Israel's Good Name

Friends of Zion Museum

In Israel, Jerusalem on February 18, 2026 at 3:22 PM

In the middle of January, mere weeks before our second son, Shaked, was born, I took the day to explore some lesser-known museums in Jerusalem’s city centre. One of the main reasons I wanted to visit these museums was, in fact, my younger brother Nissim, who works at the Friends of Zion Museum, the subject of this blog entry. After hearing of his experiences guiding and interviewing world figures, I decided that it was high time that my presence be felt as well. I took a morning train into Jerusalem, and emerged from the depths of the Yitzhak Navon train station into the crisp winter air that greeted me fondly.

Entering the Friends of Zion Museum

Hopping onto the popular light rail, it wasn’t long before I found myself in the city centre staring down a sign that read “Friends of Zion Museum”, indicating access via a side entrance. Nissim emerged from within and began showing me around, introducing me to the friendly staff and security guards ensemble at the entrance. When he guided me to the main entrance of the Friends of Zion complex (styled as FOZ), I was suddenly struck with an old memory of Bracha and I taking shelter from rain or wind sometime back when we were still dating. I recalled us waiting for the weather to subside and reading from the worldly list of names adorning a wall of commemorative plaques.

A virtual tour of the Holy Land with the museum’s founder

Returning to the museum, Nissim had me pose for a picture of me superimposed on the Jerusalem cityscape (which I was later to receive as a magnet), and then began the tour. A trained guide, he led me with pride and confidence, introducing me to the museum’s many technologically advanced exhibits. As a general theme, the museum is quite dark with walls painted a particularly absorbing shade of black. Thus, capturing adequate pictures to represent my visit was a bit of a challenge – but I tried my best. We started with the “Land of Promise” exhibit, where a glowing orange line spread over a 3D model of the Holy Land, complete with wide-angled scenic shots and a word of introduction by the founder of FOZ, Mike Evans. Once we had virtually toured the land, we stepped into a discombobulating elevator and emerged on another floor for the second exhibit, a wide wrap-around screen that artistically reviewed the biblical connection to the Land of Israel complete with underfloor lighting that flashed intermittently, dramatising the saga.

Trusty guide Nissim

The next exhibit, dedicated to the “Dreamers” focused on the non-Jewish historical characters who championed the idea of a resurrection of a Jewish homeland. Geometrically-compelling sculptures were illuminated before my eyes in the darkened room, overlaying a story that speaks of support and admiration for the eternal people. A voice spoke to me, harkening from a curious plastic bowl, inverted from the ceiling, reminiscent of the iconic “cone of silence” from the comedic Get Smart TV show (and subsequent film).

Early Christian Zionists

I learned about a number of historical figures, including the Dutch ten Boom family and one Professor George Bush (a distant relative of the recent Bush presidents) who called for elevating the Jews and returning them to the Holy Land, presuming that the majority who also then convert to Christianity. From the dreamers we turned to the “Visionaries”, a touchscreen exhibit featuring many of the non-Jews that were integral in the proclamation and realisation of the Jewish revival in the Holy Land. These famous Christian Zionists include British Foreign Secretary Arthur James Balfour, scholar Edward Robinson and an American conservationist named Walter Clay Lowdermilk (whose characterisation on screen bears a striking resemblance to Josh Brolin’s character in Hail, Caesar!).

Walter Clay Lowdermilk (and Josh Brolin)

From this upbeat experience, tapping on the artistically pleasing screen and learning more about the historical characters, Nissim took me into yet another dark room. I was then taken into one of the darkest chapters of mankind, the horrors of the Holocaust, as portrayed by another wide screen – and the tiny beacons of light that cracked the permeable darkness. I learned of non-Jewish heroes like Oskar Schindler, Chiune Sugihara and the ten Boom family, each having done what they could to save Jews from extermination by the hands of the Nazis. At the end of this video, which was done very well, I was instructed to stretch out my hands and to experience having the life of one of the survivors in my own hands. I looked at my cupped hands and read out “Sol Urbach”, one of the many who were saved by Schindler.

