THE ROAD TO HEBRON

Halfway between Bethlehem and Hebron, along the canyon where the Cedron flows, we come across the tangle of the walls, roofs and cupolas of the San Saba Monastery. It is embedded in the rocky wall, a Greek monument in the Judean hills. Saint Saba (439 – 532), a native of Cappadoce who embraced Christianity in 457, founded it in around 486. For many centuries, thousands of monks inhabited the caves in the vicinity. The monastery is destroyed for the first time by the Persians and then by the Arabs. Rebuilt at the beginning of the 8th century, it welcomes Saint John of Damascus who will write many of his works within its walls. In the 14th century, the Greeks surrender it to the Serbians and to the Bulgarians before retrieving it in 1623. During all these years, access to the monastery is extremely dangerous because of the rival tribes in the surrounding areas that fight for the right to exact ransom from the pilgrims. Chateaubriand’s visit to the monastery arouses disturbing feelings as suggested in his testimony in 1806:

The San Saba Monastery

It was built in the ravine of the mountain stream of the Cedron, which could be three or four hundred feet deep in some places. This torrent is usually dry and muddy and red water flows only in the spring. The church occupies a small area on the raised ground at the bottom of its bed. From there, the buildings of the monastery rise on perpendicular stairs and passages hollowed out in the rock and, in this way, they reach the mountain ridge where they end with two square towers. One of the towers lies outside of the monastery; at one time, it served as an advance post to spy on the Arabs. From the top of the towers, you discover the sterile summits of the Judean Mountains; below you, your view plunges down the dried out ravine of the mountain stream of the Cedron where you see the caves that were once inhabited by the Anchorites. The wailing, innocence and sweetness of the blue pigeons nesting in these caves today seems to remind us of the saints who once populated these rocks. I must not forget the palm-tree that grows on a wall on one of the terraces of the monastery; I am convinced that all the travelers will notice it as I did: to fully appreciate the value of a cluster of greenery, the surroundings must be frightfully barren.

Chateaubriand, Itinerary from Paris to Jerusalem

In 1834, an earthquake destroys the monastery. The Russian czars undertake its restoration beginning in 1834. Today, a handful of monks maintain it and watch over the relics of Saint Saba, which were brought from Venice in 1965, and the remains of thousands of monks massacred by the Persians in 614.

The main road passes near the pools said to be those of King Solomon that Herod dug out in order to assure the supply of water to Jerusalem. During a visit in the spring, Pierre Loti made the classic error of attributing them to King Solomon, the author of Ecclesiastes:

The basins of Solomon

In a sad pool, abandoned like all of Palestine, we found cisterns, sumptuous basins that at one time supplied water to the summer palace of the Ecclesiast. Thousands of years ago, everything disappeared: the palaces, the gardens, the trees and there is nothing in the surroundings but a desert of rubble and asphodels.

Large, imposing ruins, nevertheless, stand near the reservoirs; a square of walls with Saracenic battlements flanked with heavy, crenellated towers at each of its four angles. Under the pale, mid-day sun that barely penetrates the violet-gray haze, two of its facades are rose-colored and the other two, those in the shade, are bluish. Its fierce battlements align their series of points towards the sky. Cut with gaps and cracks, lone, sad, immense and looming in this bare country, it was a citadel of the great Saladin, built there many centuries after the destruction of the palace of the author of the Ecclesiast; today it is, in turn, debris.

P. Loti, Jerusalem

Further north, a road makes its way towards Gush Etzion, which consolidates many settlements including the kibbutz Kfar Tzion and the village of Alon Shvut – the Oak-of-the-Return. Beginning in 1926, four Jewish localities were created; in 1948 they divide this promontory, which overlooks the Jerusalem road in 1948. Very quickly, the battle for control of the Holy City between the Jews and the Arabs overtakes the region. The young children are evacuated to villages that are less vulnerable. On January 14th, 1948, more than 2000 Arabs attack the Gush. Repulsed at first, they then besiege the Jewish localities. The Haganah (the Jewish defense organization associated with the Labor movement) dispatches a first detachment of thirty-five men to raise the morale of the inhabitants and reinforce their ranks; it is ambushed. On
March 26th, a convoy from Jerusalem somehow succeeds in transporting provisions and ammunition. Upon its return, it is attacked and suffers heavy losses. The Gush is completely cut off from Jerusalem. The Jordanian Legion enters the fight alongside the Arab villagers. The assaults continue until May 13th, the date on which the defenders of the Gush are forced to surrender due to the enemy’s superior number of fighters and arms.

The invasion of Kfar Etzion was particularly bloody and murderous. The assailants massacred all the inhabitants except for four persons. One of them, Aliza Feuchtwanger who served as the radio operator describes the fall of the kibbutz:

The fall of the Gush

When we had heard that the Arabs had broken through our lines of defense… we destroyed the emitter and burned the documents. Yaacov A. gave me the order to go up on the roof and hoist a white flag… Abraham F., the commander of our position, relying on the contact he had had with the leading inhabitants in the region, went out to negotiate with the assailants… An Arab suddenly came out of a building and pointed his rifle at him. Abraham raised his hands, uttering: « Alas, it’s over. » He said something else, but the Arab fired and Abraham fell back in the thicket…

We continued to shoot from position nº 3 until we received the ceasefire order. The men were at a loss, not knowing what to do because the shots from the other side did not cease and the assailants continued to infiltrate our position. Seeing men in uniform brandishing a white flag on Russian Hill, the commander understood that something was happening. He returned to position nº 2 to get more information; he found Yaacov A. and asked him if the ceasefire order had definitely been given:

« Indeed, replied Yaacov.
- Why?
- We are surrendering.
- What do they say in Jerusalem?
- Arab tanks are in the village. We lost contact with Jerusalem.
- What are we to do?
- Destroy the weapons…»

We destroyed the arms and the ammunition before gathering together in the building of the German Monastery [which stood] in the center of the village. The Arabs photographed us. Then without warning, they began firing their machineguns at us. We ran in every direction. I jumped into a hole near the school. Suddenly an Arab came towards me and aimed at me. I screamed. The Arabs stopped shooting and pulled me out of the hole. Two Jordanian Legionnaires grabbed me and dragged me through the schoolyard to the woods. We stumbled over tens of bodies; I recognized many of our own among them. Their own were also dying there… The smell of blood made me dizzy. The villagers were busy pillaging the school. They were shooting at each other.

When we reached the forest, the legionnaires assaulted me. I fought them with all my strength. Suddenly, there were two bursts of machinegun fire. It was an officer of the Legion. He saved my life. He took me to the door and sat me in an armored car that took us to their base.

When the battles began to subside, the officer took me back to the village and demanded that I show him the emplacement of the arms caches. Before the opening of the bunker located under the German Monastery, he removed the pin from a grenade and put it in my hand, ordering me to throw it into the bunker. I held on to the grenade, determined to kill myself rather than obey. He pulled it out of my hand and threw it in himself.

I saw many wounded Jews and Arabs in the yard; some were dying. The officer shot everyone that moved. Later, he again led me to the armored car that took me back to the police station in Hebron.

After the Six Day War (June 1967), the descendents of the victims of Kfar Etzion rebuilt their kibbutz. A small museum recounts the history of the Gush. A well-designed, multi-media program presents the fall of the Gush.