“And she gave birth to her firstborn son

and wrapped him in bands of cloth”

–Luke 2:7a

During my last year of seminary, I had the opportunity to be in Bethlehem on Christmas Eve.  I was taking part in a two -week tour of Israel and Palestine and imagined that being in the spot of Jesus’ birth would be unforgettable.  As I rode the bus from Jerusalem that evening I tried to picture what the night would hold.  Perhaps a time to experience the joy of his birth as never before.  Maybe a mountain-top kind of moment that would forever mark my faith.  I was hopeful.

As I stepped off the bus and began to walk toward the center of town I immediately became aware of the Israeli military presence.  Soldiers, some of them only teenagers, lined the rooftops with automatic weapons. Soon, a crowd that stretched fifteen people across was forced through an inspection point one at a time. A soldier frisked me, ran a metal detector around my body and had me take a picture of the ground to prove that my camera was not a bomb in disguise. It was a bit unsettling, but soon I moved on ahead to the celebration in Manger Square.

The familiar carol sung at this time of the year describes Bethlehem as being “still” and caught in a “deep and dreamless sleep,” Perhaps it was so at Jesus’ birth, but certainly was not that way in 1986. Instead, a carnival atmosphere greeted me, with heavy drinking all around. Merchants hawked their wares and storefronts had displays of Jesus and Santa shaking hands.  

It was not what I had imagined or wanted and was just about to leave when at the far end of the square, a choir from the United States began to sing. The words were familiar: “Joy to the world, the Lord has come, let earth receive her king.” It was wonderful to hear that song and others around me must have felt the same as the revelry stopped. People were leaning forward to hear every note and for a moment, Bethlehem was just as I had imagined it. Peaceful. Calm. Holy.  It lasted for only about three minutes, for as soon as the song ended, that Times Square-on-New-Year’s-Eve-feel resumed. 

Strangely enough, that break was all I needed. A moment of grace amidst the automatic weapons and tacky decorations. A pensive interlude that fed my spirit. Three minutes that renewed my faith in Christmas in its purest form to bring people together.

I pray that in the coming days there will be at least one moment like that for you. Perhaps it will come when you experience a choral event where the words come alive again.. It might be as you settled in crowded pews at your church on Christmas Eve holding your candle. It could be as you open a greeting card from a friend you had not connected with for years or see a spirit of wonder in a child or something else entirely. Whatever form it takes, I’d love to hear about those experiences of grace for you. A new account of how God has come to earth again.

Oh Holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us we pray. Cast out our sin and enter in, be born in us today. Amen