An interactive screen of global Zionist visionaries

The next exhibit featured Christian-Zionist heroes who contributed greatly to Israel’s founding in the years after the Holocaust. I didn’t have time to speak to all of the characters, but focused my attention on Colonel John Patterson who commanded the Jewish Legion of the British army during World War I. Patterson was integral in voicing support for the Jews during the Holocaust and then working towards the establishment of the Jewish state. It is said that Yoni Netanyahu, the famous fallen hero from the Entebbe operation, was named after Patterson. I was very pleased to have chosen to learn more about this particular character, lesser-known than President Harry Truman and Major Orde Wingate.

”Here Am I” in the most unexpected way (photo Nissim Sasson)

Nissim then ushered me into the final exhibit, the grand finale and call to action for friends of Zion. This time the visuals were in 3D, called the “Promise Theatre”, so I donned the provided glasses and sat back to watch the show. After running through the last generations of non-Jewish Zionists, learning more about the important historical characters, the 3D film did a great summarisation. But then, after showing the faces of all these people, suddenly the faces of modern people emerged. It took me quite by surprise when my own face appeared, floating before me, having been added to the database of Zionist supporters when I was photographed upon arrival. It had an amazing effect on me, nearly causing me to reach into my wallet to donate, but then I realised that I am not the target audience, and I already do my part for the Zionist cause.

A press conference with Bibi’s ghost

Grinning foolishly, I congratulated Nissim on his tour and on this final performance, when he held up his hand and bade me to take pause. There was still one more exhibit that hasn’t been fully integrated into the museum’s itinerary, but was worth checking out. We shuffled down a floor or two and entered a mock press room featuring what looked like holograms of some of Israel’s prime ministers. Upon a closer look, I realised that they were not holograms but rather a crafty illusion known as Pepper’s ghost, where images are projected by the use of carefully-placed mirrors.

FOZ’s beautiful complex

We played around with the interactive exhibit, asking engaging (if pre-written) questions to the venerable politicians portrayed before us. When we had had enough, we headed out of the museum via the gift shop, and then outdoors to see more of the FOZ premises. There were some rentable conference halls and event rooms, all set in beautiful Jerusalem stone and decorated by ornate kumquat trees – truly a beautiful place to spend time.

Off to get some lunch

But, with midday already upon us, it was time to find some lunch before I went off to the next museum on my list. Nissim joined me, taking me through Independence Park, where we passed some Byzantine burial caves carved into the bedrock below. I was taken to a local sandwich bar, a haunt known only by the locals, which specialises in veggie patties. We ordered our semi-unusual baguette sandwiches, topped with preserved lemon, and sat down to relax and take in the Jerusalem vibe. The sandwich was delicious, and rather filling, but I needed to get some mozzarella sticks from the adjacent, award-winning LaPiedra pizzeria before moving on. I said goodbye to Nissim as he headed back to work and planned out the next stop of the day, the Museum of Italian Jewish Art.

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Ma’ayan Tzvi

In Coastal Plain, Israel on January 30, 2026 at 9:33 AM

One dark Friday morning in mid-December, my trusty alarm clock woke me up. It was 5 o’clock in the AM and I could hear the nearby muezzin wailing in the distance, summoning sleepy villagers to their morning prayers. I had made birding plans that day, with both Adam Ota and his brother Matthew, who was visiting from Japan and eager to see some nice Levantine birds. We met up at 6 o’clock at our rendezvous point and drove up to the watery wonders of Ma’ayan Tzvi.

Eager birders (photo Adam Ota)

Located at the foot of the southwestern corner of Mount Carmel and sandwiched between Ma’agan Michael to the south and Tel Dor to the north, Ma’ayan Tzvi had somehow escaped our attention all of these years. However, researching popular birding sites to take Matthew to brought this gem of a nature site into focus, and plans were made. While Adam and I had already visited Ma’agan Michael nearly six years prior, we learned that there was an additional feature that made Ma’ayan Tzvi an even more attractive location. Artificially-created fish ponds, a more natural marsh habitat (referred to as “the Difle”) and the wild coastline all provided different habitats for different species, which filled us with hope.

