During one of my trips to Israel, as I was looking around the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, I noticed a peculiar mural on one of the walls. Though dimly lit, I could just make out the ancient image of Jesus stretched out on the cross, the man who crucified him sitting by His head.
STEALING JACOB'S CHAIR: PART ONE
He sat across from me, his steel blue eyes examining my own. Those eyes had seen many things during their 80+ years—the forced expulsion from home, death marches, ghettos.
