We Are So Much the Same

I’ve been home for one week. Israel and her people are fresh on my mind, but as I ease back into my American life, I have taken a few moments to reflect on the take-away. Besides the Biblical and archeological history, wonderful spa experiences on the Dead Sea, seeing the clear-blue waters of the Mediterranean and enjoying five-star cuisine what did Israel leave in my heart?

I will never watch the news from the Middle East the same way. The people, who once seemed so distant, almost as if they were characters in a movie, now fill my heart. Watching children playing, mothers caring for their families, and the fathers celebrating their son’s entrance to manhood, bonded me to Israel and the Jewish people in new ways. None of the moments in everyday life ever crossed my mind when I heard about war-torn regions. It was just a news report.  It is hard to admit, but until this trip, I felt almost disconnected from the Middle East. It seemed so far away.


I prayed for Israel, and loved her people because they are God’s chosen people. Their culture, however, seemed distant and difficult to understand. I didn’t really have a point of reference. There was nothing that actually connected me with them.



The woman between the cars is the one to whom I refer in
this blog post. The frist woman was shopping near the gate.



As I sat near the Dung gate watching people rushing through for work or prayers or celebration on the last day of Chanukah, a widow held out her cup begging for alms. She was probably around 75 years old. People happily put a few coins in her cup as they passed, and she spoke a blessing in Hebrew to each of them. The scene could have been taken from any country in any language. But then, the woman turned to me, she said something in Hebrew and smiled with only a few teeth as she waited for my answer.  As I sat there, wishing I had finished my Hebrew lessons before the trip, she realized I must be a visitor to her homeland. So, she spoke a different language- Sign Language. Using her hands and some universally recognized gestures, she made her request for me to please watch her belongings while she went to find a water closet. I nodded and she disappeared down the stone walkway toward a public facility. The fact that she trusted me, and drew me into her life, just for a few minutes caught me by surprise. As I kept an eye on her belongings I realized, we are not different. Our cultures may be different, our faith may be different and our language might make communication difficult; but we are the same. We are created in the image of God. We have hopes and dreams and emotions and fears and faith and a desire to live. When she returned, her gratitude was expressed in her eyes, and I understood it fully. Dropping a few shekels in her cup, we said Shalom and parted. I will most likely never see her again, but I will never forget her. 



I am toward the bottom left of this picture.
Photo by Steven Norman, used with permission



I felt the same things as I walked through streets lined with Palestinian shops and as I sat side by side with Israeli soldiers watching videos from Holocaust survivors. We all laugh, we all cry, we all smile, we all have thoughts. And, I will never again watch the news about other countries without deep compassion for the people who live there.

It isn’t that I didn’t care about people in other countries. In fact if I had been asked, I would have said that I did care and I even prayed for them, for safety or healing or provision. But it was somehow different. Before the trip, they were on my mind. But now they are on my heart.