No, not homebrew, though I should write about that someday as well. Literally moon shine. At least, I think that's what it was. At any rate, it was so bright the other night, the house cast a shadow. Light gleamed off the leaves of the banana trees, and well after the usual hour of darkness it was still bright enough to see clearly. The white-tiled tomb outside my window shone a pale bluish light and I hated to turn away from the beautiful night. Having experienced the utter darkness of a moonless African light sans electricity, I have now also seen a brightness to rival a Canadian winter's night by a snow-covered field.
I met Jesus in Israel-Palestine a few years ago. I found him not in the rocky, desert ground he trod, nor in the ancient stones of the towns and cities he visited; not in the subterranean grotto in the Church of the Nativity, nor in the mammoth Church of the Holy Sepulchre, encompassing the traditional site of his death and resurrection. No, I met him in the lives of Palestinians who incarnate his spirit, in humble, passionate people who are convinced that love is the only way. I met Jesus in people who spoke like this: “We need to be soaked in the love of Christ. Love is not a hug and a kiss. Love is to seek the life of the other that the cost of one’s own.” --Labib Madanat, coordinator of the Palestinian and Israeli Bible Societies “Love is not an opportunity to overlook justice. Love is an opportunity to pursue justice…. [But] we want to resist any form of evil with the heart and mind of Jesus Christ.… There is no love without justice. And there is no true justice without lov...
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