For quite a while, I have held the belief that the idea of Mary Magdalene being a prostitute was a wrongly held “rumor.” But recently when I was faced with a situation where I had to stand up for this belief, I decided I should do a little more research.

I first have to ask the question, “Who was Mary Magdalene?” When I Googled the name Mary Magdalene I got an astounding array of over 1.6 million options to choose from. Apparently MM, as I will refer to her, is quite a popular figure. It’s amazing that a woman who is only mentioned 13 times in the Bible now warrants so much attention.

But, here is the root of the controversy…we don’t actually know how many times she was mentioned in the Bible due to the fact that it seems that everyone in those days was naming their daughter Mary. Mary was like the Jennifer of the 1970’s, or the Brittany of the 1990’s. The name Mary is used an estimated 51 times in the New Testament, and how many of those Mary’s were actually MM is up for interpretation.

So, who are all of these women? Well, there is obviously Mary the mother of Jesus, aka The Virgin Mary; then there is Mary of Bethany the sister of Lazarus and Martha; Mary the mother of Mark and sister of Barnabas; Mary wife of Cleops; Mary the mother of James and Joses; there is a Christian in Rome named Mary; and then there was Mary Magdalene. Are you confused yet? Sometimes the Biblical writers are clear about which Mary they are speaking, but sometimes, unfortunately, they aren’t.

MM was so named because she was from the town of Magdala north of Jerusalem. We don’t know details about her age, status, or family, but based on where and when she lived, it is likely that she and her family worked in the fish markets. It is also possible that because she carried the name of her origin, and not of a husband, that MM was not married. But, the Bible does not suggest that she was married, or a widow, or a mother – we only know what it doesn’t say.

Most Biblical scholars agree that MM is clearly the Mary being referred to as a woman who followed Jesus and his apostles throughout his ministry. She and several other women supported his work of spreading the “good news” around the area of Judea. It is also clear that MM was present at the foot of the cross with Jesus’ mother Mary and the apostle John. It is also clear that she was the first to see Jesus after he had arisen from the dead. She was actually the first to preach of this amazing occurrence!

These facts alone make MM a very important person in the history of Christianity. It is easy to see why people are so drawn to her story. But, the question remains, why does she also carry such a negative stigma as a woman of the night, or to put it bluntly, a whore?

When the Mary’s identities get blurry, so does MM’s persona. MM is most often confused with two other women: Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus; and an unnamed woman form Luke 7:36-50. The controversy surrounding MM’s background all started in the 6^th century when Pope Gregory the Great made the assumption that these three ladies were one in the same. In one brief sermon, MM officially became a penitent sinner – a prostitute.

But, the question remains – was this an accurate assessment, or has MM been the victim of undeserved gossip for over 1400 years?

It was stated in Luke 8:2 that Jesus cast seven demons out of MM. But, does this cryptically refer to a life as a woman of the red light district? Did this exorcism heal her of the infliction of prostitution, or did she perhaps have a mental illness like depression or schizophrenia. Perhaps she had a physical illness, or a handicap, or a drug addiction. The fact is, we just don’t know. What we do know is that this exorcism leads MM to become a head cheerleader for Jesus’ spiritual movement.

It has also been suggested that perhaps Mary’s hometown gives her a bad rap. Magdala was referred to as a place of fornication in one Jewish text. Due to the Roman conquest, heavy taxation led many women to fall into less than noble means of employment. Perhaps this was MM’s fate – but, again, this is mere speculation. Perhaps the fact that MM was a single woman, well past the respectable marrying age, gave her a bad reputation. Rumors like this still plague our society today, unclaimed women are often labeled as either “loose” or lesbian.

MM has also incorrectly been associated with the woman in John 8:1-11 whom Jesus saves from stoning after she was identified as being an adulterer. This was a correlation made in the movie “The Passion of the Christ,” and holds no merit.

The most often used evidence for MM’s aberrant beginnings is the confusion of identities. First there is the unnamed “sinner” in Luke 7:36-38:

And, behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster box of ointment, and stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment.

Then there is Mary of Bethany, the sister of Lazarus, in John 11:1-2:

Now there was a certain man sick, named Lazarus, of Bethania, of the town of Mary and Martha her sister. And Mary was she that anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped his feet with her hair: whose brother Lazarus was sick.

Though they both wiped Jesus’ feet with their hair and anointed him with ointment, there is no direct reference to the fact that these were the same women. And to go a step further and associate MM with these two women is even more scripturally unfounded. There is simply no hard evidence that MM was a prostitute.

That leaves me with one final question – why does it matter? Why has the issue created so much controversy and heated debate? Does it make the story of early Christianity any different? And, if there is no evidence to support it, why did Christian leaders shoulder MM with this stigma?

Regardless of whether MM was a prostitute, a drug dealer, a murderer, or just your average run-of-the-mill sinner like you and me – the fact is that Jesus forgave her. He didn’t judge her. And the fact is, you and I continue to judge her (for what she may or may not have done) 2000 years later!

When you think of MM, you probably conjure images of a voluptuous, half naked, raving redhead with a look of longing, sensuous desire on her face. The fact is, maybe this is how Satan wants us to view Jesus’ first missionary. Perhaps we have, for centuries, let Satan’s ability to spread rumors and false information get in the way of seeing MM the way that Jesus saw her.

We love labels. How many times have you referred to someone by a rumor you heard about them? There is your kid’s psycho friend, or that gay guy next door, or that slut you work with. Can you really sum up a person in one negative adjective? What if God could only know you based on one adjective. What would it be?

Maybe it’s time we stop thinking of MM as Mary Magdalene the Prostitute, and start thinking of her as Mary Magdalene, the Messenger of the greatest story ever told – Jesus’ Resurrection.

I know that as a mom, I am supposed to be my child’s biggest cheerleader. I am supposed to be the one to nudge them to do their best. I am the one who instills the desire to succeed. But at what point do you go from pep squad to scary Hollywood stage mom?

Over the last week I have spent umpteen hours helping my two oldest children with Social Studies fair projects. Throughout the ordeal I have had to continually ask myself, just how involved should I be here? Do they really expect a ten and twelve year old to be able to write a research paper, make a display board, and write, memorize, and deliver a three minute speech? I have to wonder if this isn’t a test of the parents’ ability.

I love my children more than life itself, so it is only natural that I want what’s best for them. The hard part is knowing what is best for them. Is it more important for my child to get a full scholarship to college, or a full nights sleep? Is it better that my daughter have friends who will vote her homecoming queen, or friends that make her feel good about herself? Is it best that my son be the wide receiver of the football team, or keep all of his teeth and bones intact? Is it better for him to struggle through advanced calculus, or breeze through basic business math?

It seems like every moment of every day I am confronted with questions like these. For some reason, the fact that I gave birth is supposed to make me an expert on these issues. But, its obvious just by looking at the kids (and adults) in the world, that we didn’t all have expert parents. The problem is, the perfectionist in me wants to be an expert!

Its so hard not to daily question my parenting abilities. When I see other children who are dressed better than mine, or get better test scores, or have better manners – I have to wonder what I’m doing wrong. When my child gets cut during basketball tryouts or doesn’t get picked for an honors course, I wonder if I could have done more. But, then I see children on anti-depressants and committing suicide and abusing drugs, and I ask myself if I am pushing too hard.

