Christmas Eve in Bethlehem: Let the Rains Come Down

In the past few weeks, sorrow and anger mingled palpably (and sometimes violently) in the wake of  President Trump’s reckless announcement that the US would recognize Jerusalem as the capital of Israel  — ignoring the well-known claims on Jerusalem by Palestinians, both Muslim and Christian. Personal plans and the tourism economy were disrupted as protests and retaliation frightened travelers away, leaving many of us grieving the loss of the “Christmas Spirit.”

Yet, as the clock ticked down to Christmas Eve, I thought I sensed a camaraderie of burdens shared becoming lighter, a spirit of moving closer to friends and family, and a determination to hold fast to the joy of the season, no matter the obvious political disturbances.

I went to Midnight Mass in Bethlehem — but not in the famous Church of the Nativity in Manger Square,  traditionally thought to be the actual location of the manger. No, for Christmas Eve mass there, one needs tickets, long since scooped up by both pilgrims and locals (who gets those coveted tickets is another story entirely). Besides, I learned that church would be packed, every square inch occupied by mostly-standing worshipers. Definitely not my idea of a grace-filled spiritual experience.

With a friend, I went to Midnight Mass at the Chapel of the Divine Child at Bethlehem University. Founded in 1973 by the De La Salle Christian Brothers, it is the first university established in the West Bank, and has a student population that is nearly all Palestinian — 76% Muslim, 24% Christian (and 77% female, 23% male). It offers a typical mix of baccalaureate programs, with special emphasis on business, hospitality management, and nursing and other health professions.

It’s a small chapel, and a beautiful one, with soaring heights that give a more expansive feeling than its actual footprint. The pews seat only about 100 people, but last night, they put an extra chair next to each pew, narrowing the center aisle but adding about 20 seats, and then they added more seating around the altar.

It turned out the extra seating was unnecessary: only about half of the seats were filled. Why? The skies opened up on Christmas Eve day, and the rain fell, hard and steadily all day, all night, and on into midday on Christmas Day.  The winds were howling too, and the temperatures dropped to the 40s (considered quite frigid around here!). I think many folks decided to forego the Midnight Mass rather than battle the rain and wind.

The rain is a gift from God, many people said: badly needed, as the region has had a parched fall season, and in fact, recent years have been dryer than normal, so the rain was welcome indeed. I’d say there’s another reason the rain was a gift from God — it’s hard to get protesters out, hard to set tires or trashcans on fire when it’s pouring rain!

The mass was beautiful — full of the sense of great good fortune to celebrate the birth of Jesus in the place where he was born. Students were prominent in serving various parts of the mass, most notably choir and lectors. The music and readings were in both Arabic and English.

And yes, we prayed for peace — that the promise of peace expressed in the presence of Jesus among us will be fulfilled in this land that gave him to the World.

We slipped quickly through the reception that followed (that too beautifully delivered by students),. We greeted a few people and took one delicious chocolate-covered strawberry on our way out — back into the rain. It was well past 2:00 a.m. when we got back to Tantur, still in relentless rain, a soaking that felt nurturing, cleansing and hopeful.

Author: kathleenschatzberg

I'm a writer, an educator -- 45 years in education, 35 of them in community colleges -- and a lifelong advocate for justice (community colleges are, in fact, instruments of social justice). I have always been passionate about learning, traveling, and understanding the world's religions and political systems. This "Crossroads" blog offers my reflections on living for 7 months as a volunteer at Tantur Ecumenical Institute. On a hill in Jerusalem, within sight of Bethlehem, Tantur hosts students, scholars, and seeker for interfaith engagement and theological and biblical study. View all posts by kathleenschatzberg