Mount Masada and the Dead Sea

At 2:15am, we departed via van for Mt. Masada to hike it before sunrise. The sunrise was beautiful; our star rose over the hills, spilling over the Dead Sea, illuminating the sparse desert below us. Everything was sand and rock and sea as far as one could see. Out of sight was Ein Geidi Oasis a few miles away, which we later hiked. After the oasis, we got a chance to float on the salty water of the Dead Sea and to cover ourselves with its mud (supposedly therapeutic). Alas, we headed home exhausted. 

Covering yourself in mud and letting it dry on you before washing it off is one of those things that makes you feel really good after it's all over, but perhaps only because you were quite uncomfortable during the whole process. I sometimes suspect this phenomenon enhances the feelings of relaxation and ease after massages too. It's all relative I guess. At a broader life level, there are some people out there that believe we should expose ourselves voluntarily to uncomfortable, but "positively" stressful things in order to improve ourselves, increase our tolerance for stress, and to make normal life seem a little bit nicer. For example, traveling might be conceived of as a positively stressful activity that, in the end, hopefully makes you a little bit stronger.

Sunrise... Mt Masada is famous for being the site of one of Herod's great palatial construction projects (completed just before Jesus's time) that was later destroyed, but it is even more famous for being the site of a mass suicide of Jews resisting the Romans. They were the last resistors, and with little hope left while being starved out of their desert fortress, they all decided to kill themselves (kids and women included) rather than become slaves of the Romans. Whether or not the story is true -- archeological evidence is somewhat lacking -- it has inspired countless Jews for millennia. Israel's soldiers often take their oaths on the mountain.

It was a very peaceful place. Apparently, Christians Monks lived on the mountain for a while too. I could definitely see it as a place with few distractions where one might become closer to God. 

On the way down, Mt Masada in the background.

Ein Geidi Oasis near the Dead Sea.

This American church group was at Ein Geidi too. The pastor in the white hat screamed angrily at the group for a good ten minutes about sin and evil in today's world. I don't know what to think of really angry people who are trying to do good. As a gut reaction though, we were all disturbed by the general dynamic and tone of his tirade.

Having a better time.

Holy Land/ Fantasy World

Inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the site of Jesus' burial and resurrection.

Jerusalem is a very different world than Tel Aviv, an intriguing and endlessly complex religious mosaic, a shared holy land, a center of both godly revelation and three millennia of human squabbles.

As a Christian growing up attending Sunday school, you get a mystical mental vision of the holy land. It was a place where miracles could happen and where God was engaged with the world, speaking via angels, prophets, bushes, you name it.

I wish someone would have showed us little kids a map of the world, pointed out Israel and Palestine, and then the exact little cities where it all went down, but that never happened. Maybe some churches do this, but I imagine certain churches might be afraid of getting a little too historical and having the ancient land lose some of its mystique. In the holy land, after all, the biblical world comes to life realer than ever while simultaneously coming down to size.

When you show up to the Sea of Galilee, you decide that your doubt of some guy literally walking on water here was probably well placed. The lake -- it's actually more like a lake than a sea -- looks like many others I have seen.

However, even if Jesus didn't actually perform supernatural feats, being here in the holy land reminds you that he was a real person and he visited real places and did real things and faced real enemies. The more I envision and remember him as a mortal human being that actually walked the Earth, the more awe and deep respect I have for him as a great martyr for love and tolerance.

In today's world, when it comes to religion, I think young people too often throw the baby out with the bathwater. Though there are elements of parochialism and mysticism in Christianity, as well as a long history of cruelty in the name of God, it shouldn't mean we handwave away the wisdom and deep challenge of the Bible's message.

The biblical times weren't that different or disconnected from our world anyway; they were full of moral dilemmas, inequality, suffering, and poverty. Jesus offered one of the brightest and most difficult paths to take, sacrifice of our own comforts for something far greater than ourselves, a humanity full of peace, justice and compassion. It was never a fantasy world.

I don't think the decline of religion in many parts of the world is neccessarily a bad thing, but I hope that our increasingly godless world can still find -- somewhere -- inspiration to struggle for shalom.

Where Jesus was crucified.

Where Jesus was born in Bethlehem, Palestine, now the Church of the Nativity. His birth spoke to humility, although somewhere along the line that theme seems to have been lost.

