We received a short tour of the small church and its grotto
which was again scattered with letters of intention. I began to think that all of Israel believed
that hopes and dreams belonged in the basement, never to see the light of day.
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| "Promotion at my place of work" |
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| "Build me a house." "Give me a life companion." Some people...me me me me all the time. |
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| An errant passport photo |
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| Amnon offers explanations |
Sr. Jocelyn had arranged for the married couples to renew
their vows in the church and invited the three couples in our group to step
forward. In a good hearted attempt to
include everyone she then invited those whose spouses had died to step to the
left of the altar and those whose spouses hadn’t joined us on the pilgrimage
were invited to take stage right. The
echo in the church played havoc with dad’s hearing aids and he stepped to the
left.
“Dad” I said “come over to this side. Mom’s not dead”.
Dad quickly put the pieces together and took his proper
spot.
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| Mom in absentia, dad renews his wedding vows solo. |
In a final attempt to be inclusive, Sr. Jocelyn asked for
those who were single to take their place at the front of the altar so that the
group could pray for them to find a partner.
I pointed out to ther that she was making quite a bold assumption on our
behalf. In my conversations with her,
Sr. Jocelyn appeared to be under the impression that I had always been single
and was searching for a wife; understandable considering that I was on a
religious pilgrimage. I didn’t bother to
clear up the misconception. I turned to
the others in my group and cheerfully announced that we were the “unloved”;
they all seemed to get a kick out of it.
Vows were renewed with the living, the dead, and the absent and a round
of applause was offered for all.
We walked a short distance to a local tourist trap wine shop that sold
bottles of horrible swill that was labelled “Cana wedding wine”. The label was the hook because a taste test
confirmed that the stuff wasn’t even close to being worth what they were asking. Dad and I stood outside and were joined by
Faye from Port Perry. Faye told us that
her days of shopping for knick knacks were long behind her. She learned her lesson after downsizing her
own house and acting as executrix for a number of close friends who had died.
“The best gift you can leave for your family is a clean
house so that they don’t have to deal with all the stuff you couldn’t be
bothered to part with even though you should have” she said.
Next we walked a short distance to have lunch. It was dad’s first time eating shawarma so I
kept the toppings to a minimum and insisted that we only use those that were
familiar to him. I had the falafel, but
honestly, it was nothing special. The
reason for that was discovered outside.
In the parking area right next to the restaurant dad and I noticed piles
of litter; lots of it. Apparently,
menefreghisti were not just confined to the southern part of Italy, they were
among us in the Middle East as well. The owners of a restaurant couldn’t possible care about
their food or its presentation if they cared so little about their
premises. Amnon had already pointed out
that litter was somewhat of an epidemic here, going so far as to make a joke
out of it: “if the wind blows it into just the right spot, it’s
artwork.”
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| Dad eats shawarma for the first time. I doubt he'll seek it out back home. |
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| A beat up Subaru BRAT and a dirty parking lot... restaurant fail. |
2000 years had come and gone…Cana needed
another miracle in a hurry.
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