Unmoving Rocks

If one were to name the most common feature of Israel’s topography, 'rocks' would most certainly tumble to the top of the list. The rugged and stark Negev, Judean, and Arava Deserts are pure rock, sculpted over millennia into steep cliffs, gorges and dry, sandy wadis. Be it amber, brown, or white, the dominant feature is rock. 

Travel north and you will see chalky cliffs along the Mediterranean seashore. More rock!  The Galilee is also stony, with mountains and valleys creating a series of rocky waves. The Golan is so rocky, fields are flecked with what looks like speckled melons, yet on closer inspection, they are a bumper crop of rocks.

Israel’s plentiful rocks are like snow to the Inuit or lakes to the beaver, yet I was in for a shock to learn that you cannot move or take rocks in Israel. You need a permit for this, and you need to pay! This is yet another example of 'don't ask why, this is Israel.'

Perhaps some government official created this rule to add to the already senseless and  inefficient bureaucracy here. (I think of the Israeli post office; one can literally walk to the letter’s destination, arriving there before the stamped package does.)

Case in point. I am soon moving to a place that is endeared with more rocks than the usual rocky Israeli terrain. I want to build a rock garden for privacy, so I thought a few boulders would nicely do the job. 

There is a subdivision being built at the end of the property and bulldozers amass mountains of rocks daily to clear the area. If we could take some of those rocks for our garden, the builders would be relieved – and perhaps they would even be kind enough to move a few of them with those bulldozers on site.

No, no, no. And do not ask why we cannot even have one stone, as nothing makes logical sense in this holy land of rocks. You see, there is a law in Israel forbidding one from moving rocks away from the place where they were dug up. In order to do so, a builder needs to apply for a permit, and only then can he sell them. 

Or, the builder can grind the huge boulders up on the spot where they were extracted, spitting them out as gravel and transforming ancient volcanic boulders into dusty, dry gravel. More sand in a dry, parched land.

I no longer scratch my head or pull out my hair. I have been living here for too long to question the illogical, so I simply watch in disbelief as the bulldozers transport their load to an onsite quarry, which then spews out gravel, sand, and dust. 

I could wonder if the builder would be kind enough to give me some of the dirt, but I know the answer before I even pose the question. Nothing here is for free, not even a measly rock or a pile of dirt. Is there a similar seashell bylaw?

The crazy thing is that rocks are not even considered a valuable natural resource here. They are, well, rocks. Israel is valued for its potash, copper, natural gas, ore, magnesium bromide, and phosphate. So what’s the big deal about a pile of rocks? 

Maybe some bureaucrat from the 'Ministry of Rocks and Boulders' was bored, so he came up with this law, or perhaps an official wanted to play a practical joke on the population. We may never know. 

Like many objects and places in Israel, rocks do have a powerful energy. G-d is compared to a rock and the patriarch Yaacov used a rock as a pillow when he dreamed of angels on a ladder. 

Moses was told by G-d that water would pour forth from a rock and when it did not, he hit it a second time and was punished. And the Cohen HaGadol had a breastplate of twelve gemstones that acted as mediator between G-d and the people.

The shiny and smooth boulders of Jerusalem’s Western Wall are softened by tears, prayer, and loving caresses, while above it looms the Dome of the Rock.  

There are healing rocks here, such as the blue-green Eilat stone, also called the Israel stone, while the salty hot Dead Sea rocks resemble icicles.

Yes, this is a land of revelation and bewilderment where rocks have sovereignty. Ancient, hard and sun-baked, rocks continue to reign supreme, stoically standing in piles far from from my garden.