphasized the olive branch imagery. 

          And then there were the IDF soldiers. “Birthright” includes a multi-day mifgash (encounter) with Israeli peers, who are almost always active duty in the Israeli Defense Forces. On my trip, our IDF peers traveled with us for six days. 

          For background, Israel mandates conscription for every citizen over the age of 18. Men are expected to serve a minimum of 32 months, women 24. Arab Israelis are notably and explicitly exempt from service, as are a few other groups such as religious women and married individuals. The Israeli Defense Forces is somewhat notorious with the United Nations for its perpetual war crimes in conflict against Palestine, so I was fascinated (and somewhat terrified) to meet the young soldiers in person and pick their brains.

          As it turned out, my IDF peers had little to say because they had nothing to admit. One day, I sat with an American friend and an IDF soldier, a woman named Einav, for lunch. My American friend mentioned a video he had seen the previous week, of an IDF bombing of a Palestinian civilian area.

          “Do you support this?” he asked Einav.

          “That wasn’t us,” Einav responded immediately, impulsively.

          “What do you mean?” my friend asked, puzzled. “You can see the soldiers in IDF uniforms in the video. You can see them, see?” He pulled out his phone and showed her his news source. Her eyes skimmed the screen and without hesitating:

          “Video footage can be doctored. Don’t believe everything you see on the internet,” Einav scolded. My American friend looked at me, jaw dropped. Is she required to cover for her country? Or does she truly believe that Israel is blameless?

          Further inquiries were met with sharp denial. Trying to convince her felt futile, so the topic was dropped, unresolved.

Step Six: Encourage marriage within the religion

          Our IDF peers were not just there to make us doubt the media narratives against Israel. They were also there for our socializing and fraternizing pleasure. They slept with us in our hotel rooms, and our group leaders did little to discourage frisky co-ed behavior. In fact, I can recall several instances when “Birthright” organizers encouraged the development of romantic relationships between group members. We were each slept 4 to a room, but that didn’t stop my fellow travelers from…enjoying each other’s company.

          Subliminally, I had known that this is the motivation behind “Birthright”—to promote marriage within the religion. An ongoing longitudinal study called the Jewish Futures Project shows that Jews who go on “Birthright” are significantly more likely to marry another Jew than those who don’t. What I did not expect, however, was their complete lack of subtlety. More than once, we were told to “look around you—your husband or wife is probably standing in this group!” Everyone told us in plain terms to fall in love on “Birthright,” marry another Jew, move back to Israel, and have Jewish babies.

          The part they didn’t say out loud?

          Those Jewish babies grow up to be Israeli citizens and, inevitably, IDF soldiers. “Birthright” is a soft power tool of demographic engineering and military recruitment, designed to insure the Jewish majority in future generations so that the Israeli state may continue to occupy Palestine. 

          Despite my tour guide’s efforts to portray the Zionists as innocent victims of Arab violence, Israel has blood on its hands. Israeli occupation of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, as well as the innumerable war crimes committed against the Palestinian people since 1948, have been solely enabled by Israel’s mandatory conscription law. By participating on “Birthright,” I was a gullible pawn in this master plan.

Step Seven: Lure them back

          After everything I experienced during my ten days in occupied Palestine, I could hardly believe it when, at the end of the trip, my fellow travelers were heartbroken to leave. They shared teary goodbyes and sappy lectures about how the trip had changed their lives, how they would miss everyone so dearly, and how proud they were to be Jewish. Many vowed to move to Israel, while others promised to spread the good word when they returned home.

            Frankly, I could not participate in their festivities; my feelings were the opposite of theirs. My “Birthright” trip had disillusioned me so completely that I did not ever want to return to Israel. I did not want to advocate for Zionism. I did not want to marry a Jew. When I left Israel, I didn’t even want to BE a Jew anymore. I felt deeply ashamed by the violence initiated by my ancestors and perpetuated by my peers. I could not believe that these geopolitical conflicts, seemingly so ancient and abstract, could manifest themselves before my eyes so tangibly. Furthermore, I could not believe that kids my own age were willing to overlook these conflicts for a free vacation.

