Bethlehem is a small city (population about 26,000) on the far side of a large wall which divides it from the metropolitan area of Jerusalem. The security measures make a short trip much longer than it needs to be. For some reason, they also make the trip depressing.
In 1948, 85% of the town’s population identified themselves as Christians. Today, that percentage has been reduced to about 40%. Of course I cannot be sure of this, but my theory is the Christians left because they grew tired of everyone trying to sell them camels carved out of “genuine” olive wood from Gethsemane.
Shopping is a big time business in Bethlehem – especially at this time of year. My memories of the city include tourist trap after tourist trap only separated by the occasional restaurant where all the staff is trained to sing “O Little Town of Bethlehem” in English. I don’t think I would find all of this so disconcerting if the waiters did not insist on singing the song ALL YEAR LONG.
In the Fifteenth Century a group of Franciscan friars from Italy introduced the art of mother-of-pearl carving to the town. Let me assure you, if you can make it out of Bethlehem without an olive wood carving or something created out of mother-of-pearl, you have probably experienced the second greatest miracle to ever occur in the city.
It makes you wonder how this circus actually began.
On a more positive note, the Cremisan monks founded a winery in 1885. In 2007, their production had grown to about 700,000 liters a year. The actual monastery is within the Jerusalem city limits, but the storeroom on the other side of the parking lot is under Palestinian Authority, located in Bethlehem. As you can imagine this is causing a headache for everyone – and not just those consuming the wine!
Now what DID catch my attention around Bethlehem was the fortress that Herod the Great built about 3 miles southeast of the town. The highest point of the Herodium (That’s right, he named it after himself) is about 2,500 feet above sea level – making it the highest peak in the Judean desert. Looking down from the top of it towards Bethlehem, I was reminded of the soldiers who must have poured out of it and down the slopes to kill the young children (Matthew 2:16-18) once Herod realized he had been outwitted by the Magi.
Another memory of Bethlehem that is etched into my mind is a Christian ministry attempting to reach out to the Palestinian refugee children in creative ways. They had sponsored a photography competition for the kids. As I toured the small building, a young man of about 11 or 12 years of age grabbed my hand and insisted I look at one of the framed black and white photos. It showed him – the same little guy now holding my hand – pointing a rifle at an Israeli soldier who was working his way across an open field. The boy looked up at me with real pride in his eyes, pointed at the picture and then at his chest.
Sometimes it is hard to know how to respond.
I think of another little boy born in Bethlehem before all the carved camels and bottles of wine with carved mother-of-pearl made their appearances in the local markets. I think of what it must have been like for a girl “that age” giving birth during her own visit to the town.
In Touching Wonder, John Blase imagined it this way: “Joseph thought Mary pushed. The truth is, she shook and rocked on exhausted knees as I held her by My strong right arm and the brightness grew until she could bear no more. Time pulled eternity from the womb of a girl, and bloodstained Love spilled on the hay.”
Well, done Mary! However, did you know what you were beginning?
No comments:
Post a Comment