Christmas Eve in Bethlehem

 

Last year on this day, we were there with a large group of pilgrims. It’s a stunning experience to be there at all, on the spot where Christ was born, but especially so on the night of Christmas Eve. 

The town was filled with Christmas lights and decorations. Christians are in the extreme minority there but Christmas dominated the town of Bethlehem, and everyone seemed involved somehow. We were there early, then again at night, and throughout that day the world seemed to come to town. Especially to Manger Square, to the Church of the Nativity. Church and government leaders were coming in for Midnight Mass, so security was massive. The crowds in motion around Manger Square were a cross section of the world’s faithful and the world’s media, watched closely by the region’s police.

The TV trucks and antennae proliferated, to beam to the world the Mass from ground zero, the spot where God entered the world as the infant Jesus. It grew surreal when streets were lined with police cars and armed guards were everywhere, weapons clearly evident. When there’s peace in Bethlehem, it’s an uneasy peace. By the world’s terms…

But the peace “beyond all telling” is there no matter what. I felt like we were a million miles away from the craziness that commercialism can be, frantic shopping and packed malls and ads about diamonds and cars and sales. It can be lovely to be caught up with joyful people gathering their food and gifts for family celebrations….and unlovely. But it is surely distracting.

Here, in this little town of Bethlehem, it is what it was when He came, in a way. Simple and poor, filled with peasants and shepherds and villagers and families. There was tension then, too. Nobody had room for Him in their homes or inns. Politics were heavy and the military was after this child Herod feared.

I stood at the spot where He was born, as history and tradition preserved it, and got a sense of the power of the humility of God. The Prince of Peace was born this eve in Bethlehem in a troubled and divided world, and the trouble has never stopped.

We came out of church and slipped through the packed square, hearing carols sung in different languages and seeing police lights flashing and automatic rifles held tight by guards and TV crews with bright lights taking it all in. And we headed for the bus, dodging the rain and the peddlers….except for this little boy who looked scared and cold and hardly able or willing to lift what he was holding and say “keychains, one dollar.” I don’t know if he was a Christian or a Muslim — both are Arabs in this land and he was an Arab child. My son and I stopped and handed him a few dollars and brought back those keychains that read both ‘Jerusalem’ and ‘Bethlehem’ with the Madonna and child on one side, and the Jerusalem Cross on the other. I treasure it.

Bethlehem and all of Palestine has only seen more trouble since this time last year, with battles between Hamas and Israel from without, and Hamas and Fatah from within its own territory. And the Christians of Palestine are caught in the middle of it all.

Tonight, we are safe here and busy with our Christmas celebrations here in the West. But I think of that little boy in Bethlehem and hope he’s not afraid anymore. I think of the spot where Christ was born and the profound depth of palpable grace present there where heaven touched down on earth. And I’m thankful for that, and for the Mass everywhere, tonight and always, when that miracle happens again.

I wish you peace, my friends. And a most blessed Christmas.