          Most of all, my heart ached for the Palestinian people—those who still live under apartheid rule, and those who have died in the fight. “Birthright” did not introduce us to those people, nor acknowledge their oppression. “Birthright” relies on the anonymity of Palestinians to tell its twisted tale of nation-making and justification. “Birthright” abets Israeli occupation in Palestine by spreading misinformation and indoctrinating thousands of young Jews every year.

          “Birthright” is a violent colonial institution. That is the truth. And while I can only speak for my own experiences, I hope that my Jewish peers will also soon recognize their ethical obligation to speak out against Israel. 

FREE PALESTINE!

          If you are interested in supporting the fight to Free Palestine, please consider donating to one of the following organizations:

Medical Aid for Palestinians 

Palestine Campaign 

United Palestinian Appeal 

Jewish Voice for Peace

          If you would like more context on the Israel-Palestine conflict, please visit the following resources:

United Nations 

The Iron Cage by Rashid Khalidi 

The Israel-Palestinian Conflict by James L Gelvin

Arabs and Israelis: Conflicts and Peacemaking in the Middle East by Abdel Modem Said Aly, Shai Feldman, & Khalil Shikaki

The Truth About Birthright Israel – Part One

          I inherited Jewishness from my mother, so I have had the bittersweet experience of visiting Israel for free. Yes, for FREE. The Israeli government runs a program called “Taglit (Discovery)-Birthright Israel,” otherwise known as “Birthright Israel” or simply, “Birthright.” This program sponsors ten-day trips to Israel for all Jews between the ages of 18 and 26, and it covers ALL expenses, including airfare, accommodations, meals, transportation, and cultural experiences. The eligibility requirements are straightforward: you must have at least one parent of Jewish descent or have converted to Judaism through a recognized Jewish movement. As the name implies, the program is founded on the assumption that all Jews have a birthright to discover the Jewish homeland and connect with their Jewish identity. Readers, perhaps you see where this is headed, but dear readers…I did not.

          Here, I must pause to make a disclaimer: not all Jews are Zionist. I do not believe that any religion or perceived birthright is justification for violence, oppression, and apartheid. Make no mistake — Israel is an apartheid state. For this reason, I will continue to refer to my Taglit trip as “birthright,” because I do not feel that Jews have any more birthright over that land than the people who have resided there for centuries. Furthermore, I use the terms “Israel” and “occupied Palestine” to refer to the same region; “Israel” occasionally in the context of the Jewish state, “occupied Palestine” everywhere else.

          Despite my staunch opposition to modern political Zionism, I do not wish to downplay the beauty of Judaism in my attempt to expose the lesser-known truths about Taglit-Birthright. It was an enormous privilege to visit this region and experience its history. This article covers Jewish history and Israeli culture; please visit Part Two to read about the parts of my trip that left a sour taste in my mouth: the discrimination, the propaganda, and the shocking geo-political realities of the Zionist state.

THE TRIP

          My “Birthright Israel” journey took place in summer of 2018, shortly after I trained to become a yoga teacher. By that time, I had connected profoundly with my Indian heritage, and I yearned to do the same with my Jewish roots. I thought, an all-expenses-paid opportunity to learn about Jewish history and culture? Sign me up! Ultimately, I did learn about Jewish history and culture, but I was not entirely pleased by my findings.

