Keeping the Holy Land in our minds this Christmas

My colleague Fr Ron Rolheiser writes in this edition about connecting the dots between the crib and the cross.

We’re not used to thinking about the cross at Christmas, but in one sense, Calvary always casts a permanent shadow over Bethlehem. Even today, it sometimes surprises pilgrims in the Holy Land that Golgotha and the Manger in Bethlehem are only eight kilometres apart.

Certainly, at Christmas 2023 the cross casts a very long shadow over the Holy Land in the midst of war and mistrust.

If someone who had never heard the story of Jesus were to ask any of us about his origins, we would, I suspect, begin with the story of his birth in Bethlehem. It’s a story that we’re all familiar with from childhood.

In schools and parish halls across the country, countless generations of Irish children have told and re-told the story in nativity plays.

Truth

But, amid the carols and candles, the presents and parties, there is a profound, but simple truth at the centre of Christmas that can sometimes escape us in the midst of the hustle and bustle: God became man.

It’s a simple story with a profound meaning: for the religious believer, Christmas transforms everything. It is a moment in human history that, in the humility of a little baby, God, the Creator of the world, entered into human history.

The commemoration of the birth of the Prince of Peace comes at a time when that land desperately needs peace”

I love the story of the Magi visiting from the East, expecting to see a king clothed in grandeur and surrounded by a royal court. What they encounter, instead, is a baby laid in a manger, the child of poor people. The Christmas story contrasts the noisy and ostentatious power of this world with the defenceless power of love in a little baby, for who can fail to be moved by the unconditional love of a baby? Or the story of the Holy Family forced to flee as refugees to Egypt far from the land of their birth?

Heart

But, unless Christ is born and reborn in the cradle of our heart, the nativity narrative from a stable or a cave on the outskirts of Bethlehem some 2,000 years ago remains little more than a beautiful story.

Many people will not have the Christmas they intended this year. Loved ones have died, jobs have been lost, people are struggling with illness – and yet light comes to illumine this darkness.

In the Holy Land, where fewer than 2% of people are Christian, the commemoration of the birth of the Prince of Peace comes at a time when that land desperately needs peace.

Many people have been killed since Hamas terrorists launched their brutal attack on an unsuspecting Israel on October 7. It will be another one of those dates that will be forever etched in the history of that land that has known conflict for too long. It has unleashed the most devastating loss of life and property in Gaza. One observer remarried recently that it had put Gaza back 200 years.

This Christmas, Christians in the Holy Land are not celebrating the feastday. Of course, they will continue to pray, to attend Christmas Mass and to exchange gifts with their families – but the festive parades and lights will not be a feature this year.

They know only too well the shadow of the Cross. As we celebrate here, let us remember them and all the people who share the Holy Land. May they soon know security and peace that endures respecting the rights and dignity of everyone.

The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight”

We can find hope in the vulnerability of the Christmas story. For it is not a story of sentiment: it is a story of struggle. The fear of the young woman Mary found to be with child; the bewilderment of Joseph; the newborn child with a manger for a bed. This new family forced to flee as asylum seekers into Egypt far from their home and families. This is the message of Christmas: a message of a God who is called ‘Emmanuel’ – a word which means ‘God-is-with-us’.

“The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.”

Merry Christmas!