BEVILEHEMLY
0 little town
(1YLES BRANDRETH
'This, ladies and gentlemen, is where it all began.' The Arab guide points emphatically to the silver star embedded in the floor of the crypt of the Church of the Nativity at Beth- lehem. 'You are now standing on the very spot where Jesus was born and, to Chris- tians, this is the most sacred place in the world. Now step this way please.' And we
are led, past the alms bowl, out of the Holy grotto into Manger Square, where some of the world's most energetic salesmen are wait- ing to greet us.
At Christmas-time the souvenir shops of Bethlehem remain open for twenty-four hours out of twenty-four and the traffic jam stretches all of the ten miles from Bethlehem to Jerusalem, as thousands pour into the small town to see and hear Mass being cele- brated at 'the first Christian church on earth'. Israel is a land of shrines and holy places and the Ministry of Religious Affairs guar- antees their 'inviolability' largely because it recognises the tourism they attract. The Jews have David's Tomb on Mount Zion and Elijah's Tomb on Mount Carmel, the Mus- lims have the Dome of the Rock in Jerusa- lem, the Bahais have the shrine of their prophet Baha-u-Ilah at Acre, but the Chris- tians have more blessed plots than all the other faiths put together.
The prospect of renewed fighting in the Middle East has done damage to the Israeli tourist trade. The little prayer cards (in four languages) provided by El Al for all their passengers and the possibility of air piracy are disconcerting, but they have not daunted any of the 400,000 tourists who have already been to Israel this year. Of course, that many people troop in and out of Canterbury Cathe- dral each season and the figure looks meagre by Tower of London standards, but the Israelis are still refreshingly new at the tour- ist game and for them it may be a record. In Bethlehem tourism now ranks above mat- tress-making as the town's major industry.
Tucked away amid the snow-capped hills of Judaea, Bethlehem looks surprisingly like a Christmas card. Donkeys and turkeys wan- der about the streets and the citizens seem to have stepped straight out of the Oberammer- gau Passion Play. What's more, the muni- cipality hands out free Christmas trees to any of the 30,000 predominantly Christian mem- bers of the population who fancy one, so that driving down. Orient Star Street, as the snow falls gently all round, the scene fits in with any carol you care to think of. When your taxi pulls up in Manger Square, a dozen guides, aged from fourteen to seventy, swing Into action. All carry umbrellas and offer a comprehensive tour in any of five languages. The taxi driver negotiates an appropriate price with one of the guides (for which he pockets a small commission) and you are whisked at once into the forecourt of the Church of the Nativity. The guide, speaks Impeccable English very fast. He learnt it when imprisoned by the British and tells you so several times. His introductory talk is packed with invaluable information: 'Wel- come to Israel. Almost all of this country's 70.000 Christians are Arabs, like myself. Eighty-two per cent of the population of Israel now live in urban areas, but the ma- jority of non-Jewish people still live rurally,
like myself. You are Anglican? Like myself' That the same guide was later heard to de- clare, 'You are Catholic? Like myself, is un- important: his intentions were honourable.
In Israel the Christian faith is represented by twenty-four different denominations and three of them have staked a definite claim at Bethlehem. The Greek Orthodox Church, the Armenians and the Roman Catholics each have their own altars at the birthplace of Christ. On 25 December the Anglicans are allowed in from 8.45 am to 9.45 am for their celebrations, but for the rest of the time they are confined to an outer courtyard where they sing carols. The different denom- inations won't celebrate Christmas together: the Armenians have theirs on 6 January and the Greek Orthodox wait till 18 January. Each denomination even has its own illum- inated cross outside the church. The actual birthplace, marked by a star that hundreds will kneel to kiss during the coming weeks, is shared by all the Christians in Bethlehem, but that is as far as their ecumenism goes.
The town's least endearing feature—and it's the least endearing feature of Christmas anywhere—is the commercialisation. Accord- ing to the proprietor of the Magi Stores, 'Tourism is our petrol', so it is hardly sur- prising that he will do his utmost to collar you and press you into accepting a cup of English tea and into reading the postcard he received in 1959 from a lady in Isleworth, Middlesex, in the hope that you will then buy one of his souvenirs. The biggest turn- over, of course, is in nativity scenes. Thous- ands are made and sold in Bethlehem each year and they vary in price from £1 to £50, depending on quality and your capacity for hard bargaining. For 2s 6d you can buy a small sachet of the Earth Christ Trod, a couple of ounces of Holy Land dust that has been 'insnected for authenticity by Catholic personnel'. All the same, Bethlehem is not as bad as you might expect. if you want to buy a miniature model of Christ to hang in the rear window of your car, you must travel to Texas. There you will find a store that not only sells such pieces, but also provides the advertising slogan: I don't care if it -rains or freezes So long as I've got my plastic Jesus!
The Good Shepherd's Supermarket at Beth- lehem has nothing like that. Even the sachets of Holy Land earth and the packets of Sacred Rock can be justified: , at least they prevent the sort of situation—common in Rome—where tourists turn up with their own chisels and remove small portions of masonry to take home as trophies. Bethle- hem is a far more appealing tourist town than, say. Stratford-upon-Avon and the per- sistence of the Arab guides and storekeepers is positively endearing. They are certainly not growing fat on the proceeds of the tourist , trade: it brings them a living, but little lux: ury. Until the Six Day War. Bethlehem was part of Jordan. Now it is part of Israel, big' the Arabs who live there neither seem to notice nor care. Military incidents take place only a few miles away and the people carry on regardless. In fact, the imnact of modern. expansionist Israel on Bethlehem is begin- ning to tell. Women walking through the streets carrying plastic shopping bags on their heads, donkeys bearing petrol cans to the local taxi rank. Cadillacs parked outside tiny workshops where men are soliatting stuffing m•sttrevsps by hand. svmholi.e the fact that Bethlehem is at the crossroad be- tween two worlds. Down in the centre of town they may be selling 'Antic Jewish wed- ding contracts' and old Arab coffee pots. but in the bazaars that the tourists do not usually come across the stalls are piled high with imported detergents and canned foods and bottles of Coca-Cola. Already Bethle- hem contains over one hundred television sets (at £250 apiece) and in a town where the average weekly wage--before tax—is only £15, more and more families are spend- ing their evenings in front of the box, watch- ing Hollywood and the Stara• and The Count of Monte Cristo.
For a few more Christmases Bethlehem will still seem like a town from the New Testament and children will still chase the tourists through the streets shouting 'Shalom!', but before long the town will become little more than a suburb of Jerusa- lem and. in time, even as prosperous as Stratford and as disappointing.
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