TUESDAY 12 NOVEMBER

  My 'Moslem alarm' went off as usual. The day ahead was to be special because I was to move from Jerusalem to Nazareth for a few days. I caught the 6.15am bus at the Jaffa Gate to the bus station. From there, we set off at 7.00am for Tiberias in a bus whose passengers were mostly armed soldiers. I asked myself, whether I would ever be safer, or ever be in a more dangerous situation?

  Just after we had moved off, there came a sound that brought a look of great alarm to our faces - soldier, civilian, tourist - and made us brace ourselves as we hoped that a terrible disaster wasn't going to happen. A hard object fell to the floor at the back of the bus and rolled slowly up the aisle. One didn't have to be a mind-reader to know what everyone was thinking - 'hand grenade!' No one was brave enough to twist away from the object, to shield our heads, and risk ridicule. A few seconds went by! No explosion! Someone stepped forward and reclaimed the object. Slowly heartbeats returned to normal; we all relaxed and settled down to enjoy the journey.

  The bus took us on a wonderful trip, first heading East on the road down to Jericho and then up the Jordan Valley. I had intended to spend a few hours in Tiberias and catch another bus to Nazareth but when I saw that the bus was to pass close to three well-known places frequented by Jesus, I made a major alteration to my plans.

  I bought an extra ticket and didn't get off at Tiberias but stayed on the bus, and, with some helpful advice from the driver and a soldier, got off at a junction where a road to the right leads to the North shore of the Sea of Galilee.

  So there I was, standing in the middle of a country road at 10.00am with my overnight bag, a guide book, a map, a few memories from 1980 to help me, and with no idea when the buses ran back South to Tiberias.

  It was a beautiful sunny warm day and I set out with a happy heart and a spring in my step to retrace the steps of the Lord and the multitudes who followed him over that beautiful countryside. Three wonderful shrines, full of Gospel events are close together. I first visited the Church of the Multiplication of loaves and fishes, which had been closed for alterations during my last pilgrimage in 1980, and then went next door to the Primacy Church, which marks the place where Christ appeared after his resurrection, made a breakfast of bread and fish for the Apostles and conferred the Papacy on Peter.

  To my relief, Capharnaum, as the guidebook and map indicated, was just one and a half miles along the North shore of the Sea of Galilee. It was a joy to walk along the shore. As I entered the ruins of the town, my whole being tingled when I saw the notice, 'Capharnaum, the town of Jesus'. After being rejected in Nazareth, Jesus and his family had moved and made Capharnaum their home town. The ruins of Peter's house are still to be seen and major renovations were planned in the next few years. Recent translations of the Gospel have named this town as Capernaum but the locals very definitely called it 'Capharnaum' - uttered with a guttural sound from the back of the throat.

  I walked back out of the grounds and discovered a little quiet place by the lake. Mark and Matthew call it 'The Sea of Galilee', John calls it 'The Sea of Tiberias', but the much wider-travelled Luke calls it 'Lake Gennesaret', meaning a 'harp', because it is shaped like a harp. There I enjoyed a much needed picnic, followed by a swim in the refreshing waters of the lake. Even on the 12th November, the water was pleasantly warm.

  Later, sitting on the shore, with the birds singing, I read the Gospel accounts of what Jesus did and said there - the call of the fishermen, Peter, James and John, and Matthew; the cure of a demoniac in the synagogue; the cure of Peter's mother-in-law; the healing of the paralytic (when Jesus first said 'Your sins are forgiven'); the cure of the centurion's son (recalled when we say at Holy Communion - 'Lord I am not worthy', the promise of the Eucharist - - and also his reproach 'As for you Capharnaum - if the miracles done in you had been done in Sodom, it would have been standing yet.'

  As I sat basking in the sunshine, I thought of my parishioners facing an English November and felt guilty - well slightly guilty - but only for a few seconds - as I knew they were being well-looked after and would approve of my itinerary.

  I stayed at Capharnaum for two hours and then plotted a route to the Mount of Beatitudes which I could see clearly, gracing the slope in the distance, on the hillside. It is the apex of a triangle between Tabgha and Capharnaum and I took one of my famous shortcuts up through some fields of mustard plants and grape trees. Eventually I found a smooth path which took me to the gateway of the beautiful grounds and Church of the Beatitudes. I had cut out two sides of the triangle and had saved miles, and time.

  I completed this walk in 20 minutes and, as it was siesta time - for others, but not for me - I wandered around the grounds admiring the sweeping view down to the Sea of Galilee. After some time, a Franciscan Italian nun appeared at the sacristy and I celebrated Mass, with the nun as the only member of the 'congregation' amidst the flowers in a peaceful lovely corner of the garden, accompanied by the singing of the birds. The church reminds pilgrims that it was here that Jesus spoke the words, 'Blessed are the poor in spirit, the peacemakers, those who hunger and thirst for what is right.........'

  I spent a few hours in the haven of that hillside before completing the triangle by walking down a slopping path through a cucumber field to Tabgha. I paid just a short visit this time. From there I was directed Eastwards up the road to a bus-stop. The sun was setting; darkness was encroaching over the lake. As time passed and tour buses and cars streamed by, I began to wonder what the night might hold for me. I was alone, 2000 miles from home and the thought entered my mind that the bus might not come. Then what .......?

  As I stood there, requesting every bus to stop, I must have looked a forlorn figure to the passing travellers - commuters and pilgrims. At last, after 40 minutes, as another bus came around the distant corner, with my confidence running low, I put out my hand again, and - the indicator came on, the bus turned off the road and came to a halt. What a relief! I poured coins and coins into the driver's hand. He kept asking for more. It seemed like a king's ransom - it was that new currency! I was prepared to pay any amount to get to Nazareth. As I sat in my seat, slowly regaining my composure, I made a resolution that I would never take a risk like that again. How long did that resolution last?

  I got off the bus at Tiberias and caught the 5.20pm bus to Nazareth. Suddenly everything was going well again. I enjoyed a conversation with a man from the Council of Interior Planning. He said that the Franciscans were going to build a church over Peter's House in Capharnaum soon. How many pilgrims and guides knew that at the time?

  I arrived in Nazareth after 6.00pm. All my travelling which involved five bus changes had cost 11,000 shekels - only £5. 50. The modern looking Casa Nova building, is a short distance from the bus stop, and directly opposite the truly magnificent Basilica of the Annunciation. Immediately, I was struck by the friendliness of people everywhere.

  I ate a hearty dinner and then enjoyed a relaxing stroll around the town. I was in bed by 9.45pm unable, for the first time, to find the energy to complete the diary of the day's adventures.