I’m writing this towards the end of a four week exploration of the desert. The word ‘desert’ conjures up images of a barren, empty terrain – and, perhaps, sand-dunes (if we’ve seen pictures of the Sahara). But in reality the desert is both teeming with life and very varied. One of the incredible things about Israel is that this tiny country is made up of so many different landscapes – and climates. But even the desert terrain is full of amazing contrasts. The journey I’ve taken from Jerusalem has been an incredible desert odyssey.

From Jerusalem to the Judean desert hills, to the Dead Sea – 419 metres below sea-level between the red granite-sandstone mountains of Jordan on the east shore, and the yellow-pink limestone cliffs on the west shore – to Ein Gedi, the famous ‘spring’ oasis in those cliffs, to the Arava desert plain, to Eilat, on the southern tip of Israel – an eclectic mixture of resort haven and frontier town, on the Red Sea – then northwards through the Negev highlands, including the massive ‘Giant Crater’, Machtesh Ramon, with the town of Mitzpeh Ramon atop the north side of the crater – which runs 40 kilometres east to west, and 9 kilometres south to north.

Mountains, ravines, plains, rock, sand; a kaleidoscope of colours: shades of pink, terracotta, yellow, brown, white, grey and charcoal. Arid, inhospitable terrain – to put it mildly – where, in the low-land areas, especially, it rains on average, just one or two days a year, and in the summer months the temperature soars to 45 degrees Celsius plus. Home only to hardy, wiry plants and small trees, beetles, snails, ants, scorpions (summer only, fortunately), eagles and myriad birds, snakes, lizards, porcupines, ibex, rodents, wolves, foxes, hyenas, jackals, and leopards – very few in number (but one evening at Kibbutz Ein Gedi, we caught sight of one of them…)

Kibbutz Ein Gedi – founded in 1956 – is not the only sign of human habitation in the desert. Within minutes of leaving Jerusalem and entering the seemingly barren Judean hills, you see Bedouin encampments. And Ein Gedi is not the only kibbutz – there are others along the western shore of the Dead Sea (not to mention hotel resorts to the south). And the Negev is full of kibbutzim – as well as Bedouin camps – so, alongside the spare desert vegetation, there are date-palm plantations, and a rich variety of fruits, vegetables and herbs are grown. There are also, surprisingly, dairy farms – one of which, at Kibbutz Yotvata, is a huge concern. The record of the pioneers – who have, as the well-known cliché puts it, ‘made the desert bloom’ – is a testament to Israeli ingenuity. But the Bedouin, who have roamed the desert for centuries, and the excavated remains at Ein Gedi, and throughout the Negev, remind us that people – including our biblical ancestors – have always found ways of living in the desert. Indeed, remnants of hunters’ camps from over 50,000 years ago have been found at Kibbutz Sde Boker in the northern Negev. The desert is very much alive – and always has been. L’hitra’ot!

© Rabbi Elizabeth Tikvah Sarah