When our kids are little, it is relatively easy to make decisions for them. They have to brush their teeth, they have to eat a balanced diet, they have to wear a coat when its cold. But, as they get older, they bring their own wants and desires to the table, and that has to be incorporated into the mix. I might want my child to continue taking dance lessons after 6 years of time and money, but she might truly rather play softball. Unless I want to be a tyrant, I have to take her thoughts into consideration.

We parents have to remember that in raising our children we bring a full suitcase of memories and experiences with us that our children don’t have. We might want to make decisions for our children that will avoid them having to live out the tough times that we experienced, but does that really do them any good? I might not want my child to have a boyfriend until she is older because I know that it will just lead to eventual heartache, but doesn’t she deserve to have that life experience herself? And, do I really think that I can prevent her from being interested in boys?

It might be important for me to have my daughter be a cheerleader because I missed out on that experience. Or, on the other hand, I might want her to be a cheerleader because I was one and it meant a great deal to me. But, this is her life, and she might put higher value sports, or academics, or even just socializing. It is not fair for me to look at my child with the blurred vision of looking through my own life.

When I look back at my life I have plenty of regrets, and it is easy to blame my parents for not steering me in the right direction. I wish that I hadn’t chosen a boy over an Ivy League college. I wish that I had learned to manage money at an early age. I wish that my mother had given me her sewing talent. But did my parents really do anything wrong that led me to these decisions? Or did I just exercise a free will that no parent can override? Did I just make mistakes that led to life experiences without which I wouldn’t have been the same?

I think that there comes a time in our children’s lives when their personality comes out, and the results will be the same no matter how hard, or how little we’ve pushed. If my daughter has a project due on Friday, I can choose to spend 40 hours on it with her, or 5 hours on it with her and the end result will be the same. She might get an A if I spend 40 hours, but her knowledge on the subject was worthy of a C. She might get a C if I spend 5 hours on it with her, and she deserved the C. That A on her report card might help her get into college, but when she gets there, her performance is still going to be on a C level.

All I can do is let her know the value of a good work ethic, and the value of doing something to the best of her ability, and the value of dependability. I can’t force her to succeed, but I can teach her what it feels like to do so. Whether or not she makes that choice is not up to me. When she grows up, she can’t take me to work, she can’t take me to college – but, she can take the lessons I taught her.

I walk a tightrope everyday between being an inspiration to my children and running their lives. Its not easy, and I’m sure I make mistakes, but I have don’t give up. Hopefully one day my children will look back and know that they did their best, and that I did my best.

Five years ago, I took a final puff of my cigarette, and as the clock struck midnight I threw it on the ground and stomped it out with the toe of my stiletto boot. That was my last cigarette. That was the end of my slavery to wasted money, unproductive smoke breaks, repeated bouts of bronchitis, and smelly clothing. I had made a New Years resolution, and I was determined to succeed.

Fast-forward to today, and I can proudly say, “I did it!” But so many times, we make resolutions that we don’t, or can’t keep – so what is the difference? If you want to lose weight, exercise more, spend less money, keep your house organized, or stop drinking so much – is there a formula for success? Is there a way to assure that you don’t fail?

Whether you make a resolution on December 31st or any other day of the year, there is one simple factor that determines its staying power…motivation. Call it will-power or determination, its your reason for making the resolution that will ultimately cause you to win or lose.

Just because it is New Years Eve, many of us, on the spur of the moment, make some grand announcement of a change we are going to make in our lives. We put no more than 5 minutes of thought into it, and often pick something that we think other people might want us to change. We have no plan of action and no support system in place. We seem to think that when the “crystal ball” drops at midnight that something magical happens to transform us. But really, the only thing that has happened is that we’ve set ourselves up for failure.

On the other hand, if you have something in your life that you truly want to gain control over, you must have a game plan. It doesn’t matter what day of the year it is, if you have a strong enough desire to succeed, you can do it.

The first thing you have to do is determine your motivation. Perhaps you want to quit smoking because your father has lung cancer. Maybe you want to lose weight to influence your overweight child. Maybe you need to start saving money to buy a new car. Find something that you can turn to when the going gets tough. Seeing your father go through chemotherapy will be pretty strong motivation. Keeping a picture of your dream car in your wallet might impede your thoughtless spending. Ask yourself, “why am I doing this?” If its not a good answer, then perhaps you should rethink your goals.

Second, have a plan of action. You can’t just decide to lose weight at midnight one day and expect to miraculously drop pounds a week later. This takes alot of planning and research. If you want to lose weight, you need a nutrition plan and an exercise schedule. If you want to get your house organized, you need to make a cleaning schedule and a blueprint of where to store things. You can’t just arbitrarily expect things to happen on their own. Think of your resolution as a job, and you need an employee handbook.

Last, and probably most importantly, you must have a support system in place. This might be as simple as enlisting your friends and family to be your cheerleaders. Having them remind you to eat healthy and praise your progress as you drop pounds might be enough. However, that could also backfire. If you begin to feel like you are changing only to please them, you might rebel and give up. Perhaps you need to use your religious faith as your support system. There are lots of motivating Bible verses like:

Philippians 4:13 “I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.”

John 15:5 “I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”

Prayer might be the one thing that holds you together. Ask for strength and a positive outlook. If you meditate, concentrate on what you are trying to accomplish. Surround yourself with helpful items, maybe putting motivational phrases on the refrigerator, buy only healthy foods, keep your running shoes by the door, or tape deposit slips for your saving account onto your dashboard. Whatever helps, do it!

Last but not least, keep your chin up! Expect to succeed, but also expect it to be difficult. If you flub up, don’t give up. You are going to have times when you backslide. You will eat too much one day, you will skip a workout, you will take a drag of a friend’s cigarette, but its not the end of the world. Wake up the next day and keep truckin’!

Today is New Years Eve. There is no law that you have to monumentally change your life today, and it most certainly is not a magical night. But, if you prepare and work hard, you can accomplish your goals. You will see that it is not change, but accomplishment that is the true magic!

Who’s right? Who’s wrong? Is there an answer? Turn off the sound and watch these videos simultaneously:

To me, it is obvious who this conflict is affecting – and it isn’t the political leaders of either side! Please join me in praying for these people!!

While I’m obviously not gay, it seems that lately I am frequently confronted with issues about homosexuality which have caused me to deeply evaluate where I stand on the issue. I’ve always prided myself on being an open-minded, accepting person, but is that fact at odds with my moral and spiritual beliefs? Is it possible to be both a supporter of homosexuals and a Christian?

The first question I have to ask is this – “is homosexuality a sin?” It seems that in recent times, being gay has been equated to drug abuse or incest or even murder. Homosexuals have been clumped into a group that has been belittled, ostracized, mocked, and sometimes even beaten or killed. Is being gay an offense worthy of this punishment? Does God truly believe this, or is it just our cultural and spiritual leaders who believe this?

