Digging Into The Past

Coming from the Los Angeles area – or really anywhere on the West Coast of the United States of America means having no depth of history. Houses from the 1920's are old – and they are frequently being restored in places like Pasadena. But modern Los Angeles is not really more than 100 years old. So going to places like New York, Philadelphia, Boston and Washington DC feels like stepping into history. They are steeped in American culture and represent our origin. Yet Washington DC is really only about 225 years old – which sounds like forever to a child, but in the course of history and the formation of a culture is really less than a blink of an eye.

I believe that one of the reasons Americans love going to historical sites, especially in Europe where our country can trace its cultural roots, is because we don't have that much history of our own.

But why do they like it and seek it out so much?

Because history is grounding. It offers perspective and meaning. We look to the past to understand – and in many cases justify – the present. As I mentioned a few days ago, humans are a storytelling species. We use narratives to create common platforms for mass cooperation. Our stories about who we are as a people – be it a religious group, ethnic group, family or nation state – give us the framework for our lives. The stories answer or even prevent many of the questions we might have about who we are, what we're doing here and how we should live. 

Countries with long histories baked often have tremendous stability and self confidence. They weather the storms of time and their people have a strong sense of shared values. French people all felt a shared pain and grief when Notre Dame de Paris burned this year. The people of Paris – the incomparably beautiful capitol of France – live their daily, modern lives within sight of – and even in the shadows of – an iconic 856 year-old gothic cathedral. Their history is a palpable part of their lives. One of my favorite small things to notice in Paris is the Louvre – the actual Louvre Palace. You can walk the exterior and actually see the original building and the phases of expansions and improvements under subsequent kings – ending in Napoleon III whose sections of building bear large N's on them. In Los Angeles, the only equivalent to this is noticing the wall or driveway cracks from the 1971 San Fernando Earthquake as distinguishable from those of the 1994 Northridge quake.

In primarily homogenous countries like England, France, Germany, Japan, China and Egypt, the length of history and its numerous edifices help define and give strength to the enterprise. One might argue that in the age of nation-state, they are the linchpins of their respective societies.

I have never been to a country with the depth of history of Israel. Even Greece and Turkey – which go back to ancient times – don't go back as far and I imagine neighboring Egypt is probably the closest rival in this regard. Today, we participated in a dig at an actual excavation site that is unearthing artifacts from a period 2700 years older than Rome. From this site came pieces of a tablet that helped uncover parts of the Hanukkah story – that the war against the Jews of Jerusalem was started by an Assyrian (Greek) governor of the region who wanted back taxes paid by the priests of the Second Temple – who by refusing to pay were in essence staging a quiet rebellion against the Assyrian Empire. The Hanukkah texts never mentioned the taxation issue – which brings new context to the story. It was real and happened here in the city where I write today.

But despite being a Jewish state, the truth is that Israel is not as homogenous as it might like to be. Leaving aside the Palestinian Territory situation, Israel has a significant Arab population – citizens of the state who pay taxes, vote, hold passports and have the same rights as every Israeli citizen. The same is true for groups of Druze, Christians and Bahai. Moreover, Old Jerusalem  - even under Israeli possession – is a shared city with a diverse array of religious groups and institutions having ownership and rights in the complex workings of one of the world's great holy sites. 

Thus, the history doesn't tell a singular, defining story that brings you to the inevitable conclusion of the current state and culture the way it does for say France or Japan. And to make matters more complicated, Israel hasn't really even been an independent country since the days of Judea. Israel or Palestine was a small and not terribly developed or wealthy part of several empires – Jewish, Greek, Roman, Byzantine, Crusader, Ottoman, British – along the way, each forgetting its predecessor and creating its own history. So unlike modern France – which has for time in-memoriam been Gallic/French – Israel has been a lot of things to a lot of people. Some of then leaving fragments and cards of pottery and some fossilized goats teeth dug up today by our family. 

For America, one of our weaknesses is our lack of historical/cultural depth. Our story isn't so clear and defined. We are not homogenous and we do not all agree on where we came from and where we're headed. We are an inconsistent state whose democracy can unpredictably swing our policies and interaction with the world in ways countries with different cultural and historical experiences find exasperating. But, our youth and the blank slate from where we started has given us unprecedented success in integrating people – and often top minds and talent – from around the world into our hodgepodge society. Waves of immigration in the 19th and early 20th centuries were critical to our nation's development and its modern definition. It was our lack of history and inconsistent culture that allowed – and continues to allow – the absorption of diverse peoples into a framework that has yielded a powerful and successful nation state. 

And we're not alone. Countries like Canada, Australia, Singapore, Argentina and Brazil have made use of their blank slates to leverage growth and success. Being free of the definitions of history allow these countries to shape their present any way they want – with all of the challenges and chaos that comes with it. 

After spending the morning pulling ancient goat teeth out of the earth, we had lunch in Abu Ghosh, an Arab village outside Jerusalem whose restaurants are often frequented by Jewish Israelis. During the 1948 War of Independence, Abu Ghosh chose not to take either Arab or Jewish sides – which ultimately worked in the Jewish forces' favor. Thus Jewish Israelis have always had good relations with Abu Ghosh and have gone out of their way to lend their economic support to the village. Abu Ghosh is thriving today and you can see the wealth disparity between it and many other Arab towns in Israel. Where else does neutrality buy you strong loyalty from the victor? (Portugal is the only other modern example I can think of).

An incredible meal of hummus, dips, salads, kebabs, grilled meats, fries and rice later – we took a break for some shopping around Jerusalem followed by a trip out to the Judean Desert to ride camels and enjoy a bedouin dinner. Our experience was designed to give us the experience of life in the time of Genesis – which in some ways is not that different from what some nomadic tribes still experience today. While our time slot also included another Jewish family from San Jose, many Christians of various detonations go for the same experience. The history is important and validating to many.

Like America, Israel's strengths and challenges are the same – only it's the reciprocal to ours. Israel is defined by and in some ways also trapped by its history. One one hand the richness of history give unusual and outstanding drive, strength, connection and warmth to the people of Israel. And on the other hand, it's hard to imagine being able to move past religious, ethnic and cultural differences the way a country like Singapore might – because people's very definitions are predicated on not just the stories passed to them as their birthright, but also the numerous (and often conflicting) interpretations and variations of those same stories. To step beyond those stories into something new must in some way feel like a betrayal of the very reason to live in this land – to dwell in communion with the history that is yours.