COMMENTARY: I encountered something deeper than fear. I found faith, friendship, and the kind of peace that surpasses understanding.
I traveled to Israel just last week as part of a group of 31 U.S. military veterans, thanks to the Heroes to Heroes Foundation. We arrived just as tensions with Iran erupted into a 12-day war. Friends back home sent worried messages, and headlines warned of missiles in the skies. But during that time of conflict, I encountered something deeper than fear. I found faith, friendship, and the kind of peace that surpasses understanding.
We were told the streets might be empty, that a war would cast a shadow on everything. Instead, we found children playing freely, strangers welcoming us, and families gathering joyfully around shared meals. As a Navy veteran, former high-school educator and mother in midlife, I have known true fear. But this wasn’t it. There was a strength and steadiness all around us. My sense of safety didn’t come from circumstances. It came from something more enduring.
Each day we visited sacred places I had read about all my life. On the Mount of Beatitudes, we stood on a green slope above the Sea of Galilee and read aloud the words of Christ: “Blessed are the peacemakers.” The breeze seemed to pause as we listened. I thought of how often I’ve stood on hills in uniform, prepared for conflict. But this place, this holy hill, whispered peace.
Days later, I floated in the Sea of Galilee. The water surprised me with its motion, gentle one moment, choppy the next. As I drifted, I imagined Peter stepping out of the boat toward Jesus, his faith wavering. I felt the waves tug at me too. That moment in the water, feet brushing the sandy bottom, felt more like prayer than anything I could have said aloud.
A view from the Sea of Galilee shore(Photo: Courtesy of Katherine Lorio)
But the most unexpected spiritual moments came at night when sirens signaled us to take shelter. Each hotel had its own bomb shelter, and each evening our group gathered in those rooms as a precaution. What could have been the most fearful part of our trip instead became one of the most joyful. Someone always brought a kettle. There was tea and coffee, and snacks miraculously appeared, shared from backpacks and hotel rooms without anyone being asked. We sang hymns. We prayed together. We told stories. There was laughter, even in those lowest rooms of the buildings. We found communion in every sense of the word.
Meals during the day felt sacred too. Around tables of shakshuka, lamb, olives and warm bread, we moved from strangers to friends. These weren’t quick meals. They were slow, abundant and honest. Just as Jesus broke bread with his disciples, we shared ours with each other, discovering common stories, quiet griefs and deep hope.
One of the most moving moments of the pilgrimage came in Nazareth, at the Basilica of the Annunciation. Upon seeing the beauty of the church, I caught my breath. Sunlight poured through soaring arches and cast soft gold across mosaics that told a universal story. In that quiet space, I thought about Mary’s “Yes,” her calm and courageous surrender. I thought about all the yeses in my own life, from raising a child in my 50s to starting over more than once, to saying “Yes” to this trip despite the uncertainty. There, in that space, her story felt close and personal.
“In that quiet space, I thought about Mary’s ‘Yes,’ her calm and courageous surrender,” writes pilgrim Katherine Lorio of her prayerful visit to the Basilica of the Annunciation (Photo: Courtesy of Katherine Lorio)
And then there was Jerusalem. Standing shoulder to shoulder with the other veterans inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, I felt the weight of centuries and the nearness of the Resurrection. Pilgrims from all over the world knelt beside the place where Christ was laid. We were quiet, overcome. The holiness of that moment stitched us together in a way words never could.
By the end of our journey, the 31 of us had become something like family. We had hiked together, sung in churches together, and stood in awe at Christ’s tomb together. We prayed in Hebrew, Arabic, Aramaic and English. And we passed bread from hand to hand, honoring the One who first did the same.
This pilgrimage reminded me that safety is not merely the absence of danger. It is the presence of God. Peace can bloom in a war zone. Laughter can echo off the walls of a bomb shelter. Food and faith and friendship are holy things.
I came home with the same suitcase I left with, but my spirit felt lighter. I carried with me the smell of frankincense, the sound of waves on Galilee, and the memories of veterans who taught me that pilgrimage isn’t just about the land you visit. It is about the people you walk it with.
Katherine Lorio is a Navy veteran, former high-school educator and mother based in Georgia. She leads a community of women focused on beauty, wellness and faith and recently returned from a pilgrimage to Israel with fellow veterans.