This summer,
I was in Bethlehem.
The journey was by air-conditioned coach,
From
Jerusalem, four-miles away,
Not the
long donkey ride from Nazareth in the north.
Nevertheless, we were stopped,
At a
military check-point,
And told to
enter the city by another route,
For there
was no place for us on the main road.
We saw security fences encirlcing the city,
Barbed-wire
ensuring no-one entered or left David’s city
Without
proper paperwork.
Bethlehem, a place precious to pilgrims,
Now
isolated,
its ancient
Christian community dwindling
from
economic strangulation and political persecution.
Bethlehem Christians are a double minority—
They are
Palestinians in an Israeli state
They are
Christians among Muslim Palestinians.
They are in
great need of our prayers and support.
Early on that morning we came to a church
Marking the
site of the Word made flesh
Dwelling
among us.
Actually we came to two churches atop
Subterranean
chapel caves
Commemorating
Christ’s coming into the world.
The newest, a Catholic church filled with light,
Was renovated
by the Emperor of Austria in 1881.
It sits beside an Orthodox sanctuary
Dating to
Crusader times,
Whose icons,
mosaics, walls and ceilings
Are
blackened by a millenium of smoke
From
candles and thuribles,
built above
a fourth-century chapel
That Constantine’s mother
constructed,
Of which only mosaic floors remain.
On the
outer church walls,
Bullet
holes commemorate clashes
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| Mosaic from Fourth Century |
Where
soldiers strafed those seeking
sanctuary
and sustenance
in the birthplace
of the Prince of
Peace.
Underneath these soaring sanctuaries sit a series of small
caves.
Stairs down lead to an ancient children’s crypt,
Perhaps
where Herod’s holy innocents were interred,
And to the study of St. Jerome,
Where the
unwashed hermit studied and
Translated ancient scriptural
texts.
Also under the
Orthodox church altar is a small chapel in a cave
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| Site of Jesus Birth (Green photo) |
Where maybe
fifty can stand,
near the
spot where was born to us
a Savior,
who is the Messiah, the Lord.
An altar, owned by the Greek and Armenian Orthodox monks,
Sits above
a golden star placed on the ground
Marking the
place of the birth of
The
son of Mary who is
The only-begotten
son of the Father
A few feet from the place of Jesus birth,
Was the
manger
Where they
lay the newly swaddled Savior.
A site a
Roman Catholic altar marks,
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| Site of Manger (Greene photo) |
And where we joined an Italian Franciscan priest,
Saying mass
for us in English,
Hearing the
same gospel we just read,
And having
sung songs we sing today.
There we heard the good news of shepherds
In the spot
where Mary, Mother of God,
Marveled at the
same message.
There we shared in the Body and Blood of the one
Who came
into the world where his own did not accept him,
Where people loved the darkness.
There, in the midst of the darkness of division, discord,
and death,
Light shone
and the darkness did not overcome it.
Bethlehem two thousand years ago was not the same
As
Bethlehem this summer;
The Stars and Bucks coffee shop did
not exist,
No one sold olive-wood nativity
scenes,
And soldiers carried spears instead
of semi-automatic weapons.
But much remained the same.
God’s people were divided:
Pharisees and
Sadducees, Zealots and Essenes.
A thousand years earlier,
King David
came from there and united Israel.
But at that time someone else ruled them:
Romans,
Willing to
bring Caesar’s peace with a sword
Utterly
ignorant of the peace passing all understanding.
But demanding a census of the whole
world,
Collecting
taxes and containing troublemakers.
In the midst of big
picture economic anxieties and political problems
Two
travelers borne on a burro bring burdens.
Joseph seeking shelter,
Stops in a
cave where animals could be kept.
During the night watches, his new wife gives birth.
Like all good parents of the day,
They wrap
the baby in swaddling clothes,
So he feels
safe and secure.
Then, having no beds themselves,
They lay
him in the only safe place they can set him down,
A manger
serving as a crib,
So
perhaps they can sleep.
But their dreams are delayed
As astonished shepherds arrive
announcing
Good
news concerning baby Jesus.
