This might well be the last post before returning home (but you never know).

It's been an interesting twenty four hours and I'm feeling a little jaded now.

Yesterday began with staff worship, as it does three days a week here. Gathering together with Christians of the land in Bethlehem to sing and study the scriptures in an upper room felt truly authentic.
One of the group from the baptist church in Nebraska who are staying here was celebrating a birthday and they had even made a cake.

Then it was off to Hebron. The only major site on which we missed out during the St George's course was the Ibrahim mosque in Hebron. This is on the site of the field which Abraham bought for his family tombs and the site is known as the tomb of patriarchs. Nowadays after pressure from the settlers living in Hebron the site is divided between a mosque and a synagogue. On holy days one side or other is allowed use of the whole place exclusively and when we went down to Hebron a couple of weeks ago, it was indeed shut. This was a sadness as visiting his tomb will have completed nicely a course about Abraham and his legacy.

So yesterday I tried again. Hebron is only a half hour drive from Bethlehem and it is easy enough to take a shared taxi for less than a couple pounds each way (again I successfully turned down the very persuasive taxi drivers offering me their exclusive services for considerably more).
Guess what - the mosque area was shut again to all but Jewish worshippers (Tabernacles).
Here's picture of the nearest I could get to it. They really didn't want anyone to go any further!

Hebron itself is the only place which I have felt intimidated. Perhaps it is because I didn't see another western face during the hour and a half I was there. Certainly I could barely walk a few steps before someone else was trying to 'show me around' and becoming insistent when I declined. Once the third person in a row had claimed to have been to Manchester I became suspicious!
I found out later that an Israeli soldier had been shot dead there the day before which probably didn't help the febrile atmosphere and explained the extra checkpoints.

It was good to return to Bethlehem, especially as John and Janet Angle had just arrived back from the wedding in Gaza. With them were an American family who are missionaries in Cairo. Until recently they had been very involved in the Lighthouse School in Gaza, one of the main projects supported by The Hope Christian Trust,. However their visas were summarily revoked and they had to leave in a hurry, only allowed in now on tourist visas.

My busy twenty four hours was completed first thing today with a 5.45 am walk up to the checkpoint to see what life is like for those simply wanting to get to work the other side of the wall. 5000 go through each working day, almost exclusively men and mostly working in the construction industry.

I spoke at length with someone selling tea and coffee (a little market springs up there every day for a few hours). His was another sad story of struggle.

Finally, I can't think how they don't think I'm a local (it's OK, I have usually looked a little more respectable)

It's been a very different experience here in Bethlehem compared to Jerusalem. I'm on my own much more, have spent a lot of time reading (one of my sabbatical challenges was finally to read Dostoyevsky's Brothers Karamazov and I might just make it) and wandering the streets. And having become used to full board at St George's, I am now catering for myself. Groceries tend to be quite a bit more expensive here (especially brand names);  apart from fresh fruit and veg and there is a fantastic fruit and veg stall close to here, the other side of the refuge camp. Interestingly it seems to be almost entirely men who shop there, some of them filling great big washing baskets.

Whereas Jerusalem's main difficulty seems to be a surfeit of religion politics, Bethlehem's is poverty. Aside from the small matter of being the birthplace of Jesus it is a very normal Palestinian town and away from Manger Square things are pretty chaotic and run down. The attitude to litter would make The Green Group wince but that is the case throughout the region. Unemployment across the West Bank I am told is running at 40% and having a 10m high wall run along the side of the town cutting many off from nearby Jerusalem doesn't help.

I walked alongside the wall for quite a way yesterday and hope to go up to the checkpoint on Monday morning pre dawn just to see what it is like for those who have to go through everyday in order to get to work. Even here a natural resilience finds its way out. This side is covered in graffiti and also in huge posters detailing stories of hope or unity written by children.

There is even one written by a boy who dreams of surfing (the freedom of the ocean and the waves). Banksy was here a few years ago bringing his subversive take on life here and there is even a Banksy trail you can take. One of his more famous pictures, a riff on the dove of peace, is on a shop wall at the end of this road.

I have walked a lot since arriving here, successfully seeing off the blandishments of dozens of taxi drivers each day keen to take me wherever. In walking I have also fallen into many conversations and have found almost everyone unfailingly courteous and helpful. Late this afternoon as I was sitting on the edge of Manger Square, a silver haired gentleman comes over and speaks to me. He is a part time taxi driver, which is why I guess he came over to me, but was too polite to ask if I needed his services. Yousuf only drives a taxi because his main job will not quite support him and his family. He is a teacher of Arabic and Islamic studies at Bethlehem High School and a former imam. His wife is also a teacher. I know that teachers in the UK aren't on the highest salaries but not many have to moonlight as taxi drivers. He has seven sons, a source of both blessing and concern to him as he worris about their futures. The oldest two have just finished university and have no work.

On the way up the hill out of Manger Square I pass a couple of children on the step slope next to the steps using their imagination as only children can. Who needs snow for sledging?

