Sandra, my wife and Tom s mother, was invited to teach in Cairo, so we all went. Tom and I climbed aboard an Egyptian bus filled with tourists, Egyptians, Palestianians, Muslims, Christians, men, women and children and headed out across the desert. We arrived in the Holy City at nightfall. Flagging a taxi, we found a pleasant hotel run by Palestinians, just off the Joppa Road. It was a pilgrimage, a tour and a great adventure wrapped into one.
Today there are no fires, and much of it is paved.
We found the tomb of the great King David, covered with a rich green cloth, embroidered with harps and musical instruments, where devout Jews knelt in prayer, and where just outside, others burned candles. Nearby was a shrine in memory of those who died in the Holocaust. Tom and I, wearing paper yarmul- kas that are available for tourists slipped reverently inside. The thought of his pain and of the tragedy he mourned brought silent tears. When we came to the Upper Room, it was empty, and we had a few moments of silence there.