“Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Do you truly love me more than these?’ ‘Yes, Lord,’ he said, ‘You know that I love you.’ Jesus said, ‘Feed my sheep.’” John 21:15

We stood there, fifteen necks craned up toward the heavens, all searching for words to describe what stood before us, yet somehow and rightly so, at a sudden loss. Each one of us had felt prepared to encounter the Separation Wall, a towering cement fence dividing parts of Jerusalem from neighboring Palestinian villages like Bethany, but we were wrong. This brief moment stayed suspended in our hearts for every one our thirteen days in Israel, providing a backdrop for the deep and broad emotion embodying our pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

Our journey to Jerusalem began months before we left Durham just a few days after Christmas. Our motley crew of pilgrims consisted of undergraduates, divinity school students, a teacher, a few priests, and a Christian Peace Team volunteer, all affiliated in some way with Duke, all Christian, and all striving to approach this particular subject with an open mind. We had read, talked, and prayed A LOT in the weeks of fall semester. Not to any of our surprise, though, no book or picture adequately captured the first glimpse of the desert on the outskirts of Jerusalem or the sheer power and presence of our Lord emanating in its vast expanses.

We went to Jerusalem to learn, to see, to observe, and to understand, and we did this in ways that none of us was expecting. A trip to the Old City and a glance into one of its hundreds of shops meant afternoon tea and an hour conversation about family, joys and hardships. How open and willing to share were these people, despite our obvious tourist look, heavy-laden with cameras and fanny packs.

Palestinians, Jews, Christians… Israeli, Arab, Muslim… these names are loaded with meaning, yet in the Old City where people are striped from titles and stereotypes, even if it is just to work together to sell their goods or services, humanity becomes something more wholesome. The man who gave me apples, from hands that were cracked from work and age, and maybe even dirty, gave his gift of love and kindness. The little girl who followed me around the square in Bethlehem didn’t ask for anything at all, no shekels or dollars. She just held my arm, smiled into my eyes, and kissed me good-bye as I got back on the bus.

“What does the Holy Land mean to you?” my friends inquire of me. “Was it the sites, or the incredible history that made the most lasting impression?” Those were all amazingly indescribable, yes, but those are not the things that bring the tears to my eyes or the lump into my throat. It’s love. It’s the love of a people so ravished with sadness and despair that brings me to my knees, that fills my heart with a God that is as palpable as the Palestinian shopkeeper who was desperate to sell even just a Coke, but still dressed with all the dignity in the world, or the Jewish family with whom I shared Shabbat dinner whose father blessed me along with his own children.

I had to go halfway around the world to rediscover that God’s love is for all of us, those who want it and those who don’t, those who are different as well as those who are the same. “Feed my sheep,” Jesus says to Peter, the ones who are blemished and mangy, the ones who wander far, far from the “right” field, and even the ones who bite you back, when you are just trying to offer them a sip of cool water from a cup overflowing with unrequited love.

The problems of the world may seem largest when you stand in the heart of them, stand with them, eat with them, and commune with them, but that’s all the more reason to be there, in order to understand and experience real life in its most raw yet beautiful state. And, get ready to feel pretty small or to cry or wring your hands in frustration or heartbreaking sadness. Bringing hope to the big picture doesn’t have to mean pilgrimage to the Holy Land or any other “special” place, though. It just means opening your heart to loving others, your brother, your family, or your neighbor, those who welcome your love just as much as those who reject it. All the security, power, and money in the world hasn’t done much for peace, but love has; love heals. “If you love me, feed my sheep.” What more do we really need to hear?