Every twenty years, Bethlehem has beckoned me. In 1964, seventeen years after the outbreak of what Palestinian Arabs call "The Disaster" (an-Nakbah) and Israelis call "The War of Independence," I visited Bethlehem with my family. Then in the Kingdom of Jordan, Bethlehem was a wonderfully dusty little town of crowded houses and twisting alleys masquerading as streets, replete with the sounds and smells of donkeys and Mercedes taxis. Trinket hawkers were persistent and ubiquitous on Manger Square in front of…
Don LuidensMarch 16, 2005