Unholy Sh+t: O little town in Palestine, the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight

I am nine years old, and the world is about to change. It is Christmas Eve 1993, and the snow is blowing; our driveway is covered in ice. The tree was up in the living room, and everything seemed absolutely perfect. I’m not gonna lie; our lives at that moment were quite quintessential. We lived in a log cabin atop a hill overlooking a creek, and the snow was glistening below. The anticipation was palpable as we prepared to celebrate the new birth.

My father picks me up and drives me across town. I watch the snow outside the window, my heart beating with excitement. He walked me into a room, and I took a seat in a big, comfy green chair. This was not my first rodeo; I knew exactly what to do as he turned around, holding a present in his hands, and gently lifted her down into mine.

“Hello, uh.” I pause, not knowing her name.

“Anna.” My dad says.

“Merry Christmas, Anna!” I smile, “I’m your big brother.”

Unholy Sh+t: An Irreverent Bible Study

Fourth Sunday of Advent

Today’s Reading: Luke 2:1-14

O little town of Bethlehem, how are you still standing? The alleged birthplace of the Prince of Peace has been anything but peaceful. Whenever we talk about the City of Bethlehem, it goes without saying that we all have images that pop into our heads of stables, manger scenes, and shepherds shuffling into town because Aziraphale told them they should go after Crowley tried to trick them into thinking their sheep were actually… anyway, that isn’t the point! We all have images in our heads of what this place looked like, and most it is wildly incorrect. Listen, I could go into many things here about how the Three Wise Guys weren’t actually present at the birth of Jesus or that there were likely dozens of them, not just three, but we’ve already covered that. Heck, we could talk about how Jesus was probably born in a cave instead of a stable like what we’ve seen in every nativity scene since the birth of Jesus… wait. What I am saying is, without a lot of effort, I could dismantle a whole lot of assumptions you have about the birthplace of Jesus, like that it's possible that it took place somewhere else in Nazareth, and that would all be fascinating. But I have a more important question for you: Where is Bethlehem?

Stop! Don’t pull out your phone; think about it right now, in your own head.

Well, you were probably wrong. Then again, that depends heavily on what period of Bethlehem you are thinking about. There is Bethlehem the birthplace of King David, within the territory of the United Kingdom of Israel. Then, the Romans had it and and destroyed it. Don’t worry, Saint Helena rebuilt it (that’s Constantine’s mommy). Then it was destroyed again, but Constantine rebuilt it again. Then, the Greek Orthodox Church had control over the physical Church of the Nativity until the Roman Catholics stole it from them. Then it came under Ottoman control. Then, the British had it for a while, which is kind of full circle because they trace their lineage back to the Romans, sometimes anyway. Then, the U.N. annexed it. Eventually, it was within the border of the Israeli Government. Then, after all of that, is when things get really f+cking complicated.

Bethlehem is located in the West Bank of Palestine. This means that if Jesus was indeed born in Bethlehem, the City of David, he was a Palestinian Jew.

I can literally hear some of y’all yelling, “Oh, don’t make it political!” Listen, motherf+cker, I am not making it political. I am just telling you the most abbreviated facts of the case here. The reality is the Middle East is complicated, and this story is complicated, and, frankly, it’s all political. The other harsh reality that we must discuss is that much of what you’ve come to understand about the story of the Nativity is heavily rooted in antisemitism. However, we can have that conversation without having to become Islamophobic. So let’s tread into this thing as gently as possible, with open minds and hearts.

Now, it's important to understand that Jesus may not have been born in Bethlehem and that the entire bit about the census was likely made up. Yes, there were plenty of censuses that did happen. Still, the whole bit about this particular census doesn’t match any known historical timelines. Also, there is the problem that no universal census existed that would have required anyone to travel to their hometown, as described in the Gospel of Luke. It is possible that the author of the gospel was misinformed or got his wires crossed. Some speculate that he was simply trying to justify the travel to place Jesus in Bethlehem, or at a minimum Nazareth, at the time of his birth because it was necessary to fulfill different prophesies concerning the Messiah. Either way, it should be noted that even though the census likely did not happen as described, Jesus was also probably born in Nazareth, likely Bethlehem. It’s also fun to note that the name Bethlehem means House of Bread, which is just some very exciting foreshadowing.

Whether Jesus was born during a census or not is arguably irrelevant; the time of his birth was markedly tumultuous. There are uprisings in the cities, zealots are attempting to regain power, and nearly everyone is hoping for some kind of redemption. The narrative does not sound very unlike our own time in many ways. It’s easy to draw comparisons; no matter where you are on this planet of ours, we are all living in fear: war, famine, mass shootings, and the ever-present threat of dictators and fascist uprisings.

I guess if the scriptures are right about anything, it is that there is nothing new under the sun.

Jesus was a Jew, and that has been largely erased from the narrative. What we miss in this story, behind the inaccuracies of their authorship, is the story of a family living in an occupied land and desperately trying to be obedient to God as they understand the divine. Even in this gospel, there are hints of hesitancy in Joseph. We have a pregnant, unwed couple, a great scandal, and something is causing them to travel. The world as they know it is complicated. It’s not snowing, there aren’t cute barn animals, and Mary is having contractions while traveling. Suppose we believe the story at its face value, we have a woman who wholeheartedly believes that she is the Mother of God, a stepfather that is considering bolting, about all we are missing is Maury coming in to check the paternity.

When I think about their story, I can’t help but wonder at the courage all of this took. I wish I could say that at any time in my life, I trusted with this much faith in anything. Then again, maybe I do. I have faith in each of you. What a silly thing, I guess. I mean, look at us. We were killing each other back then, and before then, and now. Pick a continent, and there is unrest. It leaves many of us with feelings of hopelessness.

I like to think of those shepherds on the hill, looking out over the city. We don’t know anything about their politics or their religion. We don’t know which side of the wall they would be standing on right now; we just know they exist, that they were working-class people, and that they were minding their f+cking business. They were up there on that hill, and they were suddenly blasted with the most alarming Flash Mob in history. BOOM! Angels everywhere, choirs of the heavenly hosts, with eyes all over the weird ass bodies, chanting about how the Messiah had been born. “Do not be afraid!”

How could they not be? How could we not be?

Recently, I read that a more accurate translation than “Be not afraid” is that the angel actually said, “Stop screaming!” I’m not sure if that is true; maybe that’s just a meme, but it’s as true as anything else in the Bible, so I am going to just roll with it. Because that is the Christmas message: stop screaming, just for a moment. Take a deep breath. Do it right now, it's okay; no one is looking. Just breathe in and breathe out for a little moment. Somewhere, right now, is born this day a baby, not much unlike the one brought into the world two thousand years ago. Maybe that baby is being born right now in Ukraine, Palestine, Israel, or a homeless encampment somewhere in America. They don’t know it yet, and neither do we, but they are going to change the world. Maybe she will grow up to be someone amazing who makes beautiful music or a healer or President. Perhaps they will just be a kid like you and me; they won’t do much that history will remember, but they will live a good life. Sadly, some will have short lives, but others will have long lives. Most of us won’t live long enough to know how it all turns out. Just stop screaming for a little bit longer and remember that as scary as all this is, if you are reading this right now, you have immense enough privilege to own a phone or a book and to have enough leisure to be reading in this moment. So for that baby, that sweet, beautiful child, who you will likely never meet, vote.

There, now I made it political.