“O little town of Bethlehem…”
"O come, all ye faithful…O come ye to Bethlehem…”
These lines from Christmas hymns have landed differently with me when I have sung them in church this year. If I were to go to Bethlehem today, Christmas Day 2023, I would not find the quaint, sentimental Christmas that I have had associated with these lyrics most previous years. Bethlehem is quiet, but because its Christian leaders canceled the usual public Christmas celebrations.
Instead of that, what I would hope to find in Bethlehem would be my Christian brothers and sisters whose words I have been paying attention to in the past few years, and thanks to technology, even though I can’t travel there now, I can still hear what they are saying. Three significant examples from two Christian scholars, both born, raised, and currently living and working in Bethlehem, from the past few days:
From Dr. Mitri Raheb: “Christmas: Then and Now”:
“I was born across the street from where Jesus was born . . . . Growing up as a child in Bethlehem was special . . . . Very special were the plays that were put together at school where we had to memorize passages from the Christmas story about the holy family, about the shepherds and the magi, and about King Herod and Augustus Caesar. It was a beautiful and uncluttered celebration.
Later in life, during my years of study in Germany, I witnessed how Christmas became more and more commercialized. The festivities there, with large-scale Christmas markets, Christmas carols played in malls, and Christmas trees sold at city squares. In this context, the Christmas story seemed more like a fairy tale, based in a very different climate than the one I know. Indeed, all these new, Northern European elements seemed vaguely alien to someone who knew the original story so well. It was all about Santa, the reindeer, the snow, the jingle bells, and the goodies. I must confess that all of this has its charm. Our children, too, now love Santa.
But Christmas can be hard in Palestine. After twelve wars in my lifetime, we are not always up for all the festivities. At times, we have no choice but to cancel Christmas. Now is such a moment, with the war on Gaza making everyday life so hard for our people. The churches in the Holy Land decided to cancel all Christmas festivities, and so did the city council of Bethlehem. For some children, it is disappointing. They might ask: what is Christmas without the glamour, without the tree, and without the gifts?
These questions are not always easy to answer, but as a theologian, it has given me an opportunity to look at the Christmas story all over again, through a Palestinian lens. Once again, I feel close to the conditions that Bethlehem knew at the time of the Nativity. Indeed, the more I study the similarities, the more deeply I feel the story. [Read the rest here.]
And in two messages at Christmas Lutheran Church in Bethlehem, Dr. Munther Isaac:
First, in a brief English summary for visitors of his Christmas Eve sermon (starting at about 45:30):
“How can we rejoice in such circumstances? How can we rejoice when our people are going through a genocide and ethnic cleansing? Maybe we can if we can rediscover the…true meaning of Christmas:
To begin with, Christmas is Emmanuel, God with us, God coming near us, God being with us precisely in our weakness and fear. Emmanuel tells us ‘fear not,’ so Christmas is actually for those who are afraid, and I think of those in Gaza who are very fearful, but can hear today this message, ‘fear not.’
Second, Christmas is the Word of God. The Christmas message is that God did not remain silent.
What we cannot understand as Palestinians, what we are appalled with, is the silence of the world over the genocide in Gaza, the justification of the killing of our children, we are appalled by this silence. I say to those who are silent, ‘shame on you.’
But God was not silent. God sent his Word, and his Word was Jesus. In him we have hope. His Word was Jesus, and Jesus’s Word is life, is hope.
Thirdly, Christmas is this manger. As we search for Jesus, let us remember where he is to be found. He is found on our side of the wall. In a cave, among a family that became refugees. First, that family was displaced, and then they survived a children’s massacre, and then they became refugees. How relevant huh, for us? This is where Jesus is to be found. And so people shouldn’t be shocked when Jesus was placed on rubble. Because I repeat, if Jesus were to be born today, he would be born under the rubble with the people in Gaza.
When we rely on might and strength, Jesus is under the rubble.
When we justify, and explain, and rationalize the killing of children, Jesus is under the rubble.
He’s at home under the rubble, with the displaced and the marginalized.
And this child becomes our hope. We see him in every child pulled from under the rubble. And while the world continues to refuse the children of Gaza, Jesus says, ‘Whatever you have done to them, you have done to me.’ . . . I see the holy family in every displaced family, and while the world negotiates what to do with the people of Gaza, Jesus shares their fate. This manger is our resilience.
And, finally, I say, Christmas is our hope in the midst of difficulties, despite the difficulties. If we truly believe that God was not silent, if we truly believe that he is in us and with us, we can rejoice. And if you don’t believe me, allow me to read for you the words of Shadi. Shadi is a Christian in the church in Gaza. He wrote these words just two days ago:
‘Days pass with unimaginable weight. We feel fear, anxiety, we’re insecure––in circumstances that are above normal, circumstances that no human being can bear. The whole world is celebrating Christmas, and lighting Christmas trees, and we too are celebrating Christmas but in difficult and horrifying circumstances. Nevertheless, we have the joy of Christmas in our hearts. . . . Lord Jesus, as we remember your birth, it is a memory of joy, love, and salvation. Yet we live in pain and anguish. We pray that your birth, your Christmas might be a feast of peace where we celebrate joy to our people, to our land. And so we will celebrate Christmas despite the difficulty of our situation. Despite the fear, despite the horror that reminds me of the fear and horror of the Christmas narrative. Lord Jesus, shine your light upon us. Bring light to our lives through love, and peace, and comfort to those who are wounded––peace, oh child of Bethlehem, to our people that needs peace. Amen.”
And also, in the memorable and impactful message from his Dec. 23 sermon of lament, mentioned and linked in the previous post, with a transcript posted here:
“We are angry…
We are broken…
This should have been a time of joy; instead, we are mourning. We are fearful.
20,000 killed. Thousands under the rubble still. Close to 9,000 children killed in the most brutal ways. Day after day after day. 1.9 million displaced! Hundreds of thousands of homes were destroyed. Gaza as we know it no longer exists. This is an annihilation. A genocide.
. . .
‘Lord, do you want us to call down fire from heaven and consume them?, they said of us.
. . .
We are outraged by the complicity of the church. Let it be clear: Silence is complicity, and empty calls for peace without a ceasefire and end to occupation, and the shallow words of empathy without direct action — are all under the banner of complicity. So here is my message: Gaza today has become the moral compass of the world. Gaza was hell on earth before October 7th.
If you are not appalled by what is happening; if you are not shaken to your core – there is something wrong with your humanity. If we, as Christians, are not outraged by this genocide, by the weaponizing of the Bible to justify it, there is something wrong with our Christian witness, and compromising the credibility of the Gospel!
. . .
This is Christmas today in Palestine and this is the Christmas message. It is not about Santa, trees, gifts, lights… etc. My goodness, how we twisted the meaning of Christmas. How we have commercialized Christmas. I was in the USA last month, the first Monday after Thanksgiving, and I was amazed by the amount of Christmas decorations and lights, all the commercial goods. I couldn’t help but think:
They send us bombs, while celebrating Christmas in their land.
They sing about the prince of peace in their land, while playing the drum of war in our land.
Christmas in Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus, is this manger. This is our message to the world today. It is a gospel message, a true and authentic Christmas message, about the God who did not stay silent, but said his word, and his Word is Jesus. Born among the occupied and marginalized. He is in solidarity with us in our pain and brokenness.
This manger is our message to the world today – and it is simply this: this genocide must stop NOW. Let us repeat to the world: STOP this Genocide NOW.
This is our call. This is our plea. This is our prayer. Hear oh God. Amen.
