EYEWITNESS FROM JERUSALEM

A WEEKLY JOURNAL WRITTEN BY SISTER MARY

Jerusalem Journal # 1

 December 27, 2000

It was a somber Christmas here in Jerusalem and friends who went to Bethlehem said it was the same there.  I wanted to walk to Bethlehem with the Dormition Abbey community, but it was pouring rain from 2:00 p.m. on here in the Old City of Jerusalem, and so the walk was cancelled.  The Old City is where I live, here in the Christian Quarter among the Palestinians who have graced my life with their friendship and generosity.

My celebration of the Incarnation began in a Palestinian home about vesper time, December 24th., when four children sang Christmas songs into my small tape recorder, wished a "Merry Christmas" in either Arabic or English, and then replayed and replayed the tape as they listened to themselves.  The youngest, Mark, is only six and his expression was priceless as he listened to his big brothers and sister, and then his own voice wishing the world a happy birth of Jesus among us.  I was then treated to an Arabic meal with the family.  Through all this I was made to feel much at home as the children crowded around and spoke about their lives this year.  It was a simple Christmas for them.  Each apparently got one gift and I was glad that I had brought small gifts for each of them.  Since I am only a student in Arabic, it was a joy to have them speak slowly or try to translate into English if I didn't understand what was said.  Children do have a way of bringing the joy of this feast home to all of us.

With the heavy rains I decided not to go to midnight Mass, opting to celebrate with my parish family at San Saviour on Christmas morning. There in the back of the church, a group of people were admiring the crèche and I met a lady from the store where I often buy food.  She opened her arms to greet me and wish me a "Merry Christmas" in English. Here at the crèche this seemed to be the normal way of expressing the feast of the day, open arms and a greeting that helped us focus on the joy of the gift of God's Son among us.

After Mass I went to a breakfast at the Johanniter Hospiz, provided by a Lutheran classmate of mine. We study Arabic together at the French Cultural Centre twice a week.  Since the Centre is on the same street as the Muslim cemetery, we have witnessed many processions of young men carrying the green litter with the corpse of one of the young Palestinians to its final resting place.

When I left the hospiz and returned to my "abode", my neighbor, Nadya, called out her Christmas wishes and asked where I had been since she wanted me to come and eat with her family. I told her I would come and sit with her for a while, and then ended up going with her and her family to her mother's home in the Muslim Quarter of the city. Suddenly my "abode didn't seem so small. This woman and her husband raised five children in a room about the size of my kitchen/living area. Because the Old City of Jerusalem is built on a mountain, Mt. Zion of the psalms, many of the elderly are quite homebound and Nadya's mother is one of them.  She can no longer manage all the steps. Here in the Old City, many of the streets are stairs. As we sat and talked, Nadya's mother peeled sweet oranges for us, shared her Christmas candy and prepared Arabic coffee. What hospitality is offered by these people who have very little and whose lives have been greatly changed by the tragedy at Al Aksa mosque last September. I have just had a Christmas that I will never forget

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