Dec.18, 2012 - MUSIC & BETHLEHEM

Last December 9, 2012, I attended the Holy Spirit Catholic Church Christmas Choral Concert. The popular Christmas carols beautifully sang by the children's choir earned a thunderous applause. No cause for wonder, really, because of the presence of parents and relatives specially doting grandmothers and grandfathers of the young "promising" diva or tenor in the family. It was amusing to see the flood of digital cameras held up in the air to record the momentous occasion. I smiled as I remembered such times in the past when I would compete with others for space to get a better shot of the "apos" (grandchildren) when they performed.

 Both the youth and adult groups admirably rendered more newer hymns to commemorate the season of Christ's birth. Audience participation in the singing of a few Christmas classics made me open my vocal cords without any hesitation, despite the fact that I sing off-key. I believe that the spirit of Christmas permeated the atmosphere so that my unbridled passion for music and song rushed free!  It was an afternoon well-spent, indeed, thanks to the most efficient and dedicated effort of the music directors and instrumentalists of the Holy Spirit Church.

A few days after, I attended the Christmas Piano Recital of Christian, a grandson, at the Carlton Plaza a residence for seniors. I was so moved by his marvelous rendition of  "O Little Town of Bethlehem." He has been under the tutulege of Mrs. Carmencita Aspiras, a former child prodigy and a six-year piano scholar in Vienna, Austria, the Music Capital of the World! She has been holding student recitals in large senior facilities for the past few years. Her reasons for doing so are so laudable from the standpoint of students and audience alike.

The Christmas carols sang or played during both occasions made my heart swell with immense joy and lifted my spirits to high heavens! Such feelings were duplicated by Christina's beautiful voice singing the liturgical and Yuletide songs during a mass we attended. But the melody of "O Little Town of Bethlehem" haunted  me so strongly that I decided to write about my first visit to Bethlehem in 1977.. Like all "firsts", the experience has remained fresh as the morning dew in my memory!

Both history and tradition point to Bethlehem as the birthplace of Jesus. A small village, referred to in the Bible (Micah 5:2) as the "least" among the towns of Juda. Bethlehem, old name, "'Ephrata," means, "House of Bread." It lies within the Judean desert so that the sordid mounds of rocks and countless caves form a large part of its terrain. Sparse greenery with few sheltering trees lie here and there where shepherds pasture their flocks.

My first visit to Bethlehem in 1977 was through the kindness of a couple, Israel (yes,that's the man's name) and Ruth Beit-Halachmi who were my seatmates on board a plane from Singapore enroute to Europe in 1975. At that time, I was in an ASEAN (Association of Southeast Asian Nations) meeting in Singapore when I received a wire from the Department of Foreign Affairs with instructions to proceed to Geneva, Switzerland to represent the Philippines in a Plenipotentiary Conference on Shipping sponsored by UNCTAD (United Nations Commission on Trade And Development). Ruth and Israel in their mid-sixties, came to Singapore to promote their business of manufacturing Jewish artifacts and jewelry, On board the aircraft, we had an animated conversation which included, among other things, my dream of visiting the Holy Land, the birthplace of my Lord and Savior, Jesus. Of course, I added, that it would remain a dream since my circumstances would not warrant its realization. Despite my definitive claim, they still so warmly invited me to stay with them just in case I would finally land at the Tel-Aviv Airport in the future. Modesty aside, they were unduly lavish in their admiration for my representing a country in international circles at such a young age. I was 44 years old then! They told me how I had warmed their hearts and offered me a silver ring with an aquamarine-like gemstone which they said was a "gilat," a stone from King Solomon's mines. I would not accept gifts, specially jewelry, from strangers. Therefore I was adamant in my refusal saying, "No, thank you," over and over again. After seeing the sincerity of their offer and their admission of the great disappointment and possible insult they would feel, I relented and graciously expressed my gratitude for the ring. (By the way, I still have it.) We kept in touch through the mail almost on a monthly basis since then.

Fast forward. Then in April,1977, I had to attend an UNCTAD conference in Belgrade, Yugoslavia. It was to be held the week right after one of Christianity's holiest season- Holy Week. I was  determined to set foot for the first time in Israel since the meeting place was close by and travel costs would be greatly reduced. The added bonanza was the fact that my first encounter with the "living" Jesus was during Holy Week, the time of His "death.". What coincidence, nay, "God-incidence" can that be ???

It was Holy Tuesday.To say that I was feverishly excited as the plane made its smooth landing at the Ben Gurion Airport in Tel-Aviv would be an understatement! My mind was occupied with the thought of "kissing" the ground of the Holy Land at the foot of the plane-steps or not. It was a struggle between the faith-filled sense of my heart to kiss the "Holy Ground" and the intellectual synapses of my brain which considered the gesture improper and attention-getting.The head above my heart prevailed!

Ruth was screaming, "Is it really you, Grace? Are you here, here, really, really?" over the phone when I called from the airport at around 8 AM. Being fond of surprises, I purposely did not inform them of my coming. Much later after my trip, I realized how wrong I was to make my visit a surprise. What if Ruth and Israel were on a business trip abroad? What would have happened to me to be stranded in a foreign land without any hotel reservations? If I would have been lucky to get a hotel, would I have the money to pay for it plus the transportation costs to and from the religious sites of Bethlehem, Nazareth and Jerusalem? My loving and merciful God Who knows my needs even before I ask, had saved me from a lot of heartache! Praise the Lord! It made me realize what being "close to God" means - that He will supply our needs even without our asking if it would redound to our benefit. Also, it became more clear to me that at times when we do ask for something and He remains quiet, it is either what we are asking for is not rreally good for us or He will give it at the right time or He wants us to persevere in prayer in our caily communion with Him.

