Arrival

We have arrived!  Well, at least three of us.  After smooth flights and connections through Paris,  it was thrilling to catch the first glimpse of the holy land.  The coastline with miles of beaches gives way to high rises and industrial complexes that dot this part of Israel.  A quick circle of the airport and we touched down.

As we taxied to the gates, I pondered what was ahead for my travel companions.   Jill and Claire were about to be dumped into the craziness of my connections in Israel.  Mohammed, out taxi driver, is a good friend.  Not surprising for an Arab Israeli Muslim man who lives in Jerusalem, the ride to Bethlehem was filled with talk of politics, family, and religion.

When we arrived at our hotel next to the Church of the Nativity,  we were greeted and treated to dinner by good friends, the Ghareeb family.  Over scrumptious fare, we caught up on news and life. I gave the children gifts from Cincinnati - Reds baseball caps and Reds backpacks.   The adults got Maverick chocolate from Findlay Market.  I adore this family and it was lovely to bring a piece of my new world to them.

Before heading to bed, I insisted on a quick walk around Manger square.  Jet-lagged though we were, we somehow found the grace to accept tea from another friend we ran into.  Adnan ushered us into his shop and shared stories about Bedouin life as he reminisced about his father who passed away a few years ago.


As I went to bed, I began to ponder what this trip will mean for me.  I know well how delightful the discovery can be for those who are here for the first time.  The sights, smell, and spirituality of this place are what has led many to call it the fifth gospel.  But for me, it is like a glimpse of home.  What is familiar and feels like family brings a unique depth to my return.  But what is anticipated and known can often prevent an openness to new insights and possibilities.  I want to be attentive to my own sense of "why this place at this time."  How will God be present to me, to this place, to these people,  and to our soon-to-be-arriving pilgrims?

I know one thing for sure.  As I preached on Easter Sunday, my heart is seeking moments of resurrection, not resuscitation.  While connected to the past, I have no desire to be bound to it.  Things are never the same here, nor can they be.  Instead, I want to attend to the stories of resurrection - great and small. I can't help but wonder how many of those stories will be my own.