Memorials

Happy New Year!  My blog is still back in October, right after the Jewish New Year....  Maybe I can bring it up to the modern age with some fast typing.
So, flashback to mid October, just before Yom Kippur.  I joined the student field trip to Mount Herzl and Yad Vashem.  The cloud cover kept us comfortable, the grounds were beautifully landscaped, and Ophir Yarden, the Modern Israeli History teacher,did a great job of bringing greater analysis to the sites.  Mount Herzl is the burial place of Theodore Herzl, the founder of modern Zionism, and many past presidents and leaders of the country are buried here.  Here is Garth Holyoak, one of our hosting service couples, setting a memorial stone on Herzl's grave.

Shimon Peres' grave was still fresh.  His funeral was September 30, and this was October 10.  The ribbons which had once festooned and identified the wreaths were now stretched across the grave, weighted down by rocks on which well-wishers had written their names. He was celebrated as one of the founding fathers of the country, one of the longest- lived and beloved leaders.  While we visited the cemetery we saw several groups of Israeli soldiers pass by and pay their respects to these leaders.

The Holocaust Memorial Museum, Yad Vashem, was a short walk away from Mount Herzl.  The main exhibit is the triangular building on the left.

Several sculptures invite reflection on the horrific events.  On the left, the Warsaw freedom fighters rose up against their oppressors, preferring to die fighting.  The rectangular sculpture on the right depicts a crowd of Jewish people walking mournfully, with downcast eyes, as soldiers and bayonets force them onward.  For many Jews, just staying alive and keeping a spark of hope as long as possible was heroic.

 Yad Vashem gets its name from a scripture (Isaiah 56:5) promising that those who are not physically able to have children will still receive yad v'shem, "a place and a name," meaning they will be remembered and honored even if not by literal descendants.  Here is that scripture in epic larger-than-life letters.

 This memorial honors those who died fighting to overcome Hitler and the oppressors of the Jews.

This hall houses an eternal flame to mourn the 6 million Jews killed in the Holocaust.

I have visited this museum many times, and it never grows old: The hall of the children, where you hear a list of names and ages that stretches on and on while mirrors reflect and multiply tiny lights like stars.   The Avenue of the righteous Gentiles, full of trees dedicated to non-Jews who helped save and protect Jews at the risk of their own lives.  The displays about Nazi propaganda which intentionally hardened hearts and preyed on fears, manipulating the general populace to participate in or at least allow inhumane cruelty.

I am reminded of Alma 48:3 in the Book of Mormon, where the wicked king Amalekiah stirred his people up to anger because he wanted to wage war.  How easily anger and fear causes us to be manipulated into poor choices, blinding us to our wrongs and the rights and humanity of others.  On the other hand, just a few verses later Moroni demonstrates how a faithful leader prepares his people, teaching them to be faithful to God (vs. 7) and directing the construction of fortifications in their weakest places (vs. 8).  How difficult it is to actually take action and strengthen our weaknesses and overcome our most pervasive character flaws.  First, we have to acknowledge our weaknesses, which is uncomfortable.

I heard a great message this week about standing blameless before God.  First, the speaker said, we have to choose to not blame God.  Sometimes bad things happen as a consequence of people's choices, and God allows that to happen, knowing that he has a plan for setting things right in the eternities.  Second, how much happier we would be if we choose not to blame other people.  I think this has something to do with forgiveness, we acknowledge their actions and how they affected us, but we choose not to make our happiness or peace dependent on their actions or condemn them forever because of their actions.  The last two aspects were choosing not to blame ourselves (also difficult) and living a life in accordance with God's laws to the best of our ability.


Here are my friends Elias Feinzilberg and Arceli Espiritu, a branch member and caregiver.  Elias is holding a photo of his family.  Everyone except him was killed in the Holocaust.  He shares his story with the BYU students each semester, and I had the privilege of chatting with him one day, with my 100 words of Spanish (thank you, Muzzy!).  He is a cheerful 99 year old man who survived because he worked hard at labor camp after labor camp.  Now he spends his days with family and attends a weekly club for the elderly, where he dances and does yoga.  

