Bedouin children
Christmas in Bethlehem was a big high point that led into a long stretch of, well, nothing - at least nothing worth posting about. In lieu of a full-fledged multi-week Christmas Break like any other college or seminary would get, we were given four days without any classes or obligations... and it felt like it could have been four months.
When I get time off back home, there are a million things that I want to do, and I usually try my best to do all million of those things. That mostly covers all of the families that I want to see, but even when nothing is scheduled, I can at least get in my car and go somewhere (usually to a series of geocaches). But here when we get time off, it's really, truly time off. There are only a couple of places to go and nobody to see, and as long as I'm stuck on this side of the separation wall, I feel like I'm going to go stir crazy. That's when I have to treat this more like a Christmas retreat than a Christmas vacation. I've been given a great gift of time and space, and I can and should use that for prayer and contemplation. Also, unlike the six interminable weeks that I spent cooped up in that house in Mexico, I have some actual friends here with whom to share this time. In fact, since those 26 men are the only friends I have for these three months, it's amazing how much our relationships have grown by leaps and bounds.
So our classes resumed on Monday, and since we have no outings of any kind scheduled for the week, it looked like I'd be doing nothing but going to class and studying for this whole week. Despite the short time that we're here, I've really come to enjoy my daily routine: Morning prayer with the community at 8:40 (ahh, sleep in, sleep in!), two classes in the morning, Mass at 12:30, lunch, nap and shower, then head down to the Church of the Nativity to see if I can get into the grotto that day (I haven't been able to get in there yet since Christmas has started). Come back, study, have dinner, make what is almost always a futile effort to check my e-mail, then go to bed.
But we had a surprise interruption in that routine today when the sisters from the Creche orphanage invited us to accompany them to one of the Bedouin camps that's outside of Bethlehem. So we spent our morning traveling out to a dusty, desolate camp situated in the middle of the desert. Unfortunately, there was no guide with us to explain who the Bedouins are, why they're in such a desolate camp, and what exactly we were doing there. So the morning was truly shrouded in mystery. All I know is that we took a bus out to an unknown spot, we spent some time there, and then we were bused back.
The visit still had its delightful moments, though, because we were all given big bags full of gifts to distribute to children in classrooms. The school was a dilapidated collection of small huts, each of which was barely big enough for a single small classroom. I went into a hut that was filled with first and second graders, all of whose eyes lit up when I came in bearing toys and stuffed animals. Nothing melts my heart more than the universal look of glee in little girls when I give them a new toy. It was the Creche experience all over again!
Soon after that, we were led away from the school and up a hill to a spot that redefined the word "desolate". The whole area looked a lot like the photos of the surface of Mars that are taken by our landers - just a featureless array of rocks. Atop this hill, we could see down into a lifeless valley that was sparsely dotted with metal shacks. Soon, mothers with gaggles of small children started coming out of these shacks and making their way up the hill towards us. We were given bags of supplies to give to these mothers - clothes and shoes and the like. The children who were approaching didn't look nearly as bright-eyed as the ones in the school. I didn't see a single one of them smile, nor was I able to make them do so. Many of them were walking across the rocky landscape without any shoes - thus making the contents of the bags I was giving them all that much more essential.
After this mostly wordless exchange, it was time to get back on the bus and head back, just like that. Who were those people? How did they get there? Were there any signs of hope for them? An hour later, I was back here in my comfy home at Betharram, preparing for Mass and reflecting on these children whose lives I'd just touched and would probably never see again.
So from this point on for the rest of the week, we have nothing else scheduled besides our regular class day routine - so don't be surprised if I don't post anything for a few days. It really is something how much Bethlehem has started to feel like a familiar home to me. I've been here long enough that I'm starting to get that sense of there being "nothing to do", but I haven't lost my gratitude for being able to make a home out of the place that was once a home for King David as a boy, and for baby Jesus. The bulk of biblical sites to see are on the Israeli side of the wall, and so once we leave here in another week, things are really going to start becoming hectic. So for now, I'm doing my best to enjoy this period of rest and calm.
