The Church of the Nativity was beautiful, and there are some pictures below. However, by the time we were in Palestinian territory, it was much more interesting to me see what was going on in the town than to wander around a church. The difference between Jerusalem and Bethlehem was stunning. There was obvious poverty, and while there were many shops, most of them were shuttered due to lack of business. Ayman explained that since the second intifada, tourism in the West Bank has been low as many people are afraid to cross the border from Israel. We visited the gift shop of George, a friend of Ayman, who (of course) invited us for tea (I had water instead). He asked me where I was from in the States, and when I said Tennessee, he whipped out his wallet and produced a Tennessee driver's license. It was unbelievable. Apparently, he lived for six months a few years ago near Knoxville where (I think) he was going to school. It was sweet that the Tennessee license still held pride of place in the front photo pocket of his wallet. I bought a nice olivewood nativity scene for my parents, enjoyed the water and company, and then Ayman and I headed back to his swank tourist-toting Mercedes. As we were walking up the hill, he put his arm around me. "Thank you, thank you," he said, in a low and sincere voice. I wasn't sure at first exactly what he was thanking me for. "That is the first big sale they have in three weeks," he explained, sotto voce. "They are suffering here in Bethlehem with no business. I thank you."
Later, I asked Ayman a lot of questions about the border crossing and why it was so easy. Where was the wall? He said that he had taken a long way around so that we would avoid it. I asked if we could return through the checkpoint at the wall ("security fence"), so we set aside time for that. We talked some about his thoughts on the wall, the conflict, and the possibility of two states. At first, it seemed that he was opposed to the two-state solution, and he talked about his belief that Hamas had the potential to broker a peace in the region. Then he said, "You know, I don't care if there is one state, two states, three states. All I care about is that there is peace for my children, peace for my grandchild. Whatever is the state, I just want peace."
On a daily basis, Ayman has little difficulty negotiating the wall checkpoint because he carries an Israeli ID card. However, he told me that residents of the occupied territories are not allowed to pass through the wall and enter Jerusalem unless they have special permission. This applies as well to families who were divided by the wall. Parents, children, and grandchildren who formerly lived together in one neighborhood might now reside on opposite sides of the wall and have to drive long distances or apply for permission to visit one another. All of this is not to give a sob story for the Palestinians, because for sure there are big problems there. The wall has cut down on incidences of terror in Jerusalem, but still. I think it might be the ugliest thing I have ever seen.
As we drove up to the checkpoint, the wall and its graffiti (much of it anti-American, actually) loomed large against the sky. Those who call it a fence are seriously deluding themselves. It is eight meters high (maybe around 25 feet) and solid. (To be fair, in many less urban areas the wall actually changes to a tall barbed-wire fence, so in those places, the name is accurate.) At the checkpoint, I was instructed to get out of the car and walk to the pedestrian entrance where Ayman would meet me on the other side. This required walking about a half-mile along the wall and through a small neighborhood (with some other pedestrians) to the guard's station. I had to wait outside for awhile because only one person could enter at a time, and the man ahead of me (who had chatted in English with me on the walk), despite presenting several documents and arguing a good bit, was ultimately not allowed to enter. After that, I wasn't sure how things were going to go for me, but when I held up my U.S. passport, the guard didn't even want to see it. She just waved me through.
Next, I walked down a hill to a larger building in order to enter Jerusalem. I waited in another line while the guard carefully examined passports one by one. Again, when I held up the blue American passport, the guard didn't even take it. I was waved through again.
The contrast between the wall as viewed from the Palestinian side and the same wall viewed from the Israeli side was striking. Once I was in Israel proper, I looked back at the wall and found it spotless, with a large and colorful sign from the Ministry of Tourism promoting peace. Suddenly, the roads were clean and in good repair, people looked happy and healthy, and in a few minutes I was back in the Old City where I had planned to meet Tova for coffee.
When I got back to my hotel later in the evening, a different front desk guy asked me how it was in Bethlehem. I know that he lives in the occupied territory and crosses the border daily, so I told him, "I went through the wall." He pondered that. "What did you think of the wall?" he asked. "The wall," I said slowly, "is bad." He nodded.
However.
I had dinner tonight with a couple I met by chance a few days ago, Orit and Amiram. Orit is a graduate student in archaeology at Hebrew University; Amiram is a reporter covering Jewish life for the Israeli English-language newspaper, Haaretz. We were talking about the wall, and Amiram made an interesting point about the positive (and inadvertant) psychological effects the wall can have on the extremist Jewish settlers in the West Bank. The settlers (such as the Gush Emunim, for example) seek to inhabit all of Eretz Israel, the land they believe God promised to the Jewish people according to the Bible. To settle this land (all of it, including the West Bank, Gaza, Golan Heights, even Lebanon and Sinai) is to fulfill a commandment, possibly the highest commandment. Before the wall, it was easy to envision the Land of Israel as one big place open for divinely ordained expansion. Once the wall was erected, as Amiram observed, there became a greater consciousness of two nations, Israel and Palestine. It became more difficult for the Jewish settlers to travel across the border, and the sense of being outside of and closed off from Israel was more acute. I would view this as a positive development in that it seems to have motivated at least some settlers to get out of the West Bank and fix themselves on the Israeli side of the wall. It is a subtle effect, and certainly not a condition that is going to compel some kind of self-motivated withdrawal from the occupied territory, but the wall at least creates the impression of two states, an inside and an outside, which moves psychologically toward the hoped-for two-state solution.
The tiny door that serves as one of the entrances to the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.
The floor of the Church of the Nativity is almost completely covered by wooden planks. Here, part of the church's original mosaic tile floor is exposed.
An ancient burial tomb beneath the church.
The Church of the Nativity (Catholic sanctuary).
A market street in Bethlehem. Note that most of the stores are closed and there are no tourists on the street. There were some groups in the church when I was there, but apparently tourism on the whole is down.
George, the shopkeeper, and his prized Tennessee driver's license.
Ayman, my driver and tour guide.
The wall as viewed from the Palestinian Authority. Some of the graffiti reads, "Shame on Israel, Shame on U.S.A." and "God will destroy this wall."
Walking from the car to the pedestrian checkpoint. The guy closest to the camera ultimately did not get to cross the border.
The wall as viewed from the Israeli side.
With Amiram and Orit at dinner in the German Colony.
