The world at my fingertip

A Local Encounter that Changed My Life
Last November, I went on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. The few days I spent in Israel and Palestine brought me face-to-face with myself and taught me a dramatic lesson in self-restraint.
I alighted at El Al terminal in LAX with some anticipation. That anticipation quickly turned into apprehension when, as we taxied on the runway for take-off, I noticed that our plane was flanked by armored police caravan. You ninny, a small voice said, Why’d you sign up for this? But I knew why. Imagine touching Jesus’ tomb! “You’re never the same again,” our pastor had said.
Fourteen hours later, I landed at Tel Aviv airport, cleared customs and then met my local guide who led me to a waiting tour bus. On route to the hotel in the West Bank, we drove through the Judean Hill Country, stopping at several security checkpoints before disappearing behind high concrete walls in Bethlehem. At 4 am, I awoke to the sound of the Muezzin’s call to prayer at a nearby mosque. After breakfast, I set out to pay homage at the Grotto of the Nativity.
Up early the next day, I joined the long queue of pilgrims inside the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem with scores of pilgrimage groups waiting to see Jesus’ Tomb. Two hours later, as I approached the entrance to the Tomb, my camera at the ready, a new guard arrived and decided, “no pee-tures.” That’s unfair! I was so disappointed that as I touched Jesus’ tomb, I called the guard an idiot under my breath and stormed out of there.
Within minutes, I rejoined the queue so as to ask Jesus for forgiveness. Suddenly, I heard, you won’t find me there. I turned around; no one was there. Look for me among the living, I heard again. So I split and went souvenir-shopping.
Back at the hotel, I got ready to depart for the airport. As I’m wont to do, I tossed two hotel towels into my suitcase. I heard: thou shall not steal. I returned the towels to the bathroom and left for the airport.