Traveling to Bethlehem December 24th, 2019 Scripture: Luke 2:1-20 Human beings move, sometimes through choice and sometimes because they are forced. From he beginning of human history people have migrated and they have traveled. At the beginning of the story of Israel God calls Abraham and Sarah, to leave the place where they are settled and move where God is leading them. This begins a story of migration and movement. Much of it is spent in the wilderness wondering where will be the final destination, “the promised land.” This continent, America, was populated by movement and migration, which began long before the first European settlers. It is thought that the first human beings arrived tens of thousands of years ago. Perhaps those people, who became the First Nations, crossed the Bering Strait, or the polar ice cap. The migration from Europe, and Asia came later. Then of course, there was the forced migration of enslaved people from Africa. And in 1838 the Cherokee people were forcibly removed from their homeland and relocated in so called “Indian Territory.” This route of their relocation was known as the Trail of Tears, 4,000 people died along the way. In the midst of all these migrations, voluntary or forced, we can be sure there were families. And we can imagine there were expectant mothers, many of whom would have no choice but to give birth far from home. In the story we read from the gospel of Luke this evening, Mary and Joseph are undergoing a kind of forced migration. They are required to travel some 100 miles, from Nazareth in Galilee, to Bethlehem in Judea. It is a decree from the Emperor Augustus, ruler of the world. It is a command and there is no choice. And there’s no option to choose a more convenient time. Mary is the advanced stages of pregnancy. They can only hope she will make it to Bethlehem before she goes into labor. And so she packs her bundles with bands of cloth to wrap around the baby, if and when he arrives. They layer their clothes, for the winter desert weather. And they hug Mary’s family good bye, before they join the caravan that will makes its way through the wilderness country. We don’t know whether Mary and Joseph had a donkey for the journey. It is quite likely Mary had to walk. Or perhaps a fellow traveler offered her a ride on their animal. They would have carried skins for water to be refilled at wells. They bundled dried bread and little oil for sustenance. They’d make up to 20 miles per day, in good company with all the others heading for David’s city and beyond. They traveled together for safety as well as companionship. There would be wild animals out at night along the route as well as the possibility of bandits. Mary makes it to Bethlehem without birthing along the way. That’s a huge relief. But now they need to find a place for her to lie because the pains have begun. With the city crowded with so many descendants of David, an innkeeper shows them to the part of the house where the animals are kept. They will have some privacy. They bed down in the homey smells and warmth of the barn. And when Baby Jesus comes into the world, his first cries are accompanied by the snorts and snuffles of resting donkeys. Mary and Joseph’s experience is common enough, and yet exceptional. Families around the world still migrate, or are forcibly moved. Mothers go into labor anywhere they happen to be. This can be perilous for mother and child. We can imagine this night, there will be mothers giving birth in the refugee camp on Lesbos Island, Greece. This is a holding place for families fleeing violence in the middle east. They hope for safe haven in Europe. There will be mothers traveling to family and friends during the holidays, who will seek a safe place to give birth along the way. And there will be those who have to move because their home has been threatened by storms, fires or floods. Last year in the United States “16.1 million people had to leave their homes because of weather related disasters.” [1] Surely some of those are mothers who had to give birth in a place far from home. And, on our southern border, just this past February, in a detention center in Texas, a Honduran woman went into premature labor. Tragically her baby did not survive. Warzones, famines, hurricanes and wildfires have little respect for expectant mothers and unborn children. Immigration practices and forced migration add to the toll. Birthing on the road, or in a camp or a prison is a dangerous proposition for both mother and child. And we might be outraged, asking why can’t we do better in this day and age? And what has happened to our compassion? But we might also wonder why God would choose this kind of way to enter the world. Why God would choose to come near in the form of a fragile infant, into such a precarious situation. In order to ponder this mystery, it is necessary for each of us to make our own kind of journey tonight. I’m inviting you to come to Bethlehem, and see this miracle. It’s as simple as a young mother, dad and newborn cuddled together in relief and exhaustion. And it’s as complex as the Creator of the universe - from the cells of our bodies to the planets billions of light years away - come to meet us in this tiny little body. To get to the Bethlehem of Jesus’ time, we would need to journey 2,000 years through time and partway around the globe. And yet, we only need to make a step or two to encounter the divine. It can be done by looking into the eyes of another human or sentient being, it can be done by tenderly touch their hand . It will be especially easy to do that tonight. From the breaking of the bread and sharing of the cup, to the passing of the candle light around the circle while we sing Silent Night. We will facilitate that experience for one another gently and tenderly. Our charge today is to share that mystery of God-come-near when we leave this place, not just tonight but through the coming year. And over that year, we may very well make new journeys to places we cannot quite imagine just now. These journeys will probably not entail migration to distant lands, or even vacation travels overseas. More likely we will travel to a neighbor’s house, when a family member is sick, or a loved one has died. Or we will journey to a hospital, nursing home or rehab to be with a friend or family member. We may make the trip across town to worship to a different congregation or to experience the practices of another faith. We may be invited to break bread with people who speak a different language and listen to different stories. And in each place we travel, we are called to notice the precarious life that God has chosen to share with us, in the infant Jesus. We will find it in the meeting of eyes and the touch of skin, the birth of the vulnerable, tender one we found here. May all God’s people say, Amen [1] https://www.americansecurityproject.org/16-1-million-people-displaced-by-weather-disasters-more-than-by-conflict/
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