Sometimes, to soothe my soul, I go back in my imagination to that place. Lying on my back with my eyes closed, I take a deep breath and as if by the wave of a magic wand, I'm once again an eight-year-old boy there, lying on my back and gazing up at the sky. And in my imagination, this sky is always blue, and a single snowy-white cloud drifts by ever so slowly. And the smell is an enticing one, of wild hyssop and savory, or of cold moss. The fragrance of anise and ripening carob, and the aroma of rain-soaked earth tinged very slightly with the scent of dried animal droppings disappeared from here long ago. Every few years, the nose is stung by the consuming odor of forest fires.

From afar is heard the gruff voice of Abu Ahmed, the Bedouin who lives with his flock of sheep on the hill across the way. His sheep glide toward me, down the slope of the green hilltop, trampling the flowers. Abu Ahmed chides the herd. They bleat, and their bells tinkle. I lock this moment away in my heart and am flooded with a feeling of serenity knowing that anytime I wish, I'll be able to return here - to Emek Hashalom (the Valley of Peace).

The story of Emek Hashalom begins in the spring of 1955 in Germany, when Dr. Oskar Eder, a German-born lawyer and successful legal consultant to a big bank, joins a Sufi Muslim friend on an overland trip to Pakistan and India. Ever since the end of World War II, Eder has been searching for an answer, an explanation for how his country could have gone so terribly wrong. He can't understand how "enlightened Christian" Europe spawned such violent leaders as Hitler and Stalin, while the "backward" Indians supported a peace-loving leader like Gandhi.

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Though drafted into the German Air Force, Eder's military career as a combat pilot consists of just a single forced landing on a rickety cargo ship. The rest of the time he serves at a training base and is unaware of the crimes committed by his nation. After the war, his soul is tortured and the burden of guilt he feels only grows heavier from day to day. He searches for guidance in books of Western philosophy, but is never satisfied, until finally, at a friend's urging, he turns to Eastern philosophies and for the first time, feels that he is finding some clarity. He packs up his few possessions, and to the astonishment of his employers and his parents, leaves his job and sets out on the journey of his lifetime.

In India, Eder continues to delve into his spirituality and discovers that his missing truth is to be found in the Bible and the Jewish People. In a remote ashram he meets a Greek woman tourist who tells him things he didn't know about the Jewish people, who returned to their land after 2,000 years of exile. Once again, he packs up his belongings and, on a cold January day in 1957, after an exhausting four-month journey by wagon and horseback, arrives at the Mandelbaum Gate through which he enters the holy city of Jerusalem.

In Jerusalem, Eder becomes involved in German intellectual circles at the Hebrew University, where he is advised to get to know another aspect of life in Israel - the Zionist settlement enterprise. He travels to see the German-born founders of Kibbutz Hazorea in the western Jezreel Valley, and they warmly welcome him. Eder studies Hebrew in the ulpan, works in the orchards and takes long hikes in the pine forests that surround the kibbutz. Old-timers fondly recall the familiar sight of "the scholarly man trekking about the forest paths, armed with nothing more than a small backpack."

On one of his hikes, Eder comes upon a valley hidden between rocky hills. A Mandate-era road crosses it, and a number of rivulets merge there into a stream. In the center of the valley is a small tel (a mound created by the accumulated remains of ancient cultures); not far away is an abandoned pumping station, and two cypresses which were planted in memory of two watchmen who were killed on that spot during the riots of 1936.

Eder falls in love immediately. Soon afterward, he purchases a small plot of land in this place (from a woman who still lives in Yokneam Hamoshava today), and together with a naturalist and agronomist named Adrian, establishes his home there. Two months later, on Tu Bishvat (Jewish Arbor Day) in 1961, the first trees are planted in the valley's soil. The two men live there in a small cabin and spend their time stubbornly trying to till the virgin land while maintaining a strictly ecological lifestyle.

Helping the Chosen People

Three years went by and in 1964, a 63-year-old Austrian theologian named Hermann Betzner arrived, after a trip through the Balkans, Turkey, Iraq, Syria, Lebanon and Jordan. Betzner belonged to a Christian association of Bible scholars known as Friends of Humanity, which believed that toward the end of the 20th century, humankind would enter the End of Days, a time of terrible chaos leading up to the Second Coming. According to Betzner's faith, the Jewish people, as the representative of the divine authority, would lead the other nations through the crisis, toward a new world order. Betzner was convinced that his purpose in life was to help the Chosen People in this task in whatever way possible.

Betzner and Eder quickly became friends, united in their great love for the people and land of Israel. Together they stood atop one of the bare hills overlooking Emek Hashalom. Eyes agleam, Betzner observed the stream flowing below and knew that he had found the place he was looking for. Armageddon would, he knew, begin not far from here at Mount Megiddo (Armageddon in Latin). In this place, in such close proximity to that site, he decided he must build a shelter, a paradise on earth.

