I was worried that my last full week living in Bethlehem was going to feel like it was going slowly. For the most part I think that's been true. There haven't been any major trips and the school seems to be slowing down as the semester ends and Christmas draws closer.

I decided to visit the East Jerusalem Baptist Church again on Sunday. We had a full van with visitors from the US, Canada, and Australia. This Sunday we went directly through the nearby Bethlehem checkpoint. They collected all of our passports and wanted to know what we were doing going into Israel. Alex just said we were tourists. They let us go through but another guard wanted to look us over as well. We arrived at church earlier than usual. I got to know visitors who are Conservative Friends from Kansas. Alex included several of us in the service; I read a brief Advent lesson. A young man who has been attending the church regularly and working at the Sabeel offices in Jerusalem was leaving that day after about a year and half living in the Middle East. Everyone really appreciated his message as well as his enthusiasm and charisma. After church the group decided to get some sandwiches from the local shop and have a picnic together under the olive, orange, and lemon trees that give shade to the gardens around the church. We had a wonderful time getting to know each other better and sharing our lives with each other.

I happened to be in the administration building on Monday when the college got a visit from Santa Claus. At least I was told Santa was coming. As I understand it this man comes from Germany, dresses as Santa, and visits various places in Bethlehem to spread Christmas cheer. I was quite surprised when I saw him. My first reaction was, that's not Santa Claus. Then I thought maybe he was supposed to represent Father Christmas. He was a tall man and wore the regalia of a Catholic bishop or something. It wasn't until awhile later that I realized he was dressed as St. Nicholas.

On Wednesday I decided to try again to walk to Manger Square in downtown Bethlehem. I keep getting sidetracked by shop owners and tour guides. At least this time I knew the right way to go. It's just like going to the place where I had Arabic lessons. Scinema street, which goes east from the main intersection on Hebron Rd. goes up the hill through a business district or market. The further you go the more narrow the street becomes. When you walk past the Dar Anadwa Center the street is barely wide enough for small cars to pass with a little room for pedestrians. Eventually the street becomes so narrow that cars are not allowed. This time I was determined not to get into any conversations with shop owners or tourist guides. I kept my camera in my jacket pocket. I tried not to look like a tourist. I walked briskly with my head down, trying to look like I was going somewhere in a hurry. I almost made it to Manger Square without anyone saying anything to me. Then I saw ahead of me a boy who noticed me. He said, "Hello." I didn't pay any attention, just looked down at the ground and kept walking. I then heard him say as I was passing, "Where're you from? Islamabad?" I have no idea why he thought I looked like I was from Islamabad. I sort of took it as a compliment, had a good chuckle, and walked the few more yards into Manger Square. Opposite the Square I could see the Church of the Nativity and the visitors streaming in and out. On the left was the Bethlehem Peace Center. That's where I wanted to go. I wanted to see what sorts of things they had in their gift shop. I did find something I liked, something good quality and made in Bethlehem. Afterwards I decided to walk across the Square and just sit for a few minutes on a park bench. A man was working nearby hanging Christmas lights. I watched people go by. Sometimes there were groups of young men or groups of young women. They always seem so affectionate with each other, behavior that would usually seem out of place in most areas of the States. Families would also walk together, or it looked like one family group was meeting and talking with another family group. A few older men walked by in what I assume is Bedouin dress or more traditional Arab dress. In my ignorance I hadn't realized that a famous mosque is on one side of the Square across from the Church of the Nativity. I finally decided I had pressed my luck long enough and set off for the brisk walk back to the college. This time no one stopped me. It was an enjoyable walk being able to mix with the local Palestinian population without someone identifying me as a tourist.

Thursday evening was the college's Christmas party for faculty and staff. I suspect that it wasn't just the mood of the season that made people so happy and friendly with each other. That seems to be the way life is year round. I did get some translation from Arabic once in awhile. There were times, however, that the humor being shared was not translatable. The president of the college might say something. From one end of the table, someone would make a comment. From somewhere else someone would say something and everyone would roar with laughter. It seemed the humor was based on the turn of phrase and the nuances of Arabic, not something that would ever be as funny when it's translated into English.

We had a delicious meal, sang some Christmas songs, celebrated some birthdays and anniversaries, recognized the efforts of a few people, and generally enjoyed each other's company. Kamal played the Oud, accompanied by Rami on an Arab tambourine, and he also led people in a few songs. They all seemed to know the songs and entered in. It was a joyous and festive occasion, a wonderful experience of Arab and Palestinian Christian culture. We didn't really fit in very well. None of the internationals clapped along. I was tapping my fingers on the table and noticed someone pointing out this indication of my enjoyment of the music.

Friday has been the big day. I gave out the final exam this morning and graded it this afternoon. I'm quite happy with the work the students have done. They are intelligent and studious young people. Many of them exhibit a vibrant Christian faith. A few seem destined for great things among Palestinian Christianity both here in the West Bank and in Gaza – if they are ever able to return there. These young people are poised to make a much better life for themselves, but they need politicians and governments to give them a chance. If that doesn't happen, who knows whether there will be another generation of Palestinian Christians to maintain a witness in Bethlehem and other areas of the West Bank and Gaza.