To visit Lake Huleh in the northern tip of the Galilee during the twilight hours of winter has been characterized by many an atheist as a religious experience. Tens of thousands of cranes, who now choose to winter in Israel, come in for a nighttime landing. It is an amazing cacophony created by these joyous avian clans as they join the 392 bird species —from pelicans to coots, wigeons, mallards, kites, and hawks—who call the fifty square kilometer area home. (By comparison, the combined bird population of Germany and France is only 350 species!) The Huleh wetlands offer them and the jungle cats, jackals, and nutrias who have joined the fun a lovely home and provide us humans with a stirring and life-affirming adventure.

It is life-affirming, because it wasn’t long ago that Lake Huleh was an unnatural, unmitigated disaster. When the Jewish National Fund (JNF) decided to drain the wetlands in the 1950s, it certainly had the best intentions. Hundreds of thousands of Holocaust refugees were still languishing, unemployed in temporary tent camps throughout Israel. New agricultural lands seemed to offer the promise of employment and a new, healthy, rural identity for a shattered generation. So the biggest drainage project in the country ’s history proceeded—and transformed a magical wetland ecosystem into cotton fields.

But the ecological law of “unintended consequences” quickly reared its head. It did not take long for the peat soil to start to combust and collapse, leaving the anticipated agricultural benefits elusive. It would take a couple of decades, but the Jewish National Fund would eventually realize that it had made a serious blunder. What is remarkable about the story is the organization ’s ability to take responsibility for its ecological folly and successfully recreate a unique reserve. While it may not have the full diversity and authenticity of the original lake, it has its own magic and mystery. And even the most ardent green activist would agree that it is preferable to visit this corner of Israel ’s natural world without the very real threat of malaria.

For me, the Huleh restoration project is symbolic in many ways of Israel’s evolving efforts to preserve a land that is Holy to at least four faiths. It is a land that probably holds a higher density of natural and historic heritage sites per square meter than any place on earth. As the country raced from a population of one million in 1950 to 7 million today, the environmental maladies that characterize all modern, industrialized societies were exacerbated by the country ’s small size and rapid growth. Aquifers were heavily contaminated. Lake Kinneret almost became eutrophied and moribund in the 1970s —but has since improved. Air quality remains so bad that there are pollution violations on one out of every eight days. And innumerable scenic spots gave way to the often-unsightly physical infrastructure of the Third Jewish Commonwealth.

Zionism’s initial impulse was to return the Jewish people to their status as indigenous people in their “new-old land,” as Herzl called it. In many ways it succeeded. Israelis are more tied to their countryside—wildflowers, butterflies, hills and wadis—than people in most Western countries. Besides a spiritual inspiration, the Bible became a national natural history guide —and in return, the topography, flora and fauna of “Eretz Yisrael” serve as a “Rashi"—offering insights to anyone who truly wants to understand the Biblical narrative.

The degradation of Palestine during the 2000 years of Jewish exile is not Zionist mythology. Aerial photographs confirm the massive desertification and deforestation. Ben Gurion once wrote that in Israel, we do the difficult tomorrow and the impossible takes a little bit longer. We have begun that impossible task of finding the balance between preservation and development. Preserving the environmental quality of the “promised lands” is an enormous challenge—requiring the combined creativity of all Israel’s citizens and its neighbors.

Mercifully, the country has a strong enough economy today to field the resources for a world-class environmental protection strategy. Already, in the area of forestry, JNF practices have become a model for international dryland development. Israeli irrigation and water management innovations offer hope—and proven technologies to the hundreds of millions in arid regions whose agricultural productivity does not support them. As Israel turns sixty, our prayers must be focused on attaining regional reconciliation and stability along with the political will necessary to finish the task.