Tell them to meet me in Galilee

Oh Sea of Galilee

sparse and spare,

are your waters cold,

are you salty?

I only knew you

from the thick Bible

that lived on the shelf

of our family room

rarely opened except

to look at the pictures.

I did not expect to see

the banana plantations

on your shores. Or the

marina with ski boats.

The restaurants that

feature fried or grilled

Saint Peter’s Fish.

We drove along the shore

through Capernaum without

visiting that holy place,

the Mount of Beatitudes.

I would have preferred

to walk around the site

of the Sermon on the Mount

than the heights on the other

side of the desert sea where

rusted heavy machine guns

still hover over the ruins

of the Syrian battlements

high above your waters.

Cactus thrives and looms

on the rocky slopes below.

Mary Magdalene and

the other Mary waited

outside the tomb that was

sealed with a large stone

in front of the door and guarded

by hired Roman soldiers

to prevent the disciples

from stealing His body.

They waited patiently

for his promise to be fulfilled,

that he would return to life

on the third day.

I waited a few days

after this trip to the Sea

to make different excursion,

alone on a bus ride

that bypassed the road

to Armageddon and led

to the city of Nazareth.

I’m not waiting for Him to return,

there is no way to know when

that will be and perhaps

I will never return to that land

where he lived and died

and was resurrected.

But I have seen where he walked

and where he lived and he died.

his words live in my heart and

whenever I remember them,

He lives again.

Amen.