My travel journal has a quote that says, “Life is not measured by the number of breaths that we take but by the places and moments that take our breath away.” The Israeli Tripsters measured well today for we saw breath taking scenery. Interestingly enough it was in the desert. I never used to think of the desert as beautiful. That perception changed when I first came to Israel nineteen years ago. The color and shadow, the stillness and quiet, fascinate me. The still small voice of God can be heard here. The fact that it was the Wilderness of Zin, through which we traveled, the setting for the Old Testament Exodus narrative, adds to the allure.
We began today in Timna, a southern Israel archeological site with spectacular landscapes of acacia trees and desert plants,The Ark of the Covenant was made of acacia wood. The Rotem bush is called a manna plant by the Bedouin. When the wind blows and sand strikes its branches, it secretes a white popcorn like substance which can be eaten. It spoils quickly when off the plant. Can these plants have fed the Children of Israel?
Copper mining began here more than 6000 years ago. Egyptian expeditions established an enormous copper mining operation here in the 14th century before the common era. Donkeys were used to transport copper ingots to the port on the Gulf of Eilat. The history of copper mining is aligned here with Hathor, the Egyptian Goddess of Copper and Ramses, the King of Egypt. The slag from the mine still lies on the ground.
From Timna, we traveled to the Hai Bar Nature preserve where we drove through land filled with ostrich, who pecked at our bus window, wild donkeys, oryx, ibix and even a couple of vultures. Hyenas, fox, wolves and snakes were in protected areas. Thankfully at a safe distance from us.
The drive north to the Dead Sea, where we are ensconced for two nights, reminded us of the harshness of the wilderness. Life for the Children of Israel was unpredictable, lonely and exhausting. They needed to listen for the “still small voice of God”, but then don’t we all?
Blessings,
Mary Hulst
