There are some things in life one never — not even once — expects to do.

Walking along the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem, one of Christendom’s most revered sites, is one of those things.

Then came a spontaneous event that, well, made it special beyond all comprehension.

Our group met a gentleman, Brother Leo, who told us he hails from Santa Barbara, Calif. He has lived in Israel for 20 years. He is a monk who prays daily on the hill overlooking the holy city of Jerusalem. Below were Christian, Muslim and Jewish cemeteries just under the walls of the Old City. We could see churches and mosques and synagogues all along the horizon. The churches were Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant. We were beginning our walk where Jesus is believed to have walked during his brief time on Earth. Our walk would take us eventually to where he was crucified, buried and where he arose.

Three members of our Rotary Group Study Exchange team and I spoke briefly with Brother Leo. As we said our goodbye, he asked, “Would you like me to say a blessing?” We held hands and he prayed for us.

It is difficult, at the end of an incredibly moving day touring the 14 stages of the cross inside the Old City, to comprehend what happened on the Mount of Olives with that gentle man in the cloth robe.

I simply felt blessed in every possible way to have prayed with him — at that location and among these holiest of shrines.

I’m still trying to catch my breath.