The reason of its dilapidated condition is found in the jealousy of the rival sects of monks; any two of them will unite to prevent the third making the repairs so much needed, and no two of them will consent to allow another to have anything to do with the church. Several times the monks have had fights for the decoration or possession of the Grotto of the Nativity, and it has been found necessary for the government to station soldiers there, to preserve order.
Two or three years ago, one of the factions set fire to the decorations which another had put up, and the whole place was filled with smoke, and some of the walls were disfigured. During the fight at the fire some of the monks were killed, and up to the present time there is a continuance of the feeling of hostility. The Crimean war owes its origin, in part, to the question of the possession of the Church of the Nativity, and more than once a few square inches of the rock floor of the grotto have been very nearly the cause of war in Europe. The whole space is carefully parcelled out among the rival sects, and Turkish soldiers are constantly on duty there, to preserve order! How we Christians love one-another.
Guided by a native Christian, a dealer in relics, who spoke French, and attached himself to us with an eye to business, we entered the church, and descended a flight of steps to the grotto, a low vault about forty feet long by twelve feet wide. At the eastern end is a marble slab in the pavement, and in the centre of the slab is a silver star, bearing the inscription:
“Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christ Natus est.”
“Here Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary.”
Every moment pious pilgrims entered the grotto, and kneeling, kissed the star. Our guide kissed it, and so did another native Christian who followed us, and each monk, as he entered, gave a similar sign of his reverence and his faith. The “Doubter” knelt, and the rest of us were dumb with surprise, as he was a persistent scoffer at everything in the shape of religion, and had no more reverence than a crocodile. For a moment, we thought he had been the object of a miracle, and that we should have occasion to record a conversion of a most remarkable character.
But it resulted otherwise; he rubbed his hands several times over the star—a spot which all the pilgrims around us were regarding with the deepest reverence—rubbed it as one feels the texture of a piece of cloth, and then rose to his feet.
To our united enquiry as to what in the world he was trying to do, he said he wanted to. find out what the inscription was. We said nothing at the time, as the place was not a proper one for a lecture, but when we got outside didn’t we give it to him?
Sixteen silver lamps burn constantly, year in and year out, over the star, and behind them are little pictures of saints, some of them set with precious stones. Over the star is a plain altar, which belongs to all ‘the sects in common, and each must dress it with the proper ornaments, when its turn comes to celebrate mass. There is a small chapel, dedicated to “The Manger,” on the south side of the grotto, and at the other end of the grotto is the Chapel of the Innocents, dedicated to the children slain by Herod. There are several other grottos beneath the church, and all of them are of a sacred character.
It was dark when we left the church and returned to our tents to dine and take a short rest, preparatory to a vigil long after midnight, to witness the ceremonies of Christmas Eve. Table was set in one of the tents, and we dined better than at any of the Syrian hotels. We had brought a bottle of champagne from Jerusalem and finished the meal with a Christmas glass to friends at home.