Tzippi Schlissel

In memory of Rabbi Shlomo Ra’anan

I met Tzippi Schlissel in Hebron, where she has lived since 2001, but her roots in the ancient city extended far deeper. Her father, Rabbi Shlomo Ra’anan (grandson of Israel’s first Chief Rabbi) had also lived in the small Jewish community with his wife Chaya before he was murdered in 1998 by a terrorist.

Tzipi’s maternal grandmother was a survivor of the 1929 massacre of the Jews in Hebron during which 67 individuals had been brutally murdered by their Arab neighbours. In the aftermath, the British government demanded the remaining Jews leave the city, and although they came back in 1931, they were expelled again in 1936 following violent Arab riots. They returned once more in 1967 after the 6-day war and have remained there since.

When we arrived in Hebron in October 2018 to meet Tzippi and visit the 2000-year-old ‘Tomb of the Patriarchs,’ the city’s troubled history was largely unknown to me, but evidence of today’s conflict was immediately obvious.

97% of the city, under Palestinian control is forbidden to Jews. There was a visible military presence, and, in places, the tension was tangible. Tzipi is curator of the Hebron History Museum in Beit Hadassah, our first port of call. Here the guide took us through the history of Hebron beginning thousands of years before when Abraham purchased caves to bury his wife Sarah at the gates of the city. It is above these caves that Herod built the magnificent stone structure, today known as ‘The Tomb of the Patriarchs’ and is believed to be the burial place of Abraham and Sara, Isaac and Rebekah, and Jacob and Leah. The site is considered one of the most important in Judaism, indeed, to all descendants of Abraham.

Hebron is also the city where King David reigned over Judah for 7 years, before he was anointed King of Israel. Situated in the Judean hills, it is the highest city in Israel, and has been inhabited continually for 5000 years. We learned that the Jews of Hebron had a rich history extending back to biblical times. Today, despite tremendous opposition to their presence and the obvious security issues, Jewish people living in Hebron are there because they are certain it is where they belong. I could not help but admire their resilience.

We met Tzipi, mother to 11 children, at her caravan home in the small Jewish area of Admot Yishay, also known as Tel Rumeida. Before speaking to us about her father’s murder, she took us up to the flat rooftop of the building opposite, a tall stone structure which houses a school of religious studies in her father’s memory. After climbing many stairs, we were amazed to see the panoramic view of the vast city beneath us, whilst Tzipi pointed out places of significance and provided us with little publicized facts. She explained that despite high level of education amongst most Arabs living here, (the city has four Universities) they have very low wages. Wealth is not evenly distributed; in some areas there are Palaces, whilst others are very poor; new houses here are constructed on top of old ones, one floor after another.

Returning to Tzipi’s home she offered us a seat outside and standing in front of us, began speaking in a heavy Hebrew accent:

“I’ll tell you my story, it’s a hard story. It’s not something that will make us weak and give up; the other way, this story, even though its hard, will take just more power”. I understood that despite what had happened to her father, her family would become more determined to remain in Hebron.

She explained that 20 years earlier, her father had been to pray at the Tomb of the Patriarchs before returning home. “At this time the neighbourhood was only 7 caravans, no buildings, no places around. Here, this was the whole neighbourhood.”. It was night time and Shlomo and had just gone to bed, whilst her mother, Chaya stayed up to make a phone call.

The couple were due to go on vacation at the end of the week, and Chaya wanted to check the final arrangements. Tzipi said gently “Suddenly she heard terrible terrible screaming, she told me she didn’t think it was my father, she’d never heard him screaming before”; in fact, Chaya had never even heard her husband raise his voice in their 35 years of marriage.

