Day 4: O Little Town
of Bethlehem
This is not the first time I’ve spent Christmas Eve &
Christmas Day away from home, in a tropical, temperate climate instead of
pillows of white clouds. There’s been India multiple times, Buenos Aires, Rome
(actually quite cold) and Mexico. Still, though, it always never hits me that
it is Christmas when I’m away from home. It feels different, even if the
celebration is very much in the air. Maybe not in Jerusalem – though to credit
them, they aren’t above putting up lights and stuff – but definitely in
Bethlehem, where my parents and I would be spending the hours that turn Eve
into Day, at Midnight Mass at the Church of the Nativity.
There would be a lot leading up to that moment, of course;
various elements that went from
ridiculous to amazing to all in between. The
day started late, half because yesterday started early, the other half because
today will end late into tomorrow. I even slept in an extra hour further than
my parents, awaking around 10:30, making it to the Old City Jaffa Gate entrance
around 11:05, right in time to meet my parents and a group of 30 or so others
on a walking tour of the Old City, or “The City” in our tour guides parlance.
The walking tour wouldn’t include the Temple Mount, but did
include many great views of it including a PhD level history lesson – or at
least the SparkNotes of a PhD level history lesson – of Jeruselam, if not this
whole part of the world.
Our tour guide was a young 40 years old local named Josh,
who regaled us with tale after tale, history point after history point, and
many jokes and quick turns of phrase that flew over most of our group. This is
not an offense to him, given that most of the group probably did not have
English as their first language.
The guide was great, the tour itself was nearly as good, a
true walking tour across all four quarters of the Old City – the Armenien
Quarter (which included a story on how the Armeniens landed in Jerusalem before
nearly anyone else – Jews excepted), the Jewish Quarter, the Christian Quarter
and the Muslim Quarter. The views were spectacular, especially a few spots that
went onto rooftops with beautiful sightlines of the Temple Mount and Mt.
Olive’s in the background.
The tour is advertised as two hours, with our guide telling
us in advance that he will go over, which he did. He kept saying during the
tour how far behind schedule we were, but you could see he enjoyed dishing out
history of the area he has such a strong connection to that he couldn’t care
less
Given we didn’t have a hard deadline, the extended history lesson was
nice anyway. What I learned was basically this area changed hands more than any
ever, from Assyrian to Jewish to Roman to Turkish to Jewish, to the same trio a
few times, finally resting with the Ottomans until the 20th Century
and then all the recent moves.
After the tour, which ended outside the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre, we wandered back into the Muslim Quarter, to have a late lunch (the
two-hour tour took 2:45 in the end), to the Family Restaurant (actually called
that). It is probably the most well known restaurant inside the old city, and
lived up to its good reputation. They had large quantities, well made simple
dishes (grilled fishs, chicken liver, lamb chops) seasoned well, served well.
They also had a nice roti-like bread to go along with the standard pita, that
was, for us, more effective and tasty.
After lunch, we headed back to the Holy Sepulchre for a bit,
before heading back to home for a quick rest before the trip for midnight mass,
which is where the days adventure truly began.
We knew a few things heading in. The doors to the church
would open at 9pm. There is a free shuttle from Jerusalem to Bethlehem (and the
reverse) run by the city. We went to place where the shuttle comes at 7:30pm.
And then the madness started. First, the shuttle never showed up for the 45
minutes we stayed there. We arrived to a crowd of 10; it grew to probably
around 80 by the end. There were a lot of restless souls, all wanting to
experience Christmas in Bethlehem, but much like Mary and Joseph, there was no
room at the inn.
In the end, we and a british couple and their daughter
decided to give up and take taxis – which cost us a pretty penny, but the
driver confirmed he would pick us up as well. It got us there at least. The
road to Bethlehem would take us to the first time into Palestine, which was 30%
exciting, 30% nerve-wracking, and 40% underwhelming when we weren’t so much as
asked to show a passport when we crossed over.
From the cab it begat another line, this time one outside
the Cathedral of St. Catherine, the Catholic church that connects to the Church
of the Nativity (where it is thought Jesus was born), where we lined up with
probably about 200 eagerly awaiting ticket holders. The wait was made a bit
better by a resplendent Manger Square, befitted with a nicely lit Christmas
Tree, and carolers seemingly brought in from the US or some other native
English speaking land, singing a nice mix of both religious and secular carols.
Sure, hearing ‘Walking in a Winter Wonderland’ was a bit odd in 50 degree
weather, bit then again that was cold for this part of the world.
The line became more annoying when we were stopped from
entering the other line up ahead, and saw various random people (probably
dignitaries or diplomats, or just really rich people) stroll by right into the
church. Our tickets said doors open at 9pm, but at 9:45, we were finally making
our way into the church. Then the crowds just got worse.
The church is small, probably seats no more than 500 in
pews. There were a good 3,000 people. We were standing neck to neck in the
aisles. A group of us just got restless after a while (remember, mass seemingly
started at midnight), and sat down. This was all good, until the ushers opened
up one additional row of pews, which created a rush, which made us have to get
up, and somehow end up more tightly packed.
In the end, I spent a good five hours on my feet, with maybe
20 minutes seated. But it was worth it. Not for the mass itself, which was said
mostly in Latin, and included a strange 11th (or more accurately
11:59th) hour appearance by Palestinean President Mahmoud Abbas, who
then left right in the middle of the homily (in English), where he stayed for
the part where the Cardinal thanked him for his appearance and support of
Catholics.
Outside of the mass though, the energy, the feeling of being
there, was great. I’ve been lucky enough to hear Midnight Christmas Mass at St.
Peter’s in the Vatican – a bit too young to remember it, and it was with a Pope
who would die less than a year later. This was more fly-by-night in its set-up
and structure, but still amazing. I’m not the most ardent Catholic. I go to
church, but was probably in the bottom quartile of religiousosity of the people
there that day, but damn if I didn’t feel something awesome.
After mass ended around 1:15 – kudos for them actually
keeping pretty close to time – we found our driver who promised to be there,
but then the last bit of madness started. The main path out of Bethelehem back
to Jerusalem was closed, and our driver was at a total loss for the alternate
way out.
He went down random roads up and down random mini-hills that
lead off of Bethlehem’s main big hill. Many times he assured us that he had to
just find one particular road, a road that continually escaped him, leading to
him driving down and then reversing back up roads multiple times. He finally
found the right way, and due to the closures, forced us to take the two legs of
the triangle rather than the direct hypotenuse, just adding to the time. Again,
no real security check, all we did was confirm the driver’s statement that we
were American, and we were finally back in Jerusalem, after a long day of
tourism, religion and many, many lines, ready to hit the hay, much like Jesus
did that night in the stable.
