It was a hot, muggy day, and we had been cycling for a few hours under the middle-eastern sun.
Sweaty, tired, and in need of some shade, my dad and I, quite wisely attired in shorts and tees considering the climate, trundled our rental bikes down some steps, into the church gardens. This was a spot on the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus had famously made breakfast for his friends, and told them some important stuff. On this site there is now a church and grounds, run by the Franciscan monks.
As soon as we entered, we were stopped by a particular Franciscan monk who might have got up on the wrong side of bed that day. Maybe he was just sick of the tourist hordes. He scanned us from head to toe, bare legs, scruffy bikes and all, and frankly declared: 'You are completely unacceptable'. He wouldn't budge, until we cleaned up, or left.
I begrudgingly got some harem pants on to enter the grounds, whilst my dad looked on from behind the railings, licking his wounds. He somehow hadn't been quite so savvy as to remember spare trousers.
After our initial embarrassment and slight indignance, I'll admit I just felt sad. Saddened by this 'welcome' into a 'holy' place. I understand respecting different traditions, but I also think church was meant to be the place to of rest, welcome, and open arms.
As we cycled on later, we did have a good laugh about it, and we both agreed Jesus would have probably welcomed us very differently, even if we did smell a bit...
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