I was 12 years old.
There were piles of burning rubble and young women and men, a few years older than I, carrying machine guns, everywhere.
We visited the Dome of the Rock, the Mount of Olives, and the dead sea. At the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, a Greek Orthodox priest stroked the back of my head and looked at me with kind eyes as he said the word, “angel,” in English.
Jerusalem is a holy place to Jews, Christians, and Muslims.
It is no holier to one religion than to another.