Southern Difle pond

We parked outside a gaudy fishing park attraction, apparently built on the ruins of an old mill, and headed our way to the first of the bodies of water. Barn swallows swooped around us incessantly, the skies filled with a multitude of water-loving birds either joining us or just passing by. The soft pastel colours of the morning painted the most beautiful scenes, particularly of the more natural Difle ponds with its reeds and backdropped by the smokestacks of the Hadera power station.

Admiring the copious fauna (photo Adam Ota)

There were some cormorants, dabbling ducks and other waterfowl within eyesight, but the more interesting diving ducks were just specks in the distance, too far for our binoculars and cameras. Interestingly enough, we were all using very similar Nikon superzoom cameras (two P900s and a P950) that day, as well as our own personal choice of binoculars (mine being also a Nikon).

Handful of shelducks flying by (photo Matthew Ota)

A small group of flamingos were spotted flying about to our right, teasing us with their striking white and pink plumage. Matthew suddenly called out “Shelducks!” and pointed up at the sky to a flock of a dozen of so shelducks in a loose V-formation. The last time Adam and I had seen shelducks was years ago in the Yavne infiltration pans, so this was a very welcome sighting. As quick as the shelducks appeared, they were soon gone and we found ourselves ringing out bird species as we spotted one after the next in quick succession. A flock of snoozing pied avocets also gave us joy – not the most common wader to find in Israel.

Sandpiper eyeing us suspiciously (photo Matthew Ota)

We turned off the main drag to explore a bit more of the northern Difle marsh, learning that it is somewhat synonymous with Nachal Dalia which begins further east and drains into the Mediterranean. A sizable flock of spoonbills was resting in the shallow waters, joined by herons, pied avocets and dabbling ducks. Upon further examination on our return journey, we also managed to spot a handful of common snipe and a cheeky nutria that paddled among some marbled ducks – so much to be excited about!

Closer look at the spoonbills (photo Matthew Ota)

Yet, it wasn’t the birds in the water that captivated our attention the most. There were some very loud Cetti’s warblers calling from the reeds and waterside shrubbery as well as one or two clamorous reed warblers which were challenging our photography skills as they darted in and out of sight. Ultimately, our steely resolve and endless patience paid off and we were all able to get enough photographic evidence to clinch the correct identification.

The muddy fishpond teeming with life

Moseying our way back to the main stretch, we passed by a few optimistic fishermen (and boys) and continued on to the artificially-created fish ponds. More and more waders were to be found, and photographed, all poking about in the nutrient-rich mud for tasty morsels. A most-welcome citrine wagtail dipped about in front of us, as well as a few water pipits. At this point, we were all very much satisfied with the proceedings of this birding adventure, yet only an hour and a half had passed and there was still so much to see.

Hungry shorebirds feasting in the mud (photo Matthew Ota)

Then, quite unexpectedly, an Egyptian mongoose popped out just in front of us and began stalking its way through the mud. Some of the birds nipped off, at least to a safer part of the pool, and others just kept poking about, ignoring the skulking mongoose. Alas, nothing eventful happened and the mongoose disappeared into the bushes on the far side of the pond. It was around that time that a very noisy bluethroat began distracting us, and all three of Israel’s kingfisher species made an appearance almost simultaneously.

Egyptian mongoose sneaking past the hungry waders

We then made our way to the sandy coastline, just a few steps past the end of the final fish pond. We spotted a few more mongooses as we made our way down to this tiny natural pond and a water channel that snaked its way through the sand to drain into the sea. Here I was hoping to see some delightful sea birds, or at least some interesting gulls and terns, ideally even new species. Yet, the skies were as empty as the beach, with nary a bird to be seen. Refusing to give up, we ambled about a bit and rustled up some gulls far off on the beach to the north, as well as some ringed plovers resting by a distant piece of driftwood. 

