Chapter II: Part 2

As soon as we are fairly started down the Hebron road, we begin to pass little companies of men and women who are coming up from Bethlehem to the Holy City with their merchandise. There is a striking difference between the appearance of these people and that of the other inhabitants of Judea; a difference not only in dress, but in feature. The men wear large yellow turbans, and have full lips, long noses, and high, sloping foreheads, so that they fit in very closely with our common idea of the Hebrew type. They are not Jews, however, but Christians, and it is said that in the veins of many of them flows the blood of the Crusaders. The boys we meet are frank and independent, tramping merrily along, with little caps on their heads, their one long, loose garment tucked up into the leather belt, and their brown, bare legs ending in tremendous slippers which flop clumsily with every step.

The women of Bethlehem are known throughout Palestine for their peculiar headdress. Over a high cap is thrown a large white kerchief or veil, which falls behind the shoulders and often reaches below the waist. Seen from behind, the Bethlehemite woman is a square of blue skirt, topped by a tall triangle of white; from the front she looks like a nun of some unfamiliar order. It is a singular costume, but you soon come to like it, and when the clean, white headdress is seen in the distance, it is pleasant to be able to recognize its wearer as a woman of Bethlehem. As we pass one little company after another, we cannot help looking rather closely to see what kind of women these are who are coming out from the town of Ruth and of Mary.

Outside of poetical romances, one does not find many examples of Oriental beauty. There are multitudes of pretty children, and the girls of twelve or fourteen have large, soft eyes, regular features and graceful figures; but early marriages and the subsequent drudgery, combined with a lack of proper dentistry, usually turn them into toothless, wrinkled hags at an age when they should be most attractive. There are exceptions among the richer classes and among girls who have been educated in schools connected with European or American missions; but on the whole there are very few fine-looking women over twenty-five years old to be found in Palestine.

We are therefore surprised to notice that many of these Bethlehem women are really handsome; not with the rich, voluptuous beauty which is usually associated with the East, but with a matronly dignity which appeals more strongly to our Western eyes. We enjoy watching that young mother who is carrying the baby upon her shoulder; she is such a straight, slender woman, with clean-cut features and honest eyes. We like the old woman beside her; an old woman who looks like a grandmother, not like a withered witch, and who carries herself with a dignity that wins our admiration.

It may be due to nothing more than good food and pure water, or to the great headdresses which make it necessary to stand so erect; but whatever the cause, it seems to us that not even in Nazareth have we seen so many self-respecting, motherly-looking women as in this town which once witnessed the apotheosis of motherhood.

As we stroll along the well-paved road, we pass one spot after another which is not only connected by tradition with the sacred history, but which has been noted by such a long succession of pious pilgrims that even the most trivial fables seem to bind us more closely with the innumerable throng which for nineteen centuries has been treading with reverent feet this ancient highway to the birthplace of our Lord.

Off to our right is the Wâdi el-Werd, “The Valley of Roses,” which recalls the quaint tale of Sir John Mandeville. At the left of the road is a well by which Mary is said to have rested on her way to Bethlehem, and in which a few days later the Wise Men found again the reflection of the guiding Star. Some distance further on, near the venerable monastery of St. Elijah, the “Field of Peas” is still strewn with its little, rounded stones. A sudden rise in the road broadens our horizon so that we can see, off to the left and very far below us, the dark blue waters of the Dead Sea. Six or seven miles to the southeast there rises the striking profile of the Frank Mountain, shaped like a truncated pyramid, upon whose platform lie the ruins of Herod’s famous castle. Glimpses of Bethlehem itself are caught now and then between the surrounding heights. We pass the tomb of beautiful, warm-hearted, impulsive Rachel, the sadness of whose lonely burial by the roadside has touched the hearts of passers-by for nearly forty centuries.

Here we leave the main road, which goes on southward to Hebron, and turn in to the left to Bethlehem. “David’s Well” has long been identified with a series of cisterns hewn in the rock some distance before we reach the modern city. Somewhere in the fields below us Ruth gleaned among the harvesters of Boaz. Somewhere among those same fields the youthful David tended his father’s sheep. Somewhere above them rang the glad music of the angelic Gloria. Somewhere on the long hilltop, now covered by the white, closely-built houses of the town, the Saviour of the world was born.

The heart must be dead to romance as well as to religion, which does not beat with a strange, solemn excitement upon entering the Christmas City.

XIV

THE HOUSE OF BREAD

Bethlehem Ephrathah, which was once “little to be among the thousands of Judah,” is now one of the largest and wealthiest Christian towns in all Palestine.

