Holy Land

“Most people in this room don’t believe that Moses—or even God—wrote the entire Torah. So, what gives these five books their holiness?”

I am paraphrasing a question posed at shul this past Friday night. An Israeli rabbinic student invited the members (and guests, myself included) at Tzur Hadassah’s Reform synagogue to share their thoughts. Some argued that the Torah is holy because it contains the story of the Jewish people; it is our history and our strength. Others felt that the Torah is holy because it provides a connection to all the generations that came before; and others, that the Torah’s holiness stems from its role in the origin and development of Jewish ethics.

I have been wondering about holiness, “kedushah” in Hebrew, here in Jerusalem, “Ir HaKodesh,” the holy city. I have been wondering about HUC’s requirement that we spend this first year of school in Jerusalem, in Israel. Do I find this to be a holy land? How? Why?

A few days ago, we traveled with our Biblical History professor, Dr. Joel Duman, to several sites important to the Philistine culture. The Philistines are portrayed in the Torah as a cruel and relentless enemy, though a closer reading, combined with archaeological evidence and our own critical eye, suggests that the story is more complicated. Isn’t it always…

You probably know at least one story about one particular Philistine: Goliath. “Then a champion came out from the armies of the Philistines named Goliath, from Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span” (1 Samuel 17:4). Goliath famously challenges the Israelites to put forward one man to fight him in single combat, determining the outcome of the entire confrontation. Of course, Israel puts forward no giant of its own to match this Philistine giant; instead, young David volunteers himself, with religious rhetoric and a bit of bravado. With a slingshot and a pebble from a nearby stream, David miraculously defeats Goliath and proves his fitness for the eventual kingship over all Israel and all Judea.


Last week, I was in Gath (check out the pictures from the “Philistine Tiyyul” album on my pictures site). Nearby to Tel Gath (the hill-site of the major Philistine city from around 1200 BCE), our class went to another hill overlooking the valley of Elah. Located in a geographical transition area at the start of the foothills (the Shphelah), where the Philistines dominated, and the Judean hills, where the Israelites dominated, this valley is a very likely candidate for the landscape described in the battle between the giant Goliath and the boy David.

But we can’t prove it precisely.

And that’s the thing about being here, in Israel. There is historical and archaeological evidence to corroborate much of what appears in Tanakh, but there are some stories that go unconfirmed. Much of what is left to us could well be political propaganda or legend just as easily as it could be objective historical truth.

Is this a holy land? Does it matter that I stood on a hill overlooking the field where perhaps David killed Goliath with a tiny rock to the massive forehead?

No. And yes.

Praying with a group of Reform, and mostly Israeli, Jews last night, and eating with a gracious host family in Tzur Hadassah after the service, I heard many views about the importance of the land of Israel, the state of Israel, Israel’s Defense army. My hosts discussed and debated the origin of the feeling of connection Jews feel to one another: does it come from citizenship in Israel? Is it a dangerous feeling? Will it lead eventually and always to conflict with the Other, the Arab, the non-Jew?

These are questions that cannot be answered in the abstract, but person-to-person. What choices will an individual make when he is faced with a giant? How do I, for example, connect to this land rich in history and marred with war and hatred?

For me, the holiness of Israel has no one source. This is a holy place because of history and legend, God and politics, generations past and future. It is holy because it provides a way to connect to Jewish time, Jewish culture, Jewish thought. It is holy because it enabled me to sit at a table with a young woman about to enter the Israeli army, to look her in the eyes and discuss conversion, Christianity, military service, and New York City.

When I looked at the valley of Elah, I could imagine the perspective of young David, walking to the stream bed you could barely make out among the trees. But I could imagine the perspective of the Philistines, too, trying to make a living—just like the Israelites—in a harsh landscape with limited resources (particularly water, a crisis emerging in the present as well). I saw both sides, Philistinian shphelah and Judean hills. And that,too, is holiness.