For many years, I have believed that as Christians we must read the Gospels, as we must read our own lives, in the light of the resurrection. We are called to return to every moment in the life of Jesus, no matter how small: his walks along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, the bread he broke amongst friends, his prayers whispered beneath the olive trees – and see within them a hidden hope, waiting to be revealed. That is what it means to find the joy hidden among ordinary things. That knowledge of resurrection has served as my source of strength in many times of difficulty.

Yet it is only now, after so many years of living in proximity to war, violence, and displacement, that I have come to believe that we might also learn to read the Gospels, and so our own lives, in the light of the crucifixion. This also is a source of strength.

In a year wracked by violence, a writer in the Holy Land finds herself returning to the crucifixion.