From a message channeled and recorded for me in 1995 by the authors of "Andaraean Theory", whom I never met. The Torah of my Titorah The Song of Songs and the King's Candle Flower 2002_10_30  My hill, my path, my trees  :  2002_11_10  My Figtrees and first encounter with ancient Modi'in                   My hill, my path, my trees :   2002_10_31  My Christ-thorn Tree and ancient Modi'in My hill, my path, my trees: 2002_11_02  Tracing my path in present & past   The Fractals of a Fig Leaf 2002_08_31 The Menorah or the Mulberry Tree: 2003_06_10 See also: An unsown seed grows fruit 2003_07_19 T, my foster grandson and the Titorah 2003_07_02

My Sidra Tree or Ziziphus Spinachristi and personal contact with ancient Modi'in
2002_10_22; last update: 2002_11_02

 

"But there have been so many wars on that hill!"

An hour ago I suddenly reached my Sidra Tree.
The Ziziphus Spinachristi.

2 days ago I picked the last 3 figs from my figtrees. They had given me delight and vitamins for 9 weeks. During all this time I worked on freeing the trees from dead branches, until the handle fell off my saw. It took some time to repair it, which was a sign for me, to take the other, worn-out, "toy" saw for cutting herbs and thistles and continue with the arduous work of making a path to the sidra. Some heavy storms last winter had put an end to my autumn harvesting, and though this wondrous tree produces its mini-apples the whole year through, I could no longer reach the tree to pick them. Generous rains had grown a jungle all over my hill. Yesterday I reached the spot, where I had stopped the day before at sunset. Since I would come back in the morning and no one would pass here anyway, I left there the miserable, handleless saw and the coarse glove for my left hand. I found the saw, but the glove was gone. Strange! I never saw an animal big enough to carry it away. How now would I grab the herbs I wanted to cut? "You won't need the glove any longer! Your work is almost completed!" How come? The sidra tree still seemed to be at least 200 m away, and the path wouldn't be a direct line but go around many obstacles- rocks and bolders, the debris of ancient dwellings, walls, terraces, and the wild thorny asparagus and caper bushes which I dread most.

This wadi was one of the most difficult passages to navigate through.. naughty Asparagus shrubs needed to be avoided, big stones of a terrace needed to be surpassed, and the jungle of herbs often taller than me had to be cleared. The terrace, once erected to bar the flow of the rain water, so that barley and wheet, olive- and figtrees had a chance to grow, now nourishes only thistles and thorns.

On mornings in May the Caper shrub is beautiful to look at. In the evening the buds (which serve as Capers in meat dishes) open, blossom in white during the night and are gone towards noon. But the shrub's spines are not less hideous than now in late autumn.

On the other side of the wadi the path can be traced
I continued with my bare hand,
but exactly from that spot onward the herbs were less hostile.
And today - when a giant red sun vanished
behind what we call the Modi'in twin towers -
(I let my 2 photos, shot the next day, frame a sunset in spring, shot from the crusader fortress)

I hit a former, overgrown narrow path, maybe an animal path, which I cleared easily.
And when it stopped above a series of walls and bolders, the sidra lay in front of me.

I sawed and stomped my way through the last obstacles
and - in the last day light - picked three fruits.

I hardly found my way back, but I felt hilarious.
I still haven't told about this woundrous tree~~

And when I returned to the editing, marking and inserting of a page I had scanned earlier,
a shock awaited me: Rabbi El'azar from Modi'in, slain in 133 by The Son-of-Deception.

But before going on, I want to tell an occurance of yesterday which prepared me for this.

My five "Monday grandkids" started a habit of having our sacred "four o'clock meal" in the park.
I was sitting on top of the little wadi, the southern border of the hill, but now an artificial dog-shit lawn,
where I felt comfortable because no shit was around and the view into the Palestinian hills was nice.

Suddenly the five were joined by another six, all ages, just like mine, two of them schoolmates of Yael and Itamar, though they live in another part of the town.

After a while a woman came towards me and greeted me, as if she knew me well. "I saw you last year at last year's Chanukka party in the Democratic School. You danced spinning around. This impressed me. Then I came to know the Succah and was a guest there even twice, and told you so, when we met a second time." I was amazed about her part in MY story with Avi, unknown to her. "So how can it be, that I don't recognize you?" "Because I've gone through a transformation, in which the Desert played an important part."

While Shira and I were talking, Yael (6) asked for my camera and seven from among the eleven kids posed for her. Alon (11) and Jonathan(11) kept to themselves

The former wadi which bordered on my Hill and my "close encounter" with Shira

Then she told me about her women healing circle, which she facilitates in Nature.
I asked: "Where? Why not on this hill?"
"Because the energy is so heavy there.
There have been so many wars on that hill!"