The only way to truly answer this, is to turn to the source – the Bible. First of all, contrary to what one might think, there are very few verses in the Bible which deal with this subject at all. With all the controversy and media coverage lately, one might believe that this was a very important subject, but apparently not so in Biblical times – or at least this is not reflected in the Bible. There are really only four scriptures that even mention homosexuality: the Levitical Laws, 1 Cor 6:9, Romans 1:26-27, and the story of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Leviticus

There are two versus from Leviticus which are often quoted:

Leviticus 18:22- “Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.” (KJV)

Leviticus 20:13 – “If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them” (KJV)

While it seems obvious that these versus condemn homosexual acts, one must look at the context with which they were written. The book of Leviticus was written to lay out a set of legal rules and priestly rituals. The above words were written in the Holiness Code of Leviticus which was a ritual manual for Israel’s priests. Unless you think of yourself as ancient Israeli priest, do the words apply to you?

Leviticus set up life rules to distinguish Jews from the Pagans of the time – who often indulged in male cult prostitutes and bestiality. Male homosexual prostitutes were commonly worshipped in the temples as a surrogate to the pagan gods. This act of “abomination” of worship was clearly looked down upon, but this was not the same as a relationship between two men or two women. Obviously, God didn’t want his people worshipping other gods, but sexuality outside of the temple was another matter.

The Levitical laws also prohibited eating pork, shellfish, and trimming one’s beard; while it condoned actions like killing a child who curses his parents! Adulterers were to be put to death, one couldn’t eat from a fruit tree for five years, and tattoos and certain haircuts were strictly forbidden. If you decide to obey these rules, than why is it okay to pick and choose which ones to follow? I personally believe that when Jesus arrived with a new covenant that these ancient commands became – for lack of a better word: obsolete.

Sodom and Gomorrah

Perhaps the most popular instance of homosexuality in the Bible comes from the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. In this story, God appears to Abraham and tells him that he is going to destroy the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah due to their wickedness. Abraham makes a deal with God that he would not destroy the cities if a mere 10 righteous people could be found. Two angels of God visit the city of Sodom where they stay with Abraham’s nephew Lot. Eventually God does destroy the cities, but not before giving us the verses of much controversy.

Genesis 19:4 – “But before they lay down, the men of the city, even the men of Sodom, compassed the house round, both old and young, all the people from every quarter: 5 – And they called unto Lot, and said unto him, Where are the men which came in to thee this night? bring them out unto us, that we may know them.”

The first question is what exactly did this mob mean by wanting to “know them.” At first glance one might think that the people of Sodom simply wanted to know who was in Lot’s house. Perhaps they were just being protective of their village and wanted to meet these strangers. Or, maybe they were just being overly hospitable.

But, as you continue reading, you see that Lot refuses to give up the angels to the men of the city, and rather offers up his two virgin daughters. Why would these girls make an adequate substitute if the townspeople simply wanted conversation? Lot says the townspeople are free to “know” his daughters as they see fit. It doesn’t appear that we are talking about a simple handshake here.

If we go back and look at the culture of the time, it was common to use rape as a way to humiliate and establish power over another person. This was done through heterosexual and homosexual means. It was not uncommon for a heterosexual male to rape another man as an act of violence – much like is seen in modern prisons today.

Most academics agree that throughout time, homosexuals generally make up about 10% of the population (Newsweek /15/93, Fortune, 1991, Washington Times, 11/19/91, etc.). It is pretty apparent in the reading that more than a mere 10% of the city was surrounding Lot’s house, therefore it seems likely that this type of power rape or pederastry was what they had in mind. They didn’t want a loving relationship with these men, they wanted domination over them. It seems possible that God destroyed the city, not because they were all gay, but because they were power hungry, violent, and morally deficient.

A similar event occurred in Gilbeah in Judges 19. The people accepted concubine women in place of a man. A concubine was raped until she died and the city was destroyed – for heterosexual rape. The same thing happens to Sheckem’s home town in Genesis 34 when Jacob’s daughter, Dinah is raped. It seems that God is clearly angered by heterosexual rape.

1 Corinthians 6:9

1 Corinthians 6:9 “Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, 10 Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. 11 And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.” (KJV)

The main controversy surrounding this passage is in its translation and implied meanings. As the Bible was not originally written in English, obviously the word homosexuality was never used. The KJV version translates the Greek word malakoi into effeminate. There is considerable debate over just what this word means. The same word is translated in both Matthew and Luke to mean soft or fine – as related to clothing. It could also mean loose or pliable, easily influenced or without courage or stability. Our current culture has many connotations associated with the word effeminate that simply didn’t apply in ancient times.

Another argument is that if Paul wanted to refer directly to homosexual behavior, he would have used the word paiderasste, which was the standard Greek term for sexual behavior between males.

Abusers of themselves with mankind could also be interpreted to speak about homosexuality, but that is very vague. This might refer to abusers of slaves, prostitutes, young boy sexual slaves, pedophiles or hebephiles, or women but most surely he was not referring to a loving relationship between two people.

It is generally accepted by many religious scholars that Paul was speaking about catamites – young boys who were kept for the purpose of prostitution, a practice not uncommon in the Greco-Roman world. This again is not referring to a loving, consenting relationship between two adults of equal status.

Romans 1:26

Romans 1:26 “For this cause God gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature: 27 And likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompence of their error which was meet”

In Romans 1, Paul warns against worshipping man instead of God. The love for an idol, which could be another human, is called an unnatural act or lust. He warns against allowing sex to become one’s god, or allowing sex to become something unnatural. He does not specifically discuss what this unnatural conduct would be, but it is likely that he is again talking about the sex god and goddess prostitute worship in the pagan temples.

Paul describes men whose natural preference is for women, and to have sex with a man would violate this. Again he is referring to the act of pederastry. Paul uses the term katergazomai, which would infer that the act would take extreme energy or will to complete. It was common for heterosexual males to rape men captured in battle so as to degrade them. Obviously this would take much anger and vile energy to complete, as it would not be something naturally enjoyable, as is the case with homosexual couples.

Additionally all of these scriptures refer to physical, sexual acts. Nowhere in the Bible does God speak of “being” homosexual. It would be wrong for a man to physically take a woman in a violent act of sexuality. But, is it sinful for the man to be attracted to a woman and not act on it? Is that not the definition of heterosexuality? There is a big difference between loving one woman and being in a commited relationship and sleeping around and engaging in all kinds of licentious acts. This applies to gay and straight people.

Conclusion

We Christians use the Bible to define our moral code. With many issues, it is black and white – the Bible clearly says don’t steal – so we know that is wrong. It isn’t an issue that needs much interpretation. The issue of homosexuality is much more complicated.

None of the scriptures that might, or might not refer to homosexuality, refer to a loving, consenting relationship between two men or two women. The Bible doesn’t clarify for us the issue of whether gays and lesbians are afflicted with sin, or a sort of curse, or perhaps they are just born with a different sexual orientation.

The Bible never refers directly to a homosexual relationship, which is odd because of the relative commonality of the occurrence in Biblical times. It has been suggested by some that the story in Matthew 8 and Luke 7 where Jesus heals a servant of a centurion was about a gay couple. The Greek word used in Matthew’s account to refer to the servant was pais. This could be translated to mean “his master’s male lover.” It was not uncommon for an older, gay man to purchase a “spouse” through a financial transaction, just as men purchased wives. A servant purchased to serve this purpose was often called a pais. And, just like many heterosexual couples, this was often a loving relationship.

