Beyond Bethlehem

Long ago, time stood still.   An indelible image.  There were shepherds watching sheep.   This is how the story the goes.   And man surprised by where the road had taken him.  Never in a million lives could he dreamed of Bethlehem.  At least that is how the story goes.  An ordinary girl pregnant with a child.  An inn with no room.  At least that is how the story goes.  Angels singing peace in a night sky illuminated with the brightest star seen in centuries.   And I don't know what the wise men saw in the sky.  And it was all enough to drive a king mad and slaughter children.  And the heartbeat sent straight from heaven was God's great plan for history.  Emmanuel.  God with us.

And I don't know if Mary knew her baby boy would save us. Did she know that her baby boy had come to make us new?  Did Mary know what the incarnation meant?  I don't know.  We aren't told. 

But how to allow the power of the Incarnation to penetrate our lives is the central question of Christmas.  It really doesn't matter if shepherds were watching their flocks that night or not, or if angels really sang Glory to God in Highest, or if Jesus was born in a manger with hay or a cave.  It really doesn't matter if wise men followed a star across the desert on the backs of camels.   It matters not what we believe about the story.  What matters is what are we doing with the story.  

In a world torn apart by violence, poverty, greed and oppression, we wonder like the prophets, when will God come?  And that is the miracle of the incarnation.  It is when our lives are most barren, when possibilities are cruelly limited, and despair takes hold, when we most keenly feel the emptiness of life, and when we have used the last scrap of our resources, it is then that God is closest to us. 

And so tonight, the longest night of the year, I know that tears are falling and hearts are breaking.  I know that in the aftermath of last week, it is hard to believe in Bethlehem.  It is hard to believe that God is with us.

And how we need to remember that God wore our fragile skin.  And it was the shepherds and the wise men and Mary who believed in miracles before they made sense.  And whatever happened in Bethlehem that night long ago is the answer to every tear we cry.  That baby whom she called Emmanuel, is with us in our waking and in our sleeping.  He is with us in our birthing and our dying.  So tonight, I pray for peace to shine on a world that is torn apart.  I pray for hope to restore our spirits when the hopers lose their way.  I pray for faith to comfort and heal our wounded hearts.  And I pray that we remember that in every act of kindness, every prayer whispered, every tear shed in solidarity, every hug given, every kind word spoken and every time you really listen and every time you slow down and see the holiness of the other in front of you, it is then that Christ is born.

May the peace of Advent find a place in your heart this Christmas.