Christmas on the 4th of July

For the past 20 years of my life, I've celebrated Independence Day on the 4th of July. It just seemed like the appropriate thing to do, and I've never really put much thought into it. America, land of the free, home of the brave. Yeah, yeah.

This year, however, was different.

Partially because for the first time in my life, I'm not in the United States on the 4th of July, so nobody here gives a hoot, and partially because we celebrated a completely different holiday instead. It's funny how much you don't realize how free you are until you move to another country and at the first stop of your field trip, you pass through the West Bank separation wall and see signs like this:

It's a bit of a rude, although much needed awakening. How easy it is to take freedom for granted, and I'm sad to say I was, and probably still am far too guilty of this.

So, since this country doesn't celebrate the 4th of July, we decided to celebrate another one for which it has the most claim: Christmas. Yes, Christmas in July, and I'll never forget it. We started by visiting the Herodian, which actually didn't have much to do with Christmas except it was built by the guy who tried to kill baby Jesus. The Herodian is basically a man-made mountain where he built a fortress for himself. Really though, who makes a mountain? Couldn't he just be happy with a perfectly good mountain already there? There are plenty to choose from.

Next we traveled the 5 miles from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, the little town where it all began 2,000 years ago. It's an adorable little city with a church over the cave where tradition holds the baby Jesus took his first breath of mortality. It's one of the holiest sites in the entire world, yet I think the place I loved maybe even more than the spot itself were the shepherd's fields that overlook the precious little town.

The late-afternoon sun produced long shadows across the olive trees and turned the grass a beautiful gold. It was quiet out there with no sound but the gentle breeze, and soon a shepherd wandered by with his sheep. It was easy to picture angels appearing to humble shepherds in those fields, announcing the birth of the most important person this world would ever see. It made me wish I could be there too.

While it was powerful to stand in the very spot where Jesus began his life, I realized that it isn't the place where it happened that is important, but it's the fact that it happened. I didn't have to come to Bethlehem to find him like the Shepherds did so long ago, but I hope that now that I have found him, I never lose him.

The Herodian

We got a little plastered with all that Herodian plaster around

Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem

It made me feel a little Seattle in Israel on Christmas in July...well, almost.

O little town of Bethlehem

Shwarma

The actual spot where they believe Christ was born

Church of the Nativity

They sell these nativities everywhere, but this one beat them all. I think I might buy it as a souvenir for the mantle at Christmas

A few days later, we got to celebrate Independence Day for real, and man I forgot how much I love the good ol' US of A. We called it America Day, except we said it like George Bush, so we waved our paper American flags in each other's faces and said "Happy Murkeh Day." 

We ate hot dogs, hamburgers, corn on the cob and apple pie and then danced to Michael Jackson and Boston. At the height of our festivities, they even shot off some fireworks for us at the bottom of the hill. Okay, so maybe they do that just about every night for weddings in the city, but we liked it none-the-less. I truly love Israel, but man, God bless America, the best country in the world.

Yep, that's how we celebrate. Don't judge.