The screams were coming from the bedroom.  An Arab terrorist had broken in through a window in the back of the house, found her 63-year-old father in bed in his pyjamas, and stabbed him with a large butcher’s knife. Shlomo, terribly wounded, had tried to fight back but was stabbed again before trying to escape to another room. Tzipi went on describe a tug of war between the attacker, who was trying to pull her father back into the room, whilst her mother frantically tried to hold onto her husband. She spoke earnestly “My mother tried to take him away from the terrorist, and the terrorist pushed him away to the other side and stabbed him again,” Chaya was a nurse, and Tzipi related how her mother had tried in vain to save her father. The terrorist had stabbed him through the heart and Chaya knew the wound was fatal. As the terrorist turned to flee the scene, he threw a Molotov cocktail into the caravan. Seeing the flames, Chaya shouted at the six families who occupied the other caravans nearby to alert them.

“He thought that he’d kill my mother from the fire but thank God she screamed, and people came and put down the fire”. Tzipi concluded, emotion filling her voice.  She pointed out the caravan where her father had died- its appearance did not give away the heartbreak and horror which had occurred inside; its cheerful yellow exterior was enhanced by the pretty flowers growing alongside its front door, and the large brightly coloured children’s climbing frame a few feet away.

Rabbi Shlomo had been quiet and devoted, known throughout Hebron as a man of peace. He was fair minded and treated all people as his equal, greeting everyone he passed with a smile.

The Arabs respected him, and their children used to run after him shouting ‘Shalom, shalom’. He was murdered, not because of his character, but because he was Jewish.

Tzipi spoke of the days following the attack:

“When we sat Shiva (the Jewish mourning tradition) the Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu came to us. Maybe he felt guilty because he gave, just the year before, 97% of the city to the control of the terrorists of the Arabs. Everyone agreed that this would be the result of that disagreement. My mother told him that terrorists wanted to burn all the neighbourhood- all the kids, all the people, and she asked from him that he would give us permission to build a house in this place.

We have a document; you saw it in the museum from 200 hundred years ago that the Jewish community bought this land. Everyone knew that this belonged to the Jewish people. But only after the murder of my father they gave us permission.”

The land and neighbourhood Tzipi referred to had been bought by the Jewish community in 1807 and is the location of several significant archaeological digs.

In 1984 the community of Admot Yishai was established, its 7 original caravans still stand there. Opposite is the present-day Beit Menechem building, built on pillars above the ancient ruins of a Jewish home dating back some 4,000 years. Tzipi excitedly explained the ruins to us. In addition to the 4,000-year-old house, she pointed out a silo, used for storing food, from the time of Joshua.

Above this, is a house built 2,700 years ago in the time of King Hezekiah during the 1st Temple period. It was here that an ancient King’s seal was discovered bearing the words ‘L’Melech’ or ‘To the King’ in Hebrew, and the word ‘Hebron’. Other finds included a wine press. Adjacent to these ancient homes run two walls. The Bronze Age wall on the left originally had been 10 metres high and 6 metres thick. (today it stands at 3 metres in height) and dates to the days of Noah, 4,500 years ago. The stepped path separating it from the wall on the right, dates to from the same time and is believed to have led directly to the ancient city gates, where Abraham purchased the cave. The wall on the right is a mere 3,800 years old, built in the days of the Patriarchs.

Tzipi took us on a tour of the neighbourhood, we walked on foot through olive groves, hundreds if not thousands of years old, watching the Arabs as they harvested the olives. She took us to what is believed to be the tombs of Jesse (father of King David) and Ruth, situated on a hill top that some archaeologists have speculated could be the site of King David’s palace due to its strategic location.

She uncovered shards of pottery 2000 years old, embedded beside the path we took, and showed us ancient Jewish Mikvot (ritual baths) fairly recently uncovered in the Tel Hebron archaeological garden. I watched Tzipi as she walked through these areas, her head held high, thrilled to be walking in the footsteps of her forefathers. It takes courage to live in Hebron, especially for someone like Tzipi whose family has experienced terror first hand. It was obvious her desire to live in Hebron directly relates to her passion for history, the love of her people and her deep desire to live a location central to the Israelites story.

Before we left, we met her mother, brave Chaya, who still lives in the same place she experienced the horror of the attack and the death of her beloved husband. She was all smiles, and happily posed for me to take her photograph. The time spent with Tzipi, walking through those ancient biblical places will remain inscribed on my memory forever. As will her courage.