Shrines, more shrines, and Flat Stanley

I am home.
Israel is a land of many shrines. Everywhere we went, we saw another shrine. I hadn't expected that, though reflecting on what I know of the human race, of course it is so.

If anything happened anywhere in Israel, somebody built a shrine about it.

There are many disagreements about where things took place, so some events have more than one shrine, like the tomb of Jesus, Mary's well, Mary's birth place, etc.

Some of the Holy Land shrines are quite lovely. Others are not to my taste. Most have lovely acoustics.

Some places are inconvenient---like where tradition says John baptised Jesus---so they picked another place that was more attractive and more convenient as a commemorative site, and MANY miles away, where one can buy a white robe, (with an optional iron-on cross or face of Jesus) and wade in the water like so many cattle.
Sigh.
It IS the Jordan river, after all.

You may even purchase a bottle of Jordan river water, if you are so moved.

But there isn't a shrine here.

The shrine(s) for Jesus' baptismal site are down in the remote desert regions near Jericho, in No Man's Land.

But I was hoping somehow to feel a Presence, or a sense of holiness, or a sense of being somewhere unusually sacred in these holy places, but I didn't. Instead, the phrase kept popping into my mind, "He is not here. He is risen."

Instead, I felt His presence in and among the people with whom I traveled, and in the people I met. I felt peacefulness in the cool breeze on the mount of the beatitudes. I felt awe looking at the view from Mount Tabor and Mount Carmel. And I loved walking on the Mount of Olives.

But I found Him in the kindness, the joy, the laughter, and the compassion in the living people. The stories of the Christian Palestinians struck most of us with awe for their courage and humour in the face of increasing oppression. (If your life needs purpose, go live with some Palestinians in Bethlehem or Ramallah or Nazareth for a few days, and you will find ten times over what you seek.)

And everywhere we went, Flat Stanley came too.

Who is Flat Stanley? He looks a little bit like the gingerbread man. He is the school project of a child. Marge Knebel promised to take him on all her travels and photograph him in all the exotic places she travels to with her husband. "What is his name?" she asked the child.
"Flat Stanley."

So John and Marge dutufully photographed Flat Stanley everywhere---in the shrines, on the boat, on the mountain tops....

Here is a picture of them photographing Flat Stanley in an olive tree in Nazareth Village.

It was so darn cute.

The trip was full of such moments---human moments. The way we care for each other and play with each other. The way we seek meaning in one place and find it in another.

Who knows? Maybe in a few years we will come and find a shrine to Flat Stanley.