The Meaning of Home

I don’t know if it would be possible for us to have a more delightful breeze than we did beginning at the Zion Gate or as Meir calls it the “Ugly Gate.” We observed the bullet holes of the 67 Six Day war. They remain as testimony and memorial to a day held sacred in the hearts of Israel, especially Meir.
He gathered us to himself and began to share a story familiar to many of us of his own personal history with Jerusalem. You see, he was one year old when his father’s and brothers were imprisoned in Jordan. His mother a “strong woman” was alone with her small children in their home here in the Jewish Quarter when the Jews who had lived there for years peacefully were expelled from their homes. She stood upright and carried what she could. With this one-year old Meir, his siblings and a Winchester at the ready, she led her children from the besieged Jerusalem and through the gate we had just entered.

They had no other place to go. The Old City had always been her home. She had nothing. She had no where to go to. Her husband imprisoned. Her home taken. She found a house that had been vacated by a Muslim family, who also wanted to escape the conflict. Meir told us it was as if the house were made ready for them. They couldn’t carry much from their home in Jerusalem and yet this house was furnished. The garden was flourishing. There was a lot of looting and destruction of property going on in those days, but Meir’s mother set up a fortress. She tied ropes around the outside of the home and hung signs that simply read: Private Property. Miraculously, they were left untouched. They remained there for months, until they could find a permanent home.

Meir grew up in another place in Israel, but he heard over and over the descriptions of this home he couldn’t remember. This inheritance ripped from his hands. Every Shabbat they would review the streets, the corners, the stories, their lives in the city of their God. So, when Meir entered the city through the gate he was carried through 20 years later. He walked with confidence to his parents home. He had never seen it except in his mind’s eye.

He said, “Guys, how do you think I knew that I was in the right place?” Something happened, he was not expecting. When he walked down his street looking at the house, his neighbor stepped out of her house. “Meir?! Is this you?” A woman he had never met. A Muslim woman approached him and called him by name. “How do you know me?” “My blood began to boil as you turned the corner. You see, your mother was very sick after your were born. She had no strength. I came and I gave you milk. I took you as my son until she recovered. My blood knows my son. You are my son.”

I looked to Sheba, and mouthed, “Chills!” She shook her head, “yes!” With the power flowing over us in that moment.

Even though he wasn’t raised here, this home was in his mind every day. He walked straight to the Western Wall using the verbal map of his Shabbat conversations with his family. He said the electricity ran into him. He touched the Wall shaking. He said, “the shekinah, you know this word? The glory, the presence, the light was surrounding me. I touched my face and found it wet with tears, not knowing when I had started weeping.”

We took some time in the Jewish Quarter. Everything was closed. It being eraly and the beginning of the holiday of sukkot. We toured the Hurva Synagogue and had a glorious time of prayer from the rooftop.  The very tip top of the synagogue. Georgine prayed, “O Jerusalem, we weep with you. We cry out for you. How oft, would I have gathered you! We weep for you, for your peace. Your God weeps for you. He has a plan and a way. Return with all your heart. Upon this rock, I will build a nation, a people. We weep for you. He brought you out of the land of Babylon. Your desire for your people has never left you. We weep for your borders, north, south, east, and west. ” Jana: “We worship you God of Abraham. Worthy is the Lamb!” Georgine continued: “we pray for the protection of Jerusalem. The Jewish Quarter. Send forth a mighty army to surround this community. A 15 mile radius of protection. Send your angels.”

(We weren’t being overtly loud, but several men were trying to silence us from below.)

 Georgine begins to pray for them in a whisper. “Oh God, you love these men. Deliver and reveal , protect. Sally prayed Psalm 91 over the city: “You are her refuge, her God. You will deliver her from the fowler’s snare. It will not come near this place!. You give your angels charge these that are yours!”

Pastor Thomas prays: “We are just trying to join your heart. We stand in the middle of the schemes of the enemy and the plans of God. Help us to walk far enough, not to yield even if we offend. May we be in the right time, the right place, saying and doing the right thing.”

Michelle Carpenter prays, “It says that Jerusalem will be occupied by Gentiles until the time is fulfilled. Help us not to be hard-hearted or dull. We are no different. We need eyes to see, ears to hear and our feet to quickly respond. There may come a day for their eyes to look upon the one they pierced. Grant a spirit of wisdom and revelation to protect. They are destined to inherit salvation. Walk as you walk and don’t miss a thing. Thank you for this opportunity.

I began to pray, “Thank you for the festivals. These prescribed festivals. We rejoice before you. Thank you for this season. We recognize that we are in a new season. May we wave our first fruits before you!

Heidi continued, “ It is important that we come together.. Bring us together as one. Thank you for the love sharing. Thank you for allowing us to get here. Ears open! May our hearts make room for what you are doing. I want to dive into the few.”

James cries out, “ Holy Spirit blow down these streets. Change lives. Hearts. May they turn to you. Devoted to your presence. Strengthen the guardians of Jerusalem. Unveil any attack. Bombs explode where they are made. May information be leaked so schemes are discovered and many are saved.”