More years went by. The three devout residents of Emek Hashalom plowed, planted and harvested, poring over holy texts at night by the light of an oil lamp. Eder eventually "crosses the line" by starting to show up at the synagogue in Yokneam Hamoshava on Shabbat and holidays, and planning seriously for his conversion to Judaism. Betzner, meanwhile, remained firmly entrenched in his Christianity and saw Eder's behavior as a betrayal. In 1967, when the dispute became even more volatile, Eder went to Germany to visit family. While there, he heard that a fire had broken out in Emek Hashalom. He returned immediately and discovered that his cabins had burned down and most of his writings had disappeared. He got the hint.

"I understood that I was no longer wanted in the place I built," he recalled this week, writing from his home in Jerusalem. "I gathered my few things and left."

In May 1968 he completed his conversion, changed his name to Asher and married a Jewish woman. Since then, he and his wife have lived in Jerusalem. His work has focused on tour-guiding, writing and promoting good relations between the three major religions, via the Israel-Islam Friendship Fellowship (part of the Root and Branch Association, Ltd.), which he founded together with Muslim cleric Abdul Hadi Palazzi.

Meanwhile, back in Emek Hashalom, the trees continued to grow. Betzner, in his seventies by then, never shied away from physical labor. He removed hundreds of tons of rocks by hand, plowed with oxen, harvested with a scythe and lived very ascetically. He was happy. His vision had become reality: The valley had become a paradise. Five years later, just two months before the 1973 Yom Kippur War, a young Czech Christian named Josef Schmidt arrived. Enchanted by the tranquillity of the place, by Betzner's charismatic personality and by the intensity of his faith, Schmidt becomes his interpreter and right-hand man.

In those years, Emek Hashalom became widely known. Volunteers and hikers made their way there and always got a warm reception. Betzner would enthusiastically explain his beliefs to them and Schmidt, who learned Hebrew and changed his name to Yosef Elisha (though he hadn't converted) would translate with boundless patience.

Final days

Hermann Betzner and Josef Schmidt lived together for 25 years, making their land a paradise, preparing for Armageddon, growing old. In his last years, Betzner was nearly deaf, and Schmidt cared for him as though he were his father. But the thought of life without Betzner, of the day when he would be left alone and about the approaching Armageddon, overwhelmed Schmidt and on a gray November day, six weeks before the end of the previous millennium, he took his own life. The train could not brake in time to save the life of the slender man who had run onto the tracks, not far from Zichron Yaakov. In Schmidt's car, which had been left nearby, was an Israeli ID that belonged to "Yosef Elisha, Christian, Emek Hashalom Street, Yokneam." There was also a letter containing instructions for the care of an old man named Hermann Betzner. But the lonesome Betzner passed away just a few months later, in the old-age facility on Kibbutz Hazorea.

Now the valley and Betzner's farm may be about to pass away, too, along with all the fields of anemones in the surrounding Ramot Menashe Park - an area that, according to recent figures, is enjoyed by at least 1,100,000 visitors annually, who come there on foot, by bike, by car and even by wheelchair. We're talking one in six Israelis.

The reason this place is in danger of extinction is the expansion plans of the Upper Yokneam local council head. Under the leadership of Simon Alfasi, recently elected to a third consecutive term, Upper Yokneam (which he refers to simply as Yokneam) has been transformed from a sleepy town into a high-tech center that is home to about 80 companies whose total value is over $700 million. During the years of Alfasi's tenure, young people of means have flocked to the town, and now live in spacious homes that sit on the hills of Ramot Menashe, surrounded by anemone fields and dense pine forests, a short distance from Haifa and the Trans-Israel Highway. As a result, the city's population has quadrupled in a little over a decade.

A strong and vigorous personality, Alfasi wants to continue Upper Yokneam's accelerated development and prepare "more building reserves." As a part of this plan, he hopes to annex to the area under his jurisdiction more than 9,000 dunams (2,250 acres) of land that is currently part of the Megiddo local council, including open areas defined as rare natural assets, agricultural land and also Yokneam Hamoshava, which is located at the foot of Upper Yokneam.

A committee appointed by former interior minister Ophir Pines to look into boundary issues is due to submit its recommendations any day now to current Interior Minister Roni Bar-On. Also on the table is Alfasi's annexation request. And at the same time, behind the scenes, over the last year a "compromise proposal" was put together by Alfasi and Megiddo local council head Hanan Erez. The two agreed on the transfer of about 2,000 dunams (500 acres) from the Megiddo council's jurisdiction to that of Upper Yokneam. This land includes the spectacular hiking area of Emek Hashalom.

