Sometimes to have a great trip, all you need is a Tanach

Photos: Menachem Kalish

Of course, you can pack a tent, bedrolls, a canteen, and lots of meat for an impromptu barbecue, but sometimes to have a great trip, all you need is a Tanach. Is there any better way to reclaim the hills where the battles of history, and of our very collective soul, were fought?

“Ein lanu shiur ela haTorah hazos — all we have left is our Torah,” Rav Yitzchok Hutner ztz”l would tell his students. “Let’s not lose that too…” Rav Hutner would say that centuries ago the study of Tanach, the knowledge of dikduk, and the passion for Eretz Yisrael was so much greater, yet became diluted as they were “appropriated” by the Christians, the intellectuals of the Enlightenment, and the secular Zionists.

Still, despite the fact that the sounds of Tanach study may not be heard as loudly from many batei medrash, a tiyul around Eretz Yisrael can’t help but ignite the long-ago passion and enthusiasm and restore the study of Tanach to its proper place. Here the land itself — where the stories we’ve learned since elementary school actually took place — calls out to us and sings those ancient songs. Today’s tour in Emek Yizrael in the lower Galilee literally makes the high drama of those stories come to life. So, if you’re in Eretz Yisrael and still have a few days until the next zeman starts, pack up a knapsack and join me. And if not, you can still open your Navi and connect in real time.

Women’s Intuition

We begin our tour at the foot of Har Tavor — one mountain you can’t miss. It’s not part of any mountain range, but rather rises abruptly from the surrounding flat land, reaching a height of over 1,800 feet. The base of the mountain is surrounded by Arab villages, and we’re starting out at Shibli, the access point to the mountain. The Bedouins who live here are not like those who live in tents and tin hovels in the Negev and on the side of the road between Jerusalem and the Dead Sea. These tribes, or chamulas, live in beautiful homes, are gainfully employed, and a large portion of them serve in the army, with some even being decorated officers for their service in battle. Perhaps they’re the spiritual descendants of the family of Chever HaKeini and the tribe of Yisro who lived here during the time of Devorah and Barak. They also joined forces with the Jews in the battle that took place right where we’re stationed.

As we drive up this historic mountain that towers over the surrounding plain, we have a better appreciation of its argument before Hashem that the Torah should be given upon it because of its majestic height. But sadly for it, as we know, Hashem wasn’t looking for height. Quite the opposite: Hashem wanted a mountain that would symbolize humility, which Tavor’s high flat summit certainly doesn’t bespeak. To prove the point, it seemed providentially arranged that as we arrived, a group of Israelis were getting their paragliding and hang-gliding wings ready for their hour-long soar above the magnificent valley below. This is a place from where to look down on everyone else.

The best lookout point on the top of the mountain is the courtyard of the Franciscan Church, whose spires can be seen from all over the Galilee. I don’t like churches and don’t go into them, although I’d been to some of their courtyards during my studies. But as I consider that writing for Mishpacha is avodas kodesh, I wasn’t sure if we should go there for the lookout and video photo shoot. Hashem saved us from having to make the decision: Upon arrival we discovered that the church had been closed to tourists since Covid. Instead, we took an amazing circular hike around the mountain peak, which helped us envision the famous biblical battle on these slopes.