Reflections on the Holy Land

I have been home but a few days and that land still lingers within my memory. That “Holy” Land. I lay in bed at night with my window open. The cool and freshness of the night air fills my room. I no longer hear the usual sounds of the night. The rubber meeting the road on the highway, the dog barking off in the distance, the whistle blow of the night train have all been replaced. I lay in my bed and remember the sights, sounds and the people of that place. I hear the call to prayer high on a mountain top and remember the people. I hear the church bells echoing off the thick, stone walls of the old city in Jerusalem and remember the people. I still smell the aroma of the market place in Nazareth and Bethlehem, remembering the people. I see the River Jordan where John baptized Jesus and remember the people. I see the clear water of the Sea of Galilee and remember the people. I hear the waves of the Mediterranean Sea and remember the people. I remember the sites we have seen, where Jesus was born and the rolling hills where the shepherds watched. The place where Mary lived and the angel came. I remember the ground that Jesus and the disciples walked and temptation by Satan occurred. I remember the place where Jesus was nailed to the cross as those who loved him were witness. I remember all of this and much more but still what I remember most are the people.