Sukkot Reverie

The beauty of Jerusalem took my breath away the other evening, on the roundabout near the old train station, when everything converged. We approached the ancient twisted olive tree on a traffic circle (transplanted from some stolen field, one assumes). It was surrounded by blooming meadow grass, and set against the pastel-toned murals of old-time passengers painted on the station wall. Suddenly an Arab boy galloped on a white horse down the pavement. He was smiling with the warm night wind in his hair and looked as if he’d leapt from the painting. Guys in kippas strolled near a trompe d’ oeil sculpture that looked like a freestanding tarp, draped over an invisible car.

Shadows of palm fronds flicker on the tent-sides all around town. Sukkot looks more intriguing at night. By day, these lean-tos give the city a shabby, shanty look. But inside a sukka, it’s fun and informal, like being in a child’s fort. People come over for tea, hang out, snack, commune together. And the breeze is perfect for flags, so yes, there are parades as pilgrims from across the country and across the world come to the Temple (which isn’t there anymore) and camp in temporary structures to remember God’s bounty while the tribes wandered in the wilderness. Strangely, there seems to be a preponderance of Brazilian evangelicals among the faithful this year, all marching in costume like the World Cup champions in green and bright yellow. The Christian Zionists call Sukkot "the Feast of the Tabernacles," and celebrate in solidarity with Old Testament believers. A trail of African women and South Sea Islanders poured off the stairway near the Pools of Solomon, praised the lord, and picked their way around me down to the Hinom Valley,[Gehenna or Hades.] A couple of Christian End-timers in t-shirts were tooting on ram’s horns. Shofar, so good. (No apocalypse yet). People are smiling.



Locals are have been picnicking everywhere, and the parks' lawns are strewn with litter and look festive, like a party venue the morning after. The weather is delicious, the wind fresh. The moon is lopsided and its light gleams off the pale stones of the Old City in the distance. I can’t quite see the Kotel, the Western Wall, but there’s a steady amount of foot traffic up the road there. The Muslim prayer call sounds, as do the deep throated churchbells from the Basilica of the Assumption.

It's a fruit, not a veg, and it splats! Catsup with the Besor Tomato Fest

At Besor's Shalom Park, on the northern edge of the Negev, a weekend battle is guaranteed to stain fighters with red pulp. It's a tomato festival, complete with mosh pit, which is modelled after La Tomatina, a pitched tomato fight that takes place in Bunyol, Spain every year at the height of the harvest. Some 30,000 people gather to pelt each other with 115,000 kilograms of overripe ammo and revel in the foodfight every year, as the town's population triples in size. The tamer Israeli version is now in its third year, and promoters aim for a gentler image, even extolling the beneficial effects of astringent tomato juice on the complexion. But if the relentless High holydays and so much family togetherness drives you to the brink of hurling something, this definitely is the place to go.

Christian Zionists on week-long hallelujah

Christian theo-cons are back in-country and will be blowing their own horns in support of Israel all week,
the Associated Press reports:

The walls of Jericho came crashing down again at Ein Gedi spa resort on the Dead Sea, with all the bright lights and fanfare of a Broadway show.

Actors dressed in biblical garb blasting ram horns and riding camels re-enacted Joshua's siege of the ancient city for some 5,000 Christian pilgrims on Thursday, kicking off a weeklong demonstration of solidarity with Israel.

The performance at Ein Gedi, just a few kilometers south of Jericho itself, was part of a celebration marking the Feast of the Tabernacles, or Sukkot, a seven-day Jewish holiday during which the pilgrims believe the Old Testament invites all nations to come to Jerusalem.

The crowd's excitement was palpable, with believers exclaiming hallelujah and blowing large ram horns, or shofars, throughout the show.

Organizers said that Christian tourism in the Holy Land reaches its peak during Sukkot, infusing an estimated $18 million into the local economy.

Evangelical groups have forged a tight alliance with the Jewish state, and Israeli officials have welcomed the pilgrims for years. Israeli Orthodox rabbis have tolerated them but have become increasingly concerned they may have an ulterior motive: conversion of the Jews.

