Hiking in the Holy Land: Musings and meditations at Tekoa Canyon

Climbing through Tekoa Canyon, I am struck all over again by the beauty of the place. Rolling mountains and sheer cliff edges sit tall above a narrow valley that snakes back and forth. 

The scene would look like one out of a fairytale storybook, except that the mountains are bare and there is no bubbling stream flowing through the valley. 

Still, there’s something magical about this place.

As we walk along a path that leads through the canyon, I watch as birds swoop in flocks from one side to the next, taking refuge in the many small caves that pepper the cliffs. The birds catch the breeze that, inevitably, drifts through this narrow channel. Watching the starlings swoop and doves soar makes my heart fly; they follow a gentle, relaxed rhythm that is ever-present here.

I am not the first to fall in love with this place. In biblical tradition, Tekoa was the stomping ground of Amos the Prophet, whose close connection to God could only have been aided by his inspiring surroundings. Other biblical figures came and went through Tekoa. 

A cliff side monastery

But perhaps the most famous resident of this canyon settled here after biblical times. The third-century Christian monk, Chariton, built a monastery on the edge of a cliff. The remains of the monastery, half suspended in midair, are still visible to those who walk through the canyon.

Chariton was one of those introverted monks who tried his best to get away from the hustle and bustle of common society. He left his first monastery at Prat Stream (or Wadi Kelt, where Jeremiah the prophet lived) in an effort to escape the commotion caused by his similarly silent followers, who somehow interrupted his solitude. 

In Tekoa Canyon, Chariton’s monastic life was ascetic and contemplative. He got by without speaking much and fasting until nightfall and spent nights in a cave, alternating between sleep and prayer.

Tekoa Canyon was the perfect place for a meditative monk to live, especially one who liked solitude. The canyon is home to one of the largest multi-level caves in Israel, an appealing point to someone who values quiet and sensory deprivation. 

On a trip into this cave (now dubbed Chariton Cave), one could forget all about the noise and visual disruption of regular life. Aside from Chariton Cave, there are many smaller caves dispersed all along the canyon walls. 

Many are outfitted with carved rock ledges, arches, and walls, a testament to the monks who came here, following Chariton into solitude once again.

Tekoa Canyon is a place of stark and striking appeal. After moving to Israel from the United States a little over 20 years ago, it took me a while to appreciate this type of beauty. Having grown up in the green swampland of New Orleans, Louisiana, I never imagined that I’d find scenery of this sort to be appealing. But now, I do. 

In this desert-like environment, every harsh rock structure becomes a natural sculpture to gaze upon. The beauty of the blue sky against white rock, the call of a lone bird: these sights and sounds flood the senses in places like Tekoa Canyon. 

The scene here is a far cry from where I grew up; there, a noisy cacophony of birdsong filled oversized trees under thundercloud-filled skies.

As I walk through this canyon, I find myself drawn to the idea of solitude and meditation, the kind that one can only acquire in a place free from interruption or demands on time. Here, one could fall into a meditative trance slowly and gently, first focusing on the beauty of God’s creation, then allowing oneself to be completely absorbed by the striking silence. 

Although most forms of modern Judaism do not place a special emphasis on meditation, I like to think of biblical prophets like Jeremiah and Elijah, who achieved their ruach hakodesh (connection with the Divine) in places of stark beauty. 

In the book of Genesis, even our patriarch, Isaac, went out to lasuach basadeh (to meditate in the field). Many interpret these words to mean a form of meditation that took place outdoors, away from the confines of everyday life.

Throughout the ages, hitbodedut, or self-seclusion, was featured in the writings of Jewish mystics, touted as a tool to achieve dvekut (cleaving to God). Both the Rambam and his son, Abraham Maimonides, discussed the value of this practice. 

More common examples of sages who practiced self-seclusion were the great hassidic masters, like the Ba’al Shem Tov and Rabbi Nahman of Breslov.

So, here in Tekoa Canyon, I’m in good Jewish company as I find a perfect perch on a large white rock. I take a few moments to absorb the unbelievable view, then close my eyes and focus inwards. 

Then, in the words of Abraham Maimonides, I attempt “to empty the heart and mind of all besides God and to fill and occupy them with Him.” And as I train my focus away from my thoughts and toward one lone bird song, I fall into the meditative flow that fills Tekoa Canyon.