Holy Land Pilgrimage 2015, from Alice Krapf, St. John's in Charlestown

This post reflects our day from Wednesday, 14 January, but was posted on the evening of 15 January 2015. 

We are off early to Bethlehem, passing by the Jaffa Gate and seeing much more of the Israeli section of the City.  Clean streets, impressive buildings, especially the housing, without equipment and wires hanging off the roofs and sides of the buildings.  Less than 15 minutes later, we sail through a long line of cars and the checkpoint and find Bethlehem.  I was prepared for a modern city, a tourist city; but I did not expect to find a city hanging on a steep hillside with lovely vistas, and I certainly didn't expect to see it completely surrounded by a 30 foot high concrete wall (Iyad says there is a part that is a fence). 

The wall makes several  statements beyond the obvious ones of separation and fear.    Palestinians have painted posters on it, with stories of the occupation, along with slogans, a little art work and some basic graffiti.  At one point, we stand in front of barbed wire,  an observation post with conical roof looming above us.  It looks like something from a prison, and I can think of some other historical antecedents, but don't really want to go there.  Later, someone comments that violence has substantially decreased since the walls have been built.  But that has also been accompanied by rerouting of roads, the checkpoints and other driving restrictions.  It has also resulted in a major decrease of the Christian population of Bethlehem, now down to 18%.

The town itself is quite pretty and appears much more prosperous than East Jerusalem, newer, all white limestone, washed by wind and sun.  In the near distance are rolling hills, dotted with other Palestinian towns, more walls, and new Jewish settlements.  The settlements are also a surprise, not rural or even suburban, but many thousands of multi family apartments in mid and high - rise buildings, whole cities of well over 100,000 people.   They represent a massive, coordinated effort - architectural, governmental and financial; the real estate developer part of my brain starts calculating the myriad vested interests in their creation and sustained operation.

The political situation has quickly incurred on what I think is my primary purpose for being here, so it is some relief to arrive at a quiet Manger Square - it is about 8 a.m. In the morning!  The Church of the Nativity is, of course, under construction, lots of exterior scaffolding with about two workers, no hard hats, hauling construction material up in what looks to be a reinforced plastic bag. OSHA would be horrified.  Construction inside also, in the Greek Orthodox portion of the building, with three tiered chandeliers and more sanctuary lamps than I can count actually hung from the construction scaffolding.  OSHA would be apoplectic, at this, especially if they saw the three year old using the scaffolding as a jungle gym.  We plaster ourselves against a wall a few steps below this makeshift sanctuary, with its incredibly rich backdrop of elaborate gold framed icons, trying not to intrude.  There is a busy pageantry with its own choreography of singing, ring kissing and movement of people around the altar.  The congregation responds, sings, stands, etc., with no prayer books or hymnals. 

We head down a stair into the room said to be where St Jerome wrote the R.C. Bible, referred to as the Vulgate, with two faithful women helpers, and then further down into a multi room cave, recently excavated, that Mark says is more like the Christmas manger than the official site.  It is lovely in its emptiness, and a good place for us to gather for a reading from Matthew and a heartfelt rendition of O Little Town of Bethlehem.

Outside again, there is a lovely cloister with orange trees, anemones, freshly turned earth, and elegant double columns. I could stay here all day.  I look through the entrance and see four women in headscarves, and realize they are all from our group.  A photo opportunity impossible to resist, we manage to find about eight of us at once.   We visit the Roman Catholic sanctuary off the cloister, which is a nice space, but the service with multiple tour groups and nine priests, seven of whom are in bizarre white chairs, does not draw me in.  When Iyad signals we should leave, I'm wondering whether we've been thrown out like the early Christian initiates who have to leave after the readings and before the Eucharist. 

When we do finally get into the area with the star in the floor which represents where the Christ child was born, I'm impressed by its smallness and cavelike appearance despite the tapestry, marble and gold.  An old R.C. priest with a brown watch cap conducts a beautiful Eucharist in Italian in a minuscule cave two steps down (the location of the manger) from the birthplace.  I think it must be very hard to concentrate on a holy task when there  are no assumptions one can make about the intentions of the impromptu congregation, which changes constantly. 

After lunch, we stroll the Shepherds Field, which is a lovely garden and in no way suitable for sheep.  But it has an archaeological excavation of a typical cave of the region, and a chapel with marvelous acoustics.  We are treated to a gorgeous concert by Korean nuns and then try our own voices out on the space.  We are fortunate to have good representation from the Parish of the Epiphany's choir and Father Tom Mousin's excellent voice and conducting.

We are all exhausted when we get back, but rally for dinner and conversation after, getting to know each other better.  We seem to be a pretty comfortable group.  There is a cake for Carol Bellamy's birthday and she shares with us a present she received from some local UNICEF colleagues she visited: a carved manger scene, with a wall and watchtower as a backdrop; when she turns it around, there are the Magi, unable to get to the manger.