Dancing to Israeli folk music while on a boat in the Sea of Galilee.
Reading Matthew 6 (“Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow not reap nor gather into barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them.”) while sitting on the hill where Jesus shared the Beattitudes.
Spending 15 minutes in silence in the garden of Gethsemane.
Singing “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” on a hilly field outside of Bethlehem.
Remembering the pain of a people who withstood an attempt to exterminate them.
Experiencing the dissonance of Palestinians who live as separate (but not equal) in the land.
Feeling the tension in our shoulders while walking through the chaos of the Temple Mount.
Bombarded by the sounds of minarets calling Muslims to prayer, of Jews reading the Torah at the Western Wall, and the bells of the Church of Holy Sepulchre ringing in the hour.
Realizing that spirituality is impossible to separate from the reality of politics, that faith is impossible to disentangle from conflict, and that hope almost always grows from the ground of despair.
This has been our experience in a land we hold to be holy.
And not just us.
“Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart…Bind them as a sign on your hand. Fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.” (Deuteronomy 6:4-9)