Perhaps Jesus didn’t verbalize support for this couple, but it is obvious that he didn’t condemn, or judge them. This was perhaps the first recorded evidence of a Christian displaying tolerance. Jesus didn’t say, “I’m not going to heal you because you are living in sin.” He simply said, “I will come and heal him.”

The most important point here is this: we don’t know exactly where God stands on homosexuality, but we do know where he stands on tolerance. The Bible is very clear on this issue:

• Matthew 7:1 Judge not, that ye be not judged.
• Matthew 9:10 And it came to pass, as Jesus sat at meat in the house, behold, many publicans and sinners came and sat down with him and his disciples.
• Mark 9:38 And John answered him, saying, Master, we saw one casting out devils in thy name, and he followeth not us: and we forbad him, because he followeth not us.
• Mark 9:39 But Jesus said, Forbid him not: for there is no man which shall do a miracle in my name, that can lightly speak evil of me.
• Luke 9:49 And John answered and said, Master, we saw one casting out devils in thy name; and we forbad him, because he followeth not with us.
• Luke 9:50 And Jesus said unto him, Forbid him not: for he that is not against us is for us.
• 1 Corinthians 13:3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed [the poor], and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
• 1 Corinthians 13:4 Charity suffereth long, [and] is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, {vaunteth…: or, is not rash}
• Philippians 1:17 But the other of love, knowing that I am set for the defence of the gospel.
• Philippians 1:18 What then? notwithstanding, every way, whether in pretence, or in truth, Christ is preached; and I therein do rejoice, yea, and will rejoice.
• Philippians 2:2 Fulfil ye my joy, that ye be likeminded, having the same love, [being] of one accord, of one mind.
• James 2:1 My brethren, have not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, [the Lord] of glory, with respect of persons.
• James 2:2 For if there come unto your assembly a man with a gold ring, in goodly apparel, and there come in also a poor man in vile raiment; {assembly: Gr. synagogue}
• James 2:3 And ye have respect to him that weareth the gay clothing, and say unto him, Sit thou here in a good place; and say to the poor, Stand thou there, or sit here under my footstool: {in…: or, well, or, seemly}
• James 2:4 Are ye not then partial in yourselves, and are become judges of evil thoughts?
• James 2:8 If ye fulfil the royal law according to the scripture, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, ye do well:
• James 2:9 But if ye have respect to persons, ye commit sin, and are convinced of the law as transgressors.

This list could go on and on, but we know, without a doubt that God does not want us to judge or hold prejudice against each other. We were clearly commanded to “love one another,” and this includes blacks, whites, Christians, Arabs, addicts, the obese, the diseased, the elderly, the poor, and….homosexuals.

If being homosexual is a sin, then making them feel unwelcome in church is not going to lead them to a righteous path. If we are unsure of God’s purpose for gays or lesbians, are we not the sinners when we shun them? God created all of us: some have addiction issues, some have physical handicaps, some have lower intelligence, some have mental health problems – we are all different – but we are all God’s children.

To say that a gay man can’t give witness or testimony is to belittle God’s work. If a lesbian woman can sing a hymn in a way that touches your heart, but you choose not to listen because she’s gay, are you not tuning out God’s voice? God works in mysterious ways, and perhaps his intent is for some homosexuals is to bring his message to the gay and lesbian community. How better to do this than through one of their own? After all, it often isn’t those of us sitting in the pews on Sunday that need to hear God’s message.

The Bible is somewhat vague on the issues of homosexuality, but Jesus said loud and clear:

Mark 12:28 “One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”

29 “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. 30 Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength’

31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.‘ There is no commandment greater than these.”

We arrived at the airport and grabbed our luggage off the bus. We said our good-byes to Jacob and made our way to security. We were all standing in line waiting to be cross-examined by the airport personnel when I noticed that the security guards were almost all young girls. They didn’t look too scary to me, so I breathed a sigh of relief. An American soldier in line near me said that everyone calls them “Brittany Spears and her posse.” I wouldn’t be intimidated by Brittany.

As we reached the front of the line, we were all asked a few questions about where we had been, and why we were here, etc, etc, then we had to have our suitcases examined with a fine tooth comb. A young guy x-rayed my suitcase and asked me why I had a bunch of cookies. Cookies? I didn’t remember packing cookies. He instructed me to open my suitcase and I realized that he was seeing all the bars of soap I had bought at the Dead Sea. We both had a good laugh, and then I was on my way.

I stopped to exchange my shekels back to dollars – saving a few for my kids, then before we knew it, we were boarding the plane. Luckily the plane was only about half full, so we all had room to stretch out and find a comfy seat. I slept for about two hours, but I woke up thinking I was riding in a truck going down a Louisiana road. The turbulence continued off and on for the duration of the flight. I watched the virtual map for a while but when the countdown to landing was going up instead of down due to a headwind, I stopped watching. I played Bejeweled and Zuma for a few hours, then watched a couple movies.

I decided to watch Mama Mia which is a musical, and I got really into the movie and was afraid I might start singing along. I’m sure I might have turned a few heads though if in the middle of the night (at least I think it was night) on a darkened plane I started singing out “Dancing Queen!” I tried to restrain myself.

At one point, I got up and went to the back of the plane to ask for a cup of tea, and I seemed to have interrupted a cat fight. Two of the flight attendants who were, shall we say, somewhat flamboyant, were getting into it. One of them started meowing – yes, meowing in the other one’s face. I was about to roll on the floor laughing. I thought about breaking into a rendition of Dancing Queen to break the tension. The entertainment made the 14 hour trip almost bearable.

After a breakfast of what they said was eggs, but I’m not so sure, we finally landed in Atlanta. I was thankful that it wasn’t snowing here like we had feared and hoped for a pleasant second leg of our trip home. I easily breezed through customs and waited on the others from our group to join me at our gate. The braniac customs people decided to pick on Aunt Ginger, the oldest, least threatening, blond American woman of our group. And of course Chase got the third degree – again. He was brutally cross-examined on every leg of our trip. They even asked him for his passport while we were still in the parking lot of the airport! I guess they couldn’t quite figure out his nationality or something.

We settled in to await our final flight in about two hours and we quickly noticed that flight after flight was being delayed. There was a massive snow storm crossing the whole North American continent and the incoming flights from all over were being delayed, which in turn caused the outgoing flights to be delayed. Sure enough, our flight departure time kept being pushed back in 15 minute increments every few minutes. At this point we were all getting extremely grumpy and restless and homesick.

I found a bit of bliss when I turned on my blackberry and got a signal! I had suffered 11 days without my crackberry and I was definitely having withdrawals! I text messaged my daughter before she left for school and getting that little “ily moma” back was well worth the wait (translation: I love you). I then called my husband and woke him up, but I just couldn’t wait to hear his voice! Communicating via email is okay, but actually hearing his raspy morning voice was music to my ears. I couldn’t wait for that plane to take off!

Finally, hours later, after savoring a hot dog and some sweet tea, we were able to board the plane. I found my seat on the tiny, cramped commuter plane and listened as the flight attendant began her speech. She said “Welcome to flight….something or other….headed to…..ah, somewhere in Louisiana.” We were all already incoherent with fatigue and this just sent us off the deep end. We were all laughing so hard we were crying.

