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| Tel Aviv, Israel and the Mediterranean Sea |
"Welcome Home." Those were a few of the first words our tour guide, George, uttered upon our arrival to Tel Aviv, Israel. I let these words rattle around in my brain as I sat down on the bus. This seemed odd. Home?
I have always been fascinated with family history. As a kid, and even more so into my adult years, I enjoyed sitting on my Great Grandparents living room floor, listening to stories of their childhood and young adult years. My uncle will often bring home new information regarding our ancestry during the holidays, dating back to the 1600s, involving stories of our family; where we came from, what professions our great, great, great grandparents had, the many endeavors they set out on, and the challenges they faced in their lifetime. And in all the family history I've learned, I had never once thought my home began in Israel. Oh but it did, and if you call yourself a Christian, yours began there too.
Many of us call ourselves American, or Christian, or some sort of political affiliation. And some of us go as far to say, "My dad's side is German and mom's side is Irish", even though most of us haven't a clue of what that actually entails since we are so far removed. I call myself a Catholic, conservative, Midwestern farm girl with enough cultured travels under my belt to break the stereotype of what a Catholic, conservative, Midwestern, farm girl is really like. I love to break a good stereotype, and so does Israel.
On this trip, I realized how far removed I really was from my true home. There is a sting of homesickness now, as I sit here in the house I grew up in, typing this story, staring out the front window and looking into an open field that seems almost foreign to me now. Where are the rocky hills and mountains? Where are the calm and majestic waters of the Sea of Galilee? Where are the stone streets of Jerusalem? Where are the olive trees growing in the open fields? Where is the rich history hiding in the caves, gorgeous churches, and the roads that have been traveled on for over 2000 years?
Israel is home. This is home to all the people I've read about for so long. All the greats from the Bible dating back to Abraham, Moses, David, Elijah, our brave disciples, and most importantly our Savior, started here, in Israel. Now, as Americans, we tend to look at Israel as a country of turmoil. One of such contrasting religions, with such strange traditions, rituals, and laws; it seems outdated and almost absurd to call it our home. To me it almost seemed like the North Pole, this fantasy land I've read about, but seemed so intangible and distant. I'd read stories about it in a book that I couldn't quite interpret, and I saw stories on the news about it that made it seem less than satisfactory. How could it be home with so much going wrong there? Here's where the stereotype breaks; there is so much going right. They don't call it the Holy Land for any old reason.
I will tell you from my experience, even though I was not in the comfort of my own bed or surrounded by the familiar faces of my family; even though I was a minority as a Christian, and as an American, I felt I had never really experienced what "home" meant, until I stepped foot on this land. And let me tell you, once you "go home", your heart is forever changed, and there is a deeper longing to keep the peace of "home" in your soul.
But that first day, Israel as "home" just seemed like a nice idea.
Oh did I have much to learn from that first day. God was already working on my heart then. He informed me on the plane ride over that this trip was going to be less about convenience and being comfortable, and more about love. How, you ask? I'll tell you soon, but first a quick side note. On the way to the airport I was listening to spirit catholic radio, and the man speaking was talking about "loving your neighbor". Of course I've heard a version of this theme a hundred times before in a sermon on Sunday, a sermon from my mother, or a sermon on the radio, but he said something that made me laugh out loud.
He was explaining how Jesus interacts with us in many forms, and the most familiar form is in our neighbor. He mentioned even the saints struggled with loving their neighbor; one specifically was Saint Mother Teresa. He said when she used to see someone walking toward her that she wasn't too fond of she would whisper to the other Sisters close by, "Here comes Jesus in that annoying disguise again." This was my laugh out loud down the interstate moment. I had never thought of people that annoy me, hurt me, anger me, and make me uncomfortable as Jesus in disguise. They were usually just annoying people that made my heart rate go up and I had to swallow my words and boil in anger in silence. This was a light bulb moment, and I couldn't wait to use that line. Or maybe I could...
I used that line in my head only an hour into my plane ride. You see, I had a window seat, and a young Jewish woman sitting next to me had the isle seat. The plane was full, but somehow the middle seat was left empty as the plane took off. I remember thanking God, "Man you're the best, giving me leg and elbow room. I have a tv, snacks, books to read, and I'm heading to see where your Son was born. Hallelujah, let's go!" Not too long after this short prayer of thanks, a woman in a hijab came walking by and asked, "Is there anyone sitting here?", pointing to the empty seat between us. I shook my head no, while the young Jewish girl looked at me in a silent glare and said, "We would like this seat to stay empty." Whoops.
The woman in the hijab left, but came back fifteen minutes later with her "kosher meal" she received from the flight attendants. Another side story here; I had no idea what a kosher meal on an airplane was. When the flight attendants were walking around asking if anyone would like a kosher meal, I raised my hand. The flight attendant looked at me sideways and then said, "Honey, we will be bringing the pasta out in a little while." "Okay", I thought, a little embarrassed, "I'm already learning about Jewish culture on the plane ride, what an idiot you are, Megan."
Back to the woman in the hijab. She forcefully reached over the woman in the isle seat, put down the seat back table, placed her kosher meal on the tray, and climbed over the woman to plop herself down beside us. She was a heavier set woman, so my elbow room was immediately eliminated. The girl in the isle seat glared at me, like I invited this woman to sit down, and I thought, "Here is Jesus, in the annoying disguise, taking away all my leg and elbow room. Hi Jesus. Nice to see you. I think."
The woman in the hijab explained that she was, "sitting next to a man, and it wasn't working", so she had to sit here the rest of the plane ride. My convenience and comfortableness were going to stay in the states, and it was here that my "love for neighbor" lessons began. After all, what is a trip to the Holy Land without learning how to love more, right?
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