“And thou Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, art not the least among the princes of Judah: for out of thee shall come a governor that shall rule my people Israel.” (Matthew 2:6).
Nestled on a hillside in the Judean mountain range, Bethlehem looks like many other Middle-Eastern towns – the business district fairly cramped, with windy poorly tarred roads, the outlying areas a mix of farmhouses and villas built into steep, craggy hillsides.
But of course, Bethlehem is different from all the others.
While there is no longer a stable, or any ancient hint that this was Jesus’ birthplace, it is to this small town that thousands make their way every year, especially in December. Most Christians drive into the town in buses, with their tour guides pointing out the key locations before making their pilgrimage to the Church of the Nativity, which tradition holds was constructed on the spot where Mary gave birth.
As darkness falls, the buses trundle off towards the hotels, predominantly in Israel. The pilgrim buses leave behind them not only the whiff of black exhaust fumes but also the Christian residents of Bethlehem. They live in a Palestinian area, dominated by Muslims. Some will tell you their relationship is harmonious; others speak of their fear of being an unwanted minority, while more still suggest their lives have been ruined by the “oppressive Israelis.”
The town is comprised of some 61,000 people (including the adjoining areas of Beit Jala and Beit Sahour), half of whom are Muslims and half Christians, according to the municipality. In Bethlehem itself the divide is 60 percent Muslims and 40% Christians, says the municipality.
Those figures are dismissed out of hand by long-time minister, Pastor Naim Khoury.
“I think maybe two percent [are Christians],” says Khoury, who heads the town’s First Baptist Church. “I can see around us in the whole area [that] Christians are leaving.”
Muslims are also quitting Bethlehem, but the “Christians’ emigration is more apparent due to their relatively low number,” says the municipality.
Khoury’s “guesstimate” may be extreme, but residents polled by The Media Line dispute the municipality’s figures, suggesting the Muslims comprise the vast majority of the population.
More than 5,000 Christians have left Bethlehem in the past five years alone, according to Khoury. Most have headed for Europe, with Sweden a major destination.
Khoury puts it down to the town’s economic decline. At least 20% of the population worked in tourism in the late 1990s, when the industry was booming, but with the suicide bombers and the erection of Israel’s security barrier, tourism took a nosedive and is still in decline.
However, pointing the finger of blame at the economic situation is only a partial explanation for the Christian exodus from the town.
Stories abound in some quarters of the town about the pressure, both mental and physical applied to those who choose to openly worship in churches, and particularly in those places of worship that did not ally themselves with the Palestinian political cause. In the case of evangelizing ministries, the rumors verge on the horrific.
Whatever the reason for the Christians’ migration from the town, it is something the municipality admits has happened in recent years. City Hall reckons 60% of Bethlehem Christians live abroad. Over the past 100 years, Bethlehem has moved from being a Christian stronghold to a town which, many people will tell you over a pot of coffee, is Muslim-dominated in absolute numbers and in character.
And that, coupled with the economic situation and the ongoing conflict with the neighboring Israelis, leaves one wondering whether Jesus would approve of Bethlehem this Christmas.
“[Laughs] I don’t think so, because Jesus is the one who talks about peace and about loving each other,” says Prof. Alfred Abed Rabbo, a Catholic resident of Bethlehem, “saying to love each other, you have to love your enemy as yourself. We have to love the Israelis as they should love us. We have to love the Muslims and they should love us. So I think he would be disappointed [laughs], don’t you think?”
Many Christians throughout the Palestinian areas are caught in this bind. They see either the Israelis or the Muslims as being hostile, and sometimes both. It leaves some of them feeling unwelcome in what is, after all, the home of Christianity.
If Jesus were to be born today in Bethlehem, it is highly likely that Mary and Joseph would not make it to the city because of the checkpoints and the security barrier, says Pastor Mitri Raheb of the town’s Christmas Lutheran Church.
“The three magi also would not be able to enter Bethlehem. Most probably, Jesus, maybe, would have been born at the checkpoint, like so many Palestinian kids these days.”
But assuming he could enter the town, perhaps on one of the smoke-belching tour buses, would he get the sort of welcome one would expect for those paying homage to their savior?