Ringed plover along the surf

When looking north, I recognised the delightful Tel Dor where I had visited a number of times, and even volunteered for a day’s digging at a seasonal archaeological excavation (see HERE). Eventually, our patience paid off and some gulls and terns came drifting by, beginning with a Pallas’ gull – my first ever sighting of this large gull. Truth be told, in retrospect, some of the gulls I had photographed minutes earlier resting on the beach were also Pallas’ gulls, but I hadn’t examined the photos in-field well enough to notice at the time.

Pallas’ gull flying over the beach (photo Matthew Ota)

As we loitered on the vacant, windy beach, other, more common species of gulls drifted past, as well as a naval vessel that looked like it was dragging a giant parachute behind it. My last sea-going gull that day was an unidentified one, soaring in front of the Leviathan natural gas processing platform anchored ten kilometres out to sea.

Leviathan platform far out at sea

Taking a bit of a break on a grassy sand knoll, we had some hot cocoa and snacks in the company of mongooses and some chatty black-winged stilts, strutting around in the tiny natural pond. When we felt adequately rejuvenated, we began our tour back through the fishponds and to the lush Difle ponds. We saw more of the same, yet the total bird presence dropped dramatically as the morning progressed and the weather got warmer.

Tel Dor to the north

Whiskered terns entertained us as we reached the northern Difle, my preferred of the two based on this trip alone. We kept our eyes peeled for little gulls, seeing none, and practiced our photography skills with the birds that did grace our presence. A few black storks and a great white pelican made for a monochromatic airshow overhead, those being the last notable birds seen before we got back into the car. With the drive back out to the highway taking us past another, empty, fishpond, we saw some more species that Matthew was keen to photograph and then headed back to our rendezvous point to say our goodbyes.

Water-loving birds in the northern Difle pond

Ultimately, it was a rewarding morning of quality birding, clocking in at least sixty avian species and highlighting some key Israeli habitats all accessed on foot within minutes of one another. What more could we have asked for in only a few short hours, perhaps a quick drive to the Hai Bar Carmel where both imperial eagles and cinereous vultures were spotted that same morning…

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Outskirts of Elkana

In Israel, Samaria on January 20, 2026 at 11:10 PM

The final chapter in the adventures of summer 2025 took place closest to home, just outside the security fence of Elkana, about 500 metres from our front door. Being at the edge of the Shomron (Samaria), the topography is of low stony hills with a fair amount of short greenery, much of which turns golden brown in the heat of the summer. I invited steadfast travel partner Adam along to explore the open land just west of Elkana, where a questionable blackwater stream flows between the gentle hills.

Blackwater stream flowing west

Having explored a bit of the area closest to us over the months of operating a trail camera, I had a rough idea of how to make the most of our chosen Friday morning, the first day of August. My initial plan was to hike parallel to the stream for as long as we could, and then cross over and hike back on the other side. Little did I know, there was much to see along the way, and a whole lot more that was left yet-unexplored for another time, whenever that may be.

Aerial map of the region with Elkana to the right (photo Google Maps)

We parked beside the water treatment structure between Elkana and Magen Dan and began our little hike with gusto. As always, there was a particularly unappealing odour that emanated from the semi-processed sewage water but we steeled our resolve and stuck as close to the stream as we could. There were multitudes of glossy ibises and European bee-eaters to keep us company, to say nothing of the many Lycaenidae (or gossamer-winged) butterflies that distracted us plenty.

Glossy ibises

After just a few minutes, we reached the tree which my trail camera was strapped to – a video from the location can be seen HERE. From that point onward, it was new territory for me and I constantly kept my eyes peeled for a suitable location to film from. Over the span of a few months, an impressive eight compilation videos were produced from the nature content gleaned around the fetid stream – clearly the animals don’t mind it! 

