Most Christians long to reflect and pray where Christ was born, walked and taught; and where he died and rose again. Political realities stand in the way for many, but these are not an insurmountable barrier to an encounter with the ‘Fifth Gospel'
A prayerful retreat in the Holy Land can sound these days like a contradiction. North of Jerusalem, the West Bank continues to bristle with checkpoints; and it was only months ago that Hezbollah shells landed near Nazareth. There is no escaping it: the sacred geography of the Christian faith is a battlefield.
Yet the Holy Land remains - the odd eruption notwithstanding - a very peaceful, safe place. The little hill town of Christ's birth, for example, is now separated from Jerusalem by a 26-foot-high wall and army watchtowers - an intimidating way to enter a town. But once you are through the checkpoint - foreigners are not usually detained by the bored young Israeli soldiers - you can relax. Bethlehemites are cheerful, peaceful, gentle people, who have welcomed pilgrims for centuries: they now stand waiting for visitors. Jesus Christ was born here, their expressions appear to say; so where are all the Christians?
It is a good question. When, in autumn 2005, Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor warned that Bethlehem was being economically strangled and issued a plea for Christians to visit, I decided to spend Christmas there. It turned out not to be that easy: neither travel agents nor pilgrimage tour companies seemed to deal with the possibility of a lone pilgrim wanting to stay in Bethlehem. However, via the Bishops' Conference office in London and the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre I was connected to travel agents in Bethlehem who booked me into a Palestinian convent, met me at the airport and provided tour guides and transport for me. All I needed to do was to book my flight to Tel Aviv.
It turned out to be a wonderful fortnight, and made me realise that to associate Bethlehem with terrorism and violence is completely undeserved. That image does not last a stay there; people are courteous, friendly, and helpful. Respect and kindness are shown to visitors and especially to women; I felt safer walking around in Bethlehem than in many English cities. Bethlehem has a history of hospitality stretching over more than 2,000 years, with Palestinian Christians and pilgrims living and praying together in this little town, grateful to be in the place St Jerome called the "most sacred spot in the world".
The narrow, ancient streets, with their gorgeous views over terraced hills full of olive, apricot and almond trees, seem to echo with the steps of Mary and Joseph walking to the cave in Manger Square. Pondering the night sky in the Shepherds' Fields, it is easy to catch the wonder of that sky full of light and angels, and to see the Star beckoning us to "go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place" (Luke 2:15). One cannot linger in the Church of the Nativity without reflecting on the light and hope of the world that was born there: God's passionate love for humanity appears captured in the very fabric of the town.
The benefit of staying in Bethlehem is being able to choose the time (from 5 a.m. to nightfall) to meditate and pray at the Church of the Nativity, to linger over coffee or a glass of wine in Manger Square and to spend unhurried hours reflecting and pondering. Bethlehem may be small, but it is home to the global Church across time, with the Orthodox, the Roman and the Eastern Churches in Communion with Rome, all sharing the same Arab Palestinian culture. Many liturgies are celebrated with chants dating from the earliest days of the Church: the Syrians use a dialect of Aramaic close to the language of Christ. I joined parishioners for Mass in the Melkite Church celebrating St John Chrysostom's Rite - and then we had coffee in the church hall. Bethlehem's heart is open to the world, and it belongs to the world - as expressed in the symbolic passport received last year by Pope Benedict XVI from the mayor of Bethlehem.
You cannot escape the added dimension of a retreat in the Holy Land, the awareness of being on sacred soil, treading the earth that Jesus trod: absorbing the fact that the Incarnation took place in this land - that God broke into history right here, and became human. Dom Bargil Pixner, a German Benedictine, calls the Holy Land the "Fifth Gospel" - the sacred geography which opens up the other four accounts with new and greater clarity.
The Judaean desert is less than half an hour's drive east of Bethlehem, and is where early monasticism took hold. The jewel is Mar Saba, memorably depicted in William Dalrymple's From the Holy Mountain: a fifth-century Greek Orthodox monastery clinging to a cliff surrounded by the caves where thousands of monks once lived. The experience of the desert - the stillness, the parched land under a cloudless sky, the dromedaries on the horizon - is one of extraordinary power, and prayer is effortless. Be in the desert at dawn and watch the sun rise, and contemplate the words of Zechariah: "The dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness ... to guide our feet into the way of peace" (Luke 1: 78-79). Spend a day there; celebrate Mass in the desert if you can. Walk on the narrow, barren road from Jerusalem to Jericho. "To pass by" - as everyone but the Samaritan did - was a devastating act of indifference. The heat of the day turns at night to desert chill; anyone beaten up and left by the side of the road would not live long.
The desert and olive-grove scrub of Jerusalem-Bethlehem-Jericho gives way to green as you drive north towards the Sea of Galilee. This was the base of Jesus' ministry, especially around Capernaum, where Peter and his family lived. The excavated ruins are looked after by Franciscans, who also have care of the Mount of the Beatitudes nearby. These hills are made for walking, and include many of the villages and places where teaching and miracles took place. A short walk down the hill from the Mount is Tabgha, a German Benedictine monastery on the shore, where visitors are warmly invited to join the monks each day for the Office and Mass. Their church is built over a Byzantine mosaic of the loaves and fishes, and the monks keep a lighted candle on the rock where, it is thought, Jesus performed that miracle. It is quiet, and there are few distractions, allowing you calmly to enjoy the placid sea and its herons.
Nearby is an acoustically perfect bay where Jesus spoke from the boat to the multitudes on the shore. Looking across to the other side of the sea - known in biblical times as the Decapolis, where pagans lived - is a recently discovered cave that scholars say could be the one where the Gerasene demoniac howled and gashed himself. Best accompanied by Scripture, all these sites and scenes of Jesus' ministry need plenty of time to be absorbed.
A retreat in the Holy Land can be made individually (as I did), or with a group. Accommodation in Bethlehem is plentiful and reasonably priced, whether staying in a convent, pilgrim-house or hotel. For groups, speakers from Bethlehem University, the Bible College and Tantur Ecumenical Institute can be arranged, as well as introductions to the local Christian community. Taxis and transport are readily available, together with licensed tour guides if needed. Jerusalem is 10 minutes away from Bethlehem, so that all the key spiritual places can readily be visited. An American Maryknoll priest I met with his retreat group has been coming every year for many years. He finds that half a day pondering Scripture and visiting a site is enough each day, if people are to get sufficient rest and time for reflection.
This makes the distinction between the pilgrimage that aims to visit as many sacred sites as possible, and the retreat that allows time for contemplation of the places Scripture records. The events of Divine Revelation have flowed into history, but the places in which God revealed himself to humanity remain ever present. It was all a long time ago; and it is all now. That is why I went - and that is why I am going back.