My most unique Christmas ever!

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"Today the virgin gives birth to the transcendent one,
  and the earth offers a cave to the unapproachable one"


    --from the Byzantine Kontakion on the Nativity

Tell me, what were the chances of me being led to a hidden ancient grotto in the desert davka on Christmas day?!

I woke up feeling sad that this would be my first Christmas far away from Jerusalem and from the smells and bells of  her old churches, far from any Christian friends, far from my nun-friends' Christmas roast chicken and panettone.
Because now I live in the Negev desert, in the middle of nowhere, alone.
(Yes, even we Jews enjoy the drama and mystery surrounding Dec. 25, once a year.)

Over morning coffee, a new video episode from the inimitable Sr. Dr. Vassa popped up on Facebook.
She spoke of loneliness being more acute on Christmas and how we can turn things around by focusing on certain things that can liberate us from the rut of self-pity.
(Try this brilliant young  Orthodox nun's on-going video series, you'll love it.)

So I left the cold apartment and walked into the warm sun.
Two short blocks brought me to the end of Meitar, to the edge of the desert.
I vacillated -- nu, which direction to take, -- east, west, or north?
Finally I said "OK God, it's your call.  Lead on."
He did;  we turned  to the East.

In the photo above, if you click on it a few times, you'll be able to see a strange bit of whiteness inside the fold of that hill.

I traversed afar over zillions of sharp dark flint stones scattered on the earth and suddenly, above that whiteness, I came upon a cave!
To enter?  Of course Dina, throw caution to the winds!

That's it! I was inside, looking out.
Nothing or no one attacked me, this is, except for a great feeling of awe and excitement! 

There was no ox or ass, but other animals had been there.
Like a porcupine!

Small animal tracks dotted the thick layer of loess.

I hated to disturb the layer of dust of the ages by trodding on it.
No one had been in this cave for a very long time.

I made just a few footprints.

A ball of chalk on the floor!
You could crumble it with your hands.

The stuff clings to you, were you to kneel.
Well, I was just doing a tiny bit of archaeology down there, honest.

After surveying the floor, the niches, the walls and ceiling of the very ancient place,  I knew the time had come to finally sit down on a rock and be quiet and attentive.
To reflect on the pathos of the nativity.
To imagine how Miriam-Mary felt,  having to give birth in just such a cave. 
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 As Orthodox Christians sing in today's Kontakion,
"Today the virgin gives birth to the transcendent one,
  and the earth offers a cave to the unapproachable one . . ."
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