And who is my enemy?

Having been here 30 years ago has been a huge part of this journey for me.

In '81 I arrived fresh from reading Elie Wiesel's "Night", a 99 page, chilling account of the holocaust. I was convinced that this punished people needed a safe place, a safe home. I volunteered on a kibbutz just outside Jerusalem, within sight of Bethlehem and was awed by this collective, pioneering spirit...committed to "making the desert bloom".

I also visited refugee camps and met with Palestinian friends of my Canadian professor. And I remember the checkpoint between Bethlehem and Jerusalem, one which I remember whole busloads of us, including Palestinians, usually whisked through.

But this place today is hard. It is harsh. That same checkpoint today is a megacomplex of screening machines, overhead guard walkways, and steel gates that clang. Thirty years have not brought much healing.

Yesterday we read the Sermon on the Mount, on the mount. The Sea of Galilee was at our feet, Jesus' favourite synagogue was a few steps behind us.

"Love your enemies. Do good to those who persecute you", we read.

I have no enemies here. While I have been told the Palestinians are my enemies because of their endless terrorism, I have also been told the Israelis are my enemies for how they have brutally occupied the homeland of the Palestinians. But neither is my enemy.

I could re-read "Night" this afternoon and my whole being would ache again for my sisters and brothers in the Jewish community. But instead I am going back to Jerusalem from Galilee where I will see my Palestinian brothers and sisters, both Moslem and Christian, prevented by a wall from entering even "their" part of the holy city.

Maybe my enemy is that wall and its checkpoints.

But walls come down. They will not stand forever. Of that I am sure. I am fully convinced that our God is not a God of walls.