A child in Europe
In the beginning there was a magical imaginary village of Bethlehem, so childish and close, though far away. Domasticated, adorned with cotton wool in the parish church, as if it was really full of snow on the birth of Jesus.
Then there was a religion class and a lot of new names. Jerusalem, Nazareth, Egypt, Jordan River… And in spring, during Easter – a movie in the television – Middle East landscapes, desert, apostles with beard and John the Baptist dressed with a strange, single robe. And burning sun.
Then a Mass – and a lot of other stories. Those abote the Galilee in the north, Judea in the south and Samaria in between. Those of Golgotha and reaping the water from well. Palestine in the times of Jesus, pictured in the imagination of thousands of Christian children around the world.
In the evening, after dinner, parents were again wathing boring news, incomprehensible for a child. Gaza Strip? Is it a place where they extract gas? Embargo? What a funny word. Bomb attack? It must be somewhere far away from here! The pope prays for peace in the Holy Land? And why for peace? Shouldn’t it be peaceful already? They closed the airport in Tel Aviv? Arabs are protesting against the Jewish settlements in East Jerusalem? I don’t understand. Well, this “Jerusalem” sounds kind of familiar though. Religion classes. I’m going to sleep.
A child in Bethlehem
In the beginning there was a magical imaginary village of Bethlehem. Magical, because full of childhood memories. There was a school uniform and a primary school next to the Church of Nativity, right next to the mosque. There was a primer for learning Arabic and cross over the bed at home. The street was full of women covering the hair with scarves, and at home a mom who was never wearing a veil. By the way, mom’s hair are the most beautiful. And sometimes, somewere on the way to school, a child noticed a new painting on the wall.
Then there was a bad dream that woke him up at night when it was still dark outside. Dad’s gone already? He went to work – said mum – it is so far away? – No – said mum, is not far away, but the queue at the border is long. I do not understand.
Then the child heard his parents talking in the evening in other room. About the aunt, who lives behind the wall and her son, who was beaten in school. About the uncle, who was not let in the post office. A neighbor, who came late today because he had to wait an hour for the control and a soldier with rifle. There was the word “Israel”, which no one ever speaks with a smile. I wonder why? Is that “Israel” somewere here? Then why it’s not mentioned in the geography book? What is “occupation”? At school religion teacher showed us a film about Jesus. They also said something abut that “Israel”. “Cholsen”? If chosen, then why no one likes it? I don’t understand.
Sometimes it is difficult to understand that every story can have an other side. But the issue of this Christian family in Bethlehem is the political conflict in their country, not religious one. The problem is a piece of land enclosed by high walls, expensive visas to Israel, the queues at the border, treating as an intruder someone who is at home. Who is this Arabic Christian family which somehow belongs to everyone?
Their life is a mosaic, very difficult to understand for us Europeans. Only the children are the same there, and here. All of them want their Bethlehem to be full of peace.
Today in Bethlehem 