Believe me Babe, This is Bethlehem

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My phone alarm went off before the wake-up call at 6 AM. We were so grateful that we didn’t need to pack up our bags and move on again this morning. That really was getting old and reminded us both once again one of the big reasons that we like to cruise. Breakfast included one thing that’s been missing for me so far: oatmeal! The rest of the breakfast was much the same as we’ve seen with cheeses and meats. They did have scrambled eggs and those little hot dog things again. And they had these wonderful puff pastry triangles that I had to go back and get a second one because they were so good. Sharon pretty much stuck with the scrambled eggs and cinnamon roll. They were serving the same juice that they’d had for us at reception the night before, and the grapefruit juice is very good.

Out by the busses Erin asked Father Jan if he was going to remain with us, or if the archbishop would (finally) switch to our green bus. She asked him, “Does the archbishop tell him where to go?” The reply was “No.” He probably should have just left it at that; but, he continued with “I go where the archbishop doesn’t go.” He immediately realized his choice of words might not have been the best, and he mimed trying to stuff the words back into his mouth.

On the bus, we found the archbishop sitting opposite us. I whispered to Sharon, “This is our highest ranking chaperone yet.” I expected her to say, “I wonder if he knows how to bark.” For those who don’t know us, while we were engaged, my mother’s dog Buddy was our official chaperone, and would bark constantly when Sharon was around (okay, so he barks all of the time anyway). Sharon’s friend Lin and my mother took up this habit.

We’re visiting Bethlehem today, the City where every day is Christmas, first celebrating mass in the Annunciation Parrish, and one that is twinned with the Archdiocese of Cincinnati. Literally, Bethlehem means “House of Bread”. Bethlehem is mentioned a few times in the Old Testament. The wife of Jacob died on the road to Bethlehem giving birth to their twelfth son Benjamin. Naomi, mother in law to Ruth, both moved to Bethlehem after the death of Ruth’s husband. Ruth wasn’t really accepted by her mother in law, not originally being Jewish; but, Ruth won her over with her “Your people are my people and your God is my God” assertion. Also, David was anointed in Bethlehem. And Micah prophesied that the future “King of the Jews” would come from Bethlehem. This was the passage cited to Herod that motivated him to try and avoid any future challengers to his power. We saw the security wall that forms a perimeter around Bethlehem. We passed through a checkpoint, where passports are sometimes needed, so we had been forewarned to carry them with us; although, we didn’t need them today. When we got off the bus at the church, our driver Levon had already offloaded the scooter. It was just a short flat walk to the church and when Erin indicated that she would not need the scooter, he smiled, “No problem, I can sell it in the market.” I think Erin meant to say that she wouldn’t need the scooter now; but, probably would need it later. As we passed through the security checkpoint, I asked Sharon if she had ever imagined being here. She shook her head realizing the places we were about to visit. Believe me Babe, this is Bethlehem.

Joining us for mass in the church were children from the school’s choir, as well as the seminarians studying at the school associated with the church. Some of the seminarians were from Jordan. To start, the archbishop gave some opening words, and the local priest translated after every sentence or two. In addition to the children in the choir, the seminarians on either side of the priests by the altar, teachers at the school were sitting at the rear of the church. Father Ken gave the homily, talking about what it is to be a “Good shepherd”. He recalled how he at age 18 before he knew that he wanted to be a priest he had been walking by a field in Fatima Portugal. He saw an old crippled shepherd tending his flock and leaning on his well-used wood crutch. Ken waved joyfully at the shepherd, and then noticed that the flock seemed to notice him and started moving towards him. He waved again and the sheep began to move more quickly. He started to run away, and the sheep were jumping over the stone fence that separated the field from the path he was on. All the while, that good shepherd was struggling to keep up to protect his flock, hobbling along with his crutch doing everything he could. Again, the local priest translated one or two sentences at a time, which included the hand waves at the appropriate places. Father Ken concluded with the observation “If you pray, you will give your children Jesus.” When it came time for the Lord’s Prayer, the local priest informed us that it would be done in Arabic. Sharon was all choked up, hearing something that she could not have imagined hearing before today. There wasn’t enough time to have a planned classroom visit, and this would have been déjà vu all over again for us having done a class room visit in China earlier this year. We got back on our bus and were handed the olive wood crèche gifts for each of us. The archbishop and two others had received larger crèches at the end of the mass as gifts. We also each received a Christmas card from the parish.

