The Wars of the LordCrossing the border from Israel to Jordan is even more complicated than crossing the street in Cairo. Only here there aren’t any cars or buses or people around—just decades of distrust.It was early summer when Avner and I arrived at the Arava border crossing north of Eilat, one of only two land crossings between the former enemies, and prepared to set out on the last leg of our trip, retracing the final third of the Pentateuch up the east bank of the Jordan. The Arava crossing is an isolated outpost in a dusty valley, with a large paved area and several industrial buildings, sort of like a Wal-Mart in the middle of the desert. Arriving from Eilat, one first has to pass through the legendary Israeli security system, which involves relentless prodding of one’s luggage, passports, travel plans, and personal history. “Why have you made so many trips to Egypt?” “Where did you sleep last night?” “Please take off your sunglasses so I can see your eyes.” The longer I traveled in the Middle East, the more passport stamps I gathered from Arab countries, and the more closely I was scrutinized at Israeli border crossings.
