It was a lifelong dream of mine to go to the Holy Lands. That dream recently just came true.

I got permission from my superiors some seven months back. I had full confidence that the Lord would turn everything to the best. Since my interests are different from that of most people, I didn't want to go with a group of usual tourists. Limited time - limited resources: Both were important and I had to improvise. I had in my mind two days in Jordan and six days in Israel/Palestine.

Then there was the war. And then the truce.

Then there arrived the Visas from both little countries.

Many times I feared whether the tickets I had bought would be in vain. In the end, the Lord brought everything to realization in a beautiful and most experiential way.

I got one and a half days in Jordan. Had only two places in mind there. (But, the third happened to be in five minutes walk from the spot I was staying). Taxis were required for the two destinations.

The entire journey in Israel/Palestine was by regular buses.

Going to places like Bethlehem, Nazareth, and Bethany, along with the local residents, I also got off the bus, showed my documents to the soldiers standing with Tavor rifles at the checkpoints, and at their nod got back on the bus.

Had walked alone in most places along empty roads without pilgrims or tourists.

Had walked five to seven miles a day. Had to knock on the doors, or call over the phone in many sites because, for lack of visitors and therefore lack of funds to pay the staff, many pilgrimage sites remained closed. I took my time to see around in almost all the places. Also had some time to spend in prayer in most places.

Could see garbage and ugliness and faces of poverty that otherwise would have missed if I were with a tour group.

Did experience the scorching sun and the burning heat of the day.

I saw olive groves, vineyards, and fig trees with ripe soft fruit.

Realized that except for these berry vines and precious trees, almost all the bushes and shrubs had thorns hidden beneath their leaves.

I heard traders complaining about not getting business for the last two years, taxi drivers complaining about not getting a ride, and tour guides complaining about their almost starving families.

The relatives of the children who were being killed vented their anger and pain.

Did enjoy the taste of the plain baked bread that the poor people bought from the bread vendors on the roadside, and their salted mixture to be sprinkled over it.

During the noon hour, sat in the little shades that were in the squares and wondered about the ten incarnations of the human mind.

Did spend the nights in uncrowded hostels and small hotels in cities where most of the main hotels remained closed.

Consulted the ChatGPT for advice the night before about the optimal way to go about to visit places that I had to visit the next day.

Google and their Maps and their Live view helped navigate the routes. It got revealed to me that even Google becomes silent regarding bus stops in the Palestinian territories.

In a land where the shady trees are scarce, a thirty-three-year-old walking on foot from Nazareth to Capernaum and then village after village upto Jerusalem, I realized that it was a walk in the scorching sun - multiple times an year - he wasn't handsome and of fair complexion, but had a dark and sunburned face.

It also occured to me that from walking on narrow beaten paths most of his feet had scratches from the thorn shrubs on the sides, and must have gotten cured with a burning sensation by his own sweat.

When he walked to Jacob's well, he really was hungry, thirsty and exhausted,

and likewise when he had gone to inspect the fig tree.

I also realize that there were certainly political layers to what he said and did, along with their obvious spiritual dimensions.

Putting me down for a Mass at 6.00 am inside the Holy Sepulchre on July 28, the feast day of St. Alphonsa, and walking me there at five, my brother Fr. Kainickal brought me to most of the holy places in and around Jerusalem, that day. Also the most holy site for the Jewish people - the Wailing Wall, and the Golden Dome of the Rock, one of the holiest sites for Muslim brethren, and explained to me in as much detail as he could. Again, it was at his request, on the day before, Maria, who works near the Damascus Gate in the city center, had taken up much trouble for me.

It was at his own request, that Fr. Jose, the rector of the Salesian seminary, lovingly served me dinner on the night of my return and did arrange for a ride to the airport on Shabbat, when all the trains and buses were standing still. Even though his eyes were sore, Brother Chipaya from Uganda who drove all that distance that night and brought me to the airport.

I hereby want to inform them that that I have written checks for each of them and have entrusted them with the Lord.