THE MIRACLE OF BEING FAR AWAY FROM HOME ON THE HOLIDAYS.

Several years ago, I stood in the doorway of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, and watched the snow fall silently in the entrance to that sacred site on a very dark and holy night. The mumbled prayers of many pilgrims rose behind me, along with the occasional ringing bell, and the soft scuffling of priests and acolytes taking up their positions as guardians of that disputed ground. Somewhere deep inside the dark, incense-heavy interior, “Silent Night” was being sung, the soundtrack to the amazing Jerusalem blizzard that was raging just outside the church’s door. The snow was unusual, a freak “Christmas” storm someone said, blowing down to Jerusalem from Turkey, and it seemed to salve, at least for this night, the always aching wounds of this ancient, powerful place. A Jerusalem miracle. Earlier in the day, the snow was piling up fast on the roadways leading up the Jerusalem hills, challenging drivers and pedestrians unused to snow on steep hills, including the Israeli driver of our car. At one point, it became clear that unless we all got out and pushed the car forward, it was going to go backward on its own. “Let’s go!”, our driver said, and moments later a team formed at the rear bumper, made up of myself, my wife, our daughter, son, and host, as we leaned in to heave the car up over the crest of the hill in the blinding snow. “Excuse me”, someone said, “but…