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.