 While waiting for Ruth and Israel, I walked around, noted the immaculately clean and modern airport and even ventured out of the premises. I was expecting dozens of young men and women in uniform with their full gear patrolling the area since "war" was consistently aflame in Israel as reported in international newspapers.  I did not see one soldier at all! I was somehow relieved at the thought that peace must have finally been achieved. I also took a second look at the faces and body silhouettes of the few women I saw in the vicinity. Since the previous year's Miss Universe was from Israel, I presumed most of the Israeli women would have her features.

After the usual amenities, Ruth and Israel took me to their spacious apartment in the prestigious area of the city where the Prime Minister of Israel, Rabin stayed. In fact, he lived in the penthouse right above their home. I was surprised to know that despite being a  man of national  prominence, he did not have bodyguards except for a driver.They  pointed to me the Prime Minister's car parked along side many others in the curb of a side street. I marveled at the humility of Rabin who was acclaimed, "Man of the People."

During my 3-day stay with my hosts, they took me to Nazareth, Bethlehem, Jerusalem and a city tour of Tel-Aviv. This blog is focused on my first visit to Bethlehem only.

While driving towards Bethlehem, Ruth told stories of the many Christmases they celebrated in the place. Three Christian groups: Catholics and Protestants, Greek Orthodox Chirch and Armenian/Ukrainian Orthodox Church have different dates for the birth of Jesus Christ. Hence, every year Christmas is celebrated three times in Bethlehem. Though they believed in Judaism, they still celebrated Christmas in Bethlehem because of the music and pageantry during the festivities. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised at the many things they knew about Jesus!

I stood awe-stricken by the tall, huge, fortress-like structure before me which was the Basilica of the Nativity, built during the middle of the 6th Century by Emperor Justinian. The very first church built over the cave where Jesus was born was constructed by Constantine, the first Christian Emperor of the World in 354 A.D. Fire and war atrocities had razed that church and the succeeding ones throughout the centuries. I took a studied look at the basilica from one end to the other. My mind could not comprehend how such a building of  the 556 A.D. era could be standing still in 1977? I had not seen the Pantheon of Rome nor the Pyramids of Egypt then.

The main entrance of the massive- walled sanctuary was (still is today) a small door which required each person to bend low and literally bow one's head to enter. No wonder, it is called, "Door of Humility." I figured that since Jesus, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords is inside, all of his people, his "children" need to pay homage to Him.

The faint light from the hanging oil lamps inside the squalid darkness almost like that of a cave gave a strange aura of holiness and wonder. Damp air circulated through two long rows of huge columns lining the nave (center) of the church. The hair at the back of my neck stood electrified as goose bumps swept through both my arms. I was spellbound! I looked at the altar which consisted of a simple table and a collection of oil lamps of varying sizes and shapes arranged in a few tiers from the table. There were still some more lamps hanging from the ceiling."Where is the Tabernacle?" flittingly crossed my mind. I ran my hand on two or three columns and noticed the patina of age that had somehow affected the paintings on them. I quickly drew back my hand when I realized that people like me who like to "feel" things must have caused their missing lines and subdued colors. I thought of the thousands of hands that have "caressed" those pillars throughout the centuries!. 

A small area of the wooden floor in the nave of the church was lifted off to show the original one with its.mosaic figures of birds,flowers and fowl. Strangely enough, the colors on the tiles were still so clear, so vivid!  On the left side of the church as one is facing the altar, a much larger space of the original floor with the mosaic figures were on display. Of course, it was a cordoned section.

Some persons standing on line at the left side of the altar indicated that it was leading to the cave where Jesus was born. I quietly took my place in the line while my heart vigorously pumped against my chest. My head was reeling with excitement and, I thought, every nerve of my body was agitating to get loose from its "cubicle" to  see the Christmas card "Nativity Scene or Creche" come to life! As I slowly followed the trail down the narrow, rugged stone steps to the cave-stable, I prayed a succession of "Thank you" to God for making my impossible dream possible! I was overwhelmed with a mixture of joy and sadness, a longing for my loved ones- family and siblings- to be with me at that most significant time! 

Upon reaching the end of the steps, I looked around and saw that there were two openings (steps), one coming down to the "grotto" and the other, going up from it. I saw that the walls and roof of the cave were covered by something like a tarp.Three or four yards away from the "grotto", my eyes caught sight of a small opening between two pieces of tarp. When I stood right below it, I reached up and inserted my right hand so as to "feel" the rocks My sense of touch makes an experience come alive to me so that  it has become a personal "pet peeve." My happiness knew no bounds! But when I knelt down before the spot, the "hole" which marks the birthplace of Jesus, I was sobbing convulsively like a lost child. It was cordoned off by an iron chain . I  saw all those ahead of me just kneel, pray and leave. But I could not do just that! 

Kneeling right in front of the "grotto" with tears rolling  unashamedly down my cheeks, I crawled under the chain and- "dug" my right hand first then my left into the "hole." Then I ran my hands on the silver piece with star- like points that encircled the spot. I was completely oblivious of the people in the cave with me. The only thing that mattered was that I was with  Baby Jesus, my Santo Nino!

As I was going up the steps to exit, I smiled at the thought that I found the answer to my question, "Where is the Tabernacle? The "Grotto", of course ! Halfway through the exit steps, I stopped, turned to take a last look at the "grotto." In so doing, I saw the line of pilgrims, one by one, inserting their hands through the opening between the tarp to touch the rocks of the cave!,