The Hebrews called it _Beth Lehem_, “the House of Bread”; and its modern Arabic name is no less significant—_Beit Lahm_, “the House of Meat,” that is, of course, the Prosperous City. The soil takes on a greater fertility as Jerusalem is left behind; but we are hardly prepared for the beautiful greenness that is seen when a sudden turn in the road brings into view the two large Christian towns of Beit Jala and Beit Lahm. One is on an eminence to the right of the Hebron road; the other is on an elevation to the left; and they both look very clean and white and well-to-do, in the midst of their vineyards and orchards.

The massive buildings at the left are all connected with the Church of the Nativity]

Bethlehem, which is the larger of the two, is built along the summit of a crescent-shaped hill, about two-thirds of a mile long, with its concave side toward the north, so that practically the entire town is spread out before us as we approach it from Jerusalem. At the right-hand horn of the crescent are large, square buildings belonging to various Latin monastic orders. At the left are the dark, heavy walls of the Church of the Nativity, with its low, open belfry. Between these larger structures is a confused mass of closely-built white houses, whose profile is broken only by the tall, slender spire of the chapel of the German Mission. Immediately in front of us the steep slope of the hill below the town is carefully terraced, and planted here and there with small olive and fig orchards.

The town is the market of all the district around, which is rich in agricultural products. For many centuries Bethlehem has also been famous for the manufacture of souvenirs, which are sold to pilgrims and tourists, not only here, but in Jerusalem and Damascus and Beirût. Rosaries, paper-cutters, cigarette holders and stamp boxes are made from olive wood, the bituminous “Moses-stone” from the Dead Sea is shaped into little vases and paper weights, and mother-of-pearl is carved into elaborate bas-reliefs of sacred scenes. The shop-keepers are busy and energetic, and a prosperous self-respect seems characteristic of everything about the place.

The inhabitants number eight or nine thousand, nearly all of whom are Christians; adherents of one or other of the Oriental Catholic churches. The population seems to be increasing; for we found some of the streets almost impassable because of the piles of stone and lumber for the new buildings. The modern Bethlehemites have lived up to the ancient reputation of their town for fierce and reckless courage; and until comparatively recent times there were frequent and sanguinary clashes between the Christian and Moslem residents. The latter, however, were completely driven out of Bethlehem about seventy-five years ago, and their houses destroyed; and though some few have returned, the Moslems still number only three or four per cent of the population.

In Palestine to-day there is much that is unclean and unhealthy, poor and degrading; and many sites that should be hallowed by the most sacred memories have been profaned by the hands of idolatry and oppression. Even Bethlehem and Nazareth have not entirely escaped; yet these two have somehow kept a peculiar dignity; and, indeed, it seems fitting that the place where our Lord was born, and the place where He made His earthly home, should maintain a certain pre-eminence among the cities of the Holy Land.

XV

THE CHURCH WHICH IS A FORT

The Church of St. Mary in Bethlehem or, as it is more commonly called, the Church of the Nativity, was built about the year 330, during the reign of the Emperor Constantine; and, as we have already seen, a very ancient tradition ascribes its erection to the emperor’s mother, St. Helena. Through all the wars which have raged over Palestine and during which the city of Bethlehem has again and again been devastated and its houses and castles and monasteries overthrown, the old church alone has escaped destruction. It is no wonder that its preservation has so often been ascribed to miraculous interventions. Although the building has been slightly altered and restored from time to time, its essential features have not been changed, and there can be little doubt that this is the oldest church in the world.

Except for the single low belfry, the heavy, confused mass looks more like a fort than a religious edifice. Besides the central church, there lie practically under the same roof three large monasteries, belonging to the Greek Orthodox, Gregorian Armenian, and Roman Catholic communions. The collection of buildings is at the extreme eastern end of the town, so that while the front faces the public square of Bethlehem, the rear is at the very edge of a steep cliff, below which stretches the open country. Viewed from the east, the massive pile resembles a great feudal castle overlooking the farm lands of the vassals in the valley beneath.

There are very few windows in the thick stone walls, and the main entrance from the square is by a single narrow door, so low that one must stoop in passing through. The two other doorways at the front have been walled up and this one purposely made so small, for fear of attack by the Moslems. Yet to-day we find just inside the vestibule a half-company of Turkish infantry. It seems strangely incongruous that Moslem soldiers should be encamped in a Christian church, but we shall see later that there is a good reason for their presence here.