She continued her instruction about seatbelts and cabin pressure and then said, “if we lose cabin pressure, after you finish screaming, please put on the oxygen mask from above your seat.” This was followed by “If you need anything you can push the call button above you, but it doesn’t work.” I didn’t know whether to keep laughing or try to get off that plane! I really wanted to go home, so I decided to test my luck. I had to ask her though, “is there anything that doesn’t work?” She responded “only the landing gear.” She was joking….I think.

As we took off, Mr. Phil was behind me joking “We fixin’ to crash!” and all I could do was pray….and laugh some more. I think I might have made some outrageous promises to God at that point that I may have trouble keeping. The flight was smooth and painless and before I knew it we were touching down on Louisiana soil (err, asphalt). I let out a cheer and a big sigh. I was so relieved to be home, that I let go of some tension that I didn’t even realize I was holding onto.

I had had an amazing experience and a life altering journey, but I couldn’t get off that plane fast enough. I grabbed my bags and ran into the airport looking for my husband. When I saw his smile I just melted into his arms and said “take me home!”

I didn’t really wake up until about noon the next day. Well, I had to get up as usual at 6am, but I didn’t mentally come to life until after lunch. We all woke up and packed and loaded up on the bus for our final day in Israel. I got on the bus and quickly went right back to sleep. We were leaving Jerusalem and heading to Tel Aviv to catch our plane later that night. In the mean time, our tour guide had a full day planned for us, but I don’t think any of us was too happy about it. We all just wanted to go home.

I was awakened momentarily to tour a silver workshop, which I truthfully would have rather slept through. We had made several stops along the course of our travels which were purely commercial – the silver shop, the diamond factory – these definitely have no religious value, and not much cultural value. I think maybe our tour guide gets a kickback for promoting these spots. Hey, the guy’s gotta make a living, I guess.

When I woke up again we were in Tel Aviv. We had stopped at a shopping area situated on a pier along the Meditterranean. The site was absolutely beautiful and the weather was perfect. There were people walking and biking along the pier. There were restaurants with outdoor seating and upscale clothing shops. I made my way to the Aroma Cafe (think Israeli Starbucks) and ordered a cappuccino and a gouda cheese sandwich. My lunch was the best thing I had eaten in a week and I instantly felt better. I wondered if part of why I felt so bad all week was due to starvation.

I drank my coffee and sat on the pier people watching for a while. I came to the conclusion that this was definitely a favorite spot for beautiful, fashionable, new moms to shop and push their baby carriages. Looking at all these trendy women that looked they just jumped out of a Vogue magazine, I felt like downright frumpy, white trash. But, I enjoyed my coffee, nonetheless. Then I went and drooled over some Italian leather boots that I just didn’t have room in my carry-on for.

We drove through Tel-Aviv, along the beach and I oohed and ahhed over the beautiful blue water and beautiful bikini clad people in the sand. I vowed to myself to come back here and enjoy this part of Israel one day. We stopped at an elevated part of the city called Old Jaffa where we had an amazing vantage point of the coastline. There were bridal couples up here taking photographs and I could immediately see why. The view was breathtaking. We crossed a little bridge adorned with astrological symbols. There is a sign on the bridge that says if you hold the plaque with your birth sign and make a wish, it will come true. I wished to come back here one day with my family.

Old Jaffa is now part of the southern section of Tel-Aviv and is believed to be one of the oldest port cities in the world. It was inhabited over 9,500 years ago! Just down the hill we entered the St. Peter’s Church in Old Jaffa. This is a beautiful church commemorating St. Peter’s resurrection of the widow Tabitha in Acts. Artwork in the church also reflects the thought that God told Peter not to distinguish between Gentile and Jew.

We saw several more bridal couples and I got really homesick and was missing my hubby. It was so beautiful and romantic here and I wanted so badly to be able to share it with him. I stopped for a moment and gazed out at the Mediterranean. The water was a deep shade of blue that words fail me to describe. It was like looking into a newborn baby’s blue eyes and feeling like you could understand the frailty and the immensity of life all at the same time.

Our guide, Jacob next led us on a walking tour of parts of Tel-Aviv. We walked for several blocks down a busy street that must be called shoppers heaven. It was store after store of upscale clothing, shoes, bath products, organics, jewelry – I felt like I was in the Mecca of materialism! But it was just torture, because our fearless guide just kept walking and I could only drool through the windows. I knew I couldn’t shop anyway, because I had no room in my suitcase for anything else, but I was still pouting.

We were led to a beautiful promenade that cuts through the city. The street was converted to a sidewalk for walkers and bikers complete with park benches and pretty landscaping. Couples were walking hand-in-hand in the evening light, children were riding tricycles and roller skates, and the occasional beggar would call out to us in Hebrew. The area was very culturally diverse, as we saw Jews in their yamurlkes, arabs in their keffiyahs, and even a young man in a t-shirt that said “feed the Christians to the lions.” I felt a strange mixture of emotions – not knowing whether I wanted to run away from him, or punch him.

As we walked down the promenade I wanted to compare the area to Paris, or maybe even New Orleans. Jacob kept pointing out the different types of trees and architecture, and it was nice for a while….but after a few minutes I was getting bored. I said “we just walked passed imported Italian leather shoes and you want me to look at trees and concrete!” I was definitely pouting. I knew my history professor mother would be very disappointed in me at this moment.

Our final stop on our journey was for dinner. We walked to a two story restaurant where we all sat at a large table. The owner was an elderly man and his family and there were photos of them all over the walls. It seems that they had once been a destitute family living in what looked like a refugee camp and were now successful business owners.

It would only be appropriate that we were served hummus and pita bread! We also had tabouli, and falafel, and several other relishes with chicken and beef kabobs, followed by delicious baklava. Even though we were all sick of middle eastern food, it really was delicious. Their claim to the best falafel in the world is true, as far as I’m concerned. Our guide presented us each with a certificate of pilgrimage, we reflected a bit on our trip, and soon it was time to head to the airport.

I was moving really slowly this morning. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and dragged myself down to the restaurant for some hot tea. I gulped down some eggs to try to energize myself and then begrudgingly boarded the bus for our last full day of touring.

Forgive me if my recollection of the day is hazy, but that’s how the day felt! Our first stop was back to the Temple Mount for a tour of the Western Wall Tunnels. Upon entering, the men had to cover their heads, and I had to laugh at Chase and Cody in their paper, disposable yamurkles. We entered a series of underground labrynths in which excavations had revealed the continuation of the western wall.

We saw one stone which is estimated to be 13.6 x 3.5 x 4.5 meters. Its supposed to weigh 570 tons! I can’t begin to imagine how they got that stone there! We passed one area called “Warren’s Gate” which is a section of the wall that is supposedly the closest point to the “Holy of Holies.” There were Jewish women here praying and crying in what they refer to as “the cave.” To simplify it, the Holy of Holies is considered to the be site of the innermost sanctuary of the Jewish Temple. It is considered the most sacred site, and possibly the house of the Ark of the Covenant and the 10 Commandments. As the site is now under Arab control, the Western Wall is the closest that Jews can get to it. I can imagine that to some, its like standing at the door to heaven, but you can’t get in.

As we exited the tunnel we were escorted by an Israeli soldier through part of the Muslim Quarter, then made our way to the Via Dolorosa. The Via Dolorosa is a street in the Old City that is held to be the path that Jesus walked on the way to his crucifixion. The first nine stations of the cross are marked along the way, ending at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I wonder about the accuracy of the sites, and I’m sure, as we’ve seen many times on this trip, that some were arbitrarily chosen, but I get the symbolism.

