A Trip to the Holy Land
In October I spent a week in Israel and Palestine. My German friend and I were staying near Jaffa Street,
an unmistakeably Jewish area, many people there orthodox or ultra-orthodox. Fourteen minutes away was
the Damascus Gate, in its language, dress, and signage as conspicuously Arab and Muslim as Jaffa Street
was Jewish, though in a city as multicultural as Jerusalem, neither area is entirely homogenous. The Old
City, by contrast, was hard to stand out in, as it draws pilgrims from all over the world. The crowds in the
Church of the Holy Sepulchre illustrate of the wonderful diversity of Christianity, which, along with the
pilgrims’ faith and excitement, and the religious significance of the site, left me more emotional than I
was expecting.
On our second day we got the bus to Bethlehem, in the West Bank. After visiting the Church of
the Nativity we wandered the town. We had coffee and sat a while in the Alexander Hotel, overlooking
the hills, where the owner and his friends, told us that they loved the Irish, and used to get loads of Irish
tourists, but not anymore, and that Covid’s effects on tourism had been hard for Bethlehem. Bethlehem is
full of culture and energy, but the political situation is never far from view: flags, Yasser Arafat pictures,
and the infamous wall. Some streets were surprisingly picturesque, others nearby heavily littered.
This dualism characterised the whole trip, forcing to hold multiple conflicting thoughts at once.
My feelings on the area have developed considerably over the years, thanks largely to my studying
German. Unlike in Ireland, Germany having both a large Arab population, and a sense that history makes
Israel’s security a German Saturation, means that the complexity of the area must be treated with
sensitivity. On mainland Europe, with memorials to the victims of Nazism abundant, and synagogues still
often needing to be guarded by police with assault rifles, you cannot ignore why Zionism exists. It was
hard not to be moved by the delight of a woman, I guessed a Diaspora Jew, standing beside me at the
Western Wall, watching men on the other side sing a chant. She beckoned to me to sing along with her,
which I did, knowing the lyrics:
Am Yisrael Chai (The Jewish people live)
Od Avinu Chai (Our Father yet lives)
Both things I consider worth celebrating. Judaism in the diaspora, again facing rises in antisemitism, is
sadly often forced to try to be inconspicuous, seeing so much proud and conspicuous Judaism in Israel
was, if initially a culture shock, something triumphant and inspirational. I could see why this woman was
so delighted with it.
Yet Israel is so obviously flawed. The situation of the Palestinians, and their diaspora, is blatantly
tragic and unjust, and with Israel’s new far-right government, things are likely to get worse before they
get better. To say it is complicated is a cliché, but some clichés are clichés for a reason. I have no grand
new pronouncements to make, doubting I can say anything better not already said by one of the countless
commentators on this area, including great writers like Amos Oz and Mahmoud Darwish. On this
polarising and often over-simplified topic, perhaps there is some wisdom for outside Christian observers
in the advice of St James to be “swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath” (James 1:19). Listening to
Palestinians and Israelis, you hear fascinating things about the area, to which I fear nothing I say can do
justice.
So I bring no real conclusions back with me, only impressions. Climbing down from the Herodian
fort of Masada, with views of the Dead Sea and the desert so amazing it was hard to believe it was real,
and I was there, I was passed by an exulted American deciding to take the steep path down at a run. He
asked my age, and I said twenty-two. He replied: “Twenty-two! What a beautiful age to be doing this!
Jesus has blessed you, sister!” I was caught off guard, being unused to such religious frankness in South
Dublin, but I believe he was, in his way, right. While I may have no greater certainty about the region’s
politics, I have brought back memories for life. I feel immensely lucky to have been there.
Aoibh Ní Chroimín