The Western Wall, one of the holiest sites for Jews. On the other side is the Temple Mount, currently the site of the beautiful Dome of the Rock (where Muhammed ascended to heaven). Problematically, the Temple Mount that is now in the Arabs' possession is supposed to be -- as God dictated long ago -- the center of the Jewish nation and site of their great Third Temple.

An odd combination of mourning in the background (no Third Temple yet) and celebration in the foreground (who doesn't like to celebrate?).

Orthodox Jews. More and more moderates in Israel are becoming upset that the orthodox don't have to work and instead get paid by the government to only study the Torah.

 Young Israeli soldiers coming to the Western Wall. This was shortly before they all joined together for a roaring, jubilant celebration. Gun-toting soldiers all dancing in a circle is a strange sight for a holy place. I had no idea what to think of all the various groups and different demeanors coming together here.

The Holy Land is not a Fantasy World where a great claw controlled by an omniscient, all-seeing being plucks out creatures judged to be worthy of an eternity of heavenly bliss. It's a place where great teachers like Jesus and Muhammed and impossible arcade games taught us to humble ourselves.

Dome of the Rock.

 Noelle and I can easily come to the Temple Mount even though it means relatively little to us. For a Palestinian for whom it would mean the world, however, it would be nearly impossible to visit.

Inside our hostel, "The Citadel," in the old city of Jerusalem.

The view from the roof.

The Sea of Galilee. Okay, it does look pretty glassy... perhaps walkable under the right conditions.

The Normal Life

Coming from the Greek islands to Tel Aviv, Israel, we have gone from the good life to the normal life. That is, life here is a lot like life as we know it in the United States, which is still a pretty good life.

Tel Aviv actually is probably nicer than a lot of US cities, likely in part because it has the advantage of being relatively new. Unlike Boston, which has been built up gradually over the past few centuries (resulting in a labyrinth of roads), Tel Aviv was the project of wealthier Jews living in Palestine in 1906 who decided to make a really nice, well designed suburb of Jaffa. The result was a hygienic, well-planned, aesthetically pleasing city.

Today with its Minneapolis-esque population of 410,000, it shines brightly on the Mediterranean, sometimes still referred to as the "white city." It is known as the financial and hedonistic capital of Israel.

Generally only hearing about Israel in the context of ongoing regional conflict and intermittent military action (at least in the media), it is interesting to see how normal and comfortable life is here in Tel Aviv. For a country in frequent violent skirmishes, people are quite safe and thriving.

It's funny how rich and powerful countries can insulate themselves from their military actions these days, even a country like Israel so close to its "enemies." Of course, the US may be the champion in this arena though, with our two wars and frequent drone assassinations totally undetectable in the motherland.

On another note, the niceness of Israel makes me even more uncomfortable with the large amount of US money that goes to the country (we give more money to Israel than any other country in the world, about a fifth of our foreign "aid" budget). Don't get me wrong, I love Israel, but it just doesn't seem right to pledge $30 billion over 10 years to the military of a well-developed, first world country when there is so much real need and suffering elsewhere. For example, by Paul Farmer's estimate, we could globally control tuberculosis -- which kills 2 million people a year -- with about $5 billion.

Israel certainly needed some aid and protection in its early days. Now, however, I don't see how it is morally, economically, or strategically smart in the long run to keep giving their military so much money. David Deutch, in The Beginning of Infinity (the quantum physicist's book on just about everything in the universe) posits that a good measure of the health of a political system is how fast it can correct errors. Though it's a total pipe dream, I wish we could look at the rationality of our foreign affairs as they are right now and change them quickly where it makes sense to do so, such as limiting our aid to Israel, or at the very least, threatening to take it away if they do not stop building settlements on Palestinian land.

At any rate, irrational inertia aside, it's lovely here. Israel is a beautiful country.

A lot of Israelis also aren't happy about some of the decisions of their government either. But things continue on as they are.

Beautiful, wide boulevards.

Beautiful skyscrapers too. To build one in Tel Aviv though, you have restore a historic landmark (the house in the foreground) at the same time. Another example of smart planning to the win.

The one weird thing about Israel is the abundance of soldiers with guns everywhere. Though I wouldn't ever want it in the US, compulsory military service at least means everyone has skin in the game when it comes to warfare. This perhaps detracts from my premise that life is pretty normal here and the people are insulated from military action.

Old Jaffa. The ancient, original city. Also the port where Jonah set off from before ending up inside a whale.