We traced Jesus’ fateful path through the Old City, beginning with the Monastery of the Flagellation, where Jesus was questioned and condemned by Pilate. A huge crown of thorns adorned the domed ceiling of the chapel. The second station is at the Church of the Sisters of Zion. This is the site of the Arch of Ecce Homo where Pilate showed Jesus to the crowd and Roman soldiers gambled for Jesus’ clothes.

The third station is small Armenian Catholic Chapel where Jesus first fell on the street. I once watched a science show where they tried to reenact the carrying of a cross on one’s shoulders. The “crash test dummy” was a very fit, 200lb man and he could barely walk 10 steps with the weight of the cross. Eventually they had him carry only the crossbeam and he made it about 100 yards before nearly collapsing. And, this man hadn’t been beaten to near death as Jesus had BEFORE the journey. It is estimated that Jesus had to carry the cross between 0.2 to 0.6 miles.

The fourth state commemorates the meeting between Jesus and his mother. The fifth station recalls the encounter between Jesus and Simon, who was given Jesus’ cross to carry to Golgotha. We were unable to visit this site, as the overseer was out to lunch! The sixth station is a Greek Catholic church in memory of the meeting between Jesus and Veronica, who wiped his face with her veil. Supposedly the imprint of his face was left on the cloth and it has been kept in the Roman Basilica.

At one point during the walk I actually broke down crying. I wasn’t necessarily overcome with sentimentality, but rather with fever. My fortitude was breaking down and I could feel myself getting really sick. I took some more drugs and kept on trucking, though. I felt so selfish when I thought about Jesus having to walk this road after being beaten to a pulp, being humiliated, betrayed, and knowing that death awaited him. How could I feel sorry for myself for even a second? I was embarrassed and wanted to crawl under a rock – and there were plenty to crawl under!

The next three stations commemorate: Jesus’ second fall, Jesus’ meeting with the pious women where he says “Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not over me, but weep for yourselves and for your children.” And, finally, his third fall on the street. Along our journey we were constantly berated by men and children trying to sell us things, “30 postcard 10 sheckle,” “nice Jesus picture,” “prayer shawl 20 sheckles.” Hmmm…Islamic men selling Christian paraphernalia in Jewish territory…okey dokey!

Our final stop was the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This is a dark, cold Armenian Christian church controlled by several Christian and secular entities. This complicated arrangement has led to an architectural hodge podge of a building with a confused identity. There is even a small ladder which was used in restoration that remained in the same spot for over a century because of a disagreement on moving it. The church is supposed to the be site of Golgotha, or Calvary, where Jesus was crucified. It also houses the tomb, or sepulcher, where Jesus was said to be buried.

Apparently, after converting to Christianity, Constantine sent his mother Helena to find the burial site of Jesus. She asked around town and the consenting opinion was that he was buried at the site of a temple of the goddess Venus. Helena had the temple destroyed, declared this a holy site, and initiated the building of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Just how much evidence is available to confirm this as the actual site is very controversial.

We entered the church and were ushered up a very steep, winding concrete staircase. Some of the steps had to be at least two feet tall and it was a difficult climb. Some of our group members chose not to make the trek. At the top is a lavishly decorated altar believed to hold the Rock of Calvary. Beneath the altar is a hole where the cross was believe to have been raised and we were encouraged to kneel and feel the rock in the hole. I did as I was told, but I didn’t feel any great epiphany from it.

To the left of the altar is a statue of Mary where it is believed that Jesus’ body was removed from the cross and given to his family for burial. We then descended a “normal” staircase back to the first floor and I found myself wondering why we couldn’t have used the “normal” stairs for both up and down. But, I’m sure I’m not important enough to argue with the Armenians and the Greeks and the Romans. “Christians” seem to be good at putting up barriers (like steep stairwells) to allowing other “Christians” to find God.

On the first floor we saw The Stone of Anointing, believed to be the spot where Jesus’ body was prepared for burial. This is a large, rectangular marble stone over which lots of strange, gothic lamps hang. There is a room holding The Angel’s Stone, believed to have sealed the tomb after Jesus’ burial. The Chapel of Adam is beneath Golgotha and holds a stone visible through a window with a large crack down the middle. The crack is said to have formed during an earthquake at Jesus’ death.

The “actual” tomb is a point of confusion. To the left of the entrance is a square room, or Edicule which holds the tomb. The interior of the tomb is open to visitation and controlled by Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Armenian Apostolic Churches. After standing in line, you enter the small cavernous room in which an alter lies in front of a tomb. To the rear of the Edicule is a stone altar used by the Coptic Orthodox. As I walked passed this altar a man in priestly garments started fussing at me in his language. At least, by his tone, I think he was fussing at me, but I have no idea what I was doing wrong – perhaps he was just wishing me a nice day – though, I doubt it!

It was finally lunch time. I think our tour guide doesn’t get the idea of “lunch,” as we always seem to be eating at 2 or 3 o’clock. We stopped at a quaint little café with an outdoor patio. Other than having to sit outside in the cold wind, it was nice. I ordered the spaghetti, which was good, but it had a flavor I wasn’t used to in Italian food. My cappuccino however, was the best thing I’d ever tasted! I ended up drinking two cups and downed some more Tylenol.

After lunch we did a little shopping. I bought Jimmy a stuffed camel (well, not a real stuffed camel, rather a plush camel) then I drank more hot tea and tried to find a comfortable spot to sit. I have never seen so much concrete and rocks in my life. Our final stop of the day was the Garden Tomb. This is a beautiful garden which holds a tomb thought by some to be the actual burial site of Jesus. A British Major General in the 1880’s discovered the tomb outside the Old City Walls near a rocky hill resembling the face of a skull. As this fits the writings of the gospel, he proposed that this was the real site of Calvary.

Many Protestants were eager for a role in the preservation of holy sites, so they jumped on this possible discovery. While it is a beautiful garden, architecture has proven that the tomb is not from the right historical period and it is more likely that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is closer to the actual burial sight. Despite this evidence, we had a wonderful time in the garden.

To begin with, the garden charges no admittance fee. This was a first for our trip! Yay, Protestants! The garden is maintained by donations. There are winding sidewalks which lead through beautiful flowers and trees. The area is just outside the bustling city walls, but it seemed quite peaceful here. There were several weddings being conducted and people were singing and laughing . I watched as a group of Korean Jews (which I didn’t know existed) had a beautiful, simple wedding ceremony.

We were led to a small area with pews and an altar which had been set up for us to have a communion ceremony. The sun had set and it was getting dark and among all the greenery is was a very serene setting. We sang a few songs (actually, I just listened because my voice was gone), and Bro Gil began the communion ceremony. In the midst of this almost magical moment, the serenity was broken. Suddenly a loud speaker from the Islamic Dome of the Rock began calling its evening prayer.

Bro Gil had to literally yell to complete his sermon. We all exchanged glances as our train of thought was interrupted. My initial reaction was anger. What gives them the right to impose their noise, or worship, or religious views on us? Then I thought, well they have as much right to worship as we do. Yeah, but we aren’t bothering them – they can’t hear us! Well, maybe we are bothering them. Maybe our presence here defiles their holy places. What gives us the right. What gives any of us the right?