Well I've safely relocated from St George's to the Bethlehem bible college, from the place of Jesus' passion and resurrection to the place of his birth, from an Anglican foundation to one that is largely free church, from a room called 'The Baptism of Christ' to one called 'Smugglers Inn' (named after Brother Andrew, God's Smuggler who often sleeps in this room when he is in Bethlehem) from a bedroom window view of a Gothic cathedral to one of a refugee camp.

I was very sad to leave St George's which has been a lovely home these last two weeks and especially to bid farewell to a group of friends who only a fortnight ago had been strangers and most of whom I guess I am unlikely to meet again.

The bus journey was relatively short and uneventful. I wasn't entirely sure where to get off but when ever other passenger exited, I figured that this was the right stop and a friendly taxi driver pointed me in the right direction.

Much of the time since has been spent in the company of John and Janet Angle of Axbridge who are just such warm Christian people. They have been associated with the college for many years and have been a great support to it. Janet showed me round the new building which is mighty impressive and a fantastic facility

(massive art installation in new building)

 and then they invited me to join them at lunch at the house of some friends of theirs, Atallah and Hilda, Palestinian Christians, who are working hard to build a Christian community centre in their home village near Nablus in the north of the Palestinian territories.  It is nearly finished and will contain a kindergarten, community hall, picnic area with kids play park and a guest house for volunteers. They simply want to give something back to their home town and to bring people together. Their hospitality was, of course, generous and the meal sumptuous.

On the way back to the college, we stopped off at a supermarket, the first I've seen here (though there must be plenty in west Jerusalem). Food here is generally quite a bit more expensive than at home, particularly brand goods. It will be a bit of a shock to have to cater for myself after the full board cuisine of St George's. I'm not sure my cooking will be up to the standard of Joseph!

Some pictures of the very moving Stations of the Cross on the Via Dolorosa that we walked in the early morning yesterday. The old city was barely beginning to stir as we walked, stopped and prayed in the footsteps of Jesus all those years ago.

After breakfast we returned to the church of the Holy Sepulchre and I sat by the site of Calvary for an hour and watched the many people who came and went. The following is the fruit of that vigil.

Calvary

They come
In pairs, as couples, in groups, or by their silent selves
To the rock
Deemed useless for earthly habitation
By those who construct the skeletons of our existence.

They come
Overdressed, underdressed
Wearing
Sweatshirts and logos, sandals, flip flops and shorts,
Wearing habits and hiqabs and stovepipe hats.

They come
Clutching
Pilgrim badges and bags
Clutching cameras and iPads, crosses and each other.

They come
Because
They believe, they want to believe, they are looking for something to believe
Because parents have brought them and their tour guide has told them it is not to be missed.

They come
In order to
Kneel and to kiss,
Adore and to wonder
Stare and to gawp and to photograph and chat.

They come
And they walk away
Tearful, hushed, yawning,
Full of questions, full of grace.

And through it all and over it all and behind it all
Hangs the one who is no longer there
Watching,
Gazing with primaeval love
Upon each sister and brother,
The children of Abraham.

The Church of the Annunciation dominates the skyline of Nazareth, which is still a predominantly Christian town. Built over the remains of what from earliest days was venerated as Mary's house and Joseph's workshop, it is a massive modernist Roman Catholic church. It is a little too imposing for my own spirituality but there is no doubting the holiness of the place, particularly when you join those who sit silently in front of the first century remains.

During our visit a group was celebrating mass and it was hard not to be caught up with beauty of the voice of the soprano cantor.

Beautiful also are the many mosaics that decorate the church and colonnade, given by countries across the world, many honouring their own shrines to Mary.

Smaller, more highly decorated and somehow more lovely is the Greek Orthodox church of Mary's Well a little walk up the hill. It stands on the site of the town's well which will have been a meeting place for so many years.

Alongside and behind glass are the first century steps. It is easy to imagine a young Mary walking down those same steps to collect water, a pregnant Mary and Mary clutching the hand of a young Jesus. A haunting spot. We have seen many wells over the last week and each are guarantors of historicity and aids to the imagination as each will have been the sole well of that place stretching back into biblical times.

In the morning as we celebrate the Eucharist at the Christian guest house we hear the bells of the town summon the people to Sunday morning services. It is an evocative sound and wonderful to think that church bells have been annunciating the presence of a saviour for almost two thousand years here.

Another long post, I'm afraid.

Boy was it hot yesterday; 34° by 8.30 a.m. and up to 43° by the afternoon. I don't think I've known temperatures like it.

We leave early for another overnight trip, taking the road down to Jericho. It feels like the scenic route through Jerusalem as many roads and complete neighbourhoods are sealed off for Yom Kippur. The advantage is that there is barely a car on the road-on the main road between Jericho and Nazareth later, a journey of an hour and a quarter, we only meet four other vehicles.

We turn off towards Wadi Qelt on the old Roman road which Jesus used for the setting of the parable of the Good Samaritan and soon we are threading our way through the merciless Judean desert again. There is much rejoicing at finding the way open as this is not always the case, since it is a back route for Palestinians. We stop to view the ancient monastery of St George which clings improbably to the cliffs above the wadi (river) and wonder how the first monks managed to construct it. Only two monks remain now.

