The Tourist Gaze

Bethlehem is both the birthplace of Jesus and a city of profound spiritual significance. Yet, beyond the nativity story, Bethlehem is also a place shaped by resilience, conflict, and history. As we cross the Israeli separation barrier into the Palestinian-controlled city, we are met with stark contrasts: ancient stone churches standing alongside walls covered in defiant street art, bustling bazaars interspersed with military checkpoints. This is Bethlehem today, a city where faith and struggle coexist.

After lunch at a hotel in Jerusalem and a couple of stops in Ein Kerem in West Jerusalem (which for simplicity’s sake I’ll write about in a single post on Jerusalem), we head to Bethlehem, where we’ll base ourselves for the next three nights.

Bethlehem may be the birthplace of Jesus, but nowadays the silence of the night is more due to the political situation. The city is under Palestinian governance but remains encircled by an Israeli separation barrier that restricts movement for locals. The wall, which Israel says was built for security reasons, also encompasses nearby Jewish settlements, adding further complications to travel and land use.

Many of Bethlehem’s residents are Palestinian refugees, living in crowded camps where conditions are difficult. Israeli military presence and frequent raids in these areas create additional tensions and disrupt daily life. These camps house descendants of Palestinians displaced during the 1948 Arab-Israeli conflict, and their population has grown over the decades, leading to dense housing conditions and restricted access to resources. As Bethlehem’s people face significant restrictions, from administrative detentions to limitations on travel and economic activity, their calls for Palestinian rights and an end to occupation are amplified.

Approaching the city from Jerusalem, we arrive at the Checkpoint 300 crossing. The contrast is immediate: departing from Jerusalem’s bustling city center, the atmosphere grows tense as we near the wall that separates Israel from the West Bank. A mix of locals and visitors queue at the checkpoint, where Israeli soldiers maintain a visible presence, monitoring the line and inspecting identification documents. As tourists, we move through relatively quickly, but Palestinian residents, Iad tells us, navigate a more complex, restrictive process.

On the other side of the wall, Bethlehem opens up with a different ambiance. As our bus plies through the streets at night, it feels surreal, like venturing into an uninhabited place, with the narrow roads, flanked by old stone buildings and shuttered shops, echoing with emptiness. Few streetlights illuminate the way, casting long, dark shadows over graffitied walls and deserted sidewalks.

A sense of confinement is palpable. The separation wall, looming in the distance, serves as a stark reminder of the invisible lines drawn around the lives of Bethlehem’s residents. The atmosphere is heavy, haunted by the stories and struggles of those who live here, their movement restricted by military checkpoints and the threat of curfews. Occasionally, a lone figure will emerge, walking quickly down the sidewalk, or a car will appear and vanish into the darkness, but mostly, the streets feel deserted—like a virtual ghost town caught in a freeze-frame of quiet resilience and weary endurance.

Bethlehem’s Artisans: A Visit to a Local Christian Shop

We pull up to a small shop, one that Iad says is owned by a Christian Palestinian family that has lived in Bethlehem for generations. The shop’s modest exterior belies the large space inside, its shelves lined with olive wood carvings of crosses and Nativity scenes, products that have defined much of Bethlehem’s artisanal economy. Inside, the shopkeeper—a middle-aged man with a warm, if tired, smile—greets us, eager to share stories not only of his craft but also of the trials of running a business in Palestine.

Christian Palestinians, a minority within the Palestinian population, face challenges common to all business owners in the West Bank. The separation wall, which limits freedom of movement, has dramatically impacted local businesses. Tourism, especially, is highly controlled; Israeli guides often lead tours in Bethlehem, but they direct much of the business back across the border, where visitors stay in Israeli hotels and buy from Israeli vendors. (To the credit of our tour, we’re supporting Palestinians by staying at a hotel here in Bethlehem and shopping at this store). Bethlehem’s artisans and shopkeepers like this one rely heavily on tourists to survive, and any rise in tensions can bring business to a standstill.

For Palestinian business owners, daily life is marked by uncertainty—sudden lockdowns, restricted access to supplies, and high unemployment all weigh heavily on the community. Yet, the resilience of these entrepreneurs is striking. Many have diversified their products, from religious artifacts to cultural crafts, and some shopkeepers export their goods through online channels to reach international customers who might otherwise never set foot in Bethlehem.

As we step out of the shop (after I bought some cross pendants, ref magnets, and key chains), Iad explains that the community support here runs deep. Christian and Muslim Palestinians often share their struggles and stand together, despite religious differences, united by the shared difficulties of living and working in a city that’s both sacred and scarred by conflict. In a place where even small businesses feel the pressures of political divides, this sense of solidarity is a quiet form of resistance.

From the shop, we make our way to the hotel, which is also owned by a Christian Palestinian. (According to Iad, most of the hotels in Bethlehem have already closed due to the lack of tourists.) We have dinner, shower, and rest for tomorrow.