Again I was stunned, and I mumbled, more to myself than to her:
"Yes, that is true. Why haven't I ever thought of that.
From the Maccabeans to the Crusaders, from the Crusaders to our 1948 war.
But" - I said to Shira - "I've been healing this energy for 15 months now."

How did I know? How could I say such a thing?
Shira asked, if I had any connection to this hill.
And I heard myself telling what I had found out:
First, that the head archeologist of Modi'in had said,
that this was definitely the Modi'in of the Maccabeans.
I once met him under my figtree, next to the mosaic of the oilpress.
Second the Maccabeans received help from "us", the Nabateans.

"But some days ago I hit upon a much more important connection." I told her about my work on converting my Book into web-pages, and that this forces me to read what I wrote between 1967-1982, "This is how I came across Rabbi El'azar from Modi'in. It's him that I'm connected to - he lived 300 years after those Maccabeans." He was the only one of Israel's Sages, in whose name no laws were delivered, but only "aggada". Aggada was a way of teaching people by stories, especially in the difficult times after the destruction of 70 A.D., when people couldn't listen to anything from the mind. "He was the consoler par excellence", I said to Shira. This was yesterday. Right now - while continuing to mark pages in my chapter about "How the Emissary Became the Revenger", I come across the story, in which I saw and see an analogy to the Jesus curse: R. El'azar from Modi'in was deeply committed and dedicated to spare his people the holocaust, committed by the Romans, but brought about by the Jewish terrorists of Bar-Kokhba. Bar-Koziba, the Son-of-Deception, as the Sages called him, murdered R. El'azar with his own hands, and seeing this, the Holy-One-Blessed-Be-He gave the Romans permission to slaughter his people~~~

 

2002_10_28

So far no one seemed to see or use my path,
and suddenly the path was WALKed - as I concluded from the dogshit on it,
and people DID sit under the figtree - for I had to collect their garbage.
I was seen, first by a class of pupils and their teacher, who came down from the jeep track,
and then by little kids in the school opposite my house, which I always pass on my way to the hill.

"Are you a Bedouin (woman)?" they yelled. "Maybe! Yes in fact I am".
and a kid, that came a few seconds later: "Are you an Arab (woman)?"
I promised them to show them, where I live and called them from my veranda.

3 days later I heard the school's loudspeakers guiding the kids through an exercise of rushing to shelter in the moment of an earthquake.
That night an earthquake in Italy burried a school in San Giuliano and killed 29 school children and a teacher.

That night - 2002_10_31 - I got an e-mail from Barbara, my classmate 45 years ago:
"The news from Israel are on our screens and they hurt and worry me.
> I loved that place and its people so much, but there are so many > developments now that I do not unterstand
... Tonight your > socialist ministers resigned. What will happen next?"
I answered the same day:

"YOu are not the only one, who doesn't understand. I'm more and more reminded of what happened in Roman times, from the destruction in the year 70 to the holocaust in 133. I started putting my German and Hebrew book on my website. To make the scanned pages a bit more readable, I started to mark them. To be able to mark quotations etc., I needed to read them. I could not do this all those 20 last years. There is too much pain connected with this research (1967-1982) and its zero results . That's how I came in contact again with the terrible history, which - as I now found out - has a direct connection to the hill, on which I walk and work daily, often twice a day. It's the hill of ancient Modi'in, the origin of the Maccabeans. My connection is not so much to that time period (182 B.C.), but to the Bar-Kochba/Bar-Koziba "revolt" around 133 A.D. There was one great and unique sage, R.    E l ' a z a r    f r o m    M o d i ' i n , to whom I feel deeply connected. He was killed by that terrorist's own hands, an action, - so the legend - which caused the HOly-one-blessed-be-he to finally allow the Romans to start their ultimate destruction of ISrael, and the slaughter of so many people, that "the land didn't have to be fertilized for 7 years". Can you believe, that I cry again, while telling you this? I cry??? I sob!!! You must think, I'm crazy. Anyway, this is what i have to say about Israel now. And of course, - being a hologram,- I must take responsibility

my path - passing the dead stems of the "King's Candle" flowers - through the dead thistles and thorns is seen here as running parallel to the road to Jerusalem

The majestic King's Candle is dead. Only next to one of the 120 cisterns on the ancient hill, one plant holds on to a few golden flowers.
A dying butterfly also holds on one early morning, when drops of rain announced the beginning of winter.
             

      


At the same time, on the other side of the path, the first tiny yellow star of a winter flower dares to pioneer.
Adjacent to a King's Candle flowering in May it looks lonely. But it adorns my path and it radiates hope.

There will be another spring, another sunrise over Jerusalem, another King's Candle