When I get time off back home, there are a million things that I want to do, and I usually try my best to do all million of those things. That mostly covers all of the families that I want to see, but even when nothing is scheduled, I can at least get in my car and go somewhere (usually to a series of geocaches). But here when we get time off, it's really, truly time off. There are only a couple of places to go and nobody to see, and as long as I'm stuck on this side of the separation wall, I feel like I'm going to go stir crazy. That's when I have to treat this more like a Christmas retreat than a Christmas vacation. I've been given a great gift of time and space, and I can and should use that for prayer and contemplation. Also, unlike the six interminable weeks that I spent cooped up in that house in Mexico, I have some actual friends here with whom to share this time. In fact, since those 26 men are the only friends I have for these three months, it's amazing how much our relationships have grown by leaps and bounds.
So our classes resumed on Monday, and since we have no outings of any kind scheduled for the week, it looked like I'd be doing nothing but going to class and studying for this whole week. Despite the short time that we're here, I've really come to enjoy my daily routine: Morning prayer with the community at 8:40 (ahh, sleep in, sleep in!), two classes in the morning, Mass at 12:30, lunch, nap and shower, then head down to the Church of the Nativity to see if I can get into the grotto that day (I haven't been able to get in there yet since Christmas has started). Come back, study, have dinner, make what is almost always a futile effort to check my e-mail, then go to bed.
But we had a surprise interruption in that routine today when the sisters from the Creche orphanage invited us to accompany them to one of the Bedouin camps that's outside of Bethlehem. So we spent our morning traveling out to a dusty, desolate camp situated in the middle of the desert. Unfortunately, there was no guide with us to explain who the Bedouins are, why they're in such a desolate camp, and what exactly we were doing there. So the morning was truly shrouded in mystery. All I know is that we took a bus out to an unknown spot, we spent some time there, and then we were bused back.
The visit still had its delightful moments, though, because we were all given big bags full of gifts to distribute to children in classrooms. The school was a dilapidated collection of small huts, each of which was barely big enough for a single small classroom. I went into a hut that was filled with first and second graders, all of whose eyes lit up when I came in bearing toys and stuffed animals. Nothing melts my heart more than the universal look of glee in little girls when I give them a new toy. It was the Creche experience all over again!
Soon after that, we were led away from the school and up a hill to a spot that redefined the word "desolate". The whole area looked a lot like the photos of the surface of Mars that are taken by our landers - just a featureless array of rocks. Atop this hill, we could see down into a lifeless valley that was sparsely dotted with metal shacks. Soon, mothers with gaggles of small children started coming out of these shacks and making their way up the hill towards us. We were given bags of supplies to give to these mothers - clothes and shoes and the like. The children who were approaching didn't look nearly as bright-eyed as the ones in the school. I didn't see a single one of them smile, nor was I able to make them do so. Many of them were walking across the rocky landscape without any shoes - thus making the contents of the bags I was giving them all that much more essential.
After this mostly wordless exchange, it was time to get back on the bus and head back, just like that. Who were those people? How did they get there? Were there any signs of hope for them? An hour later, I was back here in my comfy home at Betharram, preparing for Mass and reflecting on these children whose lives I'd just touched and would probably never see again.
So from this point on for the rest of the week, we have nothing else scheduled besides our regular class day routine - so don't be surprised if I don't post anything for a few days. It really is something how much Bethlehem has started to feel like a familiar home to me. I've been here long enough that I'm starting to get that sense of there being "nothing to do", but I haven't lost my gratitude for being able to make a home out of the place that was once a home for King David as a boy, and for baby Jesus. The bulk of biblical sites to see are on the Israeli side of the wall, and so once we leave here in another week, things are really going to start becoming hectic. So for now, I'm doing my best to enjoy this period of rest and calm.