BETHLEHEM.

The long journey is nearly done.

The Mediterranean evening is dry and cool as they pass through the gates of Joseph’s hometown. Dirt and cobblestone streets are crowded. An influx of outsiders. An extraordinary journey for most. And all of this for tax reasons. Joseph and others like him have no choice. They must comply or else.

 

In distant Rome, the emperor Caesar Augustus has demanded a census be taken of all the conquered countries under his control so he will know what income might be expected. Most of the people in this region of the empire are subsistence farmers, peasants, living a precarious existence, raising one bag of food for themselves and one for Herod or Caesar. Joseph is skilled in working with wood and stone. A builder craftsman does a little better than average, but not much.

 

SO THEY ALL COME

looking for shelter. A place to lay their heads. Joseph finds the home of a distant relative, an uncle, sensing even before asking there may be no room. But he is family and his uncle is quick to recognize their situation.

 

“I understand you need shelter, Joseph, but our guest room is full. In fact our entire house is full. We are sheltering as many aunts, uncles, and cousins coming to register as possible. The only space left is downstairs where we keep our animals. There is fresh straw and food for your donkey. We could make a bed from the straw and with your blankets you can rest there. It’s all I have to offer, Joseph, I am sorry. But stay for the night or as long as you need.”[1]

 

Joseph quickly accepts and in a short while they are ensconced downstairs in a large room lit with a solitary candle’s flickering light. Low walls separate where tools and other family supplies are kept. A feeding trough is set into the top of a low barrier between the center room and where the family’s sheep and goats are kept in a pen. Not exactly home, but it will have to do. It has to for now. We are here. But we are not resting.

 

HAS IT BEEN AN HOUR? OR TWO?

Joseph is not sure, but he is on his feet before Mary can finish crying out, “He’s coming!” He has never witnessed a human being born. The women in his village do this. He has seen sheep and goats giving birth to their kind and it must be like that, right? No, this is the woman he loves giving birth to the Son of God. It is nothing like that.

 

It is messy and painful and bloody … and so much more.

And with Mary’s final powerful push, Joseph is left holding in his hands a baby boy

kicking and grasping and crying as

Joseph cuts the cord, wipes and wraps and places him in his mother’s arms

and Mary looks at her son. For the first time.

Looks into his eyes.

Do you see his eyes, Joseph? They are beautiful.

For a moment, Mary and Joseph look at each other and wonder.

Can this really be the Son of God?

I just held him. Washed him with water from the trough nearby. Wrapped him in the small blanket Mary has carried all the way from Nazareth. The one her mother said she should use. Is it the one Mary had been wrapped in when she was born? He couldn’t remember. So much is happening so fast it seems.

Do you think he see us?

What should we name him?

We have have talked about this many times, Mary.

Yes, but it is for you to declare his name.

I know.

 

Joseph takes the child from Mary and holds him up with both hands

between himself and Mary and God.

like a holy ceremony with dark shadow witnesses on the wall

Your name …

like a priest in the Temple.

Your name …

like a king in the throne room.

… is Jesus.

Then Jesus is laid in the manger by her side and an exhausted new mother falls asleep.

 

SOON AFTER SHEPHERDS APPEAR

at the door, the ones tending sacrificial animals at the Migdal Eder for use in Jerusalem’s Temple. They tell a house of now fully awake relatives about a heavenly choir singing praises and an Angel directing them to come, saying, “a Savior had just been born in David’s town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master. This is what you’re to look for: a baby wrapped in a blanket and lying in a manger.” Is it true? May we see him?

 

Joseph is no longer surprised at anything.

Miracles do happen. They are happening here tonight.

Yes, you can see the child and his mother, but be quiet, please. They are sleeping.

Have you named him?

His name is Jesus.

He is the Messiah?

Joseph nods. Yes, he is the Christ, the Messiah. The One we’ve been waiting for.

He watches as the shepherds kneel in awe and worship.

He wishes them well as they go away rejoicing.

 

THEN JOSEPH RETURNS

to where mother and baby are sleeping.

Only Jesus is not sleeping.

He is awake

and their eyes meet.

Eyes having known only time look into

eyes having known only eternity

from before the beginning

eyes knowing no limits

now awakening to the limits of mankind.

All at once Joseph gets it. He understands. And he is awestruck.

The Creator of all things has entered his creation.

Tiny. Helpless. In a manger bed. Needing me. God in the flesh.

He sees me.

God sees me!

 

HE SEES ME

in the early morning

here in the light of a small lamp

writing what I see in my thoughts about Jesus’ birth day

sharing the gift of imagining with you.

I am back again … thinking of coffee now

and my dog, Gage, sleeping nearby

knowing in my heart that, yes,

he sees me.

And he sees you as well

in this holy moment.

 

We are together, you and me, wherever you are in the world reading this.

We are like peasant shepherds kneeling … gazing

at a miracle happening to me and to millions of others

and it will happen again to you if only you believe.

Hope

Love

Joy

Peace

This is the climax of our Advent. Our period of preparation.

We are ready now.

He has come.

He is here in our hearts.

He is coming again.

Stay with me. Imagine with me. Look again with me and know for sure.

His eyes are on you.

He sees you.

 

Merry Christmas.

 

May Jesus keep us close.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” —John 3:16

[1] Luke wrote that there was no space in the “katáluma” (2:7) That Greek word is usually understood as a “guest room” in a house. Luke used “katáluma” again (22:11) in reference to the “guest room” where Jesus and the disciples gathered for the Last Supper. He chose a different word, “pandócheon,” to describe a “lodging’ or an “inn” used by travelers in the parable of the Good Samaritan (10:34).