          Our itinerary was jampacked, and we didn’t even have time to recover from the jetlag before we were piled onto a coach bus with the words “Taglit-Birthright” emblazoned on the side. In ten short days, we were shuttled from border to border to take in all the sights and sounds of occupied Palestine. We never stayed in one hotel for more than two nights; we never ate at the same place twice; we truly experienced a lot of the country through the eyes of Israeli settlers. Here are some of the highlights from my trip:

West Asian Agriculture

          In the Shomron region in northern occupied Palestine, we visited Kibbutz Ein-Shemer. A Kibbutz is an intentional community traditionally based on agriculture, so we explored Ein-Shemer’s greenhouses and fruit orchards to learn about the community’s history, as well as the role of agriculture in Israel’s economy. Several Kibbutz members joined us to discuss their lifestyles and daily activities on the Kibbutz, and they even invited us to enjoy some fresh fruits and veggies from the greenhouses!

            At the end of our Kibbutz tour, each of us were given a dove to release. To this day, I have no idea why we did this. Perhaps they were attempting a symbolic gesture of peace? Let me know what you think in the comments.

Graffiti Tour in Tel Aviv

          Tel Aviv, a vibrant urban center, plays host to a wide range of artists, many of whose mediums are the streets. As we wandered the city, our tour guide pointed out various works on building facades, mailboxes, fences, and sidewalks. He highlighted motifs in each piece and provided context on well-known graffiti artists, along with the socio-political messages that they attempt to convey through their work. We also visited some indoor galleries that showcased Tel Aviv’s more orthodox artisanship.

Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial

          Perhaps the most chilling and solemn moment of my trip was our visit to Yad Vashem, the World Holocaust Remembrance Center. Located on a hill overlooking Jerusalem, the museum is a long, narrow, dimly lit building with exhibitions designed to be viewed in a linear fashion. Our tour guide explained that the building’s structure invokes the Jews’ experience of the Holocaust, such that the visitor enters a long, dark tunnel with no end in sight. We spent more than three hours inside the museum, observing photos of concentration camps, simulations of gas chambers, and glass cases full of abandoned shoes. In seeing those snippets of Jewish life during the Holocaust, the gravity of their genocide fell upon me. The final exhibit is a dome-shaped room with floor-to-ceiling projections that flash rotating photos of Holocaust victims. In a poignant moment of collective grief, I wept alongside my Jewish peers for the loss of our ancestors.

            When our tour concluded, we emerged from the dark building into daylight, where we paused before the vast landscape of the Holy Land. The gaping exit of Yad Vashem, our tour guide told us, symbolizes the liberation of the Jews from concentration camps and the ultimate creation of the new Jewish state, where Jews could finally be freed from generations of violence. Yad Vashem served as a profound reminder that the Holocaust continues to shape contemporary Judaism and its people.  

No pictures included of the Holocaust memorial, for obvious reasons. This is the view of Jerusalem at the end of the museum.

Hezekiah's Tunnels under Jerusalem

          As the Hebrew Bible foretold, the City of David (the ancient core of Jerusalem), rests upon a series of underground tunnels that were once used to transport fresh water from the Gihon Spring to the Siloam Pool—a life-giving source for the ancient peoples of Jerusalem. Largely regarded as an extraordinary and baffling feat of engineering, these tunnels are attributed to Hezekiah, the reigning King of Judah circa late 8th  century to 687 BCE. Biblical scholars believe that Hezekiah constructed these tunnels so that he could fortify against Assyrian invasion without compromising the city’s water source.

            Modern Jerusalem has since implemented newer methods of irrigation, so Hezekiah’s tunnels have become a tourist attraction, allowing visitors to wade through stagnant water for a portion of the tunnels’ 533-meter length. Inevitably, this tour is a staple of “Birthright” trips, and we geared up with water shoes and shorts to descend underground. The tunnels are approximately two feet wide and pitch-black, with water levels ranging from ankle-deep to thigh-deep depending on the location (and your height, of course). Needless to say, I don’t recommend Hezekiah’s tunnels for anyone prone to claustrophobia, aquaphobia, or nyctophobia. However, this tour was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I was fascinated by the remarkable ancient infrastructure.

            To my dismay, my “Birthright” peers did not take this tour as seriously. Rather than listening to our tour guide’s historical talk, they opted to vape, blast obscene music from their portable speakers, and chatter incessantly. As you might imagine, noises ricochet quite loudly in narrow, water-filled corridors. I often wonder whether my tour may have been more educational and less fear-inducing had I traveled with a more respectful group.

