Stubby, yellow-green grass covered the hill under our feet. Rocks, ranging from small, scattered stones to various pilings of gray boulders, dotted the landscape. From this vantage point, we had a clear view all around of the repetition of these gentle rises. The small village of Bethlehem settled in a valley to the Northeast. Two local shepherds in baggy wraps of earth-toned clothing tended their charcoal brown sheep, leading them to familiar areas for grazing. They brought to life images of David in the Old Testament, tending sheep and writing songs, before he became king.

The leader of our group called our attention to something in his hand, as he made his way up to us from the slope to the East. With a small pair of pliers, he held out what looked like a twig about as thick as my pinkie, bent into a twisted "J" shape and covered with groupings of spiky thorns. They were the color of brown mustard and about an inch-and-a-half long.

"Most of you can probably guess what this is." He looked around at us and held it higher for those in the back to see. "This is the plant they used as the crown of thorns for Jesus when he was crucified. Check out how long these things are. Y'all can touch it if you want, but be very careful with it. And the juice inside is very poisonous, even to the touch."

I crowded in closer.

Other than the thorns, the twig had a few groupings of between three and five broad, little, olive-green leaves. The leaves were not glossy but with had very fine fuzzy texture to the touch. Some of these leaves made a circular frame around the bottom of the clusters of thorns, which in turn made circular frames around the bases of single flower buds. These buds had shrunk and dehydrated to the same mustard color of the thorns. The points of the thorns were sharp on my fingertip, not sharp like a needle's point, which would be easier to pierce into someone's skull, but more like the tip of a household steak knife.
In the end it was just another plant, a foreign one, to be sure, and a rather frightening one, but another cactus-like desert plant, nonetheless. Its fancy name is Euphorbia Milli, colloquially known among gardeners worldwide as "Crown of Thorns" (How creative).

Plant lovers grow it indoors, and those with a not-so-green thumb, like me, appreciate its heartiness. The plant loves heat and light, which explains its home in the Middle East. It also flowers perennially into pink and coral clusters, a display that brightens with Mediterranean charm.
"Of course it grows heartily in the wild here," our leader spoke to my little gathering around the twig, "and it's easy to imagine some creative soldier spotting it and getting a bright idea about how to put it to good use as they led Jesus along."

For this reason, it has become quite a popular little item. It is revered, even among non-Christian cultures. In Thailand, they say it brings luck because it harbors the eight virtues of the gods: health, bravery, wealth, beauty, artistry, cleverness, poetry, and victory over evil. Big responsibility for a plant, I'd say.

At every souvenir shop in Israel I had seen stacks of perfectly bundled and boxed circles of these thorns for sale. Next to the olive branches and little Tupperware containers of hyssop seed, they flew off the shelves to be adorned with purple scarves or draped over carved crosses in the homes of believers and superstitious folks around the world. A trip to holylandimports.net can provide the same thrill to those who cannot afford the actual trip.

The pliers released their grip, and the twig fell to the ground.

"All right, back to the bus!" Our leader's blonde hair blew up in the wind.

My thighs burned as three of us raced back down the hill. Thoughts of the packaged goods I had seen in the shops brought another Biblical image to my mind, this time of Jesus overturning tables in the church where marketers were selling their wares in the New Testament, before he was crucified, The sky was gray-blue with a few clouds and muted sunlight, and a breeze cooled us while we waited at the bottom for the rest of our friends.

"Why are you so quiet?" Aaron panted with a grin, shoving me lightly.

My thoughts were jumbled by how naturally Israel brought us all face-to-face with things from the Bible. How silly and superficial the thorn decorations were, all marketed as though they were somehow
holy, merely because they are in the area where holy things happened. Some entrepreneur had a great idea for a tidy profit off things that miss the point entirely, and my face registered a solemn sadness as I sighed at my friend and shoved him back.

"Too much, Aaron. I'll tell you later."

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