For those who don't know, I am back in Israel, the navel of the Earth, once again. This time around I am here with a mission group, a 501c3 called Sar Shalom Israel, as opposed to the last trip, which focused on touristing. There are 13 in our group, and we will be focusing primarily on service projects to the people of this wonderful land. I'm due to return on November 4th.
Of the 13, three other ladies are from my home county, although we did not know one another before meeting at Logan airport in Boston. In fact, one of them attends church within walking distance of my Canton home. Crazy, right?
The plane rides here are no joke, y'all. I left home on Thursday morning a little after 8:00 and "traveled" (including layovers) for the next 22 hours. Not for the faint of heart!
Then, there was the security aspect. Oh mercy! So, the ATL to Logan leg was a piece of cake. I got designated TSA Pre-check, which meant I breezed through security check without even taking off a shoe. At Logan, I was already in the secure area, but I needed to mail some cards. This meant I had to leave the secure area, mail the cards, and be subjected to the security line again (which this time included shoe removal AND a pat-down). But, I was chill.
After that delightful experience, I rejoined my fellow travelers at our gate to learn that El Al (the Israeli airline whisking us to Tel Aviv) was requiring to go outside security (yep, not kidding) and submit to El Al's particular brand of security check. This was unplowed ground, I'll just tell ya.
So, our little group trekked to the designated location whereupon we were asked questions about our trip. Two of the ladies got the usual amount of scrutiny. One of our party and I got the N-th degree!
First, they ask you many questions in quick succession, some of them in slightly different forms, to see if they catch you in a lie. So, you'd better tell the truth, Pilgrim! After many more than the usual number of questions, I was informed my carry-on bags would be checked. I must have posed quite the threat in my black Guess jeans and black poncho; but, I digress. Anyhoo, they went through my stuff, asking me questions about essential oils, my laptop and my Beautycounter make-up. (Seriously, folks, could I make this stuff up? No.) . At long last, I was cleared and walked over (slightly in a daze) to meet the other three ladies who were looking at me like I was in the CIA....
We returned to the gate, relieved. We were all, apparently, going to Israel. But, the fun was not over yet! When we began to board, the other lady who was more thoroughly examined, was pulled aside and taken to another area; the rest of our party was prevented from boarding in the interim, while she was asked more questions. Seems a background check had been run on her and the Mossad had discovered she was a former law enforcement officer. But, after about 10 minutes we boarded the 767. Thank you, El Al. The group of us that flew Delta could have boarded wearing scuba gear and I don't think an eyebrow would have been raised. Whatev.... I ate my little airline meal and went to sleep for about 4-5 hours. I was exhausted!
Arriving in Tel Aviv, I changed some money from "dollas" to shekels, having an interesting conversation with a sweet elderly couple from Mass, who asked me to talk just so they could continue to enjoy my Southern accent, lol. Then, I caught a taxi to the Old Jaffa section of the city, ate at The Old Man and the Sea restaurant, walked around the Wishing Bridge, made a wish, and eventually ended up at Hotel Ultra, our abode for the next 3 nights.
It was great to meet the rest of our group of 13, who are from places as various as Kansas, Texas, South Carolina, Delaware, and Georgia, of course. As soon as possible, I was in bed.
Oh, but there were more fun and games surrounding that, lol. So, I had never met my roommate, Veronica. She's a delightful lady, but we found out upon arrival our room configuration was two twin beds pushed together. The hotel management said we'd only have to bear with this arrangement for one night, because they'd have a room with two actual twin beds available the next night. Truly, I was so tired at that point, I think I'd have bedded down with an iguana. While Veronica grabbed a bit of dinner, I crawled into the bed and, by the time she turned out the light, I was "gone". That was around 9:00 p.m. local time, I imagine.
You are going to think I'm lying, but around 2 a.m., Veronica was up and rummaging around the room which woke me up. I thought she was just up briefly, but no. So, in the course of 2 a.m. conversation, I mentioned that it was 2 a.m. Veronica's phone had not changed to the local time; so, she thought it was nearly 7 a.m.! I mean, she was putting on her make-up and such by this point. I thought she was crazy and she thought I was lazy, because we were supposed to go down to breakfast at 7. After nearly collapsing with laughter over the misunderstanding neither of us could go back to sleep. So, in our provided hotel bathrobes over our PJs, we trotted to the lobby for coffee. Now, understand that the Hotel Ultra is "ultra small". The catchy phrase is a "boutique hotel". That means tiny, ok? We think the hotel is only one floor, with a small dining area and kitchen underneath it.
