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| Atop Mt. Precipice overlooking the Jezreel Valley |
I have travelled a fair amount over the past four years. My first international trip was to the country of Ecuador, with a team of twenty people I’d never met. I began to hear stories from different ones on the team of how they’d been back two, three, even six times! I wondered why someone would keep returning to the same place. “If you’re going to travel, why not go somewhere new each time?” I wondered. But by the end of my three weeks in Ecuador, I knew. I had fallen in love with the people, the culture, and the country itself. I wanted to go back. In the following years, I did return, but I also found time to travel to new places. However, after visiting several other countries, I never again experienced that same desire to return, or the almost immediate love for a nation and its people. Until this year. Until Israel.
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| A house atop Mt. Zion |
As I prepared to go to Israel, I had several people ask me if I would consider returning. They asked if I would be interested in completing the Leader’s Course, or if I would consider applying to be a Fellow once I returned. I always replied in the negative. I was excited to see Israel (seriously, I danced around the kitchen when I learned I’d been accepted!), but I viewed it as nothing more than a one time experience. I would love it, but doubted I would return.
Departure day was only 4 days after school ended, and I had little time to ponder these options at length before I was out the door and on my way. My sister and a good friend were also going and our drive to the airport was filled with happy chatter. Excitement was building and we couldn’t wait to step foot in Israel! After a long day roaming around JFK in New York, and an uneventful flight over the Atlantic, we touched down in Tel Aviv. We’d finally made it.
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| Jerusalem |
Our first two days were a whirlwind of walking (for hours!), seeing more than we could process, eating amazing food on the streets of the Old City, and taking in a mountain of history from our tour guide. Each afternoon, as I returned to my hotel a bit sweaty and with aching calves, I was content: I’d seen more of the Holy Land than I’d ever expected to see, and we still had over a week left to go! My sister and I talked non-stop about all we’d experienced and what we hoped to see in the days ahead.
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| The Wailing Wall and the Dome of the Rock |
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| At the Western Wall in front of the ruins of Herod's Temple |
But as our time in Israel continued, it became less about what we were seeing, and more about who we were experiencing it with. Our team began to bond, and we made great friendships with our bus driver, our security guard, and our tour guide. By day four, they were one of us. Our tour guide took time to answer our questions one on one. When our trip to Gaza was cancelled on day five because of unrest in the area, he assured us we would still see some great sites that day. And we did. He also took about two hours of our bus ride that day to field a torrent of questions, ranging from how the Iron Dome works, to relations with Iran, to his own childhood spent growing up in a Kibbutz.
As each day passed, we met more Israelis, and heard their opinions and concerns about their country. But not only were we hearing it, we were living it with them. We heard one man’s tale of expulsion from his home and his desire to return. We saw his ancient bible handed down from generation to generation. We saw his passion for the return of his people, and his love for the country where he lives. We met Jews who left their homes in other countries to “make Aliyah” and we understood why they did. I was beginning to fully grasp why these people love this land so much.
I thoroughly enjoyed my time exploring the historical and biblical sites. As a history major, just
being there filled me with awe. As a Christian, being there filled me with reverence. These
were emotions I had expected to feel. From the sheer enjoyment of hiking through Hezekiah’s
Tunnel and swimming in the Dead Sea, to the thought-provoking vistas of Mt. Precipice and
the Sea of Galilee. From the emotionally overwhelming moments of Yad Vashem and the
traditional sites of the death & burial of Jesus, to the wonder-filled moments of seeing the Dead
Sea Scrolls and the Mount of Olives, I was profoundly affected by everything I saw and
experienced. However, these were not what impacted me most.
being there filled me with awe. As a Christian, being there filled me with reverence. These
were emotions I had expected to feel. From the sheer enjoyment of hiking through Hezekiah’s
Tunnel and swimming in the Dead Sea, to the thought-provoking vistas of Mt. Precipice and
the Sea of Galilee. From the emotionally overwhelming moments of Yad Vashem and the
traditional sites of the death & burial of Jesus, to the wonder-filled moments of seeing the Dead
Sea Scrolls and the Mount of Olives, I was profoundly affected by everything I saw and
experienced. However, these were not what impacted me most.
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| On the Sea of Galilea |
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| Caesarea Phillipi |
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| On the Mount of Olives |
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| The Dead Sea |
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| Masada |
As I look back and reflect, I know that what I remember most was the interaction with others;
the emotions and viewpoints of those around me. Joining my team as we sang Amazing Grace in
St. Anne’s church with Christians from all over the world; expressing our love for our Savior in
our separate languages, but with the same heart. Hearing my teammates share what caused them
to cry, or reflect, or experience God in a new way. Or watching our new Israeli friends observe
our reaction to their country. I noted that they were doing their best to be honest about their
country, but also saw that they wanted us to love their country as much as they do themselves.
One of my favorite memories from my trip was when our Muslim bus driver was concerned
about the Hebrew bible I was buying. He made sure I knew it was Hebrew (and not English)
because he didn’t want me to get back to America and be disappointed when I couldn’t read it!
That warmed my heart beyond compare.
the emotions and viewpoints of those around me. Joining my team as we sang Amazing Grace in
St. Anne’s church with Christians from all over the world; expressing our love for our Savior in
our separate languages, but with the same heart. Hearing my teammates share what caused them
to cry, or reflect, or experience God in a new way. Or watching our new Israeli friends observe
our reaction to their country. I noted that they were doing their best to be honest about their
country, but also saw that they wanted us to love their country as much as they do themselves.
One of my favorite memories from my trip was when our Muslim bus driver was concerned
about the Hebrew bible I was buying. He made sure I knew it was Hebrew (and not English)
because he didn’t want me to get back to America and be disappointed when I couldn’t read it!
That warmed my heart beyond compare.
As our last day dawned, I consciously acknowledged something I had felt growing for the past two days: an inescapable desire to return to this land. This land that I now loved like my own. The path of return seemed almost insurmountable, but I was willing to embark if it meant I could be here again and experience this again. I never expected this desire. It had happened once with Ecuador, but I never anticipated that happening again. But it had, and I was glad. As our plane taxied down the runway, I began to cry. So many emotions from the entire trip poured forth. To be honest, I was exhausted and probably not in the best frame of mind to be processing so many emotions, but one thing was clear: I loved this land and her people, and I wanted to return. Whatever the cost.
