Combing the historical significance of the Christmas Nativity with the diversity of cultures and artists that have interpreted it through the ages, "Finding Bethlehem" guides you thoughtful commentaries of theologians and collectors alike, to artist statements and the voices of "behind-thes-scenes" participants in the Festival, the book explores the spiritual and artistic meaning of the Nativity.
Weldon Nettles
The clock read 2:55 am. I put on the many layers of clothes which I had set down on a chair the night before. I combed my hair, took a look at myself in the mirror, and left into the terrible February cold, flashlight in hand. It was raining. I sloshed through the puddles, a parking lot, a foot bridge, and finally the winding sidewalks.
At 3:20 am, one of them stood up, walked about two feet, and activated the bells from an electronics box. They rang from a tower right outside, and the noise pierced the 50 foot ceiling of the church. Everyone stood, and I followed suit. As the bells died down, a knock emanated from somewhere.
I had come to Mepkin to make sense of my life and to make sense of myself. But it was too early in the morning for anything to make sense. I got a scant five hours of sleep the night before, as I wasn’t used to an 8 pm bedtime. The benadryl I had taken to aid my slumber was still doing a number on me. I felt like I was in a dream, as if nothing as fantastic as these ancient practices could actually exist.
Two weeks had now passed, and it had been years since I had felt so happy, and at peace. My cell phone, my computer, and my television had all dulled my sense of the present. And in living in the present, I could now appreciate the tiny, little moments that slip through the cracks.
After 30 days, my time at Mepkin had come to a close. As I prepared to leave, I realized how much I was going to miss the place, and more so, the monks. I was prepared for many of the aspects of the monastic life, such as the vegetarian diet, 3 am wakeup call, and lack of modern trappings. But the thing I hadn’t expected was the community. I had come as a mere guest wanting to experience their life. But, over the course of my stay, I was embraced by the community. I didn’t feel like a guest or observer. I felt like I had a place amongst these men dedicated to the contemplative life.