Tag Archives: Crusaders

Rockefeller’s Contribution to Jerusalem

Tower of the Rockefeller Museum, Jerusalem, as seen from the cloister
Tower of the Rockefeller Museum, Jerusalem, as seen from the cloister

The Number 1 bus to the Kotel goes past the driveway of the Rockefeller Museum. Its collection of antiquities from the land of Israel makes it one of the great archeological museums of the world. On my trips to the Kotel, I had seen the top of its tower above the trees, but I had never seen the whole building except in pictures. I’ve wanted to visit it for years, but because of the matzav, the situation, I have been too nervous to go on my own. It is in an Arab neighborhood, which makes the trip a little scary. When I finally went there this week with my class from Pardes, we were accompanied by an armed escort.

My nervousness is valid. Over the last year and a half, Arab terrorists have attacked Israelis in the area more than twenty-five times. While we were in the museum an Arab stabbed a policeman in the head with a screwdriver about a block or two away. A policeman who saw the attack shot the Arab attacker to prevent him from injuring other people.

There are some who say that the Arabs have a right to protect what they feel is land stolen from them by Israel. However, that is not the root of the problem. Arabs killing those they consider interlopers did not start in 1967. In 1938 one of the most prominent archeologists of the time, G. L. Starkey, was murdered by an Arab while on his way to the museum’s opening ceremony.

My visit to the Rockefeller was on a tour associated with my course, “Sages of the Mishna.” We were there to learn about the Roman and Byzantine periods during which the sages lived, from about 100 BCE to 220 CE. We couldn’t help but notice the magnificent architecture of the building itself, even though it is much more recent than the antiquities it holds.

The hill on which the museum stands is opposite the northeast corner of the Old City wall. Looking east you can see the whole of the Mount of Olives, from Silwan in the South to the Hebrew University in the North. This was the spot Godfrey de Bouillon chose for the camp of his army of Crusaders before attacking Jerusalem. The Mount of Olives in those days was probably covered with trees. I wonder if he appreciated the view. Or was he too busy planning the slaughter all the Muslims and Jews in the Holy City? Crusader descriptions of the aftermath of the battle revel in the amount of blood they shed.

More than eight hundred later, after a trip to the Middle East John Henry Breasted of the Oriental Institute in Chicago, decided that Jerusalem needed an archeological museum. Archeologists had been excavating in and around the city since the mid-19th century. They had taken many of the best finds back to their home countries in Europe and the U. S. Breasted felt that since the Ottoman empire had fallen and the British had replaced the Turks as rulers of Jerusalem, it would be safe to keep antiquities closer to where they had been found.

Breasted approached John D. Rockefeller and convinced him to fund a museum in Jerusalem. Some of the two million dollars Rockefeller contributed went to buy the site from the al-Halili family, who lived on the hilltop.. The British High Commissioner appointed Austen St. Barbe Harrison, the chief architect of the Mandatory Department of Public Works, to design the new museum. Construction took eight years. The British named it “The Palestine Archaeological Museum,” since it was in British Mandatory Palestine. It officially opened in January 1938 and almost immediately became known as the Rockefeller Museum.

Bas relief of the meeting of Asia and Africa in Israel, over door of Rockefeller Museum
Bas relief of the meeting of Asia and Africa in Israel, over door of Rockefeller Museum

Rockefeller got his money’s worth. The building is magnificent. The British had already decreed that all buildings in Jerusalem must be faced with the local limestone known as Jerusalem Stone. Harrison designed the building to be a combination of the best of Eastern and Western architecture. To carry out the theme, Harrison commissioned Eric Gill to carve bas reliefs in the stone. A bas relief above the entrance to the building depicts Asia and Africa with a palm tree, the ancient symbol of Judea, between them.

The building is wrapped around a lovely cloister that features a pool. Between the arches of the cloister, on both sides of the pool, small bas reliefs depict a symbol for each of the cultures that controlled the Holy Land in historical order. For example, a boat riding curly waves symbolizes the Phoenicians and a winged horse with a human face symbolizes the Muslims.

Bullet holes in wall from 1967 Six Day War
Bullet holes in wall from 1967 war

At the east end of the cloister, you can see bullet holes in the wall. The damage perhaps symbolizes the Israeli period. On June 6, 1967, IDF paratroopers fought their way through several Arab neighborhoods and arrived at the Rockefeller Museum. They were to spend the night there, and then, possibly, attack the Old City.

Meanwhile, an army officer notified Dr. Avraham Biran, the Director of the Israel Department of Antiquities that the Rockefeller was now in the hands of the IDF. Within a few hours, Biran, Nahman Avigad and Yosef Aviram, three of the most respected archeologists in Israel, were at the museum. They, along with brigade commander Colonel Motta Gur, had arrived in an armored vehicle. As they toured the museum for the first time in almost twenty years, the archeologists were joined by some of the exhausted soldiers. It must have been a surreal experience—listening to a lecture about antiquities, given by experts, as bullets periodically flew through the exhibit halls breaking windows and display cases.

