Next Week in Jerusalem
I originally published this piece about this time last year, having written it in my house on Long Island. Right now, however, I’m in Israel, on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee.
Yesterday, I visited some sites of Biblical significance from a Christian perspective, including the locations of the Sermon on the Mount and the multiplication of the loaves and fishes; the place where Jesus called Simon and his brother, Andrew; the hometown of Mary Magdalene, and the site where Peter was informed by Jesus that he’d be the rock upon which the Church would be built.
Needless to say (I think) it was all quite moving.
Yes, I come back to Israel for the reasons you’d expect of a Catholic school kid — to walk in the footsteps of Jesus.
However, I’ve also fallen in love with this country and its people.
I inadvertently booked myself in a hotel in Migdal that turns out to be a family vacation destination and also happens to be strictly Kosher.
I love it, and I’m about to eagerly don my kippah (yarmulke) and head down to breakfast.
I even managed to get myself invited to a Passover seder on Saturday, outside Jerusalem.
Later today, I’ll visit the site of Jesus’ first miracle, at Cana, where he changed water into wine, rescuing the bride and groom from utter embarrassment. Then, I’ll ascend Mount Tabor, where he was transfigured and appeared with Moses and Elijah, to the astonishment of Peter, James and John.
Did I already mention that I love it here?
While I was at Penn State, I had a really close friend named Linda. She was (is) Jewish, and one day referred to me as a "Jew wanna-be." Actually, I forget whether it was "Jew wanna-be" or "wanna-be Jew." I also don't remember what exactly I’d said or done that inspired her to grant me that appellation. Nonetheless, she used it often in referring to me, and one year, for my birthday, bought me a book entitled, "Hooray for Yiddish."
Perhaps ironically, after graduation, Linda went on to marry a gentile dude to whom she is still happily wed.
A few years later, in 1992, on the day I arrived at Ft. Sill, Oklahoma for Field Artillery School, I met a fellow Marine named Joel, who would quickly become one of my closest lifelong friends.
Joel is also Jewish and, at the time, was a Democrat who’d recently cast his mail-in ballot for Bill Clinton. He later converted. (I mean from being a Dem. I can confirm he's still Jewish.)
One of the reasons Joel and I hit it off was that we were both political junkies, and we'd watch Crossfire together on CNN almost nightly. It was sorta' funny, but once the hosts announced the topic, Joel and I would debate it ourselves, often barely listening to the program we were tuned into.
Not too long after we'd met, seemingly out of nowhere, Joel casually referred to me as "Jew-wannabe" or "wanna-be Jew." Again, I forget which one it was, as well as what aspect of my behavior caused me to once again merit that title. So, when he said it, I paused for a moment before asking him, "Wait a minute. Did I tell you about Linda at Penn State calling me that?"
"Who's Linda?" he replied.
It turns out that I'd never mentioned Linda to him. He reached his conclusion entirely on his own.
So, two different Jewish friends of mine —who’d never met one another—each determined the same thing — that there was something about me that seemed to indicate that I wished I were Jewish.
In 1994, I deployed to the Mediterranean, aboard the USS Inchon with the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit. After spending a lovely month in Mogadishu, Somalia, we sailed back north, into the Med, and to our first liberty port of Haifa, Israel.