Come to Bethlehem and See

O Little Town of Bethlehem.

I have been to the place, the spot, where, according to tradition, Christ was born. I have huddled in the grotto underneath the church altar with pilgrims from around the world. People have pushed me aside to get a better view. I have bowed my body and stepped through the short doors of The Church of the Nativity, a basilica that has its origins in the 4th century. I have stood in line for over an hour - a kind of Advent waiting - to see Christmas. It was holy.

But holier still in Bethlehem are my Palestinian friends who work daily for the dignity of their people. Those who preach in Christian stoles, who teach in cafes, who educate in universities, who plant olive trees. They are my little town of Bethlehem now.

I get the sense that the gospel does not want my attention to linger for long on the fourteen-point silver star under the main altar marking the traditional spot of Jesus's birth. Instead, the gospel wants me to consider how the airport security in Tel Aviv had no problem with my little group of seminarians until they learned that we had seen more of Bethlehem than that famous church. We had talked to the people of Bethlehem. We had spent more than 2 hours in this little town.

Come to Bethlehem and see indeed.

May we never become so enthralled by the Bethlehem of Then that we overlook the Bethlehem of Now. The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

A Benediction (Or Miscellaneous Thoughts)

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