Bedouin descend on us as soon as we leave the bus trying persuade us to buy their cheap souvenirs. They are very persistent but though we feel sorry for them, no one buys from them.

Soon the view opens spectacularly onto Jericho and the Jordan valley below us and we trundle into the city of palms, perhaps the oldest city in the world still inhabited. First stop is an ancient sycamore tree. It's not quite the one that Zachaeus climbed so that he could see Jesus but it gives a good idea and we listen to the story of how salvation came to the tax collector's house.

Then it is on to Elisha's spring. It is an ancient and dependable source of water and one of the few that the Palestinians in the west bank have some access to. It gives an opportunity to wonder at how the control of water might well prove to be what actually sparks a conflict here. Apparently the Israelis control 90% of the water sources and use four times the amount per capita that the Palestinians are permitted. 'In the summer months, when reserves are low, the Israeli water company closes the valves supplying Palestinian village on the West Bank in order to safeguard supplies for the settlers. The Jewish settlers fill their swimming pools, wash their cars and water their lawns, while just a couple of miles away Palestinian villages may be denied water for essential use in cooking and sanitation.' (Andrew Mayes - Holy Land?)

The next stop is the ruins of ancient Jericho. There's not much to see as so much would have been made of mud brick, long ago disintegrated but an interesting DVD presentation charts the different occupations of this most ancient of cities. Gazing upon the remains of a watchtower from 7-8000 years ago prompts the thought that, in many ways, this sabbatical has given many points on the chain of human endeavour. I'll save that for another post perhaps.
From ancient Jericho to the reality of life for many in the modern town. We pass through a refugee camp of some 20000 souls, families who have been there since 1948 and are still waiting to return to long destroyed villages. Such is their determination to cling to the idea of the impermanence of their current existence that it was only couple of years ago that they agreed to cover the open drains and sewers. As we drive we pray for all refugees and for a just settlement in the Holy Land that will benefit all.

Hisham's palace is the next port of call, the remains of an impressive Persian palace from the seventh century with some of the finest mosaics I am ever likely to see. The morning finishes with looking up at the Mount of Temptation, the place traditionally associated with Jesus' fasting and tempting in the desert. We wonder again at the ingenuity of those who centuries ago built another monastery into a sheer cliff; and we struggle to think how Jesus survived in that merciless environment as we clamber gratefully back into our air conditioned bus.

There is time to visit a shop before lunch and we realise that we have managed all this in under four hours - quite a morning.

It's been quite an emotional day today as we have come face to face with some of the difficulties facing the Christian community in the Holy Land.

Travelling to the heart of the West Bank, continuing to follow the footsteps of our father Abraham, though this time in reverse, we came to Nablus, ancient Shechem, where Abraham first built an altar, where Jacob built a well and where Jesus encountered the Samaritan woman (John 4). There is a beautiful modern Greek Orthodox church there which was built pretty much single handedly by the tiny priest, Father Augustine. He raised the money, supervised the work and painted the icons and murals himself. His predecessor was hacked to pieces by a Jewish extremist and he himself is constantly on his guard against being shot, bombed or poisoned by Jews and Muslims who would each like the site of Jacob's Well for themselves. The spirit of God burns strongly in Father Augustine and his courage and righteousness bears great witness to God.

Nablus itself is home to many refugees whose families have been in camps there since the 1948 war when their villages were destroyed. Many are extremists who will not support a two state solution but hold out for a return to pre 1948 days.

Nearby is Mount Gerizim, home to the Samaritan people. Theirs is essentially a form of Judaism who hold only to the first five books of the Old Testament, still sacrifice lambs at Passover and believe that the true temple was there rather than Jerusalem. In Jesus' day there was fierce hostility between Jews and Samaritans but now there are so few left that they are largely ignored by all. Only 350 remain on Mount Gerizim with a further 350 near Tel Aviv. We experienced yet more good hospitality there as we sat in their synagogue and listened to the assistant high priest talk about their faith but it must be very hard on them knowing that a form of faith and a way of life that has been celebrated in that one place for 3000 years is close to extinction.

Our final stop of the day was at St Andrews Anglican Church in Ramallah, the city where the Palestinian Authority is based, where we were welcomed by the parish priest,  Father Fadi. He spoke movingly of the historical significance of Ramallah, ancient Bethel, where Abraham stopped, built an altar and experienced God's promises again and also of the challenges the Christian community faces today there. The Christian presence across the Holy Land is dwindling fast as people emigrate to find a better life; daily life under occupation makes movement very difficult (3 weeks after moving from Jordan he is still waiting for a permit from the Israeli authorities to move his furniture, and he is unable to attend meetings in Jerusalem just a few miles away but the other side of the separation wall.); and they feel somewhat abandoned by the rest of the church. Despite this the Anglican Church in Ramallah continues to witness through its provision of education, it's care of orphans and it's health facilities. Father Fadi is a good man working in difficult circumstances. He and his congregation need our prayers.