In 2012, I visited Bethlehem, where I attended the Christ at the Checkpoint conference. He would not remember, but it was there and then that I met Dr. Munther Isaac. Little did I know that one day, we would become colleagues, as he is the Academic Dean of Bethlehem Bible College, a partner school of St. Stephen's University, where I now serve as Principal. Munther is a beloved pastor and peacemaker, who is a leading voice for Palestinean Christians and nonviolent resistance to the oppressive policies his people experience in his homeland. He works tirelessly to advance the message, "Love your neighbor as yourself."
For those who are confused about what is happening in Israel/Palestine right now, and especially those who feel, misinformed, powerless and despairing, please get a copy of his book, .
First, I wrote a series of reflective reports about my experiences and interviews. HERE is one that survived. Then, months later, my first Christmas after Bethlehem, I composed a Christmas article. As I read it now, I see everything I saw then amplified exponentially, and all the Advent feelings of hope, grief, and despair are magnified.
I don't have the heart to update that article with current news items that would be even more poignant, urgent, and extreme. But I repost it now to illustrate that which is timeless. A backstory to today's headlines, a history leading toward October 7th and the destruction of Gaza.
Dateline Bethlehem – Circa 6 BC
Royal Birth in Bethlehem
Eyewitness accounts of a royal proclamation are trickling in from Bethlehem tonight. Details are being pieced together around what initially seemed like bogus reports of alien lights over a shepherd’s pasture. One bystander captured this audio of a ‘flash mob’ recording a choral announcement of the birth of Israel’s Messiah:
“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David, a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in clothes and lying in a manger… Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” (Luke 2:8-14)
King Herod denies any involvement in the spectacle, but inquiries are under way. What was the source of this pyrotechnic broadcast? Can rumors of an unexpected royal birth be true? Israel’s chief priests and scribes, combing the national archives, have issued a press release about the location of the Messiah’s expected birthplace:
“In Bethlehem of Judea; for this is what has been written by the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are by no means least among the leaders of Judah; for out of you shall come forth a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel.’” (Matt. 2:4-6)
Dateline Bethlehem – Circa 4 BC
Weeping in Ramah
In a shocking turn of events, the King launched Special Forces into Bethlehem last night. The house-to-house raids were part of an operation to detain suspects purportedly plotting a coup d’etat to depose the king. Herod’s increasingly erratic policies have led to violence again. Every male under two years old in the Bethlehem vicinity was slaughtered by dawn. Funeral processions fill the streets, with family members parading tiny shrouded bodies while chanting the lyrics of Jeremiah:
“A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children; and she refused to be comforted,
because they were no more.” (Matt. 2:16-18)
Peace on Earth?
Bethlehem then and now
The advent angels’ song of joy and peace notwithstanding, the major news items immediately after the birth of Jesus were grievous – bloody reports of infanticide in Bethlehem at the hands of a paranoid ruler. Joseph’s family flees into Egypt as refugees with no right of return. The stubborn fact is that the birth of Christ did not end hostility the David’s birthplace or across our world to this day. Even the traditional site of Christ’s birth has seen waves of repeated violence since Herod’s famous crime against humanity. If Jesus was indeed the promised Prince of Peace, where is the peace?
Dateline Bethlehem – April 2–May 10, 2002
Siege of the Church of the Nativity
In a communiqué from the Israeli Cabinet, a military incursion labeled ‘Operation Defensive Shield’ was initiated throughout the West Back. The invasion was launched days after a Jihadist suicide bomber left thirty elderly Jews dead at the Park Hotel in Netanya. The goal of the operation was to “defeat the infrastructure of Palestinian terror in all its parts and components.”
Two-hundred fifty tanks and armored personnel carriers were mobilized, supported by fighter jets and Apache gunships. UN observers reported that combatants put civilians in harm's way, often using heavy weapons in heavily populated areas. Israeli Defence Forces seized control of cities across the West Bank, climaxing in a standoff in the Old Town of Bethlehem.
Trapped between advancing Israeli forces, approximately 220 Palestinians sought refuge with 40 Christian monks in the Church of the Nativity, the traditional site of Christ’s manger cave. The group consisted mainly of civilians and police but also included dozens of armed gunmen from various militias.
The IDF deployed tanks near Manger Square while snipers nested in surrounding buildings. Israeli officials accused militants of firing on Israeli troops from the church and ordered marksmen using laser sights to return fire into the building. During the siege, seven Palestinians were killed, and around forty were reported injured.
The siege lasted for thirty-nine days, until May 10, when surrender was negotiated. Civilians were released, and the militants exiled thirteen to Italy and Spain and twenty-six to Gaza.
Oh little town of Bethlehem.
How still we see thee lie?
