"How Still We See Thee Lie?" A Christmas Eve Communion Meditation

I was in a state of sheer panic as I scrambled down the cobblestone streets in the marketplace in Bethlehem, petrified of getting left behind. My only recourse was to keep my eye on the bright yellow pants that our group leader was wearing, holding on to my personal effects for dear life. How I ever made it to the Church of the Nativity amidst the chaos, I'll never know!

But then something else caught my attention: the sight of the wall which separates Israel from Palestine marking the conflict between the two countries. The wall is covered with graffiti; very colorful graffiti, that is, in every sense of the word. As we entered Palestine, armed guards came onto the bus to check our passports before we could cross the border. "Americans," they said, and waved us through. One of our tour leaders, however, ran the risk of being left at the border because he didn't have the right papers. I didn't quite get it; I was on a pilgrimage to the place where Jesus was born. But where was that "how still we see thee lie?" place?

What about Mary and Joseph? They were under the rule of Emperor Augustus who had decreed that all the world should be registered, each in his or her own home town. Now there was major conflict between the Romans and the Jews. Mary and Joseph didn't have much choice but to comply, so they made the three-day pilgrimage from Nazareth to Bethlehem. They probably weren't the only ones on the road; something tells me that they could have been caught up in the sheer chaos of the throngs of people who were returning home for the census, being pushed and shoved along the way. It's not exactly the image that I have of a serene Mary perched on a donkey with Joseph walking at her side on that midnight clear.

I don't know about you, but I tend to think of the birth of Jesus in terms of the familiar Christmas carols that we love to sing and in the scriptures that we read. But it's easy to take those words at face value, especially as we hear the story year after year. I often get so caught up in the heavenly moment that I forget to pay attention to the earthly message that they bring to each one of us.

When I look at the figures in the manger scenes so beautifully displayed in our church and in our home, I forget that Mary and Joseph were real people, traveling to Bethlehem. I forget that the Virgin Mary ran the risk of being stoned to death just because she was the Virgin Mary, pregnant with an illegitimate child. But she gave birth to a real baby, wrapped in bands of cloth, not a silk blanket. He was laid in a feeding trough, not a warm cradle. But he was the one who would be called Wonderful Counselor. Mighty God. Everlasting Father. Prince of Peace. Even the shepherds went with haste to this place to see the things that had been made known to them, for the angel of the Lord had appeared to them and the glory of the Lord had shown upon them.


We all made it to Bethlehem, Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and even me, by the grace of God, that is. As we leave behind the chaos of our lives and go to the Bethlehem of our hearts, traveling mercies will abound, for the baby Jesus, tiny as he may be, awaits our presence at this holy table. In partaking of this sacred meal, we can be assured of the promise that God has made known to us in the birth of the Christ Child. Therefore, let us eat this bread and drink this cup, knowing that this meal will sustain us for the journey of discipleship. Let us join the shepherds and go with haste to greet the baby who is Christ the Lord. Oh and by the way, as we drove out of Bethlehem, I figured out what the "how still we see thee lie," part was all about, for I saw large letters painted on the wall that spelled out the words, "Peace on Earth." Indeed. Now I know what it's all about: the promise of hope. All glory be to God this Christmas night. Amen.
(Text: Luke 2:1-14)