Angels appeared.
The Glory of the Lord shone in that place
To herald
the arrival of the Messiah, the Lord.
The Word become
flesh
Immanuel, God-with-us,
Immanuel, God-with-us,
The
Life that is the light of the world.
And the
angel said:
Be
not afraid!
But now what?
The shepherds return.
The baby nurses and sleeps and
needs to be changed.
And mother Mary ponders in her
heart.
Much remains – miracles, healings, and beatitudes
Passion,
suffering and death
Resurrection!
But everything already is renewed.
The creator of the universe
Is no
longer apart from it,
But has jumped
directly into
The
jumble of injustice, injury, and despair
Re-creating
from within all things that came into being
joy, love, peace,
and life
For
all who receive him
And
believe in his name--
The name announced by angels
Shared
by shepherds
And
disclosed to us.
The name by
which all under heaven are saved.
Immanuel, God-with-us,
The Son of David,
the Savior who is the Messiah, the Lord,
Son of the Most
High,
Jesus.
Bethlehem two thousand years ago is not the same
As the
Shenango Valley today,
But we’re
not that different.
We have the occasional census
And the not
so occasional taxes.
Our stables are scarcer, but our inns are emptier.
Young mothers too often have no safe place,
And petty Herod’s senselessly
slaughter our children.
But today we know the story of the Babe of Bethlehem,
If not
announced by angels
Then
narrated by Linus.
We’ve heard the story,
We’ve sung
the songs,
We’ve
celebrated the season.
And yet we still struggle to live into it
Because we
can’t quite believe
How unfathomably
immense
Is
God’s love for us.
We can’t conceive the celestial radiance
Concealed for
a season in human flesh
So we can
share the spark of eternity.
We can’t consider the cost of trading the courts of heaven
For the
cross of Calvary.
We can’t fathom the faithfulness of God
When we
lack it ourselves.
But mostly,
We want the
darkness gone
And we
don’t understand
Why
it lingers.
Our lives hold so much pain and suffering,
Darkness
seems so strong.
Two Thousand years later,
Shouldn’t
Jesus have fixed everything?
The promise says
The light
shines in the darkness
And the
darkness did not overcome it.
As long as people choose darkness,
And all of
us do sometimes,
Darkness
does doggedly dig into our existence.
Darkness does not however,
Have the last word.
Since Jesus was born in Bethlehem,
Light is
always shining into the darkness,
And darkness must give way.
In every avenue of our existence,
At least a
glimmer of divine light shines
And shows
us a way out.
No matter how dark,
No matter
how painful,
No
matter how sinful the situation.
Even if we are trapped in a darkness
Of our own
damning decisions,
The dayspring
from on high
Drives
away the final despair
if
we will only deign to open our eyes.
When families fail,
When dear ones die,
When we hate ourselves for hurting
others,
Jesus offers an emergency exit arrow
Pointing to
a place of peace.
For our salvation comes not with a warrior’s sword,
Nor by
imperial edict,
But with a baby,
Born in
Bethlehem,
Where all
should be well, and isn’t,
Just
like in our own lives,
But where Christ comes anyway,
And can’t be kept
out.
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Christmas Eve Procession to Church of Nativity, Bethlehem |
Halfway around the world this night,
Past
patrolled check-points and barbed wire fences,
Beneath
vaulted basilicas and bullet ridden facades
Aware of a
world awash in the power of darkness,
In an
underground cave,
People have
crammed themselves together
because on this day,
In
the city of David
Is
born a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.
In this place, we have come tonight,
With our
own struggles and burdens,
 | |
| Nativity Icon (photo Scott Gunn) |
With our
own weariness and wants
To receive
glad tidings of great joy,
For
a child has been born for us,
A
son given to us;
Wonderful
counselor, Mighty God
Everlasting
Father, Prince of Peace.
For tonight the Word became flesh,
and we would have
him live among us,
so that His light
shines always into all our darkness
So come to Bethlehem and see
Him whose
birth the angels sing.
Come adore
on bended knee
Christ the Lord the
newborn King.