The blue bus went for a visit of Shepherd’s Field; while, we visited a tourist shop by one of the gates to Shepherd’s Field. We were looking for a Jerusalem Cross for a friend of Sharon’s friend Lin, who also happens to be named Sharon. The Jerusalem Cross is composed of five crosses, one in the center, and one in each quadrant that the first cross divides. The crosses are sized like a “plus sign”, without one side being longer. And there are often serifs on the tips of each end. The larger cross in the center represents Jesus, and that each of the other four crosses stand for the four books of the Gospel included in the New Testament: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. One of Sharon’s pet peeves is when people refer to these as the four Gospels (suggesting that there is more than just one). In search for these items, Sharon spotted some earrings that she fancied. At first she was considering some with earrings with a Jerusalem cross with Amorite; but, these didn’t have the cross made out of the stone. Then she found some gold earrings that looked really nice. There was the choice of either black background or white, and we all felt the former was more striking. It was a bit pricey with the main cross being studded with black diamonds. Sharon balked some at the price; but, I could tell that she liked them, so I told her “It’s my treat.” As much as the sales girl tried to sell me a ring with a Jerusalem cross, she finally understood that all that we wanted was the additional item for Lin’s friend. When it came time to pay, they wouldn’t take my American Express. But then my Visa rejected the transaction; and, I thought “Aha. I can use Sharon’s MasterCard. But that transaction came back rejected too. Then the owner said, yes, we can take American Express, just not with the electronic reader. So he proceeded to make a phone call, wait for a call back, and the transaction was approved. After doing our souvenir-buying duty, and doing the purchases in Bethlehem as Father Ken had suggested (helping support the local community whose lives and livelihoods have suffered so much under the current uncertainty about the ultimate disposition of the West Bank), we went to see Shepherd’s Field, the site where the angels informed the shepherds of the birth of Jesus. There was a shrine there and a fountain and some lovely landscaping, including some very prickly cacti. While visiting the shrine at Shepard’s Field we heard a far off clap of thunder, and soon felt the first drops of the approaching rain. We made haste return to the bus and by the time we were again in our seats the rain was coming down pretty good. Before our bus departed Father David passed out his business card to everyone, in case we get separated, we can have a passerby call him for us on his cell phone. Then, one of the pilgrims helped to pass out free olive wood rosaries to everyone. Somebody asked how many Hail Mary’s are in a decade for these rosaries, in reference to the rosaries recited by Father Ken on the green bus. These were the rosaries that I naturally took a nap during, so it was news to me when whispers began to inquire if something had been amiss during the rosary. The first time Father Ken said the rosary, those participating thought that either they hadn’t been paying attention or perhaps even that they’d dozed off, which trust me, wasn’t that hard to do. But after the second rosary winks and questioning shrugs suggested others too were having trouble with the count of Hail Mary’s in a decade, they just weren’t working out to what the beads said that they should. I will say this, even I as a non-Catholic can see that Father Ken is deeply involved spiritually when he says the rosary, and his prayers continue as the mood moves him and it isn’t limited to some random physical count. This seems perfectly natural to me. I’m just saying, I’d rather it be sincerely felt rather than something done by rote by bean counter (or in this case a bead counter).