The Shepherds’ Field: A Peaceful Pilgrimage Spot

The next morning, we drive to the Chapel of the Shepherd’s Field in Beit Sahour, a quiet suburb of Bethlehem known for its pastoral landscapes. The sun is just breaking over the hills, casting soft, golden light across the terrain that local shepherds might have watched over for generations. The place is a mix of open, rolling land and olive trees, with a pathway leading to a small chapel that commemorates the biblical account of the angelic announcement of Jesus’s birth to the shepherds.

Tucked into the hillside is the Cave Church, a grotto-style chapel that commemorates the biblical story. The church is small, intimate, and constructed to resemble the natural, rocky spaces where local shepherds may have sought shelter thousands of years ago. This cave, with its rustic stone walls and low ceilings, captures an ancient simplicity, allowing visitors to feel connected to the traditions and humble lives of the shepherds mentioned in the nativity story. Fr. Randy holds Mass, his homily focusing on the humble beginnings of Jesus.

As we begin to leave the fields, a group of Indonesian pilgrims enter the place. This is the heartbeat of Bethlehem, where people from different parts of the world come together, if only for a moment, in quiet communion with the land and each other.

Church of the Nativity: Stepping Into the Birthplace of Jesus

We then head next to the Church of the Nativity, perhaps the most well-known site in Bethlehem. Located in the heart of the city, this church is built above a cave believed to be the birthplace of Jesus. As we approach, the ancient structure’s limestone walls loom over Manger Square. Maintained by three Christian communities—Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox, and Armenian Apostolic—the church exemplifies the delicate balance between different faith traditions, all preserving a shared site in a land fraught with division. The entrance is easy to miss had Iad not led us to it—known as the Door of Humility, it’s a small, rectangular doorway that forces visitors to bow as they enter, a symbolic gesture of reverence.

This leads us to the Greek Orthodox section, which dates back to the Byzantine era when the church was originally constructed. The interior is marked by rich and elaborate iconography, with colorful mosaics, gilded icons, and ornate decorations that reflect the Byzantine artistic style.

A door at the side leads to the Grotto of the Nativity, the cave beneath the church believed to be the birthplace of Jesus. Marked by a silver star embedded in marble, the spot traditionally represents the exact location where Jesus was born. Pilgrims kneel to touch the star, moved by the proximity to the nativity story.

From the Greek Orthodox Church, we head to the neighboring Roman Catholic Church–or more specifically known as Chapel of Saint Catherine. This church, as with many Roman Catholic churches in Israel and Palestine, is managed by the Franciscans, who have had custodianship of this holy site since the 13th century under the terms of the “status quo” agreement between the Christian communities in the Holy Land.

Milk Grotto Church: A Place of Faith and Miracles

However, a Mass is ongoing, so Iad first takes us to the Milk Grotto Church, just a short distance from the Church of the Nativity. The church is built around a natural limestone cave, which tradition holds is the place where Mary, while nursing the infant Jesus, spilled a few drops of her milk. According to the legend, the milk that touched the walls of the cave turned them white, and the site has since been associated with fertility, healing, and motherhood.

The church itself is modest but striking. Pilgrims come to the Milk Grotto to pray for blessings related to fertility and conception, as well as for the health and well-being of children. Many visitors take small bags of the white powdery dust from the cave walls, believing it has healing powers or that it can aid in conception. The small sanctuary is adorned with simple but beautiful religious icons and a peaceful atmosphere that contrasts with the bustling nature of the Manger Square. The surrounding courtyard is often quiet, allowing visitors time to reflect on the deep spiritual significance of the site.

Saint Catherine’s Church: Exploring Bethlehem’s Catholic Heritage

We return to the Church of St. Catherine, and after a few more minutes, the Mass ends. The people inside spill out of the church, and we quietly make our way in to see the interiors as well as a cave underneath. The church was built in 1882 on the ruins of a Crusader church and monastery, which in turn sits above an earlier monastery possibly dedicated to St. Jerome. The church is notable for its remnants of Crusader wall paintings in a chapel that was partially restored in 1950. Beneath the cloister, a series of caves and rock-cut chambers houses several chapels, including the Cave of St. Jerome, where he translated the Bible into the Vulgate, St. Joseph’s Chapel, which commemorates the angel’s warning to Joseph to flee to Egypt, and the Chapel of the Holy Innocents, remembering the children massacred by King Herod.

The Church of St. Catherine also plays a vital role in the religious life of Bethlehem. It provides spiritual support for the local Christian Palestinian community, which, although a minority in the region, maintains a deep historical connection to this sacred place. The Franciscans also operate nearby facilities like a friary and a school, supporting the local Christian community and promoting cultural and religious education.

From here, we make our way back to Beit Sahour, just beside the street going to the Shepherds’ Field. We stop for lunch at a restaurant, where the the food is flavorful, simple, and with refillable mezzes, to prepare us for a lot of walking in Jerusalem.