How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given.
When people back home ask me "What is Christmas like where you are?" the first thing I want to say is "It's quiet. Very quiet." With just a 2% Christian population in the country, I guess this should not have caught me by surprise, but it did and broad-side. Today was in many respects, "just another day" in Jerusalem. Oh, it was Shabbat, so there were fewer cars driving and most of the grocery stores and restaurants were closed, but traffic will be back and the places of business will be open again after sundown. One has to look very hard to find any hint of a Christmas decoration in any part of town. It was a much busier day 5 miles south of here in the no-longer-so-little town of Bethlehem, but even there, the day was occasionally trumped by those taking advantage of the crowds for the purpose of political posturing. It didn't "feel like" Christmas. At all. How can this be, as we are (metaphorically speaking) in the shadow of the stable?
So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His heaven.
Two days ago, we took our kids to Bethlehem, not really sure of what we would encounter there, or even what our purpose should be. I got lost driving, but suddenly, after making a spontaneous right turn (both directionally and in terms of correctness), we were in Manger Square. So we went to the church there, which was surprisingly not busy at all on December 23, and we had a really good talk with our boys about the Christmas story. It strikes me now that the roles have reversed somewhat when it comes to the events surrounding Christmas, at least in terms of activity. Today, Bethlehem was all a buzz and Jerusalem not so much. Upon the visit of the Magi (not exactly the same time as the events of Luke 2, but remembered at Christmastime today), Bethlehem was quiet and all Jerusalem was disturbed at the news (probably because Herod was disturbed). Without the distractions of shopping sales, the TV specials, and the decorations, Christmas was boiled down once again to its very core. Jesus, while "being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness" (Phil. 2:6-7). The ultimate result for us: life now and forever reconciled to God! The blessings of heaven indeed.
No ear may hear His coming, but in this world of sin...
Still, something was keeping me from joy. While Michelle was with the kids on Christmas Eve at the rehearsal for the Christmas pageant, I was doing some grocery shopping in the open air market (more truthfully, I needed some 'wander time'). On my way back, very near the church building, the police had a road I wanted to walk roped off. What was this about? After a few minutes and an explanation offered to me in broken English, I discovered that a suspicious item had been discovered nearby. The police were taking care of it. It soon occurred to me that 'taking care of it' was going to involve a detonation device. Honestly, my initial reaction was, "Cool!" After the bag was 'taken care of' with a loud bang (it turned out to be just an old pack filled with trash that someone had discarded near, but not in, a dumpster), the sound reminded me of the ongoing tension that makes events like this less joke and more everyday reality here. I already mentioned the carol sing at Christ Church; the day before, there was a memorial service there for Kristine Luken, the American who was stabbed to death one week ago today (we did not know her, and we still feel safe here, but please pray for her family and friends). These recent events turned my thoughts once again to the Christmas story. What was it that the angels said? "Peace on earth; goodwill toward men" (or "toward men of goodwill," depending on your translation). What was it that Isaiah said He would be called? "Prince of Peace," among other things. Really? Here? It is easy at this point to see the despair Longfellow saw as he wrote the penultimate stanza in his poem-now-turned-song "Christmas Bells." But his poem had one more verse, and this story has at least one more part as well...
Where meek souls will receive Him, still the dear Christ enters in.
Energized this morning by thoughtful wishes and actions of good friends, but still turning all this over in my mind, we came to corporate worship this morning, with an angel and a sheep costume for the pageant. Perhaps you think that a Christmas pageant here would have better costumes or would be less chaotic than such things elsewhere. You would be wrong on both counts. This is in no way a reflection on the effort, skill, or patience of the wonderful people who organized it--as anyone who has taken such a thing on can attest. Nevertheless, there was stage-fright, tears, and a meltdown (not by our kids), but it in no way detracted from the beautiful simplicity of the story and its telling. During worship, stories were heard of encounters with not-yet-believers in Jerusalem and Bethlehem both, and I realized that there are people here who are hungry for God. Perhaps they aren't even sure of what they are looking for, but they are curious about Christ! And that's the idea. Christ was born in the relative quiet (minus the angel chorus to the shepherds) of a stable in Bethlehem, but the message was one of deep transformation and salvation just as it is today. And on our walk home, I heard the Christmas bells pealing loud and deep. Even in the face of silence, apathy, and darkness Christ is on the throne: the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and yes, the Prince of Shalom--which He is bringing about in His time.
O Holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us we pray.
Cast out our sin and enter in, be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell.
O come to us, abide with us our Lord, Emmanuel.
No comments:
Post a Comment