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 Advocate
Article - 12/08/04
I… AT BETHLEHEM
So much of who we are and
how we think is rooted in our upbringing…in our roles as earthly
sojourners. That is my
situation regarding Christmas. Personally,
recollections of this time of the year are mostly wonderful and
worshipful. Yet, hardly any
of these memories have to do with receiving Christmas presents.
Neither head of the household, my mother and grandmother, could
afford such luxury. Because
of this reality, Christmas Presence became the focal point of every
Christmas Day gathering. Our
table talk would often begin with our childish hopes and dreams, i.e. what
we wanted for Christmas. Then
mother and Mama (what we called our late grandmother) would refocus the
table talk. Focusing on what
we did not have carried little weight.
Celebrating what we had, did.
Over and over, they led us in a spontaneous litany of thanksgiving.
Food, shelter and raiment were on the list.
Mother and Mama would always thank God for a reasonable portion of
health and strength. Then,
the conversation or prayers would turn toward six to eight children
sitting around the table. Heavenly
petitions about our well-being, long life, education and making a
difference in this world would follow.
Last but certainly not least, they would express their joy about
Christ and his church, their love for it and their expectation of our
constant involvement. In
those seasonal Christmas moments, I began my journey of discovery
regarding the Christ of Christmas.
At
my home church, Mallalieu United Methodist Church in Ft. Smith, Arkansas,
I met Christ in worship (Luke 2:1-20), in Christmas plays, and serving as
youth usher, singing in the youth choir and singing Christmas carols to
those unable to attend church.
At my grade school, St. John’s (a Catholic school) for
African-American kids run by Dominican Nuns, I met Christ during Midnight
Mass. On many a Christmas
Eve, a number of Protestant kids who attended St. John’s, welcomed, sang
and worshiped our way into Christmas with the Catholics singing Christmas
carols and participating in the Latin Mass. Like the Catholic kids, we even anticipated the celebration
of Midnight Mass by the reigning Pope.
On a trip to Africa, one day after Christmas, I met the Christ
child there. Mary, Joseph and
the babe fled to Africa for safety. Africans
noted that they welcomed, cared for the Holy Family because of Herod‘s
intent to kill Jesus. On my
first trip to the Holy Land, Christ’s Presence was overwhelming on the
Sea of Galilee, in the Garden of Gethsemane, in the Upper Room where he
supped at table with his disciples, out on Golgotha where Christ suffered
and died. I felt his presence at the Garden Tomb where he reposed until
that “Great Getting-Up Morning” on Easter.
Nothing before or since prepared this bishop for the surprising
emotion I felt upon arrival in the little town of Bethlehem, 5 to 7 miles
south of Jerusalem. With the
other tourists, I entered the Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem.
Standing in a long line finally brought me face to face with a
traditional site of the birthplace of Jesus.
The grotto was not particularly impressive, save a few religious
artifacts, burning candles and a cold floor.
I bent down to see more clearly, to light my candle and a torrent
of tears flooded my eyes like Niagara Falls in miniature.
“I wept at Bethlehem.” It
was an inexplicable response. I
was not hurting or upset. I
was happily in the tourist mode. But
in a revelatory moment -- at his birthplace, I discovered that this bishop
was a disciple of Jesus Christ. This
babe born in a manger, who lived and died for me, had worked his way into
my heart. Christ was still
transforming the world and transforming me.
When I raised my head, no one knew why I was weeping although the
streaks on my cheeks gave it away. Because
my mother and grandmother introduced this grown child to Jesus the Christ,
Christmas has become a great time of rejoicing.
Even now, I better understand those who know the phenomenon called
“tears of joy.” I felt them on my face. I tasted their saltiness on my lips,
as I wept at Bethlehem. Now
that you know the meaning of the ellipsis in the title, I greet you with
angelic words fully revealed in the Holy Child of Bethlehem.
“Unto to you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who
is Christ the Lord.“
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