Camping with Bedouins in the Negev Desert

          The Bedouin are nomadic Arab tribes that have herded animals such as sheep, goats, and camels throughout the deserts of Northern Africa and the Middle East since 6000 BCE. Some Bedouins have adopted urban, sedentary lifestyles in the last two centuries, while many others live semi-sedentary lifestyles. Large groups of the latter now inhabit tent settlements in the Negev desert in occupied Palestine. Despite their exposure to Israeli culture and politics, the Bedouins have retained their traditional customs and language (Arabic), which include “Bedouin Hospitality.” Thus, the Bedouins welcomed my “Birthright” group with open arms.

            During our stay, we slept in a Bedouin tent for a night, partially exposed to the hot and sandy elements. The desert was so quiet—that night was my best sleep the whole trip. We shared a meal with our host tribe, comprised of lamb, rice, and a highly anticipated cup of Bedouin coffee: a dark, bitter roast with a unique blend of spices. We ate with our hands (just like in India!) while seated on cushions on the floor. A Bedouin man gave us a talk on their traditional art forms, which range from loom-woven textiles to clay pottery to animal-hoof utensils. The Bedouins also took us for a camel ride through the desert, which was somewhat of a roller coaster—the camels would kneel on their front legs to allow us to mount, then stand suddenly, one leg at a time, requiring us to hold on to the reigns for dear life.

The Dead Sea

          The Dead Sea lies at the lowest land-based elevation on earth, bordered by Jordan to the East and occupied Palestine to the West. This body of water is not actually a sea at all, but rather a salt lake with such high levels of salinity that swimming in it is more like floating. Being one of the world’s saltiest bodies of water, the Dead Sea is a harsh environment for plants and animals, hence its name.

            This historic landmark, mentioned throughout Jewish and Biblical literature, is one of the most anticipated destinations on the “Birthright” itinerary, but after wading into the waters, I began to wonder why. Within moments of my effortless float, inordinate amounts of salt began to seep into my skin and burn my nose, ears, nailbeds, and other unmentionable parts of my body. The experience of being lifted to the water’s surface was uncanny, but I didn’t linger to relish it. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the white sands and sunny sights of this natural marvel, grateful for the opportunity to visit.

            Perhaps more famous than the Dead Sea itself is its mud: silt from the lake’s shores that has absorbed the water’s salinity. Many health and wellness companies have profited by packaging this mud into commercial mud masks, which are now sold globally. These entrepreneurial claims are not mere pseudoscience—medical researchers have established that high concentrations of salt and magnesium, among other minerals in the mud, can effectively treat a wide range of conditions, including psoriasis, arthritis, acne, and chronic pain. However, I was surprised to discover that Dead Sea tourists cannot simply dig up this miraculous mud. Instead, you must visit nearby spa shops that sell mud products for 70 to 350 Shekels. My group leaders graciously purchased several masks for us all to share, so I slathered myself in the magic elixir of yore. Maybe it cured me of all my ailments? Only time will tell.

Hiking Masada

          Hebrew for “fortress;” Masada is a UNESCO World Heritage Site for two palaces built by Herod the Great. Masada was fortified during the 1st century BCE to protect the palaces against Roman Siege. Situated atop an isolated plateau in southern occupied Palestine, Masada is only accessible by foot and by cable car. There are two trails that lead to the top of the plateau, both of which are perilously narrow and steep. My “Birthright” group traversed the Roman Ramp trail in the darkness of early morning, hoping to reach the summit in time to see the sun rising over the Dead Sea. Not much remains of the palace structures at the top, but the scenery was certainly stunning.

