word, such an i n c a r n a t i o n a l word. It says that God was at work in this place, but not just in this place and not just in that time. If you can but see, you will see that the veils between heaven and earth have been thinned by God's loving actions.

So that is beauty. What about the terror? I don't mean the starkness of the Judean wilderness; I don't mean the imagining of Christ's passion that is such an important part of the walk through the Old City of Jerusalem. It is the present land that is terrifying. People asked me if I felt safe. For most of the time I did. The exceptions came when we, tourists in an Arab company's coach, were stopped and searched by young, casual, ununiformed Israelis, cradling their automatic weapons. At the Western Wall there is a carnival atmosphere, with people saying their prayers, the ultra-orthodox Jews encouraging the less-orthodox to borrow the paraphernalia of proper observances, children running everywhere pulling Israel flags behind them, and young men, dressed in the standard "slouch" style, saying their prayers with guns slung over their shoulders. God, flags and guns: it is a terrifying combination.

We saw the cost of this when we visited the Bethlehem Arab Society for Rehabilitation (www.basr.org). Set up by Leonard Cheshire forty years ago, this Arab-Christian hospital treats 30,000 people a year, most of whom have been injured or disabled as a result of the conflict that rages in Israel/Palestine. Their work has become harder as the Israeli government has closed down the West Bank with the "security fence", and as Christians leave the country (there are more Jerusalem-born Arab Christians now living in Australia than there are in Jerusalem).

One day I hope to return to Israel and Palestine. Perhaps then there will be less terror and more beauty. Perhaps we will be able to say "Here, or hereabouts, God is working for the peace of Jerusalem".

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