 Tanner and I tossing the frisbee by the sea.

The St. Olaf lion is all over Israel for some reason.

The view from our (free) hotel room. All those nights spent in hotel rooms around the country working for Epic this past year at least had the upside of getting me a plethora of Marriott points. 

Cool architecture.

Tranquility.

Always Sunny in Santorini

We took ATVs all over the island.

Perissa, where we stayed.

Man achieves flight.

We went to this bakery every day. The family that worked there was so, so nice.

The Red Beach.

Thira.

The view of the caldera.

And the world famous sunset from Oia.

Santorini is known for stunning sunsets and being the most beautiful Greek island. It was a flourishing mercantile stop on the Aegean Sea well over three thousand years ago. The Greeks who posted up here were smart, although they unfortunately didn't predict the massive volcano eruptions that would rock their island and destroy the civilization they had built there. A giant hole remains, creating a gorgeous cliff-rimmed caldera, now adorned by thousands of perfect white houses, hotels and shops.

We stayed on the other side of the island away from the famous cliffs, at a cheaper (but still beautiful) black sand beach called Perissa. It was a week of bliss -- exploring the island on ATVs and finding secret beaches all to ourselves, sampling the local Santorini wines, laying out on the nude beach, soaking up cosmic rays, eating fresh fish and feta cheese, hiking to ancient ruins, watching sunsets, dancing the night away to live music.

It's hard to ask for much more.

While living the good life, a classic story came to mind. You may have heard it:

The American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large fin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

The Mexican replied, “only a little while.”

The American then asked why he didn’t stay out longer and catch more fish?

The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs.

The American then asked, “but what do you do with the rest of your time?”

The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life.”

The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat, and with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually, you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually NYC where you will run your expanding enterprise.”

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But, how long will this take?”

To which the American replied, “15-20 years.”

“But what then?”

The American laughed and said that’s the best part. “When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions.”

“Millions?” asked the fisherman, “Then what?”

The American said, “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evening, sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos!”

-Author Unknown

A lot of people, including myself, love the tale. I'm sure it's in large part because we Americans are certainly so often guilty of getting caught up in the rat race. When one clearly compares the two, the simple life seems obviously preferable. I definitely don't mind the life here on Santorini, that's for sure.

The MBA lust for money is an easy target though. Too easy. The profit-hungry guy in the story is a total straw man. I think that's why the tale is so appealing to people: it confirms the value of a simple life, giving you the false sense that you shouldn't have to get caught up in so much striving and trying and caring about money. You should enjoy life.

The approach works, at least so long as man is an island. The fisherman story liberates your pursuit of an ideal life all without having to answer any actually difficult questions about justice and our human potential for affecting the lives of others.

Indeed, the story wouldn't be quite as satisfying if Jesus, Peter Singer, or Paul Farmer were the questioner instead. They are people who believe that as long as suffering is in the world, we should not rest easy on our good fortune. They would have a lot tougher questions to answer.

"What about all the hungry, poor kids in Mexico? They can't be too far away. You look pretty comfortable though. You have an abundance of resources. Don't you have any responsibility to try to help those beyond your immediate community? Perhaps wouldn't it be better if you stayed out a little longer fishing so that you could catch more food, so that you could ship some food to the poor?"

I can't imagine what they would ask me on Santorini, especially since, unlike the self-sufficient fisherman, I was solely consuming. More than a few times as I laid out on the beach, a quote at total odds with me laying out on the beach -- and at odds with the fisherman story -- came to my mind:

Comfort is the enemy of achievement.

I love it. It's good. Like the Mexican fisherman tale though, it's missing a recognition that there's more to the story. As much as I believe in the importance of continual self-improvement and constantly trying to improve the world little bits at a time, life would be miserable if we felt guilty every second we weren't doing something.

At the end of the day, I hope to have slices of the simple life in my life. I think it's important to cherish. At the same time, I hope I don't ever get too comfortable with my lot in life when others have never had a shot at such a good lot. 

Santorini is an island; I am not. I hope the slices of the good life I get can refresh me so that I may commit myself again and again to working hard and helping others.

That's the balance I think we all have to weigh for ourselves, a balance between enjoying the fruits of life and sowing seeds so that others may do the same. The more fruit we've been given though, I would imagine the more seeds we ought to plant. I think I got some plantin' to do.