Between 1926 and 1927, the Greek newspaper “Alegithros Logos” sent the Greek writer and novelist Nikos Kazantzakis to Palestine to cover the Easter celebrations in 1926. Kazantzakis published these observations in Greek newspapers during the same year.
In 1927, the first edition of his book “Travels” was published, which included his notes on Palestine, Egypt, Italy, and Cyprus. Due to the sensitivity of what he wrote about Palestine in that period, the book was translated into Arabic in 1989 by Monia Samara and Muhammad Al-Zahir, and was published by the Khaldun Foundation in Amman. The book is 85 pages of medium size, and the book covers several titles, most notably the following:
Towards the promised land
Kazantzakis opened his journey with a profound philosophical question: “To what extent has modern man evolved after nineteen centuries of endeavor and achievements? What drives him to leave his home and embark on an arduous and expensive journey to the East, where the Arabs live, just to perform worship in a Christian temple whose meaning is still mysterious to him?” To him?”
This question was accompanied by a deep feeling and a romantic vision of the land he was about to reach. He expressed his fascination with Palestine, which he described as a land from which “one day glowed, that light that emanated from a small, lost house in Nazareth to illuminate and bring life and activity to the heart of human beings.”
As the ship approached the shores of Palestine, Kazantzakis described the scene in a vivid, poetic spirit: “The land appeared like a strip over the sea, then the low mountains of Judea appeared, gray turning to transparent blue. Finally they sank into the intense light of day. Haifa seemed dark beside the white sand, while The new Jewish city, Tel Aviv, appeared to its left.”
This description was not just a visual spectacle; Rather, it was a reflection of Kazantzakis’ expectations and vision of the Earth, which was linked to the Christian faith, but he did not hide his optimism, which carried a romantic dimension about the nature of this Earth, and what it could represent for humanity.
Scenes from the Church of the Holy Sepulcher
Nikos Kazantzakis’s journey began in Jerusalem on Holy Saturday morning, when he stood at the entrance to the Holy Sepulcher, describing the scene inside the Church of the Holy Sepulcher with a vividness that transports the reader to the heart of the event: “The church was buzzing like a great beehive, where bleary-eyed and excited Arab Christians gathered, wearing fezzes and colorful robes.” They climb onto the tiled roofs.
The place was crowded with believers who spent the night there, sleeping on the ground on straw mats and carpets, waiting for that decisive moment when the “divine light” would emerge from the Holy Sepulchre.
Jugs of gray water, with its Arabic-Portuguese decoration, and spirits and sherbet, and lemonade, were passed from one hand to another, through the astonished crowd camped in front of the church.
Pots of coffee were boiling on portable stoves under the great icons, and mothers were baring their breasts, in front of these huge crowds, to breastfeed their children, and the stench of human sweat filled the air. The smell of burning wax, oils, and the smell of women’s hair all smelled like livestock and was nauseating.”
The writer documented the competition between Christian sects over control of holy places. He mentioned how one of the Orthodox monks looked at other sects with hateful looks, and stressed that the holy places belong to the Orthodox alone, pointing out that the disputed areas were fenced with metal bars, so that no one was allowed to enter them.
Kazantzakis’s description of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher is a living testimony to the spirituality and contradictions embodied in this sacred place. Between deep faith and worldly competition, the writer presents a complex and profound picture of the reality of Christian places in Jerusalem in that period.
Ritual scenes in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and Mount Athos
In scenes of a contemplative and realistic nature, writer Nikos Kazantzakis presented a description of the worship rituals he witnessed in the Church of the Resurrection. On Easter Sunday, while touring the church, he observed the following scene: “The church was aglow with lights, while the scattered, crushed lemon-flowers filled the air with a pungent, acidic scent mingling with human breath.” Despite the surrounding spiritual atmosphere, the writer acknowledged a deep feeling of internal alienation: “I felt, absolutely, that there were no signs of any internal rebirth.”
