O Little Town of Bethlehem

A couple of years ago, I had the privilege of traveling to Israel for work. I visited the Holy Land days after Christmas and during some free time on a Sunday morning, I took a cab to the border with another woman on the trip. We crossed over into Palestine, which is where Bethlehem is.

Prior to this day, my vision of Bethlehem had been that of Christmas cards. A deep midnight blue sky with one bright shining star illuminating a quiet stable with nice-smelling animals. Jesus in a very comfortable manger. A calm, peaceful, tranquil setting. O little town of Bethlehem how still we see thee lie!

Once through the bullet-riddled checkpoint, my Bethlehem quickly vanished. Today the town is crowded, smelly, filled with horns honking, people yelling. And I could not find the stable anywhere. I felt anything but calm as I tugged the large scarf I had bought to cover my head tighter around my face. I knew that the Bethlehem in my mind was not the Bethlehem, and yet I could not help but be blindsided by the contrast between my version and the real version (this trip has ruined my version of Christmas...like someone telling a four year old that there is no Santa! I thought.) We took another cab to a church smack dab in the center of Bethlehem. I had plans to interview the pastor, but we were also going to take in a church service.

Thanks to the throngs of people who used the roads for walking and biking, not driving, our cab arrived late. We snuck into the sanctuary a few minutes after the service had begun. It was all in Arabic. It took a few moments for me to get settled in...to take off my scarf, get comfortable, and find my place in the bulletin. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks for getting to the church safely. Unwinding, I began listening to the familiar Christmas carols being sung in a language I did not know. I looked up at bright, sparkling stained glass windows. I looked at the people around me. The air was calm and peaceful. We were singing about Jesus where Jesus was born! And we were offering thanks for His birth in multiple languages. And there, in that service, in that pew—even though it was craziness outside—I felt it. Simplicity. There you are, I thought to myself...the Bethlehem I envision and long for.

A coworker this morning took a deep sigh and said she was tired. So tired. I thought she meant from work stuff, so I asked what project she was working on. She shook her head and said no, that it was everything else. The hosting, the cooking, the running around and shopping, the traffic. I concurred. Having taken cookies out of the oven at 11pm last night for a holiday work function today, I knew exactly what she was talking about.

It felt like the Bethlehem in my head versus the real Bethlehem. What Christmas should be, and the Christmas we actually participate in.

I know that my version of Bethlehem is naïve. Even two thousand years ago when Jesus was born, Bethlehem was not idyllic. But its simplicity is the stuff of Christmas. Likewise, I know December will always be busy. There will always be more hosting and baking and shopping and errand-running than normal. But Jesus was inside that Bethlehem church. And He is the peace that my coworker and me want.

A Savior has just been born in David's town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master. This is what you're to look for: a baby wrapped in a blanket and lying in a manger."
At once the angel was joined by a huge angelic choir singing God's praises:
Glory to God in the heavenly heights,
Peace to all men and women on earth
Luke 2: 11-14