By Ithamar Perath
SHO’EVA, Israel — During my years as a tourist guide I often took on Dutch groups that were organized by Protestant travel bureaus. They had a fair knowledge of both the Old and New Testament, and their visits to Israel were more than a sightseeing adventure – they also were a spiritual experience
Tour leaders of these groups often were clergymen/women officiating in their local congregations, pastors or preachers. The tour program invariably included a visit to the ‘Ein Gedi gorge, at one time a distant oasis, now a much-visited nature park. The visit consisted of a short walk along the (now reconstructed) ancient trail, reaching the first of a series of scenic waterfalls, that fed a heavenly pool of cool water in the desert heat.
It was my habit to stop at a corner along the trail, in the spreading shade of a tropical Moringa tree, and to recite the story of a fateful meeting between David and Saul (2 Samuel 26), here on the very location where it took place. It couldn’t be more authentic.
If the tour leader had a good voice, not a tiresome mumble, I would find the designated chapter in his travelers’ bible, thrust it in his hand and request him to read it to his flock.
It was on a not too-hot day in June. The tour leader was like me, rather youngish, and authoritative in a pleasant way. As we ambled along the trail – all those aged ladies – we bumped into a herd of some 25 ibex goats of all ages, led by a huge old male, placidly ruminating in the enjoyable shade, not intending to get up and make way for mere tourists.
(The Ibex were once plentiful in the oases of the Judean Desert [‘Ein Gedi is named ‘Ibex crags’ in the stories of David’s roamings], but over the centuries they were hunted to near extinction. As a protected species under Israeli Law they have recuperated famously and have no fear of humans).
I proclaimed a rest and asked the tour leader to start reading, from the pages I had marked for him. The creek behind us murmured over its pebbles, and the white marl cliffs around us listened in silence.
Our man reached verses 13 and 14: “David had crossed to the other side and stood on the rim of the cliff. Wide was the distance between them.” And lo, as by instruction of a stage direcor, a young Ibex male appeared on the opposite cliff, majestically displaying himself on the very rim.
Kingly he looked like the Lord of the forest in the well-remembered Disney movie ‘Bambi.’ All eyes of the Ibex herd, male and female, turned to him. Ears were pointed and all chewing ceased. Silently I lifted my arm and pointed to the buck atop the cliff, and all the eyes of my group, male and female, hooked onto the Heir apparent in all his pride.
The heavy old male then bestirred himself and rose slowly, importantly, to his feet, and the two males, the old one and the young one, mutely locked eyes with each other.
My tour leader, whose eyes were on the text and hadn’t noticed anything, kept reading and proclaimed: “And Saul recognized David’s voice and he called: ‘Is that your voice, David my Son?’. And David replied: ‘My voice it is, my lord king.'”
A gust of wind suddenly blew down the gorge and flapped the pages, and for some moments silenced the ancient words.
The preacher found his page again, and came to the verse: “Now as thy life has been precious to me, may my life be precious in the eyes of God, and may he redeem me of every disaster.”
The old male lowered his heavy-horned head and took his eyes off the opposite cliff. Thus he stood with lowered head, as if in mourning, not moving but snorting in frustration. And the preacher spoke in Dutch words: “Blessed are you, David my son. Great deeds you shall do and you shall prevail.”
As if by signal each Ibex arose, sneezed somewhat and stretched legs and neck, and I led my group between them, keeping uncharacteristically silent till reaching the pool and the cascade flowing down its travertine curtain.
I knew that I would never forget these moments. The chatter and splashing of the bathers soon dispelled the power of the ancient verses. I had again become a young buck, herding his flock. For the time being.
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Ithamar Perath is a retired Israeli tour guide and author, with a background in geology, oceanography, science editing and translating.