Language Lesson

The first day of our tour begins with a language lesson.  Shimone, our sun-tanned, straw-hatted commentator, writes the following on paper and shows us:
                Yeshua
                Yehoshua
                Ishaya
                Yoshiya
                Hoshea
                Elisha
They are, of course, the Hebrew names for Jesus, Joshua, Isaiah, Josiah, Hosea, and Elisha.

“What do these names have in common? he asks. 

 We see the  similar suffixes:  forms of ua and ya.

He explains that Yeho  is from the Jeho in Jehovah used to identify Lord God and Ya is the word for savior.

 Then he talked about names ending in “el,” the word for God.

                Daniel—Dan means “judge,” “el” is God.  Daniel means to be judged by God.
                Gabriel --Gab means “taken over.“  Gabriel means “ to be taken over by God.”
                Nathaniel—Nathan means “given.” Nathaniel means given by God.
He tells us that his Hebrew language has something English does not have.  God is alive in the Hebrew words and names.  Most names end in some form of God, yah or el.

The lesson exploded with meaning inside me.  God left his name in Israel through the names of people and places.  His people  are an extension of his name. 

My given name is Deborah, a good Bible name.  In Hebrew, Debor means bee.  I’ve know that for a long time.  But I never knew that my name had God in it.  I am God’s bee.  I am God’s spreader of pollen.  I am God’s maker of honey.  I’ve never thought of myself that way. 

Unfortunately, many of our names are layered with other languages we do not know.  If our names have meanings, we have to look them up.  What if our language made us hear God s name when we are called by name?  What if to say our names we also had to say God’s name?  Would we begin to understand in a new way how much God wants to live in us?   Revelation 24:4 says that when we see God face to face, His name will be on our foreheads.   I’m not convinced that it will be a stick-on label.  I think it is something more indelibly connected to the identity he has formed in us. 

But I have to also ask myself if people could see God’s name on my forehead or hear his name contained in mine, would there be a disconnect? 

O God, write your name on my forehead in a way that I know it is there.  Help me live within the love and compassion, grace and respect that your name stands for.  May I never be guilty of misrepresentation.  May I never forget that Who you are will always take me farther than who I could be without you.

 

Tel Aviv-Netanya
Wednesday, May 22

We made it.  We survived 10 hours in a cramped airplane, sleeping in small increments. Airplane coffee and a hot breakfast prepares us for landing in Tel Aviv at the Ben Gurion Airport.

A sun-tanned man with a straw hat and sign that reads "Pilgrim Tours" welcomes us.  We find our luggage, move through customs, get stamped “okay,” get on the bus. 

Our hotel is The Seasons at Netanya, 30 miles north of Tel Aviv. It claims to be the only 5-star hotel in Natanya.  We walk into a suite!  To the right is a sitting room, to the left a separate bedroom, and in between a spacious bathroom.  A front hall connects them. 

Shower-refreshed, we forget that we had breakfast before landing and prepare for our first dinner experience in Israel.  The buffet is daunting.  A salad extravaganza, some I cannot identify.  A separate entrée station also overwhelms.  A quick survey of desserts reminds me to save room.  If this is a precursor of what is to come, it is not going to be a low- calorie tour! 

 We are in Bible land Israel.  My sleep-deprived mind is having trouble assimilating this upscale hotel and its manicured beach promenade with visions of Abraham, Moses and Jesus’ three years.  I don’t know if I like enjoying this plush experience or if I would prefer something a bit more Spartan that connects me to my Sunday school stories.  I decide that comfort is worth a lot after my 10 hour-little-sleep plane ride. I'll take the hotel.

After dinner and our quick meeting to organize for the next day, Mark and I join others who walk the promenade.  We are trying to stay awake until a decent time to sleep.  However, the mild temperature, the gentle sweep of Mediterranean waves, the atmospheric lighting, the beautiful garden beds were just enough to make us more than ready to claim the biggest award of this long day--sleep!

On Being a Pilgrim

Perhaps it is no accident that the company who organized our tour to the Holy Lands was called "Pilgrim Tours."  One dictionary generically calls us people who “travel on a long journey.”  Ten hours overnight on a packed plane was a very long journey.  Circling Israel by bus was another long journey.  Walking who knows how many miles required a comfortable set of shoes which I wore out!  

 

I found another definition of a pilgrim that called pilgrims people “who journey to a sacred place for religious reasons.”  Sacred place is a good way to summarize the land we saw.  God called people here.  He warned people here.  He blessed people here.  He named people here. He gave us Jesus here.   I will never forget the words of our tour guide as we stood at the top of Mt. Carmel and overlooked the Jezreel Valley.  He swept his hand across the panoramic view and said, “Here, I serve you the Bible on a platter.”  The land became the pages we have read over and over.  He pointed to Mt. Tabor where Deborah and Barak strategized a military offensive and where Jesus met with transfigured Elijah and Moses.  Then, he moved his point to Mt. Gilboa where King Saul was killed, then down the mountain to the spring where Gideon chose his warriors.  The land does not allow an easy chronological retelling for this is layered land.  The stories are built one upon another, here, on this land.

 

Another part of our pilgrim journey was company.  A pioneer may travel solo but pilgrims love company.  We were 21 strong.  We came from Oregon, Idaho, Washington, Arizona, and Alaska. The source of our bond was Northwest University.  Mark and I were seamlessly grafted into this alumni group.  Support of the sponsoring university was more important than graduation year. So was love for the journey.  From our introductions and reunions at SeaTac to our bleary eyed touch down in Seattle at the end, we traveled as community. 

 

By now I have unpacked clothes and souvenirs, finished the laundry, and put the suitcases away.  But I'm not finished unpacking my heart.  That's what I will do here.  I invite you to join me on my journey.  My footsteps left no mark on Israel but Israel left its mark on me.  Follow my footsteps through a storied, layered, complicated, unfolding land.  Perhaps we will become pilgrims together.