Sunday, 7 May 2017


The Holy Land which I consider to be Israel,  was more interesting than I imagined. The Muslims in Jerusalem who were selling  crosses to Christian tourists made me think, why are there wars?  Then there were very religious Italians singing and praying whilst carrying the cross, The Israeli Police wearing enough makeup to look like the girls behind the make up counter in Harrods were thought provoking.  The only violence I saw was a stone thrown at a car and the UN Peace corps outside The garden of Gethsemane which was a beautifully looked after Olive Grove with colorful flowers. I had not imagined Israel to look like Tuscany, I thought there would be endless lines of barbed wire and I had not pictured the beauty of Galilee and the broken huge synagogue at Capurnaum. The air perfect,  or the serenity of  The mount of Olives which houses the dead. Wherever I looked I was moved by history.
I walked the steps to paradise to try and feel what Jesus could have felt, I placed candles to remember my family and friends that have left the earth. I felt chills up my spine continually,  feeling the souls who had been there in ancient times. I dipped myself in the Holy Water at Galilee. Nothing feels as it once felt.  I had been so stubborn about visiting Israel, not agreeing with its existence. Now I understand that Israel belongs to all of us whatever religion.  Jesus had rock star popularity, rock star appeal.
I see this as I get baptized in the sea of Galilee. I buy little trinkets of water and sand. Reminders of this man are everywhere. He did exist. He was indeed Jesus Christ superstar.

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