They all noticed that the exhibits were exactly as they had been in 1948 when the Jordanians had captured half of Jerusalem. The only thing that had changed was that the Hebrew signs had disappeared. Some of them were plastered over. But in one exhibit hall, high on the wall, you can see the original Hebrew lettering with a rectangular frame. Several horizontal brown stripes line are also visible within the frame. The brown marks are the remains of scotch tape which held a paper covering the Hebrew lettering, hiding it from the sensitive eyes of visitors.

The exhibits themselves are fascinating. In each hall the exhibits are arranged chronologically according to their historical period. Pictures of the excavations or tels where the items were found hang of the walls above the end of the exhibit cases. The legends explaining the exhibits are typed on paper brown with age.

In addition to the items found by archeologists, there are some unusual

Lintel from front door of Church of the Holy Sepulcher Church
Lintel from front door of Church of the Holy Sepulcher Church

exhibits. The carved stone frieze from the lintel above the front door of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher is in the hall devoted to Christianity. At one time when the Church was being cleaned and renovated, the frieze was removed and brought to the museum for safekeeping. But when it was time to return it, a dispute erupted. Under the “status quo” agreement for Christian holy sites in Jerusalem, only the sect that owns an area of the church can clean or fix it. Since the Christian groups could not agree as to who owns the area above the door, the magnificent frieze remains at the Rockefeller Museum.

A panel from ceiling beam of Al Aksa Mosque, which the Waqf replaced in 1938
A panel from ceiling beam of Al Aqsa Mosque, which the Waqf replaced in 1938

The Muslim Hall displays carved wooden panels that decorated beams in the Al Aksa Mosque. The style of the carvings indicate they probably date from the eighth century C.E. In  1938, when the Waqf decided to renovate the mosque, they planned to discard the intricately carved panels. Someone from the museum heard about the project and convinced the Waqf to donate the panels. That is something that could not happen today.

The Rockefeller is now part of the Israel Museum (IMJ). Official ownership of the museum and its exhibits, however,  is still undetermined. A sign on one of the outer doors says “Government of Palestine Department of Antiquities,” although the Israel Antiquities Authority has its offices in the building. Therefore the IMJ has not removed any of the exhibits or made any improvements, such as adding central heating, to the museum. Since it was a cold rainy day when my class toured, and it felt freezing inside.

Someday, in the course of some negotiation or other, the museum will officially end up Somewhere. Whether or not it is in Israel, or in Palestine, or in some as yet unknown political entity, it will still be a beautiful building full of interesting finds. And maybe then it will be renovated. At that time, people who come won’t have to wear coats, scarves, hats and gloves to see the amazing antiquities.

The Ramchal Synagogue in Akko (Acre)

Portion of Torah written by Ramchal in pomegranate juice on gazelle skin parchment
Portion of Torah written by Ramchal in pomegranate juice on gazelle skin parchment

Eliyahu welcomed us to the Ramchal synagogue in Akko in his best English. Unfortunately, his best English is almost incomprehensible. Between his Moroccan/Israeli accent, his limited vocabulary, and strange grammar I struggled to understand him. My class on the development of prayer and the synagogue was in Akko (also called Acre) to learn more about the Ramchal, Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzato, one of the scholars of the 18th century Sephardi community. But I feared I wouldn’t learn about Ramchal from Eliyahu, no matter how long he spoke.

I wished he would speak in Hebrew instead. I might be able to understand that.

One of the more outspoken women in our group had the same thought. “Shulie,” she asked our guide, “do you think he could talk to us in Hebrew? And you could translate what we don’t understand?”

There were murmurs of agreement throughout the room.

Eliyahu is the caretaker of the Ramchal synagogue, located just outside the shuk in Akko, a city more renowned for its Christian and Muslim history than for its Jewish one. The Crusaders called it St. Jean d’Acre and made it their capital. Although they had lost Jerusalem to Salach ad-Din (Saladin) in 1187, they nonetheless named their country the Kingdom of Jerusalem. The Crusader walls still stand around the old city and some of their halls have been excavated. Thousands of tourists come every year to see the Crusader buildings and re-enactments.When Shulie suggested to Eliyahu that he talk to us in Hebrew, his shoulders relaxed and his face lost its tense expression. He nodded, and started over. By the end of his first sentence, the rest of us had relaxed as well.

After the Crusaders were expelled by the Mamluks, the European presence seemed to disappear. There were Europeans here and there, but they exerted no significant influence in the life of the city.

In the eighteenth century, Napoleon tried to change that. After conquering Egypt, he led his armies up the Mediterranean coast. His goal was to conquer the whole Ottoman empire. After conquering Jaffa, he declared himself King of Jerusalem. That was a little premature—he never progressed that far east. The French advanced as far as the outskirts of Akko. Unfortunately for Napoleon’s aspirations, the British navy showed up to help their Turkish allies. An outbreak of plague added to his difficulties. Unable to conquer the city, the French lifted the siege of the city and sailed back to France, leaving hundreds of cannons and other weapons in the Akko harbor.

