Abba

Ever since Ilan was born, we, Dana and I, have referred to ourselves as Ima and Abba (the Hebrew, technically Aramaic, terms for Mom and Dad). Despite our best efforts, when Ilan started talking he sporadically referred to me as either "cot" or "dada," or even "baba." A few months ago he started addressing Dana as "mommy," (soon, he applied this term to me also). Often, while we are driving, the conversation sounds something like: "Mommy!" "Yes, baby." "Cookie!!" "Mommy!" "Yes, baby." "Cookie." This dialogue can repeat for long intervals. While Dana prefers the term Ima to "mommy," I don't think she could ever get tired of hearing Ilan say "mommy." Finally, about a month ago Ilan started calling me "ABBA" (not to be confused for the Swedish rock group). A couple weeks ago when I walked in the door, Ilan exclaimed "Abba!" and, needless to say, my heart leapt. Sometimes in the morning, we can hear him talking to himself in his crib saying, "Mommy, Abba, Mommy, Abba." We turn to each other and smile.

Earlier this week we took a day trip to the northern shore of the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee). As we were walking around the remains of the synagogue at Kefar Nachum (Capernaum) Ilan started yelling "Abba! Abba! Abba! Abba!" I could hear the surrounding tourists (from the United States, Germany and elsewhere) comment to each other, quietly, "Abba" and then smile. There are very few things in life better than hearing your one-and-a-half year old son joyfully exclaim, "Abba!" During my last stint in Israel, I would walk around the kibbutz and hear little children call for their dads, saying, "Abba." At the time, I can remember thinking how precious the sound of a child calling for his/her "Abba." 

In one episode of The Office Jim looses his most significant sale of the year, which is worth 25% of his yearly commission, to his annoying associate, Dwight Schrute.  After sitting through monotonous seminars all day, Jim's love interest, Pam, falls asleep on his shoulder. Jim concludes that it was "not a bad day."

Even though we received an Israeli parking ticket later in the day, after hearing my son proclaim, "Abba! Abba! Abba!" in a crowded archeological site, I have to agree with Jim, it was "not a bad day." In fact, it was a wonderful day.

This has made me reflect upon my relationship with God, my Father. If I am pleased to hear my son address me as "Abba," then how much more is my "Father" pleased when I cry out to Him. God has given his children His Spirit and through the Spirit we are able to call out to Him as our "Abba" (Rom 8:15; Gal 4:6).