Entering my local nature patch

Adam found a very unique-looking leafhopper, one that I had never seen before, identified later as a Dictyophara xiphias. Some chukars were flushed and a short-toed eagle made a rather close appearance as we pushed westward, following the lush streamside. Indeed, while the surrounding area is rocky with intermittent olive trees, the streambed is flush with greenery including oleander, willow and the occasional fig tree.

Cute little leaphopper

At some point we flushed a green sandpiper, which flew off to a further segment of the stream to then be flushed again – quite incidentally, I assure. As we reached closer to the main road, the 505, the landscape changed a bit. The land became flatter and the grasses were thick and dried by the harsh summer heat. We stumbled upon some interesting painted green glass, perhaps Ottoman, perhaps more modern. A giant argiope spider, waiting patiently in her web, gave us a bit of a shock, but then something even more startling occurred.

Hand-painted glass

There was a large crash in the vegetation beside us as a muscular male mountain gazelle leapt up from his resting place and bolted across the stream in panic. I’ve become accustomed to the gazelles around Elkana but this made me think of the dreaded wild boars which also inhabit the natural area. Loud crashing sounds in foliage is often associated with the imposing boars, probably the local animal I least want to have a run-in with.

Argiope spider lurking beside us

We too crossed over and found some old encampment where some people seem to have stayed. Among the rubbish were some faded food wrappers which were mostly in Arabic, one being a tomato paste produced in or distributed from Hevron (Hebron). Leaving the refuse behind, we began to hike uphill in an easternly direction. There were many fieldstone walls, acting as terraces on the slope, and then something interesting came into sight.

Exploring the shomera-like structure

There was a small stone structure before us, with a very cramped interior, similar to the shomera-style watchtowers that were used to safeguard agricultural resources in days of old. I haven’t seen anything online explaining this particular structure, but some research revealed that we were within the confines of an old village called Sirisia, the ruins of which are referred to as Khirbet Sirisia.

Old potsherd

In fact, in the brief research I did when writing this, I hadn’t managed to find anything about the village’s total timeline of existence; Archaeological reports mention ruins dating to the Roman period and potentially being the Bethsarisa site mentioned by Eusibius in his Onomasticon. The delightful, and ever-useful, Palestine Exploration Fund map from 1880 has the location marked as Khirbet Sirisia (implying ruins) just north of Wady el-Bahûteh.

Fine masonry work in Khirbet Sirisia

Wandering about the terraced ruins, we found some more architectural remains including one particularly impressive rectangular structure built with ashlars as opposed to fieldstones. Immediately outside the thick walls, we found the mouth of an underground cistern overgrown with vegetation. Gladdened that we didn’t accidentally fall in, we were subsequently more ginger as we stepped about, checking for other cisterns in the area. Our diligence paid off as we found more cisterns and more structures, even an open stretch that felt like an old street running through the village.

Infrequent explorers (photo Adam Ota)

Eventually, as we were leaving the eastern confines of Khirbet Sirisia, we found a mound that showed up as a patch of white in the satellite imagery we consulted as we traveled. It was an old lime kiln, where white quicklime was burnt out of limestone for a variety of industrial and household purposes. We climbed the mound and gazed into the overgrown interior, trying to conjure up images of a raging fire scorching the rocks in the rudimentary kiln. A relatively common feature around ancient settlements, we had seen many limekilns not too far away outside the Crusader ruins of Mirabel (Migdal Afeq).

Old limekiln

From the ruins we made our way back towards the stream, and merged onto a marked trail that was maintained and easy to hike on. The sun was starting to become oppressive and the animals were slowly becoming more scarce as the temperature climbed. En route, we found another male mountain gazelle, watching us from the opposing slope, and then a sparrowhawk which graciously entertained us in attempts to hunt some nearby birds.

My trusty (yet damaged) trail camera

We reached Adam’s parked car at the water treatment structure and brought our little adventure to a reluctant end. Due to the area’s size, another trip or two will be needed to fully explore the environs, whenever the opportunity arises. Until then, other adventures are forever waiting.

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