The Hills Are Alive

“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.
Looking at the valley below, we imagined the armies of Sisra (Shoftim 4) with his 900 chariots who had come down under the bidding of Yavin, the Canaanite king of Chatzor (where the ancient city’s ruins still remain). Looking below, we understood why Devorah Haneviah chose this area to draw Sisra into battle. The flat valley in contrast to the generally hilly Galilee was too tempting a location to best utilize his chariots — the equivalent of today’s tanks. He expected the battle against the Israelites to take place there; little did he know that Devorah, Barak, and his troops were actually stationed in the hills above, preparing for a surprise attack. It was Pesach time, and the normally dry valley where the Kishon River flowed enlisted the heavens to assist Devorah and Barak (who were hidden above on Har Tavor and the surrounding hills of Givat Ha’moreh): Torrents of pelting rain came down, turning the entire valley into a muddy swamp that incapacitated the chariots and swept their riders into the river and drowning them, forcing Sisra, the lone survivor, to flee on foot.
As we circle the peak of Har Tavor, we have a clear view of Teveria, the Kinneret, and the town of Yavne’el, which many archeologists suggest was the location of the ancient settlement of Alon Ba’Tzananim, where the tents of Chever HaKeini were pitched and where Sisra fled to. (There’s even a mesorah in modern Yavne’el that the natural spring mikveh, known as “Mikveh Malkah,” was connected to the miracle that took place with Yael, and many yeshuos are still attributed to its miraculous properties.) Chever’s wife, Yael, invited him into her tent for refuge. He had merely asked for water, yet she gave him a nice warm glass of milk. She followed that up afterward with some “stake,” but not the type you eat. Rather she used the tent peg to kill him.
She detoured Barak, who was giving chase, and showed him her conquest; and Devorah thus sang her song praising Yael and putting her on par with the “Imahos of the tent — Sarah, Rivka, Rachel and Leah.” We remember this story twice each year, as it’s the haftarah for Beshalach and the Splitting of the Sea, and the Gemara’s hint to the 100 shofar blasts on Rosh Hashanah corresponding to the cries of Sisra’s mother, who had expected her little boychik to come home with the plunder of the Jews and instead was defeated by women. Your Elul homework is to reveal the deeper significance of this evil woman’s cries and our earthshaking shofar blasts.

Holy Homestead

The next stop on our Tanach trail is the Arab village of Sulam, but there’s much more to this dusty Arab town than meets the eye. In the times of the first Beis Hamikdash this was the flourishing Jewish city of Shunam, mentioned in Sefer Yehoshua as the border of Shevet Yissachar just north of Afula. As opposed to many Arab villages whose residents fled after their capture in the War of Independence, Sulam was on good terms with its Jewish neighbors and its residents remained. Tel Shunam, where the ancient city was discovered, is currently a cemetery and the current village is built around it. Our destination is one of the most off-the-beaten-track holiest sites in Israel: The house of the Ishah HaShunamis.
In the times of Bayis Rishon when the kingdom was divided, this area was part of the Kingdom of Israel and Ten Tribes that had broken off from Yehudah and Binyamin after Shlomo Hamelech’s death. During the reign of the children of Achav, Elisha Hanavi was the spiritual leader of the Jewish people and he would travel around the country with prophecies of both chizuk and rebuke (Melachim II, 4). The city of Shunam found a special place in his heart though, and the Ishah Shunamis, who according to Chazal may have been either the wife or mother of the prophet Ido, had a special room built for him. He showed his appreciation to her by blessing her that she would be hugging a child after she had been barren for many years. (The Zohar tells us the child that was born was the prophet Chavakuk — named after the promise of chibuk – hugging — that Elisha gave her.) It seems that the blessing came with even a post- lifetime warranty, for a few years later when the child died in the field, the woman came running to Elisha, who arrived quickly on the scene and brought the child back to life.
There is one more story about this holy woman (Melachim II, 8). Elisha tells her that there will be very soon a devastating famine in the land and sends her and her household to the land of the Plishtim to wait it out. When she returns after seven years, she discovers that in her absence all of her land and possessions had been stolen. She goes to King Yehoram, who at that precise moment is hearing from Geichazi, Elisha’s wayward disciple, about the various miracles of his master. Talk about good timing! The king is impressed meeting this woman and returns all of her property to her.
Our destination in Sulam is just one small little wall. Located in between some houses on a side street, it marks what was once an entrance to a cave that has traditionally been considered the home of this Ishah Hashunamis. There aren’t too many places where Rav Chaim Kanievsky has left to Bnei Brak to go daven, yet this place is one of them. And it’s known that he has sent many who are in need of miracles to daven here as well. He has a tradition from his father, the Steipler Gaon, that the inspiration of the miracles that happened as a result of the prayers offered up here are the real deal. People who are having fertility challenges, acute or terminal illnesses, or parnassah issues come from all over the world to this small little wall and pray — and in the merit of Elisha and this holy woman, have seen their tefillos answered.