Everyone should see it once but, like Las Vegas, once is probably enough for most. The Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem is one of the oldest churches in existence and is a revered site for Christians the world over. From Manger Square, one enters the church through the “Door of Humility”, a 4 foot high opening through which one must stoop to gain access. Once inside, you are struck with a sense of the ancient. The lighting is dim, the walls are soot-covered and incense reeks throughout. My initial thought was that this place could use some dusting, and open up some windows to let some light in here. Of course, sunlight is pretty much the enemy of relics, which abound here, from the Byzantine tile floors to the wall mosaics to the wooden rafters provided by King Edward IV of England. Old. The altar itself was built over a cave where, legend has it, Mary gave birth to Jesus. As we wound our way down the narrow passage at the rear of the apse, it wasn’t difficult to imagine how this geologic feature could indeed have been used as a stable ages ago. There’s even a natural “feed bunk” to one side that could accommodate livestock. The exact spot upon which Mary is supposed to have birthed her child looks somewhat like the fireplace in your home, only without the andirons. Heavy curtains are pulled aside to reveal a white marble slab with a center hole carved out to permit “touch access” to the rock surface beneath it, which has been polished smooth by pilgrims over the centuries.

After lingering for only as long as one’s tolerance for incense permits, you break out of the church into Manger Square where you are at once assaulted by Palestinian merchants offering everything from post-cards to rosaries. The juxtaposition of this scene is jarring to say the least. Twenty feet from one of the most holy sites in all religion, the scene of the incarnation, we are set upon like carrion. “You’ve seen Jesus’ birthplace, now how about a watch? No? Perhaps a pair of sunglasses?” I dare say the Wise Men of the gospels had less frustration getting out of town 2 millennia ago.

After running the gauntlet of consumerism, one cannot escape the irony of it all. In the gospel accounts, Jesus condemns the sellers of wares at the Temple, the house dedicated to holiness. Two thousand years later and 8 miles away we encounter a scene not much different really. Certainly, I do not begrudge the locals from making their living, but all the same, the whispers of the past echo anew.