Herod the Great

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Caesarea, Ehud Netzer, Emperor Augustus, Herodium, Idumenaeam ancient Rome, Israel Museum, Jericho, John Williams, Massada, Second Temple

The exhibition currently on show at the Israel Museum reveals just a tiny fraction of the grandeur and ambition of King Herod, the Idumaean who once ruled Judea, with some help from his Roman patrons, and was known mainly for his grandiose building projects throughout the region, most notably the Second Temple in Jerusalem, and his murderous cruelty to all and sundry, including his own family. He could be said to have suffered from a diabolical combination of an edifice complex and paranoia. But that was pretty much par for the course at the time, those were murderous times, and as is well known by now, only the paranoid survive.

The Israel Museum has chosen to concentrate on Herod’s final years, paying special attention to the arrangements associated with the journey taken by the funeral cortege from his palace in Jericho to the tomb he had constructed to serve as his final resting place on the Judean hillside known as Herodium. The Israeli archaeologist, Ehud Netzer, who spent almost twenty years excavating the site, despite the criticism and scepticism of his colleagues, was triumphant when he finally found the remains of the structure that appeared to be the actual tomb, a towering monument to Herod’s desire to commemorate himself in stone. By a terrible irony of fate, however, Netzer fell to his death at the site soon after making his memorable discovery. That tomb has now been partially reconstructed in the Museum’s exhibition gallery.

The exhibition includes many items of archaeological interest taken from Herod’s various palaces, which have been found at Massada, Jericho, Caesarea and elsewhere, illustrating the sophistication and lavishness of the way of life of the ruling class more than two thousand years ago. The influence of Rome apparently dominated their lifestyle, with their eating and drinking habits being indicated by the objects excavated at the site, as well as their taste in interior decoration. The heavy stones which were brought to the museum made it necessary to reinforce the floor of the exhibition gallery.

Huge photographs of the backdrop provided by the barren Judean hills confront visitors to the exhibition as they enter the exhibition, and the well-lit display cases give one a clear idea of the kind of vessels in which food and wine were stored and from which they were eaten and drunk.

By coincidence, I had just been reading John Williams’ thoroughly-researched book ‘Augustus,’ which gives a vivid picture of the life and times of ancient Rome, especially of the Emperor Octavius, later known as Augustus, who ruled in Rome at roughly the same time as Herod did in Judea. And Herod does in fact appear in the book from time to time as a client of Rome. It gave me a particular sense of satisfaction to see how the history of the Jewish people and the archaeology of the region tie in so neatly with the story of the Roman Empire. It is also instructive to note that the Romans are no longer with us, while the Jewish people still endures.

The Dead Sea Experience

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Dead Sea Scrolls, Ein Boqeq, Jericho, Judean Hills, mesas and buttes, Qumran

 

Only one and a half hours’ drive away from my home just outside Jerusalem lies the Dead Sea, the lowest place on earth, whose water is so salty that the human body can float quite easily on its surface. It rains very rarely and the temperature there never falls below 20 degrees; thus in summer it gets excessively hot, but for the rest of the year it is very pleasant.

That is the place to which Yigal and I betake ourselves for a weekend very occasionally, about once a year, when we feel that we need to rest and recover from our hectic retirement. Our vacation begins once we leave the urban sprawl of Jerusalem behind and start the descent to the Jordan Valley, Jericho, and the expanse of salty water with occasional fresh-water oases below.

After we turn right and gain the road that winds along the shore, with the sea and the distant mountains on the Jordanian side on our left and the buttes and mesas of the barren Judean Hills, with the mysterious caves that once held the mysterious Qumran Scrolls, on our right, it feels as if we are in a different country. The scrubby vegetation that borders the sea gradually dwindles away, until there is nothing but rock and sand to be seen on either side of the road.

At last the oasis and promontory of Ein Boqeq, with its twenty or so hotels, comes into view, and we know that we are nearing our destination. The sleepy guard raises the barrier to let our car through, and all of a sudden we’re in the artificial semi-paradise that has been created along the shore, with its palm trees and geraniums, shops and restaurants, and the towering hotels which await guests from near and far.

Once we get to our hotel we are welcomed with delicious biscuits and flavoured water in the lobby, then taken to our room with its view of the sea and the mountains in the distance. The sense of peace begins to envelop us as soon as we enter, and that feeling of pampered well-being remained with us throughout our stay.

Of course, we weren’t the only guests in the hotel, and there was a veritable Babel of languages to be heard in the dining room, though Russian seemed to predominate. Many of the members of staff are also Russian-speakers, which doubtless make life a good deal easier for the tourists from those parts, many of whom seem to have no knowledge of any other language.

We bathed in the sea, where the hotel has a private beach, as well as in the hotel’s own salt-water and fresh-water swimming pools. We indulged in massages and aromatherapy, and I even ventured to try a cosmetic treatment, all of which added to our feeling of relaxation. In our defence, I must add that we both spent time in the hotel gym in an attempt to work off at least some of the extra calories resulting from the fact that we succumbed to the temptation to try too many of the chef’s excellent dishes.

There were no menus to plan or meals to cook and clear away. Our only chore was to turn up in the dining room for meals twice a day. I even managed to paint a couple of pictures (see above), finish the book I was reading and watch a film on television – something that I don’t often have the time and patience for in the usual run of things.

Our weekend break was over, and as we returned to Jerusalem the weather turned cold and windy and it began to rain. Ah well, all good things must come to an end.

Three Women

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Catherine Kidwell, creative writing, garage sale, Lincoln Nebraska

 Almost thirty years ago, together with my family, I spent a year in Lincoln, Nebraska. The Experimental Physics Department there was considered one of the best in the world, and we went there for Yigal’s post-doctoral work.

