Time to Reflect

Church of the Nativity

Bethlehem

The picture above is of the nave of this nearly1600 year old church built over the cave believed to be the place of Jesus' birth. Construction on the church began in 326 C.E. and work continued on the church throughout the centuries to arrive at the present structure. It has many altars and is used by many liturgical denominations including Anglicans who hold a Christmas Eve carol service in the chapel of St. George on the left of the nave. The Franciscians, Greek Orthodox and the Armenian Orthodox Churches lay claim to the various altars. St. Jerome, who translated the Bible into Latin, is buried here as well as other notable saints.

This church with all of its sometimes gaudy trappings is probably my favorite in these holy lands. In 1987, I was in Jerusalem on a spiritual pilgrimage. It was in January and because the Armenian Orthodox Church has a different calendar than we do it was Christmas. Some of us decided to go to the Christmas Eve service at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. It was a wonderful experience. In spite of our language differences it was clear that both of our liturgies came from the same early sources. We knew where we were in the service by the actions going on around us.

My visit there last Tuesday was certainly poignant. My warm reflections about my experience there were caught up short as we met with Jiries Canavati a resident of Bethlehem who was one of the people caught in the Church of the Nativity in 2002. On April 2 the Israelis invaded Bethlehem to reoccupy it. The Palestinian policemen who numbered about 150 took refuge with another 50 or so people who were in the square (Jiries being one of them) along with priests and nuns who care for the church. There were also some militants present from both Hamas and Fatah. Jiries description of the 40 or so days that they were held in the church was chilling. The priests and nuns cared for the sick and dying, continued to hold services. In spite of being disturbed by the presence of guns, the local Franciscian priests who are Palestinians, supported the struggle of those inside as the struggle against their occupiers. The experience was emotionally scarring for Jiries who remained inside the entire time. He showed us the scars of the seige on the church structure as well. There were bullet holes and deep gouges in the walls.

As I listened to Jiries pain I thought of the pain in God's heart, not because of the scars inflicted on the material substance of stone and mortar, but the pain of a parent whose children make war with each other. Each gouge in the stone is a wound in our own hearts as well. We may not feel any pain but we are wounded when our brothers and sisters hate each other in such a violent way. There is so little that I feel I can do in the midst of such pain. But I can write and tell those of you who read this that hate is more hurtful than I ever imagined. There is no land in the world worth the pain of this hatred. There is no political stand that wins in the midst of this kind of wounding hatred.