"The compromise proposal is the best thing we could achieve in this struggle," says Erez. "I know the political system and the active powers in it. If we keep on fighting, there's a chance we'll lose a lot more."

But not everyone agrees with him. In early summer, the "quiet agreement" became known and caused a major uproar, sparking fierce opposition both in Upper Yokneam and other area communities. Within a few days, a public hearing was held, and thousands of signatures were collected on a petition prepared by local residents, who launched a dogged struggle to prevent the land transfer.

Other plans prepared by Alfasi for expanding Upper Yokneam to a district capital of about 40,000 people, have also came to light. However, in National Master Plan No. 35, Upper Yokneam is described as a locality "with no further growth targets" and in the attached District Master Plan (2/9), the population target for the "urban locality of Upper Yokneam" is set at 15,000. This target has already been exceeded, as this locale currently has a population of over 20,000.

Amiram Derman, a city planner/architect who was hired by the Megiddo local council to examine the matter, said that within Upper Yokneam's existing area - and certainly following the addition of 880 dunams (220 acres) that has been agreed on by all parties and is not expected to adversely affect the current level of building density - it would be possible for the town to house 35,000 residents, without building high-rises. If Alfasi wants to reach a total of 40,000 people, he would have to double the building density, but even then it would be considered very low for an urban community. But his opponents say that he wants to have his cake and eat it, too - by having the population of a city with a moshav quality of life.

Nature for everyone

Right in the midst of this struggle, with the sword hanging over its neck, is Emek Hashalom. The dreamers who lived here in the previous millennium have given way to a new crop of dreamers in the form of people from the Lotem Foundation (Lotem is a Hebrew acronym for Limudei Teva Meshulavim - "integrated nature studies").

"In the Lotem Foundation we believe that in nature there are healing elements and that nature should be open and accessible to everyone," explains Amos Ziv, the organization's director-general, who has lived on the farm in Emek Hashalom for five years.

"In the last few years, we've built hiking paths throughout Ramot Menashe Park that are suitable for people with special needs. People who are blind or hard of hearing, and people with physical and mental disabilities of varying degrees of severity, come here by the thousands to take part in activities that we organize. I feel that, in a sense, we're perpetuating the vision of the founders of this place and that this center has indeed become a little piece of paradise for many people amid the difficulties of their lives."

Ziv leads me to a shady spot where a cool breeze is blowing. We share a common language - both of us grew up in this area, and are aware of the wonderful story behind this place. The valley is quiet this morning, too, apart from the cooing of wild pigeons and the screeching of falcons.

From the farm, Ziv coordinates the activities of the foundation, which established its center there before the previous residents had left.

"Before they took Hermann to the old-age home," Ziv recalls, "he used to wander around here, searching for Yosef, calling his name over and over. After he died, too, I went into their storehouses for the first time. What I found there proved to me again just how great man's faith can be. I found five to seven tons of wheat kernels, hundreds of kilograms of dried food, thousands of liters of gasoline for running the water pump. There were also dozens of neatly folded shirts, with little tags stuck on them for men, women and children, piles of batteries, candles, light bulbs, sewing materials and tinned foods ... I have no doubt that they had been preparing their 'Noah's Ark' for decades, all in serious anticipation of the coming flood."

He leads me around on the farm paths, from the grape press to the millstones, to the lemon trees and the old plows. I gaze through the cypresses at the hills across the way, at a new section of Upper Yokneam whose construction was completed several years ago. It is carved into the lush hills like a crude tattoo. This is the "Green Hills" neighborhood, so dubbed by the local council chief. Like Amos Ziv, I, too believe that if this beautiful area with its flowing streams and blossoming flora is transferred to the Upper Yokneam local council, it will soon be turned into yet another neighborhood full of villas.

'If you don?t keep growing, you fail'
Simon Alfasi sits in his office in the center of Upper Yokneam, at the local council building, which he now prefers to call "city hall." "In January, I'll officially become a mayor so why shouldn't I be called that already?" he explains.

Upper Yokneam was founded in 1950 as a transit camp for new immigrants. The "old-timers" of Yokneam Hamoshava and Kibbutz Hazorea, founded in 1935 and 1936, already resided on the lower parts of the rocky hill upon which the camp was built. In the 1950s, Yokneam Hamoshava and Upper Yokneam were still a single entity under the joint leadership of the Yokneam local council. But in 1968, they were separated in order to preserve the rural-agricultural character of the moshava. Upper Yokneam became an independent local council, and Yokneam Hamoshava, along with extensive parts of the Emek Hashalom area, were annexed to the Megiddo regional council.

