Bethlehem, Oh Little Town

As the patriarch proceeds down the Star Street route*

That is reported to be the path that the Magi’s took 

So long ago.

The honk of horns from the cars that are 

Cascading on their ascent to the famed square 

From  David’s city afar.

While the cacophonous sound  of drums 

And bag pipes proceed before them 

In some declaration when

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw 

An older man with young boy in tow, 

Whom he appeared to be dragging unmercifully so - 

It got my attention-

Only to soon see that his charge was sightless, 

As he pulled him along, quite boldly it seemed 

In hopes that some holy one would cure him of disease.

Amidst all the clammer in both haste and speed

Our healing God goes unseen in the space between.

The words above capture some of the feeling of the second week in Bethlehem where I lived with the Daoud Nassar family whose family’s historic home still exists on Star Street,  and*where legend has it that the Magi’s traveled there on their way from Jerusalem to the baby’s manger cradle.  But this day, a two hour long parade of scout troop bands from neighboring villages and towns marched and played to crowds lining the walls of the old city street, as a fleet of cars, escorted the pious Roman Catholic Cardinal of the region seated in the back of a Mercedes, passed us on the way to the waiting crowd in Manger Square.  I say “capture the feeling” because what I experienced that holiday were not the tinsel and wrapped packages of my own experiences at such time at home, but the feeling of family and the expectant arrival of the Holy one there in that little town.

The incident that stands out in my mind so vividly still, and reflected in the poem above, is the image of an older man, perhaps the father of a young boy being compassionately brought close to the priest in hopes of receiving his healing blessing.  At first, I was alarmed by the counter flow up the street of the two people going against the grain of the parade coming down, and the almost desperate, but later it seemed, loving way the elder presented his son to the holy man.  The story in Luke of the faithfulness of friends lowering their sick companion through the roof to Jesus below was what I really saw at that moment.

Later, Daoud  who had seen it too, confirmed that the man and boy were his neighbors and indeed what I saw was accurate.

So family, love and hospitality is what I felt that week in Bethlehem.   After the parade that afternoon, and I had had yet another one of those many savory meals, we attended the Christmas Eve candle light service together at the English speaking Lutheran Church, a short walk away uphill.   The church was full when we arrived, and many had come far to celebrate the birth of Jesus that night.  Many like myself, from other countries, and many who were serving in some volunteer capacity in the region, gathered together in the wooden pews surrounded overhead by the majestic arched walls above.  At one point during the prayers of intercession, one could hear nine languages reading antiphonally the nine prayer passages coupled by a collective phrase of gratitude in Arabic. There was a sense that silent night of the universality of the faith community as we lighted our candles together.

The next morning, on Christmas Day, we went as a family to the same church to the Arabic service where the Nassar family children dominated the music program with their playing of tubas, handbells, trumpet and voice - such talent!   Receiving communion among the Arab members of the church was very special, and even more meaningful a service than the evening before.  Following  worship, I walked to the home of an old friend who works as a diplomat in the Palestinian government, and shared yet another scrumptious meal with her and her mother, and the memories of her father who had died during the year.  He had always welcomed me and my friend Bill, so warmly as “brothers” each time we came to his home.

The remainder of Christmas Day, I shared time with Daoud’s family as a steady flow of relatives came to the home to express their love.  It is custom that family members visit the members of their family who have married outside their own circle to express solidarity.

The next day, Daoud and I went with his brother Daher, to the farm to plant trees that were a gift for 12 members of the Endo clan in Virginia.  It was a wonderful time for us of working and relishing the events of the week.  When alone in the chapel cave with my harp, I couldn’t help to remember that image of the father and son in their encounter with the holy one on Star Street.  I wonder.....?

“Amidst all the clammer in both haste and speed

Our healing God goes unseen in the space between.”                 BP 1/9/13