Showing the high stone wall which separates the nave from the choir and transepts]

The church proper is only about one hundred and twenty feet long and the whole interior cannot be seen at one view; for, as an additional protection in case of conflict with the Moslems, the transepts and choir are concealed by a high wall built right across the church, so that from the entrance only the nave is visible. This is plain to the point of bareness. Except for a few dimly burning lamps, the only light comes from small windows set high up in the wall, just under the roof. Above the reddish limestone columns which separate the nave from the aisles can still be seen the remains of the famous mosaics given by the Emperor Comnenos; but these are so badly defaced that it is often difficult to determine the subject of the pictures. To the right a small door leads to the Greek monastery; another door at the left opens into the buildings belonging to the Latin monks. The dividing wall at the back is pierced by three doors. Two of these can be entered by no priests except those of the Greek Orthodox Church, but the use of the third is shared also with the Armenian clergy. The Roman Catholic monks enter the transepts directly from their adjoining monastery: they have little to do, however, with the part of the building which is above ground.

These entrances bring us abruptly from the impressive simplicity of the nave to the transepts and choir, which are well lighted and are almost oppressive in their lavish ornamentation. The great altar facing us belongs to the Greeks, and in front of it are the stalls of the Greek clergy and the tall patriarchal throne. The smaller altar of the Armenians is off at one side in the northern transept. Lamps of gold and silver swing from the ceiling; bright-colored pictures hang here and there; tawdry, tinsel decorations glitter everywhere; and on the upper part of the walls are portions of quaint mosaic pictures representing scenes from the life of Christ. All that we have yet seen, however, is a mere antechamber to the holy places which lie in the rock beneath the church.

XVI

THE SACRED CAVES

At each side of the central altar of the Church of the Nativity a narrow stairway leads down to a series of six underground chambers, which undoubtedly were originally natural caverns, although they have since been somewhat enlarged and the native rock in many places has been overlaid with marble slabs. In one of these caves St. Jerome is said to have lived; in the next he is buried, near to the tomb of his friend and pupil, Paula. In other chambers the monks point out the exact spot where the worshipping Magi stood, the opening in the wall from which a spring miraculously gushed forth out of the solid rock for the use of the Holy Family, the place where the angel appeared to Joseph and commanded him to go down into Egypt, and the corner where the soldiers of Herod massacred a number of children who had been brought here for refuge.

The largest cave, and the first we enter from the church above, is about forty feet long. At one end of it there is let into the pavement a large silver star with the inscription, _Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est_, “Here Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary.”

In the floor beneath is seen the Silver Star]

If the inscription is true, there is no other spot on earth so sacred as this, save only Calvary and the Garden Tomb. And it is quite probable that the stable was really in a cave; for in hilly Judea it often happens that a house or an inn is built on a slope, with the living quarters entirely above ground, but with the stable beneath partly excavated in the rock. Sometimes, indeed, there is a natural cavern which, with very little alteration, can be used for housing the animals.

Tradition concerning the place of the Nativity goes back to the very early ages of Christianity. In the middle of the second century Justin Martyr states that Christ was born in a cave. In the third century Origen says, “There is shown at Bethlehem the cave where He was born, and the manger in the cave where He was wrapped in swaddling clothes. And this site is greatly talked of in surrounding places, even among the enemies of the faith, it being said that in this cave was born that Jesus who is worshipped and reverenced by the Christians.” In the fourth century Eusebius tells of the building of this very church by St. Helena, who “dedicated two churches to the God whom she adored, one at the grotto which was the scene of the Saviour’s birth, and the other on the mount of His ascension. For He who was ‘God with us’ had submitted to be born even in a cave of the earth, and the place of His nativity was called Bethlehem by the Hebrews.” And from the fourth century on, there is an unbroken chain of testimony concerning the identification of this particular cavern with the scene of the Nativity.

The star is in a little recess at the end of the cave, and above it is an altar, small but very richly furnished. Of the fifteen altar-lamps of gold and silver which hang around the star, six belong to the Greek, five to the Armenian and four to the Latin monks, who divide in this way the ownership of most of the shrines in the church. The floor of the entire cave is of marble, upon its walls are marbles and rich tapestries, and many lamps hang from the ceiling; yet, on coming from the bright transepts above, the first impression is one of deep gloom. The low roof can hardly be distinguished, and the back of the cave is lost in impenetrable darkness. The smoking lamps give to the atmosphere a heavy, reddish color. The chanting of the priests in the choir overhead is heard only as a dull murmur. We are the only visitors to-day, except that in front of the little altar there kneel four French nuns, great tears rolling down their pallid faces as they pray in a frightened whisper.

_Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est!_

XVII

THE GUARD OF THE SILVER STAR

Our eyes are now growing accustomed to the subdued light, and off in one corner of the cave where the gloom is very deep, a form is slowly coming into view. Dark, indistinct, immovable; it would be possible for a worshipper to come and go, and never see that shape at the end of the altar; but by day and by night it is always there—the Moslem guardian of the Silver Star. That is why there is a garrison in the church above. The soldier is half-fed and paid not at all, and his blue uniform is ragged and dirty; but he holds a modern repeating rifle in his hand as he stands there by the hour without moving a muscle, ready when need comes to face valiantly any odds in the performance of his duty.

He needs to be brave; for when the Christmas season comes round, Bethlehem is thronged with worshippers of the Prince of Peace. They fill the church to overflowing. They rush down the narrow stairways that lead to the little cave, and there they crowd and curse and fight for a glimpse of the Silver Star; so that sometimes the air grows foul and the lamps burn even more dimly and women faint and strong men fall down and are trampled to death in the horrible confusion.

And quiet does not come with the passing of the Christmastide; but all through the year the monks from the convents above quarrel over the possession of the little shrine, and open warfare is not uncommon. Then the rival parties snarl and scratch; they seize heavy lamps and holy candlesticks from the altars, and priestly garments are torn and priestly heads are broken, until soldiers from the Turkish garrison come down and assist the sentry in clubbing the unruly ones into submission.

I often wonder what the silent sentinel thinks about as he stands there hour by hour, watching the smoky lights that glow above the Silver Star.

XVIII

THE SONG OF THE KNEELING WOMEN

We turned in sadness of heart to shake the dust of Bethlehem from our feet. Up out of the cave and out of the transept we hurried; but then we took the wrong door, and instead of reaching the public square, we found ourselves in the church of the Franciscans. It was the time of the vesper service, and among the shadows of the unlighted nave there stretched long lines of kneeling women. They were all natives of Bethlehem, with the tall white headdress whose spotless cleanness is in such contrast to the costumes of most Palestinian villagers.

It was a service of song, and every woman seemed to be taking part. After the officiating priest chanted each brief stanza, the loud chorus was taken up by the full volume of sweet soprano voices. As the light died away, and the white-veiled forms of the kneeling worshippers grew indistinct and dreamlike, the music of the oft-repeated chorus sank into our hearts, and we stayed on and on, until our anger against the sham and idolatry in the caves below had all been driven away and there remained only the Bethlehem calm.

None of us knew the name of that evening hymn. It was very simple, yet one of the sweetest melodies we had ever heard. We shall never forget the song, or the calm faces of the women who sang it. I have listened for it since in many cathedrals. Two years later I went back to the Bethlehem church in the hope of hearing it again; but there seemed to be no vespers that evening. We could not understand the words of the song; we could not even tell whether it was in Latin or Arabic, but I like to believe that it was a hymn about the Babe of Bethlehem. And now, when I think of that village among the beautiful hills of far-away Judea, the bigotry and jealousy do not seem so very important. I am even ready to forgive the Moslem guardian of the Silver Star, for the sake of that nameless melody of the women of Bethlehem.

XIX

ACROSS THE AGES

Night falls. The stars shine brightly through the clear Judean air. We walk very slowly down the winding road, and often stop to look back to the hilltop where the thick-clustered houses of the little town stand so clear and white against the blue-black sky. Yonder lies Bethlehem, bathed in soft, silvery starlight which cleanses it from every trace of violence and bigotry and crime, and paints only pleasant memories of love and valor and hope.

There the lonely heart of the Moabitess found its haven. There the sweet singer of Israel set to melodious measures the story of the fields and the mountains and the divine Shepherd’s care. There a wondrous Child was born, for whose sake wise men and tender women left home and friends across the sea, that they might dwell near the hallowed, humble spot of His Nativity. Within the vague, dark shadow of that ancient church, the noblest-born of earth have gathered to do homage to the Lord of lords and King of kings. And across the stillness of the night there seem to echo again the sturdy shouts of dauntless warriors who made the mountains ring with their triumphant cry of faith, “God wills it! God wills it!”

Yes, God has willed it all, even in the hardest, darkest hour of Bethlehem’s long history. Before our lingering steps lie the noisy bazaars of Jerusalem and the busy, practical, modern world to which we must so soon return. But we have been to Bethlehem; and across all the troublous ages, bursting from every shining star, and drowning with its sweet music the perplexities of our own weary lives, there rings the glad refrain of the Angel’s Song—

GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST, AND ON
EARTH PEACE, GOOD WILL TOWARD
MEN.