This past March, I did see Bethlehem lying still. Ignoring the tourist bureau’s wagging fingers, I wandered into the deep and dreamless sleep of the Aida refugee camp after midnight. Established in 1950 with IDPs (internally displaced persons) from seventeen villages, it consists of just over one-quarter square mile of concrete housing units. The 5000 refugees (over 50% children) crammed into the camp suffer severe overcrowding, 43% unemployment, very poor sewage, and water shortages. They have only one school, one food distribution centre, and no health centres on-site. The boundaries of the camp were further reduced by the security wall on two sides, built to reclaim Rachel’s tomb as Jewish territory but cutting off the open fields where children once played.
As Dr. Bruce Fisk [now on staff with NEME, the Network of Evangelicals for the Middle East] wandered the narrow alleys, half a dozen young men emerged from the shadows to greet us. They each shared their story of life in the camp. They were especially eager to tell us about kids programs they had created. We also heard about their extended time in detention during the second intifada (Arabic for ‘shaking off’) of 2000–2005. The saddest tale came from ‘Jacob’ who, as a sixteen-year-old, was imprisoned for four years for throwing stones when the 30-foot wall around Bethlehem was being erected. He claimed that for 110 days, he was confined to a dark cell too small for him to lie down. “Ten days?” I asked. “No,” he corrected, “One hundred and ten.” When he tried to sleep, guards allegedly banged on the walls and poured hot or cold water over him. He tried to maintain his sanity by singing or by talking to the bugs crawling the walls of his cell, but he disclosed permanent mental symptoms from the ordeal.
Jacob invited us to his apartment for tea. To refuse would be a rejection of his offer of friendship, so we followed him to his little flat. He called his wife from bed to serve us tea and cake and show off their newborn. She, too, had spent a year in jail. Now ‘free,’ they were both unemployed. He hoped to work in a hotel. She was trying to sell her artwork.
I can’t prove that Jacob’s story of hell-in-prison is true, but I believe him. And I saw firsthand that his daily existence is tragic enough. Sometime after 1:30 a.m., Bruce and I strolled off in sad reflection past Rachel’s wall-obscured tomb, back to our hotel.
Dateline Toulouse, France – March 22, 2012
Weeping in Ramah Continues
Rachel has not ceased weeping for her children. Just days after the Christ at the Checkpoint conference in Bethlehem, Mohamed Merah—a French Jihadist—murdered three Jewish children, a Rabbi, and three soldiers in Toulouse, France. After a thirty-hour standoff, he died in a hail of police bullets while trying to escape.
The most disturbing image: he had chased an eight-year-old girl down at a Jewish school, grabbed her by the hair, and shot her in the head before escaping on his scooter. Merah had sent a video of the attack to the media outlet, Al Jazeera, which laudably refused to show it.
While at the Christ at the Checkpoint conference, I met a Christian media analyst who monitors Mideast reporting in America. He alerted me to this horrific news. Such violence calls for an outcry from all who practice peacemaking, including advocacy workers who normally decry settler violence or checkpoint oppression. Real resistance to injustice must transcend ‘sides’ to focus on the common enemies of humanity: hatred, violence, and death. I witnessed cruelty in the Israeli occupation of Hebron, but that will not justify or deafen me to the lament of Jews in Toulouse and beyond. As my analyst friend explained:
I don’t know if you see it, but the Jews I work with have seen a return to pre-World War II rhetoric about the Jews. I see it as well. I have seen videos of anti-Israel protesters on college campuses that will shock you. The assessment that is starting to take root is that we are entering an era where Jews outside of Israel and the U.S. will be subject to the type of hostility they have historically been subjected to for most of their history. Europe will be lost to them. Under these conditions, getting concessions from Israelis will be increasingly difficult.
And the divide deepens. By March 27, 2012, Israel severed contact with the UN Human Rights Council for ‘serial bias’ and barred its fact-finding team from investigating the Jewish settlements in the West Bank. Sigh.
Despair in Vancouver
In April, 2012, I spoke briefly at a “Christian Zionism and Israel” forum at the Vancouver Public Library. Professor Ron Dart first presented the complex history of Zionism. Then I spoke about the multiplicity of narratives I witnessed among Jews, Muslims, and Christians. I emphasized stories of cooperation for peace. Finally, screenwriter Kevin Miller summarized his documentary, “With God on Our Side.” Apart from a few disruptive murmurs, the presentation went fine—attendees nodded in understanding.
But when the Q&A time began, the emotional temperature rose. ‘Sides’ became apparent; the volume escalated. People with painful backstories allowed their hostility to bleed into accusations (some true, some bizarre). Prejudicial walls came up, and ears were effectively turned off.