I'm probably not going to catch up fast spending so much time on each entry, but thanks for reading!

Snorkeling, Tunnel, Olive Pressing

Warning: long post, trying to catch up on some busy weeks last month!

A few weeks ago, during the Sukkot holiday, Amanda, Emily, and I went snorkeling at Eilat with the students.  It started with an early morning bus ride lasting 4 hours!

The landscape went from date palm groves to desert cliffs (for the majority of the trip) and finally gave way to a seaside resort town.

 The weather was warm but not too hot, with nice breezes.  The sand was a little bit too rocky for sand castles, but it was perfect for digging holes.

There was a small area for waders marked by buoys and ropes, with a larger area accessible by piers for snorklers and strong swimmers.  

 Many of the fish were close enough to shore that we could see some in the wading area.  The kids tried out our waterproof camera and got some nice photos.

 When it was our turn to snorkel, it took a while to get used to the equipment.  Amanda took off pretty quickly and stayed out for nearly an hour.  Emily and I took our time getting in and pretty much went from one pier to the other, then we were ready for the wading pool again.

Snorkel Selfie!

We left the national park beach area and headed in to the town for some sightseeing and fast food.

Then we hopped on the bus and went to Yotvata, which we fondly call the cow kibbutz.  The main building is a cafeteria and cow-themed gift shop.  We always buy some chocolate milk here to bring home.  We enjoyed a nice dinner of chicken, rice, spaghetti, and salad, with coupons for free ice cream afterward.

Then a four hour bus ride home, and our day was done.  Like many experiences here, there are intense unique experiences that are only accessible after some sacrifice, like four hours on a bus.  We have to be patient with the inconvenience of travel to experience some of these places.  In fact, this describes the 12-hour plane flight as well.

Another adventure from the same week started as a hike through the Kidron Valley past what is called the Tomb of Absalom to the city of David.

 We walked to the south edge of the present day old city.  David's city of Jerusalem was a small hilly spur to the south of the city.  Today there is a Palestinian village there with an expanding Jewish archaeological site and visitor's center.

We watched a stirring 3-D movie about the city of David and the building of Hezekiah's tunnel. It was a little dated and one-sided, but it helped us visualize where we would be touring that day.

Amanda models the "taco hat."

In the background is the Palestinian village of Silwan.  In the foreground is a Sukkah for the Israeli families within the City of David archaeological park.

Frank taught the students about on-site connections from the days of Melchizedek, David, Jeremiah, Hezekiah, and the Savior.

The tunnel is always fun, even if it's chilly at first.

Another highlight of this week was pressing olives.  The trees on the BYU Jerusalem Center property yielded only half the olives we needed, so more were purchased and left to rest for a week. (I don't know why I couldn't rotate this photo, sorry...)

The first step is to crush the olives.  We took turns hefting the massive beam as the huge stone rolled around to crush the fruit and pits of the olives.  I wonder if this is the type of millstone to which Jesus compared the eternal destiny of those who offend his little ones.

The mush was loaded into baskets and stacked under the beams of the presses.  The mush was slimy and gritty, like a facial scrub with walnut shell exfoliants.  Our hands were soft for days afterwards.  

The first liquid to flow down carries the rust red color from the ripe black olives.  A solemn sight to think of how our Savior's soul was crushed under the weight of all our sins in Gethsemane, the place of the olive press.  Over the centuries this oil has healed the wounded, illuminated homes and temples, nourished the body, and anointed kings and priests.   

The Gutenberg-era press uses a twisting screw to apply the pressure.

The baskets grew thin as the juice and oil flowed into the collection basins.

This press used weights to press the oil.  This type of press would have been used extensively in the time of the Savior.  For us, this was a fun way to immerse ourselves in the ancient agricultural processes.  But for those who lived here, this would have been a serious and strenuous process that ensured their livelihood for the coming year.  The whole family would have worked for weeks to make sure the harvest was used to its fullest potential.


Here are the faculty and families who are working together this year to help nurture each other's testimonies and those of the students who come here.  (Lisa is absent, she was working on homework.)


Some views of the south side of the Jerusalem Center: