Good morning…
Like Dorothy who left Kansas, we are not in Galilee anymore. We have left the calm, connective beauty. The lush, lavish land. The soulful serenity of the Sea of Galilee with its history of miracles.
In Jerusalem, we have driven on thin streets with unbelievable traffic jams. We have stood in long lines with a large crowd of strangers. We have faced the chaos of passionate, diverse believers from all over the globe of God.
At the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, we funneled like cattle into the cave where Jesus is said to have been born. It is no longer a cool, quiet cave where the sheep and oxen would shelter. It is an ornate, over-the-top shrine for people with varying faith expressions. The crowd was crazy and clashing, competing for a chance to touch the black stone floor upon which Jesus, the Son of God, was born through the womb of his young mother, Mary.
One asian woman in particular was desperately pushing and jostling to get herself and her little son to experience the birth spot of the Christ child. We all noticed her bold, forceful energy. Later that day our group received a photo and text from Steve, my husband who is leading our amazing trip through Israel.
My husband texted into our group text these centering words:
“This morning as we entered the cave of Jesus’s birth, a woman with her child pushed past many. She frustrated a number of us and ended up in an argument with Johnny our guide. Shortly after she touched the birthplace she pulled away and sat here just a few feet away. As I snapped this picture I realized I knew nothing of her story and her life situation. I am humbled by her and by the many people (perhaps some of us) for whom that site was truly a holy (qadosh) place.”
Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, and he began to teach them. He said: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:1-3, NIV).
…Sue…