Shabbat (The Old City & The White City)

          Also known as the day of rest, Shabbat is an ancient Jewish tradition wherein Jews refrain from work activities and take rest. Every week, Shabbat begins at sundown on Friday and continues through sundown on Saturday evening. Each Jewish family has unique Shabbat practices, but traditionally, Shabbat consists of three required meals: Friday night dinner, Saturday lunch, and Saturday dinner, with the first of these three being the most commonly observed. Religious Jews attend synagogue on Saturday morning to read the Torah and perform special Shabbat prayers. Other traditions include indulging in meat and other fancy foods, wearing nice clothes, lighting candles, and greeting others with the traditional greeting, “Shabbat Shalom!” Any form of work is strictly prohibited on Shabbat, so Jews perform housework on Friday to prepare, then spend Saturday socializing, eating, worshipping, and relaxing.

            My “Birthright” trip spanned Friday to Sunday, so I celebrated two Shabbats in occupied Palestine. The first was spent in Jerusalem, the Old City, where we visited the Western (Wailing) Wall and learned about religious Shabbat customs. Then we lit candles, shared sentiments of blessings and gratitude with the group, and enjoyed a meal together.

            Our second Shabbat took place in Tel Aviv, the White City. Not everyone who lives in occupied Palestine is Jewish, but many are—as a result, most businesses close at sundown on Friday and do not reopen until sundown the following day. It was fascinating to walk the deserted streets of this normally bustling city, knowing that everyone was at home, enjoying restorative communion with their friends and families.

The Western Wall

          At the center of the Old City of Jerusalem is the Temple Mount, the holiest site in Judaism. The Temple Mount is thought to be the location of the Holy of Holies, a term used in the Hebrew Bible to denote a spiritual junction between Heaven and Earth; an inner sanctum where God’s presence appears. As such, two temples have been built in this spot to house this sacred sanctuary and its precious treasure: the Ark of the Covenant. The first temple was commissioned by King Solomon circa 10th century BCE and stood until its destruction by the Neo-Babylonian Empire in 587 BCE. A second temple was constructed nearly a century later and served as a site of worship until its destruction by the Romans in 70 CE. A Third Temple has not yet been built, as the Temple Mount is currently occupied by the Dome of the Rock and Al-Aqsa Mosque, a site of religious significance in Islam.  

            Even still, this site retains historical importance and divine presence for Jews. The Temple Mount rests on a hill surrounded by retaining walls, one of which is the Western Wall. Entry to the Temple Mount is restricted, so Jews gather at the Western Wall to pray in proximity to the Holy of Holies, which is believed to lie just behind the wall.

          Of all the things we did on my “Birthright” trip, our visit to the Western Wall was by far the most powerful and profound. The women were asked to cover our hair with scarves, and we were separated by sex; the men were directed to the left side, the women to the right. When we got close, we were permitted to touch the wall and pray for as long as we felt compelled. I must admit, I don’t have much of a relationship with the Jewish God (assuming He/ She is different from the divine forces I believe in), but I couldn’t help but be overcome by the tangible spirituality surrounding me as I approached the wall. On all sides, women pressed their faces and palms against the worn stone—some muttered prayers in hushed tones, while others loudly expressed their devotion; many more simply wept. A deep sense of loving faith hung in the air, like a warm blanket embracing all of us at once. I saw then and there why the Western Wall has been nicknamed the “Wailing Wall,” for even I was brought to tears.

          To understate the great history and spiritual power that I experienced on my trip would be an immense disservice to occupied Palestine, as well as the people of all cultures and faiths that comprise its population. This small swath of land is a globally significant site for archeologists, biblical scholars, followers of Abrahamic religion, and world travelers alike; I consider myself lucky to have been able to explore even a fraction of it, let alone in the capacity Taglit enabled me to.

          However, I cannot in good faith discuss the good parts of my “Birthright” trip without giving equal attention to the ethically concerning parts. I know now that my luxurious experience came at the expense of Palestinian lives. Please visit The Truth About Birthright Israel – Part Two to read about the not-so-subtle agenda of Taglit-Birthright Israel.