Alfasi arrived in Upper Yokneam from Morocco in the early 1960s. He doesn't speak much about his childhood, but a hint of discrimination sneaks into his words, like an involuntary spasm in the face of an encroaching enemy. As a young man, he set up a successful family printing business, but then decided to switch direction and go into politics. In 1989, he was elected head of the local council for the first time. Subsequently he was reelected twice thereafter.

In the early 1980s, Upper Yokneam had about 5,000 residents, many of whom worked in the Soltam weapons systems factory. After the factory fell on hard times, there were mass layoffs, and an unemployment rate of 35 percent and a negative migration rate of 19 percent were what greeted Alfasi when he first took office. Today the well-tended town is home to over 20,000 people, and real estate prices have been steadily rising in tandem with the growth brought about by the industrial zone that was built there.

"Our school system is continually praised, a modern shopping center was built, and with all this I'm still thinking green," says Alfasi, adding that he will not allow polluting industries to become part of the industrial zone, will not build high-rises, and believes in establishing and maintaining parks.

"I really don't understand what they want from me," he says, referring to the opponents who have arisen against him in Upper Yokneam and neighboring communities, who hope to torpedo his plans for the annexation of more green areas to his local council. "I'm a man of peace, but if somebody wants war, then that's what they'll get."

National Master Plan No. 35 does not define any further growth targets for Upper Yokneam, and previous plans set a target of 15,000 residents, a line that was crossed some time ago.

Alfasi: "In Plan No. 35, Upper Yokneam is defined as a locality with a special status. This plan did not set any growth targets for us, since you just can't argue with success. Everyone understood that I know what I'm doing - expanding and at the same time preserving the green character. I'm working with a vision and for the sake of Yokneam's future, and on the way there redressing injustices that were done to this town's residents in the past."

By "injustices," Alfasi means the fact that about 20,000 residents currently live in Upper Yokneam on an area of about 9,000 dunams (2,250 acres) compared to about 10,000 residents of the Megiddo regional council who live on an area of about 170,000 dunams (42,500 acres). This comparison, however, ignores the fact that the vast majority of this area was in recent years turned into the Ramot Menashe Park, in accordance with Plan No. 35, which gives particular consideration to protecting open areas.

"In the original request to the boundary committee, we talked about the transfer of about 9,000 dunams. Later, I reached a compromise with the head of the Megiddo council, Mr. Hanan Erez, on the transfer of about only 2,000 dunams [500 acres] to our jurisdiction, and even this compromise was torn down by the opponents. I had no choice but to go back to our original request."

What is the justification for the annexation of additional territory?
Alfasi: "I believe that if you don't keep on growing, you fall. I'm thinking about the future, planning additional building reserves, industry, parks. I've already proved myself. In the end, it's not only the residents of Upper Yokneam who benefit from the tremendous growth, but the residents of the entire region - from the improved medical services, from the shopping mall, from the additional sources of livelihood."

In your last election campaign you declared that you would not seek to make Upper Yokneam develop into a city. You promised the voters "green in Emek Hashalom."
"In the compromise plan I proposed, the Emek Hashalom farm was supposed to remain part of the Megiddo regional council's area, and in any case, I didn't plan to build on it."

The construction will come within tens of meters of the farm and irreversibly damage the fields of flowers that surround it.
"I encourage people to keep on visiting there. I'm an active participant in organizing the annual Yokneam march that is held in the area and draws ten of thousands of people. Look, all along the way there have been people who opposed my vision. If five or 10 years ago, you said that Yokneam would look like this today, no one would have believed you. I'm working solely for the future benefit of Upper Yokneam, my beloved city. You know what Ben-Gurion once said? The citizens don't always know what they want, but I know very well what's good for them."

No limit
The Lotem Foundation is one of the leading organizations in Israel that organizes hikes and other activities in nature for people with special needs. This definition includes anyone who requires assistance in pursuing an activity in an open area - i.e., anyone with mental, physical or emotional disabilities. The activities offered by Lotem include hikes, nature-appreciation days, workshops, nature groups and more.

Since its inception in 1993, the goal of Lotem has been to enable disabled individuals to enjoy nature as much as able-bodied people do. The organization develops unique instruction kits for its target audiences, using 3-D illustrations, Braille writing, special means of communication for autistic people and so on. Instruction is given in small groups by professionally trained staff.
The Megiddo local council allowed the organization to make use of the Emek Hashalom farm, where hands-on workshops are held. The premises include a vineyard, a wine press, an olive press and other facilities that enable the wheelchair-bound to participate in activities as well.

All of Lotem's activity is under the supervision of the Ministry of Education, and is funded by donations. Lotem also receives assistance from the Jewish National Fund, which built an access bridge in Nahal Hashofet at its request.
For further information, see: www.lotem.cet.ac.il ?