I felt myself become a part of the arguments and debates and all out wars that have plagued this land, and our planet for years…thousands of years. All at once I was in the war. I could no longer look at the conflict as an un-opinionated outsider, I could no longer be a conscientious objector – I was now a participant. I had become angry, and I could see my side of the argument, and I wanted to stand up for myself.

A moment later I realized that anger wouldn’t solve anything. Angry words and fists and weapons haven’t solved anything here – ever. So instead I chose a different weapon – I prayed. I prayed harder and harder until I was sure that God could hear me over the noise. I completed our communion service and I felt sure that God was God and we can worship him regardless of whether our background noice is a Muslim call to prayer, the chant of a rabbi, the peal of Protestant church bells or a Catholic latin litany.

We ended our service and returned to the hotel. I immediately crawled into bed and passed out cold – literally, because I was freezing. I was awakened a couple hours later by about 5 women standing over me, taking my temperature, shoving more pills down my mouth, and threatening to take me to an Israeli hospital. I mumbled my objections and went back to sleep.

Sunday was our “free day.” While back home, we would have been going to church, here the Shabbat and Arab religious days were over and commerce was kicking back into full gear. We hadn’t made any firm plans for the day, so I didn’t bother setting an alarm. When I finally awoke from my drug induced sleep it was after 10am and Michelle, Chase, and I were the only people left at the hotel.

During our stay at this hotel we had befriended the shop keeper from the hotel gift shop. He was a really nice Arab kid of about 18 and he was a wealth of knowledge about the area – and was eager to share. Ceneye (I’m sure I butchered that – Seen Eye?) had offered to be our “tour guide” and take us shopping on Sunday, and since we didn’t know left from right in this town we took him up on it.

When we walked down to the hotel lobby to hail a cab, the desk clerk told us that he had been left instructions on where to send us. The clerk told the cab driver where to take us (in Hebrew, of course) and we were on our way. I knew we were supposed to meet him at the Jaffa gate, and if I sensed the cab going anywhere else I was prepared to make a run for it! Is it bad not to trust people? Or is that just common sense?

We chatted with the cab driver for a while. He was a very colorful man from Ramallah who, I think at one point in the ride called the Jews the “people of the dog.” He had a wife from Jordan and he offered to take us to his house so she could cook for us. I wasn’t sure what he would do with us after our meal, so obviously we politely declined. He then offered to take us to Jericho. I’m sure he was after the extra cab fare, but heading to a hot-spot of conflict wasn’t on my agenda for the day.

We then asked about his children and his response was very interesting. He told us first about his two sons, telling us their ages and their names. He then went into a long diatribe about the meanings of their names. He was obviously very proud of his sons. Then, almost as an afterthought, he told us he had two daughters as well. I guess the girls weren’t important enough to have meaningful names.

Finally we reached our destination and there was Ceneye waiting for us. He began leading us through a narrow alleyway of small, crowded shops. We passed store after store of Arab owned shops filled with beaded curtains, silk scarves and pashminas, hand beaded jewelry, silver and wooden carvings, and trinket boxes. Of course there were traditional t-shirt shops with everything from “Hard Rock Café, Jerusalem” to “Free Palestinia” to “Jesus is my homeboy.”

We made a few turns and the shops just kept coming – it was like a maze. As much as I was trying to pay attention – I was thoroughly lost! I was becoming more and more convinced that we were going to be kidnapped! Ceneye kept telling us that the “cheaper” shopping was further back off the main streets. Finally we stopped in a shop that was about twice the size of most other shops. Apparently this store was owned by Ceneye’s brother – now things were making sense. Brother brings rich American tourists to spend money in family shop – I think these guys have done this before.

So, shop we do, and Ceneye’s family makes money off of us and everyone is happy. When we entered the store the brothers immediately start asking us if we want tea. “Sure, tea would be great!” They are so hospitable when they know you are about to pay their monthly mortgage. An old man brings us cups of hot tea with mint and says “this very special tea for you.” I can’t help but wonder why its so special. Is it going to make us pass out so they can sell us to a harem? Is it going to reduce our financial inhibitions? I drink mine very slowly so I can see if it has any affect on Michelle first.

We stop in a few other shops and buy some leather “Jesus shoes” for Amanda and an Isreali soccer uniform for my Jill. I even found a little shop with tons of spices and incense and tea. I could have bought the whole store, but settled on a small jar of schwarma seasoning and some saffron. The store keepers, with their thick Israeli accents, loved to say “lets make a deal” and “okey dokey.” We laughed about this all day.

Our next stop was, according to Ceneye, “the best restaurant in Jerusalem.” I was hoping it was a Ruth’s Chris, or maybe even a Cracker Barrel, but no such luck. We were seated in a small café by an elderly Arab man. He bought us “Coca Cola,” hummus (of course), and a menu. I was starving, but the menu was anything but appetizing. Hmmm…..will it be the veal, the liver, or the pigeon? I almost asked if we could go somewhere else, but I didn’t want to offend the man who might or might not be planning to kidnap me later, so I settled on half a chicken. I had no idea what I was going to be eating.

When our food arrived, it didn’t look too bad. I had baked chicken still on the bone with some rice and carrots. I attempted to eat, but it was really bland and tasteless and I had already sufficiently lost my appetite. I began coughing in earnest and claimed that “I just didn’t feel good,” which was actually the truth. I’ve never taken so much Sudafed in my life. But, I really lost my appetite when Ceneye’s plate arrived with a bird on it. Seriously – a bird! He had some kind of small bird on his plate, stuffed and deheaded. Ugh!!! I really miss America!

At this point it was getting late, so we gathered up all our loot and Ceneye’s brother graciously drove us back to our hotel. We got to meet the brother’s beautiful girlfriend – a doctor from Jordan who trained in Paris and now works as a plastic surgeon in Israel. I think Michelle may have convinced the brother to propose to her.

We arrived back at our hotel safely, unshackled, without being drugged, raped, or kidnapped. I guess the money we spent in their shop was really all they were after. And the brothers really were very nice and full of great information. We bid them farewell and lugged our bags up to our room.

I was exhausted and hungry and in desperate need of more medication, so I asked the desk clerk for directions to a pharmacy. It turned out that there was some kind of shopping center just next to our hotel. I was feeling brave – and really grumpy and tired of people – so I ventured out by myself. It was probably stupid, but how much trouble could I get in when there are guys (and girls) with machine guns standing on every corner?

I walked out of the hotel and made a right down the sidewalk. I entered a covered walkway where there were lots of buses unloading. After going through a metal detector and having my purse x-rayed I entered a glass door and found myself in……a mall! Oh, happy day!! You mean this has been here all this time and I didn’t know about it? I quickly felt my grumpiness and fatigue melt away.

First I stopped in a drug store. I could read the packages, and nothing looked familiar, so I asked the druggist for some Sudafed. She asked me what my symptoms were and then sold me some cold medicine that was about 3 times the strength of anything you can buy in the US. I then walked around the mall and bought a few things. I found a store with beautiful embroidered peasant blouses and flowing skirts – I was in heaven. I bought two bags of clothes for only $100 US dollars. Apparently you can “make a deal” even in the mall.