The Christian groups oppose territorial concessions to the Palestinians, who want to establish a state in areas Israel captured in the 1967 Mideast War. Many Evangelicals believe Jews must return to the biblical Land of Israel to facilitate a Second Coming of Christ.

This year Israel's chief rabbinate banned Jewish participation in the festivities sponsored by the International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem over concerns that the foreigners may be proselytizing.

Many of the die-hard fans of Israel were upset by the decision.

"I've been coming here for 15 years, and I've never seen any proselytizing," said Larry Holder, who traveled from Murphy, North Carolina for the event. "There's been nothing pushy about it at all."

Others said they merely want to use the week to demonstrate their support.

"God asked us to bless the nation of Israel," said Donald Langford of Murfreesboro, Tennessee.

The International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem has hosted Sukkot celebrations in Israel for 27 years. The embassy says that pilgrims have been instructed to refrain from missionary activity while in Israel.

"It's time for gentiles to repay their debt to the Jews," said Anthony Gibson of County Kildare, Ireland. "Without the Jews, he said, there would be no patriarchs, no prophets, no messiah, no salvation."

The weeklong festival will include a parade and a musical tribute to the 40th anniversary of the reunification of Jerusalem in the 1967 Mideast war, in addition to performances by Jewish cantor and Broadway actor Dudu Fisher.

Last year's celebrants (pictured above, courtesy of Dan Sieradski), appear to have lifted some costume cues from a notable super-Star (6-pointed variety), "Angelina Jew-lie", right.
This year's parade, on Tuesday, has been declared non-kosher by rabbis who ask Jews not to march in the midst of the Christian supporters.

Stirring September sunsets are a blast

In the old city of Jerusalem there are a tangle of historic tales, waiting to be respun. My droll buddy James Hider, intrigued by the blast that marks the evening meal during the holy month of Ramadan, sought out the Sandouka family that has summoned fasters to dinner for the past century or so with a cannonball. His report appeared in the London Times, and it makes an intriguing read. Uri Lupolianski, the orthodox Mayor of Jerusalem, has no problem with the Arab family that shoots shells at sundown outside the venerable gates. The mayor sided with the traditionalists and derided new rules that would force Sandouka, who has been shooting the signal blast for two decades, to pass a $2000 certification course before handling explosives.

The shots used to be fired from a cannon donated by the Ottoman Empire, at the Old City’s Flowers gate. Twenty years ago, that artillery piece was replaced by a gun donated by Jordan. Now, Mr Sandouka fires a large percussion grenade – a sort of glorified firework that makes a loud boom – from a pipe set up at the gate.
Israeli security forces have insisted that the percussion grenade for Iftar– which does contain explosives – must be delivered every day by an armed Israeli military explosives expert, to make sure that it does not fall into the hands of terrorists.

Despite the security crackdown, festivity reigns. Churchbells clang, shofars sound their single insistent tone, and muezzins sing forth from minarets as the High Holydays and Ramadan converge this year. Nearly all my neighbours are putting up their sukka huts and issuing invitations to dine outside with them in a "Feast of the Tabernacles." And Christian Zionists are arriving for the good times in full force: 7000 evangelical Christians from dozens of countries plan to march through the city to show their support for Israel. The evenings are getting chilly and the bazaars are hawking heaps of ceremonial plants. Pedestrians tote lulav (palm frond), hadass (myrtle), aravah (willow branch) and etrog (knobbly citron) for the holiday, which celebrates harvest and sacrifices that date from before the sacking of the Second Temple. Iftar parties, replete with twinkling lights and honeyed sweets, enliven every twilight. Faith and family seem to bind Jerusalem at this time of year and life seems sweet.
Except perhaps for the Prime Minister, who is now under investigation for a shady property deal that discounted a pricey garden flat for his family. But Ehud Olmert has managed to wriggle free of all corruption allegations in the past.
Having friends on high must help. There's no sign yet that the sun is setting on his premiership. But after the holidays, things may get heavier for him.