I Won’t Forgot What that Bethlehem Breakfast Club Taught Me About Religion
I had just finished my Master’s in Biblical Studies, and with an emphasis on Near Eastern archeology was on a summer tour working on archeological sites from Turkey to Lebanon to Egypt and from Jordon to Israel. I was so single-mindedly focused on the past then that my photos from that summer in 1969 were all about old, dead stuff, the “digs” and their relics, not the living people around me. I regret that I hadn’t taken a photo of six old men who gathered together every morning at an outdoor table at the coffeeshop on Manger Square in Bethlehem. Yep, that Bethlehem, as in “O Little Town of….” My week at a small guesthouse off the Square from day one included the daily pleasure of sitting with these elders who warmly accepted me into their morning ritual as “that young graduate student” who could benefit from their on-the-ground advice and mentoring. They were right, of course. And I’ve never forgotten it, though I've no idea what happened to them after they bid me well for the rem