The bus dropped us off at the bus parking terminal, not being allowed access to the top of the hill where we would be going to see the grotto where Jesus was born… that’s right, I said a grotto. To be precise, a grotto in the Church of the Nativity, built by the Emperor Constantine in the fourth century above the traditional grotto of Jesus’ birth. You may have spent your whole life (like me) thinking that Jesus was born in a manger, among farm animals in a barn because there was no room at the inn. That sentence in fact is mostly right. Jesus was born in grotto (cave) and then placed in a manger, among farm animals in the grotto because there was no room at the inn. In fact, by the end of today we’d discover that there was a whole lot of being born in grottos back in the day. Father David had arranged for transportation for Erin and five others to the top of the hill. The roadway was too steep for Erin on crutches or her scooter, and several others in our group have varying degrees of trouble getting around. Across the street from the church, our green bus group assembled to have a group picture taken with the Church of the Nativity in the background and beside a giant Christmas Tree. Three of the people arrived in a taxi and Father David inquired about the other three who were not here yet. The taxi needed to go back and get them. Father David went up by the street to wait for them and hurry them into the picture; but, the photographer thought that everyone was present and so he took the group picture. Father David came rushing back in his brown monk robes complaining, “Not everyone is in the picture… I’m not in the picture… You’ll have to take the picture again when the other three come.” The photographer wasn’t happy, and the assembled group began to disperse to go into the church. Father David pleaded with them to stay; but, as he formulating his final objections to the photographer they skies opened up and even God wouldn’t expect people to stand out in the rain getting soaked for a picture. Everyone did make it slowly inside the church, and I was more than a little wet. I took pictures within the church, and what Father David thought would be a twenty minute wait for the group to get into the grotto to see the birth place of Jesus, actually took less than ten minutes, there being just one other group that arrived about the same time that we did. I went first down into the side alcove where the manger had been. We then each crawled into the grotto space to touch the silver star that marks the birth place of Jesus. We can check of the fourth mystery for this pilgrimage that is counted among the joyous ones. After viewing the grotto beneath the church we returned to the floor above. There, while staring at two large framed renderings, the one I was looking at of the Virgin Mary and some angels, I thought (for just the briefest moment) that I was witnessing an apparition. The figures began to move and their arms seem to be thrust upwards as if in praise of the Lord. It was an effect not unlike being stopped in a car and a car that was stopped next to you starts to move slightly without making a sound and your senses tell you that you are moving but your inner ear begs to differ and you frantically strain for other sensory data to make sense of what’s happening, like checking references to other stationary objects. Well, that’s what I felt, and then I realized the framed treasure was actually being lifted up from behind the glass wall to which it was mounted by two workmen to allow the glass to be cleaned.

We were able to walk to lunch, which departed from buffet style service to family style serving, with the salad sides already on plates on each table for us to choose. One of the pickled side dishes was pinkish in color and looked like it could be jicama, except of course for the color. One of the green group did suggest that they thought it could be turnip, and Dennis thought that that might be right. Others had suggested horse radish, and there was a definite radish taste to it, just not quite as strong as you might suppose for horse radish. The owner later confirmed that it was indeed pickled turnip, and that all of the sides were made in house (something he was rightly very proud of). The chicken entrée was served onto peoples plates by the serving staff, and was very good. Sharon was happy it was white meat. Cokes were $3 each; but, at least they were the regular sized cans. As the meal was winding down, the atmosphere suddenly got quite festive in the restaurant, and staff came around and put a red fez hat on everyone. They made me take off my red baseball cap, and I tucked it behind me between my shirt and belt. I finished eating, and then went to the restroom, leaving my fez had on my chair. To make a long story short, it’s not a good idea to have a hat secured in your waist band in the back if you’re dropping your trousers to sit on a toilet. Sigh. When I returned to our table things had really gotten raucous and Father Ben was among those doing the Macarena. What’s with this Father Ben in monk’s robes? He’s a dancing dervish. I had my slightly wet hat tucked inside my waist band, and quietly slipped my fez back on my head. At least I could enjoy dessert.

