Bethlehem

I met an American at the hostel where I stayed in Jerusalem and we decided to go to St. Bethlehem together the next day. First we have to walk to the Damascus port where buses depart. Once there we can take a bus but the driver immediately makes it clear that he is not driving any further than the checkpoint there – the border with the Westbank which is ofcourse Palestian terrority.

No idea how far that is yet to our final destination, but we go for it and get into the bus. It does not take long for us to arrive at a border post and get out. The driver points to a city further down the road what Bethlehem should be. Yet with some reserve we walk towards the heavily armed soldiers who are waiting there.

They want to see our passports, but from the moment they see where I come from, they start to laugh and immediately the ice is broken. The men are big football fans and can name all Dutch players in the national team. We can continue. 

On the other “side”, we are looking up to what must once become an entire wall around the West Bank. Here at Bethlehem they are almost ready with it - a high wall of 8 meters high that has to ensure that fewer suicide-bombers cross the border and blow themselves up in buses and public places in Israel. In itself a noble thought it was not that the wall would largely be in Palestinian territory. Because we do not want to walk that end, we put our thumbs up. Ten minutes later we have a lift and get out on the main square in Bethlehem which is also called the kribbe-square.

The old city of Bethlehem, where king David would come from, is not very big and the center is even smaller than I expected. We get out on the "Manger" square where it is very crowded. Strangely enough we see numerous Muslims walking around among monks and nuns in a sea of church towers, chapels and Christian sights. In fact, there would now be more Muslims living here than Jews or Christians.

On one hand strange in this Christan pelgrim city, on the other hand not so strange on the Westbank.  I read that countless Palestinian Muslims have come here after the six-day war of 1967. There seem to be a number of refugee camps around the city too. It is a cozy atmosphere. And of course, we are primarily interested in is seeing the real birthplace of Christ. Actually on the square is the birth church of Jesus, the oldest constant active church in the world built by Roman Emperor Constantine in the year 326.

What is immediately striking is the inconspicuous façade of this perhaps most famous church in the world - it seems Ottoman though. We have to get in through a very small door and it seems to have been reduced by the Crusaders who wanted to prevent that somebody could get in with force.  

Inside we look through the glass on the floor with a covered beautiful mosaic floor that seems to be original. On the left are two bloodred coloured rows of columns, also original. Right in front of us is the small staircase leading to the cave or cellar to the place where the manger must have stood. We arrive in a small room, only light up by some authentic lanterns. A number of nuns have come along and together we stand for a 14 pointed star that would indicate the exact spot - the holy of holies for Christians. The birthplace of Christ. A small chapel is next to it dedicated to the arrival of the three wise men from the east, Kasper, Melchior and Balthazar.

I'm not very religious, honestly, but I must say that this place does something to me. There seems to be quite some discussion here, and that is an understatement, who is in charge here. So every meter and every object you see seems to be neatly divided over the different religions - Orthodox, Catholic and Armenian. We walk outside looking for a restaurant for a breakfast.

We walk back to the square and decide to take a bus to visit the famous shepherd fields. We step outside in the village Beit Sahour while the driver points to a few fields. It is strange to stand here alone in a meadow and realize that it was here that the shepherds saw the star above the stable where we have just visited a church.

In the middle of the fields there is an Italian church that is opened especially for us. We seem to find us here in a small valley, Der Er-Ra (Convent of the Shepherds), with olive trees of sometimes 2000 years old. But the underground-church, dedicated to the Mother of God, with the graves of three of the shepherds to whom the birth of Christ was announced, we have never found, unfortunately.  

We look around and decide to go back. On the road we doubt whether we are going back to Bethlehem for the so-called milk-cave (where Jesus, Mary and Joseph would hide and give Mary Jesus milk where a drop of spilled on a stone that turned white) and / or to the tomb from Rachel. We conclude that we have had enough social lessons today and want to go back to Jerusalem, to our hostel.

We hitchhike back to the checkpoint, wave to the soldiers at the border and climb in the bus that brings us back.