MY FAVOURITE REGION

It was suddenly afternoon. That seems to happen in Israel: morning becomes afternoon becomes evening becomes night, quickly. And on this lovely late afternoon, we had made our way up from Tiberias toward Capernaum and the Mount of Beatitudes.

I’ve rarely been in a lovelier place. The chapel at the top of the Mount is a delightful building, crafted in dark stone with a bold cupola and colonnades of sweeping arches covering the cloisters. Surrounding it are the most wonderful trees, shrubs, plants and flowers - I wish I could tell you what they were - but there were of course palm trees, and those ferns that grow with fans of leaves; there were gnarled and twisted olives and the deep green leaves that hang from them, as well as what looked like beeches and elms of some kind, forming a spring-time canopy for the sun to flicker through.

And of course it did. Whether it was the angle due to the time of day, I don’t know, but the sun poured through the leaves and the light breeze from the Sea of Galilee ruffled through them, making the mottled shadows dance across the paving stones of the courtyard. There’s no other way to say it - it was a place that had been (appropriately) blessed.

Paul wondered whether it was simply due to the amount of prayer that had been said there over the years. It appears that the chapel on the Mount of Beatitudes is run by Catholic nuns. Certainly, they were there, faithfully escorting tourists through the delicious smelling gardens. There was a quietness to that place in a way that I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced. If ever I need a moment of peace, I thought, I shall close my eyes and take myself back to the Mount of Beatitudes, overlooking the Sea of Galilee.

Our next stop was Capernaum, just a little way around the edge of the Sea. I hadn’t realised how high up it was! I’d assumed, quite naturally I think, that the home of Peter the fisherman, would be right next to the water. Capernaum actually sits on a sort of cliff, once again looking South along the lake. I’d pictured white walls of limestone, sand and straw, perhaps fishing nets drying in the sun, or a place where boats were tied to wooden jetties for the day. It can’t have really been that kind of place.

We took a lot of photos in Capernaum, and had a quick look round, listening in to all the English tour guides as closely as we could. There were lots of groups there, as you might imagine: coach parties of travellers wearing t-shirts and hats with things like ‘Holy Land Tours’ on them - and each with their own explainer. It’s fun to eavesdrop, and even more fun to work out whether or not you agree with them.

There is of course, a gigantic modern church, built like a spider, over what they think is the remains of Peter’s house.

What struck me most though was the old ruined synagogue - a typical Roman ruin, with rooms marked out by knee high walls of stone. You have to use your imagination.

Paul and I stared at it in the golden sunshine. We could hear the waves, and the rustling of wind through the trees. Could this have been the place where Jesus unravelled the scroll and read Isaiah 61? No church or monument had been built over it; the synagogue was open to the sky with its walls long since crumbled. And yet, in many ways that audacious moment is a lot more significant than others - it was the start of something radical, new, and outrageous. And for the briefest time, my friend Paul and I were the only people looking at the place where it happened.

Galilee has probably been my favourite region on this trip. I’d love to spend more time there, perhaps walking through the hills, watching the sun dip below the mountains, and seeing the moon shimmer across the water. It’s all been very real and natural - a place I’m sure that outdoor-Jesus (and let’s face it, he was mostly outdoors I think) really loved.