Before I left for a vacation in Israel, in December of 1996, Margaret Holub suggested a few spots to visit. One was the grave of Rabbi Yonatan Ben Uziel (Jonathon Son of Uriel). Margaret described the spot as being unusually beautiful and said that by tradition it was a place for single people to pray for a mate. Being single, and needing all the help I could get, it seemed like a brief visit couldn't hurt.
I had an Israeli guide book for the area around Tsfat (a.k.a. Safed), that was supposedly translated into English. The descriptions in the book were intriguing, but I soon learned that the author's tentative grasp of English was significantly better than his command of geography and cartography.
I set off early in the morning from Tiberius in my Mazda 323 Israeli rental vehicle. I drove north up along the western edge of Lake Kinneret (Sea of Galilee), and headed east climbing into the mountains toward Tsfat. According to my instructions, I was to drive past the road to old Tsfat and take the next right. This was the last direction that I was to take without backtracking. I arrived at a round-a-bout with several roads taking off like spokes. The instructions were ambiguous, but I took my best shot. I ended up at the entrance to some sort of military installation at the top of the hill, probably radar and communications.
I asked the guards at the gate for directions to the tomb. As I came to realize, while most oldsters in Israel know English, those Israelis in their early 20's and younger are typically not fluent in English. After pointing, gesturing, exchanging a few words in English and Hebrew and examining the guidebook's crude map; I thought that I knew where I needed to go. I went back and turned off on a road that paralleled the entrance to the military base. The pavement turned to gravel, the gravel to dirt and by the time I forded a small stream, I started to suspect that I might not be on the right road.
I got out, it was a beautiful morning, the air was crisp and smelled of pine resin, and the sky was that color of ultra-violet blue one sees sometimes in the mountains. I decided to take a few photos and enjoy the forest. I heard the approach of another car coming down the road and saw a jeep with a .50 caliber machine gun mounted on the back. Two very young IDF soldiers, a girl sergeant and a boy corporal got out, with guns drawn and very serious expressions. Visions of Israeli stockades and questioning by the Mossad floated before me. I showed them my US passport and rental car contract. They asked me where I thought I was going and then started to chuckle. Fortunately, they had realized that I was not a terrorist, but was just a lost middle age American tourist who was stupidly taking snapshots in a restricted area. (I later learned that having a full beard and not being ultra-orthodox tends to strike Israelis as strange.) I received more largely useless directions and headed back to the round-a-bout.
I took a another road and drove for about 5 miles when I found a road sign with arrows pointing various directions. Unlike Jerusalem and Tel Aviv where the signs are in Hebrew, Arabic and English; up in the north, all the signs are entirely in Hebrew. I had not quite finished learning the Aleph-Bet, with Mickey Chalfin, but could recognize enough letters to suspect that one of the arrows pointed toward Ben Uziel.
I followed the arrows to Ben Uziel. Missed a turn off and had to back track. Ended up on a somewhat paved dirt road that ran along a steep canyon. After thousands of miles, I arrived at a deserted parking lot with a picnic area, solar powered cellular pay phones and a white building with a dome.
The little canyon was indeed beautiful. Now that I was here, I was not sure exactly what I was supposed to do. After surveying the terrain, I walked up to the tomb. There were two entrances, presumably one for women and one for men. I took the one on the right. There was what appeared to be a stone sarcophagus and in niches around the outer wall were siddurs (prayer books) and other books.
Still uncertain of the protocol, I said the SHECHAYANU blessing and the SHEMA. I don't often ask for things in my prayers and it seemed unseemly to ask for a wife for myself. So in addition to a mate for myself, I asked for mates for three single women who I work with, and had recently visited me in Mendocino. I felt a bit awkward, not only because I was fearful that someone was about to appear and tell me that I didn't belong there, but also because there was something that seemed a bit non-monotheistic to me about asking a dead rabbi for divine intercession. I am afraid that my KAVANAH was probably lacking.
When I walked out, I noticed that a man and a woman had each set up tables outside the tomb, and were spreading out their wares. These included tiny siddurs, candles, Sprite, pictures of rabbis, candy, film and fruit. The whole scene reminded me strongly of the Catholic shrines I had seen in Italy and France.
I noticed that animals had broken into some trash bags and strewn garbage around the picnic area. I picked up the trash. I suppose at some level, I felt that this made up for the lack concentration I had felt at the tomb and in a strange way compensated for any disrespect I had shown.
As I was getting ready to leave, ultra-orthodox families with men in black hats and coats began to arrive with many, many children and wives with picnic baskets. I later learned that visits to the tombs of rabbis are one of the few reasons for a family outing that are encouraged among the very religious.
I also found out that the beautiful mountainous area around Tsfat is known for its tombs of famous rabbis including Hillel and Simeon Bar Yohai. The nickname of Yonatan Ben Uziel is Amukah (The Deep), this refered to the depth of his scholarship and concentration. It is also the name of the valley where the tomb is located, the sides of which are very steep. He was a student of Hillel, and never married. This is why he is said to intercede on behalf of lonely singles. He translated the Torah into Aramaic, and this work is still an important resource for scholars.
I heard that single people leave their siddurs with their names, phone numbers and Internet email addresses at the tomb to facilitate heaven's efforts to make matches. Would I recommend a visit to this place? Unequivocally Yes. If I have the opportunity to return, I certainly will, either to give thanks or renew my plea. Oh, and of the four matches that I asked for, Yonatan is batting .500, and that is certainly a respectable average.
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Last updated 11/22/97 (RGE)Copyright Bob Evans 1997