It was a very interesting year. We were living with real American people, in a real American suburb, and getting a taste of real American life. I’m not sure how real it was, actually, because the Mid-West, where Nebraska is situated, is typical of neither the east coast nor the west coast. It is typical only of itself, which is Middle America.

Apart from the catastrophic climate (baking hot summer, freezing winter, with temperatures down to minus forty or more with the wind-chill, and the roads covered thigh-high in snow and ice for months on end) our family enjoyed the experience. Our neighbours and colleagues were friendly, the small local Jewish community was warm and welcoming, and our children were well-treated at their various schools.

The only problem was: what was I to do with myself while we were there? I had worked as a free-lance translator in Israel, but there wasn’t much call for translating work in Lincoln. Don’t forget, this was 1984, when computers and the internet hadn’t taken over our lives as they do now.

Since I intended to correspond with friends and relations in Israel, I decided that I needed to acquire a typewriter. We duly attended a garage sale in a nearby house and managed to buy one for a song. Just a few days later I passed a much larger one that had been set out on the sidewalk for anyone to take, and lugged that one home, too. They both served me very well during the year.

Reading the local paper one day, I came across a notice for a creative writing class in the local community college. For years I had longed to engage in creative writing of one kind or another but when you are translating to tight deadlines as well as bringing up three healthy children it’s difficult to fit creativity into your schedule.

I enrolled in the class, run by a very kind lady, Catherine Kidwell, who had actually had a novel published. Her book, a love story, made for light reading but was certainly a good example of its genre. Our group of aspiring writers would meet once a week, produce an exercise or listen as the students read out their work, and then discuss what we had heard. Ms. Kidwell had a ‘set book’ which set out guidelines for writing fiction, it had a title something like ‘Story and Structure,’ and was very helpful in clarifying our ideas. It certainly helped Ms. Kidwell to teach her class.

When the course ended I decided to implement what I had learned, and set out to write my first novel. They say you should write about what you know, so I decided to write about life in Israel, or more precisely in Jerusalem, and to describe the lives of people I knew, or more precisely, three women friends of mine, their identities heavily disguised, of course.

I brought the 354 typewritten pages plus two carbon copies back to Israel with me, and they have been gathering dust on my shelves ever since. However, at the beginning of this year, when trying to clear some space in my study, I came across the yellowing pages once more, and decided that it was time I got rid of some of my old junk. But before doing so, I said, I’ll just type the text I wrote then into my computer.

And that is what I’ve been doing in my spare time since then. It is extremely tedious, on the one hand, but intriguing on the other. I pity anyone who does copy-typing for a living, but to come across my neophyte attempts at breathing life into semi-fictional characters, and reliving events as they occurred then, is quite an eye-opener.

I don’t know if the novel will ever see the light of day. After all, I have grown as a writer since those days, and now have several other finished novels in my computer waiting to be edited and prepared for publication. The work of typing up the yellowing pages is only two-thirds finished, but one day I will get to the end, I hope, and then I’ll have to decide what to do with it.

 

 

 

The World in Turmoil

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Britain, Francois Hollande, India, Israel, Jordan, Kim Jung Un, Mid-West, Syria, Turkey

 But is it any more so than usual? Perhaps yes.

 Young Kim Jung Un is threatening to use nuclear weapons against someone, maybe the US, possibly South Korea, or even Japan, or any of the countries of South-East Asia (which constitute the world’s main manufacturing power-house). The rhetoric and the idea, if not the location, sound familiar to Israeli ears.

 After all, the current leaders of Iran have long been threatening Israel with nuclear annihilation.

 France’s Minister of Finance has been found guilty of lying in order to cover up his illegal possession of a Swiss bank account, with an ensuing scandal for the government of French President, Francois Hollande. Another familiar-sounding event for Israelis.

 For more than one of Israel’s politicians has been known to engage in financial misbehavior, and some have even landed up in jail as a result.

 And as if all that weren’t enough, the bloodshed of the Syrian civil war continues unabated, with mutually-assured devastation between the warring sides, aided and abetted by outside parties from other Arab countries and entities.

 Egypt’s so-called democratic revolution has not brought greater freedom of expression to that country, with leading television personalities being arraigned for supposedly mocking the President and Islam. Nor have there been any signs there of an improvement in the status of women.

 India’s foreign tourism has plummeted by 25 percent, apparently as a result of the recent spate of gang rapes. That is not something we are accustomed to in Israel, though there does seem to have been an alarming increase in random thuggery and violence of late.

 Add to all this the strain on the stability and economy of the surrounding Arab countries, mainly Turkey and Jordan, as refugees from Syria pour in and are accommodated in makeshift camps. Going by the past Arab record on rehabilitating refugees, there isn’t going to be much of a future for any of those unfortunate souls who are fleeing for their very lives.

 That is also something that is not completely unfamiliar in Israel’s experience.

 England is still in the grip of a modern-day ice-age, with no relief in sight. But given that Britain’s weather has always been the major topic of conversation there, that’s nothing new either. People in Israel, and in Jerusalem in particular, forget sometimes how very fortunate we are. Believe me, I know, having grown up in London and having also spent a year in the US Mid-West. That’s not a climate, it’s a catastrophe!

And so the world continues on its merry way. Each day brings a new and unexpected development on the world stage, and here in Israel we watch with interest, somehow managing to forget our own not inconsiderable troubles in the process. But I’m positive that someone will be sure to remind us of them in the not too distant future.

That’s something to look forward to.