We continued walking on to the Milk Grotto. This is a shrine where Mary is said to have nursed the baby Jesus. The grotto walls are limestone, a whitish calcium carbonate substance responsible for the name “Milk Grotto”. Powder from this grotto is said to possess exceptional healing powers, and many miraculous cures are claimed to have resulted from contact with the powder (or these walls). From here we had to walk back to the bus terminal; but, this time there were no taxis ready to help Erin or the others who should not be asked to walk down some of the steep streets to the terminal. Father David then went on a mission to either find a ride or flag down a taxi, as we meandered down the increasingly steep slick narrow stone street. The group was wearing our “Whisperer” system, and earpiece and a unit on a neck-strap that we tune to Father David’s transmitter unit, so we could hear his pleas as he popped his head in the various stores and cafes along the street. Where ever he found a parked car he search for the driver; but, to no avail. Meanwhile, Erin made her way down the street, carefully. Several taxis drove up the street, but all were carrying fares. Sharon grew increasingly concerned for her sister, and Dennis monitored the lack of progress, as if in vain, over the Whisperer. We crossed a couple of larger streets which were becoming more commercial, more busy, and steeper to boot. Erin was becoming increasingly fatigued, and would later say how exhausted her arms were from walking. Everyone in the green group had been impressed with how determined Erin has been to see most everything on this trip, and Sharon had noted numerous times with quite a bit of pride, “Oh, if Erin wants to do something, she will.” And she willed her way down that final hill to where we had caught up to Father Ben of the Blue Group who had managed to hail a ride. Erin was approaching the corner, complete worn out and fatigue showing in her face, when the van/limo pulled up. There were a couple others in the two groups who were also struggling to get back. One elderly gentleman who walked with a limp and a can looked like he might collapse. One woman had severely swollen ankles and could not walk many more steps. Before Erin could get to the car it had filled up with these people, and others who thought it might be easier to ride the rest of the way. Erin was resigned to sit down at the corner and wait, perhaps for the car to come back for her. Fortunately, the last lady to seek a seat in the car realized that Erin was not yet aboard and at the corner, and called for her to go instead. We were probably two thirds of the way to the terminal, but the busy streets ahead of us were very, very steep and slick. Sharon and I made it to the terminal, along with Dennis, and found the bus waiting in the basement garage of the building that contained the only KFC in Jerusalem. Our guide had told us before we had left the bus that morning, should we get separated, that was a good landmark to seek out, and everyone should be able to direct you to it. “After all, there is only one.”

Our bus took us next to Ein Karem where the John the Baptist and the Visitation Churches were. In the Bible, Elizabeth was a woman without children and passed what was considered possible for child-bearing years. Elizabeth and her husband Zachariah had yearned for children; but, it was not to be. Mary had gone to see Elizabeth and her husband, and they were visited by the angel Gabriel, who revealed to them that Elizabeth would bear a child, and his name was to be John. Zachariah questioned, how that was possible. Gabriel admonished him that through God, all things were possible. As a sign of that power, and for being skeptical, Zachariah was told that he would lose his voice until the birth of his child. When Zachariah left the temple where the visitation occurred, he was waving his arms to rejoice and spread the news of his good fortune, but his voice was silence. And, later, when his son was born to Elizabeth (in a grotto), he regained his voice. After him, Mary, who herself had been born in a grotto, gave birth to God’s only son (in a grotto).

Most of us visited the site of the John the Baptist birth while a few heart souls trekked up the hill to the Visitation Church. The few that did from our bus returned to the hotel with the Blue bus. The Green bus headed back to the hotel, passing through the security wall and the cloistered environment of Bethlehem. While the wall is serving its purpose by providing a physical barrier to terrorism, it has also ripped neighborhoods apart and also diminished point-of-contact sales at many businesses within. The internet has helped some by opening the opportunity for an online presence for some vendors; but, others have livelihoods that depend primarily on available foot traffic. There are claims by some that land was confiscated to build the security wall, and understandably, there are hard feelings.

We were so happy to get back to the room, perhaps me more than Sharon; because, I needed to get back to the room. And when I did, I don’t believe it, how does that stupid song go, “I did it again.” That hat was still stuck in my waist band behind me. Well, not actually, not any more.

We met Erin and Dennis for dinner, and the food was more of the same as the night before, many salad items but no hummus, things like baby tomatoes, bean sprouts, shredded cabbage, sliced cucumbers, pickled olives, everything in fact you might want to make a salad with except lettuce or salad greens. What’s with that? I had seen Pellegrino on the menu after I’d ordered a Coke the night before, both a large and small bottle, so today I ordered a large bottle. It came and was chilled and was three-quarters of one liter, and I was happy. I took what was left in bottle up to my room to drink while working to catch up on the blog.

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Comments

[JANET]

HI SHARON & JOHN
I CAN TELL YOU ARE HAVING A GREAT TIME. SOUNDS LIKE VERY INTRESTING TRIP. YOU WILL HAVE TO TELL US ALL ABOUT AT SOME POINT ! THANKS FOR THE PHOTOS.