On the second floor, I found a food court – and they weren’t selling pigeons! I bought the best tasting cappuccino I’ve ever had and some stuffed grape leaves and a pita sandwich. The food was definitely middle eastern, but it was good. I continued my binge with the best donut on earth. It wasn’t sugary sweet like in America, but rather tasted like sweet bread filled with cherry jelly. I was finally full after about a week of virtual starvation.

I sat and people watched for a little while. I made friends with a wonderful, Jewish girl who was born in Hershey, PA and moved to Israel when she was about 5. She said that she lives in a very American neighborhood and went to an English speaking school. She had no accent at all and I would have thought she was an American. One of the things that amazes me most about Israel is the diversity. They say that America is the “melting pot” of the world, but I really think its Israel.

Other than the Palestinians, there really are no native Israelis. The Jewish people who have settled here since WWI literally came from everywhere: Russia, Africa, South America, North America, around the Middle East, Asia. I’ve never seen so many diverse cultures in one place. If you walk past a military squad you can see a blond hair, blue eyed girl standing next to a Hispanic girl standing next to a black girl standing next to a red head with freckles, standing next to a Korean girl. And the amazing thing to me, is that they don’t call themselves “African-Israeli” or “Mexican-Israeli” like we do in America. They all have one identity, and one common thread – Jewish. We don’t have that sense of common purpose in America.

I noticed lots of people walking around with big duffle bags and suitcases and that’s when I realized that the upper floor of the mall was the central bus station. The majority of the travelers where very young, so I assume that maybe they were traveling to and from military duty. The Israelis require that all young people from 18-22 serve in the military. I remembered that my guide book said to avoid public bus stations as they are likely sites for terrorist activity, so I decided to make my way back to the hotel.

I think today was my best day of the trip so far. Maybe. Its hard to say. This trip has been filled with so many new experiences, that I think it will be quite a while before I’ve determined what has had the biggest impact on me.

We started out the day as usual with breakfast in the hotel restaurant. It was still the Shabbat, and the elevators weren’t working right, so I just took the stairs. Our room is 14 stories above the restaurant – so that was fun! Apparently the restaurant can’t cook on the Shabbat, so we had cold cereal, pastries, cheeses and fruit. I don’t know why serving cold food isn’t considered work – I’m having alot of trouble with this Shabbat thing – how do they draw the line? And who is the judge?

There is this huge group of Russians staying in our hotel and they are very amusing. They look just like Americans – actually better dressed than most of us – but they behave very differently! First of all…oh my….the body odor!!! I guess Americans are overly clean, but these people could stop traffic! As soon as they walk into the dining room I seriously lose my appetite. Secondly, I have never seen people eat so much! There was a young boy – maybe 13 years old – he put 6 pieces of toast (large slices) on his plate! One man had 5 croissants. They wiped out the buffet like buzzards. The hotel owner has had to make sure that our group gets to the restaurant “before de Russians.” I felt like yelling, “The Russians are coming!” Worst of all, they are extremely rude. They will just run over you at the buffet. In the elevators they won’t move over to give you room. Its like no one else exists. I don’t mean to stereotype all Russians – just the ones in our hotel!

Our day started out with about an hour drive toward the Dead Sea. We started out at about 1500′ above sea level and within 30 minutes we were at 1200′ below. I was still fighting a head cold and a terrible sore throat, so the change in altitude really got to me. I felt like my ears were literally going to blow! I had such terrible ripping pressure in my head that all I could do was lie down. I missed the views on the trip and was really disappointed. I popped some Sudafed and Advil and hoped for the best.

By the time we reached Masada I was feeling a little better. Masada is an ancient fortress which was built by King Herod. It is a palace and military base built on the side of a huge mountain. I had seen a documentary about it on the history channel just before my trip, but to actually see it in person was so amazing. I can’t even comprehend how they built this thing – It is huge! We took a cable car up to the top and then hiked around the fortress. The palace was three tiered, literally hanging over the side of the mountain. A few of us climbed down from the top to the middle tier and the view was just breathtaking. I could see the Dead Sea and beautiful desert, rolling mountains. I was a little scared, and it was a fairly tough climb (what goes down, must come up), but it was worth it!

During that exhilerating climb, I realized that of all the amazing things I’ve seen this week – I am most inspired by the ones that are made by God, himself. Sure, I have seen some of the most beautiful, religious sites in the world. I have visited places that have been at the center of religions for millenia. But I realized that these things are all made by man. Should we worship man’s creations? Should we feel enlightened by material things? The places that have made me feel closest to God are not walls, or palaces, or marble altars. This week, I found God on the top of mountains, in the seas, in the sand, and in the sunsets. Unfortunately, I have felt furthest from God around humanity.

We were pretty worn out by the time we made it back down, so we welcomed a short bus ride. We stopped at a youth hostel where we had some great photo ops. We saw the entrance to a cave and I got some very up close pictures of two ibexex (ibex? not sure how to spell that!) One of them was standing on the roof on the hostel eating from the leaves of a tree. There was a holy cat walking around the area as well.

After a quick lunch (consisting of not so great hummus and salad and mystery meat), we had an opportunity to shop in a store specializing in skin care made from the Dead Sea. I got some great deals and I was really excited! Okay, I’ll try to contain myself.

Our next stop was one that I had been looking forward to since I first decided to come to Israel – swimming in the Dead Sea! We unloaded in a large parking lot and then dressed in a crowded shower house. I thought that it was really unfair to have to wear a swimsuit in the middle of December – considering I probably glow in the dark – but it was so worth it! We walked through a picnic area and down a staircase to the beach. The beach was covered in dirt – not sand, and the water is still, like a lake – no waves.

The dark water was a little cool, and the bottom was soft and sandy. In some areas the floor was slippery mud that we rubbed all over our skin. We looked like green sea monsters! I was so tempted to start a mud fight, but it would be really bad to get that salty water in your eyes. When you lie back in the water, you just float, or bob like a cork. It was so cool to just lie there, but it was almost impossible to try to swim, or even turn over. Its like you are fighting gravity. At one point I flipped over on my stomach and really had to work to flip back over. It was a very foreign sensation.

Apparently, white American women must not be too common in the area, because the four girls in our group seemed to cause quite a spectacle. I felt like we were on stage and it made me a bit uncomfortable. American men are not so obvious and outspoken with their…”appreciation” of women. I’ve been to US beaches with much less clothing (and mud) and felt less naked. At one point, one of the men in our group had to come rescue me from a very persistent Jordanian.

The salty water started to burn my legs a little, so I was glad for the warm shower. I bought a huge bottle of water and yay – Pringles! and we loaded up the bus to leave. On the way back to Jerusalem we stopped – get this – at a gas station – and road a camel! The camel guy tried to take Michelle home with him and he said he would give me 6 camels. I said make it 5 and we’ve got a deal! Of course, I was kidding. Though, I think my dad would probably trade her for 6 racehorses, lol!

We got back to the hotel and I took another shower, where I was still finding caked on mud. I took more cold medicine and crashed into bed. Michelle somehow managed to find PIZZA, M&M’s, Coke, and some kind of cold medicine that I think might be illegal in the US! As we vegged out in our room, I decided that she was worth more than a million camels! I think I’ll keep her!