One of the more colorful minarets in Akko
One of the more colorful minarets in Akko

The failure of Napoleon’s campaign led to Akko remaining within the Ottoman Empire until its defeat in World War I. There was a strong Arab presence in the city throughout the British Mandate and until today. Now the city is about one-third Arab. Everywhere you look there seems to be a minaret sticking up; most of the stores and stalls in the old shuk are Arab. Many street signs are only in Arabic.

It is uncertain whether Ramchal himself ever prayed in the synagogue that bears his name. From the 16th to the early 18th century there was a large elegant synagogue in Akko, and Ramchal probably prayed there. But, as often happened, the property was taken over by the Muslim rulers. Dahar el-Omar evicted the Jews, and built the el-Mualek mosque on top of the synagogue in 1758. The Jews received the small building slightly north of their old building. The newer small building was where we listened to Eliyahu tell us the story of the Ramchal.

The Luzzato family was well to do and influential within the Jewish community of Padua, Italy. Moshe Chaim received an excellent education, and as a young man became interested in kabbalistic studies. Because of rumors that he was a follower of the false messiah Shabbatai Tzvi, he was forced to leave Italy. From 1735 to 1743, he lived in Amsterdam. He and his family then made aliyah, settling in Akko. Three years later, in 1746, he died of plague, the same disease that half a century later helped put an end to Napoleon’s campaign in the Middle East.

He lived only 39 years, but in that short time he made an impact on Jewish life and thought, writing 71 books. His most well-known work is Mesillat Yesharim, The Path of Just, a guide to ethics and character development. In it, the Ramchal shows the connections between mysticism and proper living.

He also wrote The Way of Torah, a guide to studying the Talmud, The Way of God, an explanation of Jewish beliefs, and Secrets of the Redemption. Additionally, he wrote poetry and was a playwright. His poetic abilities and style are evident even in his works of philosophy.

Writing a Torah scroll is a distinct skill, one that very few master, but Ramchal wrote one in Akko. Eliyahu pointed to a wrinkled dark brown document hanging on the wall–three columns of text taken from a Torah scroll written by Ramchal on gazelle skin parchment. The last time an expert inspected the scroll it was deemed pasul, unfit for ritual use because through the years some letters had been worn away. The rabbis had told Eliyahu the scroll must be put in a geniza, hidden away with other holy works unfit for use. Eliyahu couldn’t bear to see that happen. “What if we keep it for education?” he had asked.

The Torah scroll was deemed kosher for education.

The section on display is from the parshiyot of Ha’azinu and Zot ha-bracha, the last two weekly readings from Devarim (Deuteronomy). Standing close to the scroll, I could read the words. The ink has not faded. It was made from pomegranates by Ramchal himself. As Eliyahu explained, “Pomegranate, it stays forever. You spill it on your shirt, the washing machine does not help.” He moved his hand across his chest, making a scissoring motion with his fingers. “The only thing that removes pomegranate from a shirt is scissors.”

The synagogue is small. There was barely enough room for our group of fifty. And there is no ezrat nashim, a section for women. Ramchal felt that women did not belong in synagogue. A recess in a wall was once a window to the bordering street. Women who wanted to hear the prayers could stand outside to listen. There are small synagogues throughout the country that today lack an ezrat nashim. I have often seen women standing on the walkway outside the small synagogue next door to Daniel and Aliza’s building. They hold a prayer book in their hands, as they listen to the prayers or Torah reading through the windows.

In the Ramchal synagogue, a clear section of the floor allows visitors to look down into a narrow pit about five or six feet deep. At one time, the hazan stood in the pit to lead the prayers. In the Bible, several phrases refer to praying from low places, in addition to the injunction not to build an altar in a high place. Psalm 130 says. “From the depths, I cry out to You, G-d.” I suspect King David was referring to spiritual depths when he wrote this, but Sephardim take this sentence more literally. The entrances of many Sephardi synagogues lead down.

The curtain in front of the Aron that holds the Torah scrolls in the Ramchal synagogue, Akko, Israel
The curtain in front of the Aron that holds the Torah scrolls in the Ramchal synagogue, Akko

I have been to several synagogues in which the hazan stands an inch or two lower than the rest of the congregation. But this was the first synagogue I’ve seen in which the hazan had to actually go into the depths to call out to G-d.

Today, the man leading the prayers at the Ramchal synagogue stands in front of the other men, on the same level. The only reminder of praying from the depths is written in teal and purple beads on the white curtain in front of the aron kodesh, where the Torah scrolls are kept. It says, “G-d, I call to you from the depths.”

Few people today see the need to physically go down a ladder or stairs to pray. Nonetheless, I wonder how many retain the desire to reach into the depths of their souls in prayer.