Early, about 08:15, bright and cool. We arrived at the Israeli - Palestinian border. From the mini bus, the sovereignty-passport control-border tension played out to raised voices, accompanied by the ugliness of guns, uniforms and the suspicious scrutiny of our documents. It would appear that we have learned virtually nothing about true Brotherhood, in the 2000 years since Jesus graced this fascinating area.
The journey from Jerusalem had passed quickly and seemed a shorter distance than I had imagined. Manger Square was relatively empty as we entered the Church of the Nativity. Inside, it reminded me of Greek and Russian orthodox churches I had visited previously - ornate, dusty, peaceful and with the lingering sweet perfume of Frankincense. I felt surprisingly calm, enhanced by complete absence of anticipated tourist hoards so near to the Christmas festival. As we climbed down the narrow stairs behind the altar at the back of the Church, to the place where Jesus was born. I was delighted to find that Mu and I were the only ones present, other than a single attendant sitting nearby. Alpha of was very much aware throughout. The area was cramped, with only oil lamps for lighting, giving a natural soft glow.
I asked the attendant if I may take a photograph and he nodded. The OM1 light meter registered nothing. I knelt down and held the shutter open steadily, for a few seconds to take this photograph which, although not technically perfect, is among my all time favourites.
There was no sense of mystical or religious elation. Just a meditative feeling of serenity, accompanied by gratitude at being able to pay my respects, alone and unhurried. I can summon this memory and its Alpha perspective at will, with the same precision and clarity, as my initial Lancaster experience.