Other than the desk attendant, there was only one other person in the lobby at such an hour, a man who, no doubt, thought we were complete loons. However, we made ourselves more than one cappuccino and got acquainted. It was delightful, no really! Around 5 a.m. our trip's organizer (the founder of Sar Shalom) joined us, and the party rolled on.
After a fabulous breakfast, if you enjoy all types of veggie salads for breakfast, which I absolutely do (oh, for heaven's sake, there were also delectable pastries and eggs), several of us went for a walk along the beach, amid bikers, joggers, dogs, gulls, etc. We probably walked for a mile or so, and then returned to the hotel (which happens to be right across the street from the former US Embassy!) What a delightful walk! The Mediterranean is so very beautiful!
We arrived late yesterday afternoon, just in time for Shabbat, the Hebrew word for the Sabbath. Sabbath (except for High Sabbaths, which are features of certain feast days) begins at sundown on Friday, and ends at sundown on Saturday. Accordingly, after our walk, we headed out to a Shabbat service with the believers of the AdonaiRoi congregation, in Tel Aviv. The group meets within walking distance of our hotel. There were approximately 50 people in attendance in the small room. In fact, there was not enough room for everyone. Some were seated and listening out in the hall. We sang familiar worship songs in Hebrew and some not so familiar, accompanied by a praise band. The Torah passage for the week was read, in Hebrew. In fact, the entire spoken service was delivered in Hebrew. For those of us who do not speak the language, headsets were provided. An English speaker translated.
The sermon was centered around how to be righteous in the eyes of God. Several Old Testament verses were shared, as well as verses from the New Testament. The central point was that Jesus (Yeshua) is our righteousness, that apart from Him we have no righteousness, nor can we ever hope to gain it. I loved how the rabbi wove the Scriptures from both Testaments together to convey this essential doctrine. At the end of the service, he gave the benediction from Numbers 6, in Hebrew.
I did not record or make pictures during the worship service. I hope you will forgive me. I simply wanted to worship.
As for the people, most of the attendees were young people in their 20s, but there were also middle-aged folk. I was one of the oldest present. All colors/races were represented. There was a young adult man who was obviously mentally impaired; he was accompanied by his middle-aged mother who lovingly cared for him. There were no young children present today, for some reason, although there are young children who are part of the congregation.
I spoke at length to Julia, who sat behind me in the service. She is 27 and made aliyah about 3 years ago, if I remember correctly. "Making aliyah" is the phrase indicating a person of Jewish descent has come to live/reside in Jerusalem, after having been born in another country. This is usually done in the young adult years, but can also be used to refer to Jews of any age to relocate to Israel.
The rest of Julia's family is in New York City. I got the impression they are not believers. Her eyes began to tear up as she spoke of them. She was obviously very burdened for them as the service began. She supports herself by teaching English here in Tel Aviv. Veronica and I did our best to encourage her in her spiritual journey. After the service, she found us and said that she felt her burden had been lifted. Such is so often the blessing of the fellowship of the saints. It was a great day in the house of the LORD.
This was funny. I have never made a tourist's picture in a public restroom! However, the restroom there on the church premises had an extraordinary view of the Mediterranean. So, I snapped a shot. It is at the top of this post. After Shabbat services, our group either did more walking or tried to shake our jet lag. I was in the latter group, but could not sleep. So, I began this blog post.
Dinner was at a seaside restaurant called La Mer. We had walked past it earlier in the day. Our waitress was a delightful young woman. I ordered the Quinoa Salad, also pictured above. Some beneficent person paid for every person's dinner (12 of us!). Our trip leader was fading fast and wanted to walk back to the hotel; so, I volunteered to walk with her. Partly, that was to keep her from walking back alone, but also I wanted to ask her something. I will share that with you in tomorrow's post.