Losing patience, I stepped to the microphone and spoke with an edge that made some cringe. What I said illustrates my exasperation and despair:
“I propose that we stop calling the Holy Land either Israel or Palestine. Let’s just call it ‘The Nuthouse of Hatred.’ A modest proposal for peace would be for all who claim to worship the God of Abraham to refuse to kill each other. But there will be no peace in the land as long as we remain more committed to that rock pile than we are to the dignity of human life—as long as we honor ancestors who are so much wormfood more than our living neighbors across the wall. To be frank, after one week there, I was just happy to get the hell out of there.”
My speech shocked the crowd into silence. But it was unkind … and so fruitless. A few heads bowed momentarily in embarrassment, probably only for me. Afterward, I connected with a circle of Jewish folks who had been most riled. They shared their stories and frustrations. They could hear little through their own pain; they could see nothing through the red glare of Islamist rocket attacks. They spoke of their hope for peace only in terms of a reduction in Palestinian ‘breeding.’
After ninety minutes of expounding our most persuasive arguments and inspiring testimonials for cooperative peacemaking, illustrated by Jewish, Muslim, and Christian efforts on the ground, the thin veneer of Canadian tolerance dissolved, exposing an ugly mutual allegiance to hatred of the other. I despaired.
A Necessary Despair, A New Way
My despair was necessary. Why? Because despair can be a messenger. It says, “You can’t live this way anymore. It’s not working. When you hit rock bottom, why not try surrender?”
That sleepless night, I bottomed out. I relinquished every worldly hope for peace outside an explicit surrender to the rule and reign of the Prince of Peace—the One whose arrival heralded ‘Peace on earth, goodwill to all people’ and whose message is the only roadmap to peace. Jeremiah prophesied that Rachel’s weeping would only turn to comfort and restoration via the New Covenant established by Jesus the Messiah (Jer. 31).
Christ himself discounted every alternative—practical solutions, even humanistic solutions—as temptations from the devil. Peace on earth? “No problem,” said Satan, “just give the people whatever they think they need (turn stones into bread). Overwhelm them with dramatic proof (leap from the temple). And finally, bow to the way of imperial conquest. But will this create peace? Has it so far?
In his book, Beauty Will Save the World, Brian Zahnd says the perfection of beauty is the Christmas mystery of the Word made flesh, the Incarnation, Israel’s Messiah, and the world’s Savior. Jesus came to reveal what God is really like (Love) and to show us how to be truly human (love). The pinnacle of that revelation is the cruciform image of Christ’s self-giving love and radical forgiveness.
We may fantasize about other solutions from suburban American pews. But one cannot fake peace in Bethlehem. Centuries of evidence call us to despair of our remedies and to follow the Jesus Way, to enter Jesus’ narrow gate of “Doing unto others (including enemies) as you would have them do unto you” (Matt. 7:12-14).
The Jesus Way is riskier and takes longer: it requires taking up the Cross of self-sacrifice and forgiveness of real enemies. Any peace plan that circumnavigates Christ’s Sermon on the Mount (even under the banner of God’s promises) is delusional and a disservice to the people of the Holy Land. It simply cannot work.
As Zahnd says, “Jesus’ kingdom governed by a politics of forgiveness and redemption is the new world built around the cross of Christ as an axis of love and a world where Satan is driven out. It is the only real possibility for peace. It is the beauty that will save the world" (p. 91).
Emulating the Incarnation
The majority of Jews, Muslims, and Christians in the Holy Land realize these facts:
- Violent insurgency and military occupation have utterly failed;
- Violent and nonviolent protests have utterly failed;
- Political negotiations have utterly failed.
Two options remain. We can continue cycling through failed peace plots for generations, hoping something (other than ourselves) will magically change. OR we can risk emulating the Incarnation, even while the mire remains. What would that look like?
First, it looks more like the meekness of a manger than the grandiosity of an emperor. The kingdom of God is not established by spectacular ventures on international stages. It became flesh with a child in a local community where a little family simply lived in obedience to God’s direction. The kingdom of God has always come, not a glorious revolution, but like a farmer watching wheat grow—less like reclaiming a land or national identity and more like faithfulness to one’s family, kindness to one’s neighbor, and diligence in one’s vocation.
The kingdom of God that brings peace on earth comes like Jesus: by living peaceably in intentional neighborliness on one’s immediate block, incarnating God’s love to the poor among you, refusing to be enemies, extending blessings whenever possible, and praying for patient endurance when feeling persecuted.
Kingdom incarnate the will of God by imitating the grace of Christ. He was generous with friends and strangers, kind to neighbors and strangers, and forgiving of enemies. Kingdom people walk in the one-day-at-a-time meekness of the King who became a doulos—a servant of all in a thousand tiny ways. If each of us does that in our neighborhoods this Christmas, we may just develop a taste for the goodness of a silent and holy night.
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