Elizabeth was young when she studied in Jerusalem, part of her year of intensive Arabic studies. The religious significance was lost on her, emotionally. The white stone buildings were beautiful, and she was impressed by the tangible remnants of ancient history, but to her it was a project, an example of how deeply humans could hate each other. For her family, church had always been a social obligation. None of the Weirs would ever have considered making a pilgrimage anywhere except the Rose Bowl.

She learned Arabic, and conversational Hebrew, enough to read street maps and order falafel. She'd need more, if this became her geographical specialty in her conflict resolution studies, but she was drawn north, to the Balkans, the former Eastern Bloc, Russia.

Her roommate insisted she see the religious sites in her last week there. "This is the most sacred place in the universe," she told Elizabeth, without a hint of doubt in her voice.

Elizabeth felt empty when she considered that, so she tried to put that thought away.