After contemplating the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, Kazantzakis traveled to Mount Athos, known for its holiness, where an image of the Byzantine monasteries that characterize the place rose before him: “And the Byzantine monasteries appeared before me, rising above the waves, sparkling and cold like rocks suddenly emerging from the water, and still dripping on the seashore.” .
The writer moved between different monasteries, until the Prodromos Monastery was allocated to him. He described this monastery in precise details that highlight its isolation and the majesty of its nature: “It is a secluded temple overlooking the sea, built on a deserted cliff. There is no water or trees in it, and it is connected to the seashore via a steep footpath. After a full hour’s walk, I was standing at its door.”
Kazantzakis was allocated two cells in the monastery, in addition to the ruins of a chapel covered with plaster. In the first days, he devoted himself to contemplation and planning an ascetic lifestyle: “I spent my first days, leaning on the threshold of the monastery, planning a life of asceticism and austerity, moving between perceptions, logical calculations, and foolish engineering assumptions.”
Visit Omar Mosque
Kazantzakis’ trip did not include a visit to Al-Aqsa Mosque or the Dome of the Rock, but when he approached the Omar Mosque, his heart was filled with joy. “I walked around the Omar Mosque, my heart beating with joy,” he says. Kazantzakis wandered through the square overlooking Old Jerusalem, and walked with wide and fast steps, as if the mosque had captured his soul with its beauty: “I walked around this magnificent, majestic mosque for several hours.”
Kazantzakis described the “imagined” Jewish places in Jerusalem as “the bloody cesspool of Israel” (p. 55), while offering a unique architectural description of the mosque, comparing it to a carved fountain: “It rises before me in the sun, like a fountain carved from rare stones, reaching up to the sky.” And its waters bubble up a little in the air, then turn back and forth, and return again to the earth.” Upon entering the mosque, the writer expressed He was fascinated by the Arabic decorations and inscriptions that hung as if they were part of nature: “I went inside, mesmerized and enchanted. The Arabic letters were braided like flowers, letters that consecrated Qur’anic wisdom and sermons, wrapped around the columns, like climbing grape trees, and then bloomed again as they surrounded the dome.”
He pointed to the deep spiritual atmosphere inside the mosque, where he said: “The Omar Mosque was vibrant with faith and pleasant smells.”
The Hebrews cry
During his tour of Jerusalem, Greek writer Nikos Kazantzakis gave an accurate and emotional account of his observations of Jews at the Western Wall, also known as the Western Wall, highlighting the contrast between the city’s cultures and the behavior of its residents.
Kazantzakis began by comparing the features of Jews and Muslims he encountered on the streets of Jerusalem. He saw tension, sarcasm, and anxiety in the eyes of the Jews, depicting this by saying: “The gleam in the eyes of the Hebrews indicated sarcasm, anxiety, lust, and envy.”
On the other hand, he described the Muslims as calm and with deep faith, saying: “As for the Muslims, they were calm, believing deeply and with conviction in God’s care, and they looked at you with indifferent, neutral looks as you passed by them.”
When the writer reached the Western Wall, which he mistakenly called “the Wall of the Temple of Solomon,” he described it as: “A very ordinary wall, with huge stones stacked on top of each other without cement filling between them. The high stones are covered with moss, which hangs on the stones below them.” . He pointed to the tangible human impact on the stones “that lie within people’s reach, and that their hands reach, cleaned as a result of the touches, kisses, and embraces of the Jews.”
Kazantzakis recorded precise details about the rituals performed by the Jews at the Wall, saying: “About fifty worshipers were holding the Old Testament in their hands, leaning against the wall, wailing and lamenting.” He also pointed out the separation between men and women during worship: “As for the women, they used to stand in a corner on the left side.”
Reflections on Palestine
In his description of Palestine, Greek writer Nikos Kazantzakis presents an image that combines stark natural beauty, harsh reality, and religious and political aspirations. In his narrative, he combined his observations of the terrain and landscape with his philosophical reflections on the relationship between man and the earth.
