The plane touches down at the Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv. The cooing and crying of babies on board our flight remind me of the centrality of the Christ child in this religiously diverse region. Departing from heaven, the baby Jesus takes a chartered flight to earth. My flight was about 9 hours, and His was about 9 months, including a brief holding pattern above Bethlehem before He officially touched down.
Jesus’ journey was marked by social turbulence, in-flight meals provided through an umbilical cord, and a womb seat that was significantly more cramped than where I sat balled up in coach.
We shuffle through customs and continue on to the luggage carousel. While waiting for our bags, a Jewish dad pushes a stroller with the young boy calling out to get his dad’s attention. Did he say what I thought he did? “Abba! Abba!” the olive-skinned child repeats, not to his father but to his daddy.
Already the Bible comes alive.
Fabulous posts. It takes me back again and I feel as if I’m alongside. I wonder if you will be like me; more enthralled with the people than even the scenery, though it is amazing and spectacular, too. But it was the people most of all who made certain Bible passages more vivid to me.
I’d hoped to go to Israel but this is sooner than expected…I feel like a stowaway.
It’s been 9 years since we went with Jeff; this is bringing back the memories!!! Such a meaningful experience!!