We concluded our prayer time and wound our way back down the spiral staircase. We explored the Cardo and had a fantastic lunch in the Jewish Quarter. Some of our first timers enjoyed their first shwarma. Talk about first fruits. ;)

The Indiana group arrived that afternoon looking surprisingly refreshed after their long flight. When I stepped out to meet the bus. Meir stepped over to me and said, “I have left the address of my daughter’s house. You and your family and Pastor Jerry’s family will join us for the first night of celebrating.” To be perfectly honest, I thought he was being silly until Kindra Keller nudged me and said, “No, it’s true.”

During the Sukkot festival, families are srongly encouraged to invite the “stranger” to the festivities. To give thanks to God for creation and supplying the fruit of the land. Who could be stranger than a rag tag bunch of Gentiles. It was such a great privilege. It was so holy for Meir to invite us to meet his family, his children, and his grandchildren. He didn’t have to invite us into his most sacred treasure- the lives of his children.

We got our taxis and drove and got there faster than we were entnirely comfortable with. Got to love Isreali drivers! We arrived in a very modern neighborhood and stepped out on to the back porch where Meir and his sons had constructed their Sukkah. Their booth. Their tabernacle. It is built to commemorate the time the children of Israel spent in the Wilderness. The family’s have dinner outside every night. A different guest joins them every night: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, King David, Elijah, Moses (I hope I remembered all the names.) From their back porch, we could see the lights of Tel Aviv in the distance.

We had a sweet time of fellowship with Meir’s granddaughter, Hala. I heard she was a fan of Disney’s Frozen. So Molly and I sang her a little duet. She is starting to learn English, but she knew what “Let it Go” sounded like. Her eyes got wide with excitement. That was all she needed. When Hala found out my name was Elizabeth, she got so excited and called me Elsa (Which is a nickname for Elizabeth) for the rest of the night. ;) She opened her little heart to us, which brought in the rest of the family.

I had gifts for the ladies of the house. The Lord had helped mom to help me remember to bring some of my fused glass necklaces. So I had one for each. I explained to Meir how I make them at home in my kiln. He opened a couple of the boxes and spied the one he wanted for his wife. We smiled and he raised his eyebrows, nodded and jerked his head to his exquisite bride. I smiled and nodded, “feel free” back.  There was so much delight in him choosing for her.

The beautiful lady next to me was the mother of Meir’s son-in-law.  She was so excited about her necklace, I helped her put it on right then. She did not speak English, but this warmed us enough to start a dialogue.  “Polish,” she said. So I signaled, “How long here in Israel?” 15 years. I found out later, that just as Meir had left his home at one year old. So did this precious lady. Her parents had to flee Germany before the Nazis took over in the 40’s. Her parent’s choice to flee to Tanzania saved the lives of their family. They moved from Poland to Tanzania, to Italy, back to Poland, and fifteen years ago to Israel. She asked if she could have a picture with me. The tough exterior she presented at our greeting melted into genuine friendliness.

We began the ceremony. Meir translated the blessing for us first in English. Then read the blessing over the Keddish cup. We all drank the young wine (grape juice ;) The first fruit wine. Then the children arose and went to their fathers, kissed their hand, then leaned their heads into their father’s chest. The father places his hands upon the head of each child and blesses them. Watching Meir with his adult daughter, and his twin sons their companions and then their children. Well, we were all in tears. Being invited to this sacred moment. This sacred hour. Later, Pastor Jerry whispered, “This is how the Jewish people have survived being spread across the world. This covering of tradition, community, family, and the blessing of the children.”

Then, it was dinner time. Let’s just say homemade Israeli food cannot even compare to the finest restaurants. There was such love. Such appreciation in their service. A moment came and the entire family had disappeared into the house. We were left to ourselves. All of a sudden, from inside the house, they all come parading out singing, “Happy Birthday”. Molly just began to cry at the outpouring of love. Then we all laughed through tears in our eyes, as the candle blew out from the wind. So they started all over. Then the children started crying because they didn’t get to join in and sing because they were stuck in the house. So they started over! We laughed after the fourth time. Molly finally got to blow out her candle.

After a moment, and another singing of Frozen where I sang in English and Halla sang in Hebrew, Molly prepared to sing. Ok. I don’t even know how to express it. From the first note to the last, the room was captivated. The atmosphere became so still as the passion in Molly filled that little Sukkah and every heart. She sang in Hebrew a song I had never heard before. Meir was leaning over his elbows on the table with his head bowed, drinking in every word. When Molly got to the chorus, all of Meir’s family joined in. A minute ago, I texted Molly (its 6:30am, before breakfast, she may shoot me later for texting so early.). I asked what the name of the song she sang was. She just texted back “Eli, Eli”. Thank you Google for this translation that was at hand:

Oh Lord, my God,
I pray that these things never end,
The sand and the sea,
The rush of the water,
The crash of the heavens,
The prayer of the heart.

The lyrics were written by Hannah Szenes. Wikipedia says that, “was a Hungarian Jew, one of 37 Jews living in Palestine, now Israel, who were trained by the British army to parachute into Yugoslavia during the Second World War in order to help save the Jews of Hungary, who were about to be deported to the German death camp at Auschwitz." Szenes was arrested at the Hungarian border, imprisoned and tortured, but she refused to reveal details of her mission, and was eventually tried and executed by firing squad. She is regarded as a national heroine in Israel, where several streets and a kibbutz are named after her and her poetry is widely known."”

What a beautiful benediction to this day. This conversation of displacement and what home truly is all about.