Jerusalem

Like many Minnesotans (I assume) my view of Israel has been shaped by the evening news, in which stories of civilians blown up while enjoying a morning cup of coffee in a picturesque cafe share time with stories of bus loads of tourists and children who won't make it home that evening, and instead are scattered in pieces throughout the streets while old women and mothers are keening and wailing in the background. My view was one of fear, danger, threat.

As my flight neared the city of Jerusalen, I watched eagerly for a glimpse of this mysterious, ancient land. Flying over the Tel Aviv I saw a landscape with all the familiar objects I somehow didn't expect to see. Cars snaking along black highways. A sports stadium. Azure swimming pools dotting backyards. Farm land. The hallmarks of life.

How many times have I told my students that different is just different- not wrong? That people throughout the world all have the same hopes, dreams, ideals beating in their hearts. That where we are born is accident of fate, and that people are all the same-everywhere.

This, maybe, is the greatest lesson I will take with me when I leave this beautiful country- because now I feel those words in a new, different way.

There is a pulse here. The city throbs and thrums as if a heartbeat, with vibrant, beautiful, friendly people who are living their lives exactly as those I love are living their lives at home.

Maybe each place I visit on this journey will leave a little imprint on my soul. Never again will I watch one of those stories on the news and murmur a platitude before I promptly forget and go back to my dinner. Here, I feel a part of the story of human history.