Fadi Jouja’s is one of the first faces to greet visitors to Bethlehem, if they plan on spending a night in the town. He works at the reception desk of the Abu Joubran hotel. If tourists come to town after 4 pm they will find it largely deserted, because there are insufficient customers around to make it worthwhile keeping stores open into the evening, he says.
Many people are even struggling to buy enough food for their families, says Abed Rabbo. There is a lack of pride because of the economic situation and the despair is almost tangible.
“This year is going to be the worst, economically,” he says.
The traders have insufficient money to purchase stock, leaving the shops and stalls looking empty and, consequently, unenticing for any potential customers.
Some 80-90% of residents are struggling to make ends meet, estimates Edward Lama, who runs a souvenir shop. Things have worsened this past year, he reflects, pointing to the international boycott of the Hamas government and the summer fighting in Lebanon as being major contributing factors.
It is this mix of economic hardship and religious tension that is driving Christians away. While few Christians speak publicly of their safety fears, they are prepared to list the financial woes that are forcing so many of them to leave.
Abed Rabbo’s family is a typical case. While he is looking forward to celebrating Christmas in this unique town, his son now lives in France; and as for his siblings, two are in South America and three in the United States.
The town has also become the focus of international political attention, climaxing in a standoff between Israeli soldiers and Palestinian gunmen in the Church of the Nativity itself in 2002.
In recent years, Christmas in the town has not only been about Christ and tourism, but has also become highly politicized. The annual appearance of the late Palestinian leader, Yassir Arafat, was always the center of attention for the world’s media. For the first three or four years of this century, the question was always, would Arafat make it to the Church of the Nativity given the Israeli-imposed travel restrictions? An empty chair was prominently positioned, draped with a traditional Palestinian headdress, when Arafat could not make the journey from Ramallah.
Since the Palestinian Authority came into being in 1993, Christmas sermons have been fiery, with modern-day Israel seemingly taking more of a center stage than the birth of Jesus.
“We look to the Palestinians, and we wish them to recover their freedom and to have the military occupation imposed upon them to come to an end. We look to the Israelis, since the Palestinian freedom means their own security and tranquility. We look to the political prisoners, passing their days in deprivation, torture and hunger strikes. We look on those who receive orders to kill and who execute the orders, as to those who give orders to kill. To the soldiers we say: let your priority be human dignity and what is right, more than orders received; because there should be no more orders to kill. And wars should no more exist.” The Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem Michel Sabbah in the Church of the Nativity during Christmas 2000.
And then there are those for whom Bethlehem is simply home.
The Media Line caught up with the souvenir shop owner, Lama, in Tel Aviv.
“I can’t wait to go back to Bethlehem. My life is there,” he says. “When I arrive there I breathe different air.”
As for Christmas itself, the town will look nothing like a Macy’s window. A few simple lights will adorn the streets. The remaining Christians will attend services, either at the Church of the Nativity or in local places of worship. In Jouja’s case there will be a party with his family and then time with his friends, either at a party or “hanging out in the streets.”
Even in its heyday, Bethlehem was never the most commercial place to be at Christmas time. Indeed, many pilgrims maintain that is precisely the charm of the town. It is free from all of the trappings of a Western-style holyday.
Yet, despite that, the tourists are staying away in droves. The potential annual two million visitors could totally regenerate the area, creating jobs and hope for a community that for now appears without hope.
A Christmas carol suggests the streets of Bethlehem are dark, but still bring forth an everlasting light. For some locals those words ring true, while others see the message as being a prophetic vision rather than anything concrete as Christmas 2006 approaches.
Bethlehem needs Jesus’ miracles now perhaps more than ever. And it is to him the town’s Christians will turn come Christmas.
“Pray that the spirit of Christ, of Almighty God, the prince of peace, will be able to make people live in peace and harmony together and to have the peace of God in their hearts; to be able to forget about violence and killing and shooting and suicide bombing. We need to pray to Almighty God to help the people here to live in peace and harmony. It can be done. The only one who can do it is the Lord Jesus Christ.” Pastor Dr. Naim Khoury, First Baptist Church, Christmas 2006.