Kazantzakis begins by describing his observations in the Judean Desert extending from Jerusalem to the Jordan River and the Dead Sea, which were characterized by roughness and cruelty: “I did not see a single flower growing, not a drop of water rising from that dry land.”
He describes the surrounding mountains as: “desolate, austere, and inaccessible, a wonderful model for the artist who loves austere, tragic beauty.” His words show an appreciation for the harsh beauty of nature that inspires prophets and innovators, but he acknowledges that this dry landscape: “is absolutely unbearable for simple, ordinary people, who want to build houses, plant trees, and have children.”
In contrast to the harshness of the desert, Kazantzakis moved on to describe the vibrant oases and cities of Jericho, “You see Jericho smiling at you, like an isolated oasis, and you find yourself in front of flowering pomegranate groves, banana trees, figs, and mulberries… surrounded by a hedge of tall, graceful palm trees.Your eyes relax, and your body feels comfortable and renewed.”
And in Haifa, “the same joyful view meets you in Haifa, and you see blooming and renewed pomegranate orchards, and orchards of orange and lemon trees.” And Hebron, “in the south, in the city of Hebron, you feel the familiarity and tranquility of the land as it receives the human plow.” As for Samaria and Galilee, “the mountains seem friendlier and more familiar, where you see birds, water, and trees. They give nature its friendliness and familiarity,” but he points out that fever diseases were killing people in those areas.
Kazantzakis quoted a recent talk by a Jewish rabbi, in which he presented the philosophy of liberating the earth and linked it to the mission of man: “Every man has upon himself a real task concerning the things he must liberate: he must liberate his animals, his land, the tools of his trade, his body, and his mind. He has the duty to liberate all These things, but how? By using them, refining them, and developing them” (p. 78). The rabbi believes that the freedom of the Jewish people lies in their possession of Palestine: “If it wants to be liberated, the Jewish people must own Palestine.”
Kazantzakis’s prophecy: a forward-looking vision of the conflict in Palestine
In an in-depth conversation with a Jewish girl named Judit, the Greek writer Nikos Kazantzakis presented his future vision about the Zionist project in Palestine, warning of the challenges and tragedies that may result from this project. His words were laden with a philosophical tone, containing within them a criticism of the Zionist project and a warning of its dire consequences.
Kazantzakis clearly stated that Zionism is “incompatible and contrary to the highest interests of the Jewish race.” He sees the Zionist movement as a mask that endlessly deceives the Jews, and a means to mislead them from their true identity and destiny.
He made a central point in his criticism of Zionism when he assured the girl Judit: “You will not find happiness and security here in Palestine.” For him, the pursuit of a national homeland for the Jews in Palestine contradicts geopolitical reality, especially with the presence of: “masses of tough, enthusiastic black Arabs.” Kazantzakis relied on the number factor to rule out the possibility of the Zionist project succeeding: “How could fifteen million Jews cram themselves in here?”
Kazantzakis concluded his speech with a sharp and frank prediction: “I hope – because I love the Jews – that sooner or later the Arabs will be able to expel you from here and scatter you again in this world.”
In this statement, he expressed his conviction that the Zionist project is not only unachievable, but also carries the seeds of conflicts that will bring disasters upon the Jews themselves before others.
Kazantzakis wrote this vision decades before the establishment of the State of Israel was announced, and before the Arab-Israeli conflict crystallized in the form we know today. Therefore, his words can be considered a forward-looking prophecy based on a careful reading of the conflict between the Zionist project and the reality of Palestine.
The book “Travel” is a testimony of historical importance, written by one of the most prominent thinkers of the twentieth century. In it, Kazantzakis condemned Zionism from a philosophical and humanitarian perspective, before the world realized the scale of the disasters that would result from this project.
The opinions expressed in the article do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of Tel Aviv Tribune Network.
