Peace and Forgiveness
by Steve Goldstein (12/24/2002)

Like many of you I have been reading Christmas letters, e-mails and cards coming from friends both near and far. I can't give you a count at this point, but there seem to be some fewer than in recent years-or is it just my memory that is diminished? It is probably generational but mine are mostly arriving via the good ol' U.S. Postal Service, rather than electronically. The E-mail seems reserved for messages from international friends and colleagues in mission and for Amazon.com!

Most of the well-advised communications so far have made some reference to "peace" or more accurately the fear that we are inexorably descending into a war against Iraq. And none so far are in favor of our leadership's course. If we listened to the news today, we heard that Donald Rumsfeld, the Secretary of Defense, read rather, Offense, is certain, that if necessary we can manage a simultaneous war against the North Koreans. Not quite "good news of great joy for all the people . . ."

Then there are my e-mails from Palestine. I'm sure you know that Bethlehem has been under curfew, read collective punishment, which is both immoral and illegal according to the Geneva Conventions. The tidings from there and also the surrounding primarily Christian towns, such as Beit Sahour, where once I looked out from my bedroom balcony, upon the traditional "Shepherd's Field, ---- are not "glad". The reports are that in the Church of the Nativity, which tradition holds as the birthplace of the Prince of Peace, there will have been only a meager service because the Israeli Defense Forces (there's that euphemism Defense again) only announced a relaxing of the curfew, hours before Christmas Eve Day.

Have you heard what a curfew entails? My friend Bishara Awad, President of the Bethlehem Bible College writes:

As all of you turn your attention to Bethlehem these days, please remember Our Little Town in your prayers. Bethlehem now is very sad. All its people are struggling under very strict curfew since the 22nd of November. It may be hard to imagine being under curfew. It is very cruel, because no one is allowed to leave his or her home for any reason. All shops and schools are closed, as well as pharmacies and work places. There is no possibility for Christmas shopping, there are no decorations, and one cannot go to church. Being a closed military area, we are even denied the usual flood of Christian pilgrims....army vehicles continue to ride in convoys through town, causing uneasiness in its residents and making even informal celebrations difficult . . .Residents have become accustomed to having curfew being suddenly reimposed at a moment's notice and they continue to be wary of this possibility. (E-Mail 12-23-02).

Attached to the E-mail was a photo of a Israeli personnel carrier parked in Manger Square, blocking the entrance to the Church of the Nativity.

Not exactly good tidings of great joy which shall be to all the people (Lk. 2:10b KJV). At least not in the Holy Land.

Shall I share my Christmas fantasies with you? I keep wanting to believe that after fifty-five years on this planet that things aren't too much better or worse than they've ever been; as if I deserve this because of my being older than something like 70% of the people living in the United States (I read this somewhere the other day.) But I don't believe it: things aren't as they have always been. Yes there have always been wars and rumors of war. The best of times the worst of times. I'm not sure. My mind works out all sorts of comparisons to dark occasions in far-off times as well as events from our not-so-distant history. I am not really relieved. In honesty I wonder anew if I can hope with any certitude that in the dark street shineth that everlasting light; where all the hopes and fears of even this year will be met tonight, by our God in the guise of a vulnerable, little Jewish boy, born into poverty from an ambiguous parentage. Let alone where the hopes and fears of all the years are met. Certainly not in Bethlehem, Beit Sahour or Beit Jala. Not this year. Not with a seemingly un-ending military occupation. Not with a personnel carrier and Caesar's minions trying to keep hope out, to keep light out, to keep the birth of peace out!

In recent years Pam, my wife, has been receiving a lithograph copy of original poems from the estate of May Sarton, the executor of which Pam made acquaintance some years ago. This years' poem is entitled "Christmas 1974."

Must we go to Bethlehem,
Make the hard journey again,
Dying of thirst as we are?
Must we go to the place of hatred
And war without end?
Must it all be done again
From the beginning
After two thousand years?

Yes Sick at heart,
Plagued, lost as we are,
Let us make the hard journey.
Who can be sure?
But perhaps if we go there,
It will happen again.
It will happen to us,
An infant be born again
Out of blood and on filthy straw.
How naked, how vulnerable,
How desperately in need
This breath between past and future!
The infant Hope.

Or shall we kneel again at last
In the healing hosanna
Of silence?

Yes, let us make the journey.
Perhaps it will happen again.

May Sarton, NYT 24 December 1974

Will it happen again? Not with Caesar once again (or is it still) broadcasting his power for all to see and tremble before. I'm told that is what the Gospel is up staging. The players in our lesson from Luke would well recognize the news. Messengers from Caesar would cross the empire broadcasting "glad tidings of great joy"--- that Caesar's armies had conquered, subjugated another people or nation. Certainly the easily frightened Shepherds would have recognized the message. As would no doubt the peasant parents from Galilee who had traveled in duress in fear of Caesar in the first place.

Yet. If this was all there was we wouldn't be here tonight with percolating weather in the dark streets of White Plains. And there are those even now who have not been bowed by Caesar's might. There are those who because of these glad tidings continue to struggle for peace. To get it birthed again. Even tonight.

One organization from Britain, Just Peace, offer this carol to the tune of In The Bleak Midwinter:

In the bleak midwinter,
Refugees made moan;
Sharon stood like iron,
Bush was like a stone.
Tanks were rolling, tank on tank,
Tank on tank,
Through the camps of Gaza
And the west bank.
How can we stop him,
Ariel Sharon?

The reality for which we come to pay homage in hope is that these other glad tidings of great joy are also true for all the people, across time zone and continent and even ages. Another hymn is sung.

10 But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see-I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,
14 "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"

What terrifying irony is it that the three great Abrahamic faiths: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, which we hear so much about conjoined almost in the same breath in the news these days, should be not perpetrators of forgiveness but rather of escalating conflict? Isn't the foundation of peace-with either a small "p" or capital "P" the acknowledgment that God has come to each of us and given us our humanity by forgiving us our inhumanities. Does not each of these distinct religious traditions, even amidst very significant differences, proclaim concern for the neighbor's well being or at least survival. How can a United Methodist, I presume we are Christians, who happens to be the current Caesar in Washington, not be working for peace. What boundless, immeasurable, astronomical possibility would be unleashed if the rhetoric of this season was about "forgiving" Sadaam Hussein his massive inhumanities against the people of his own nation, and if we confessed our active participation in what he has done? Can you imagine what power might be unleashed. Jesus followers are called to do so, aren't we?

What if enough of us were willing to reach out in our community to Muslim people and asked them to speak with us about what they understand about God, whom in Arabic is named "Allah." Asked them what they are afraid of and tell them what we are afraid of? Offered a conversation about what we strive for as forgiving people and what they strive for as forgiving people? Who knows someone might come. I might have to admit that I need forgiveness for all the false and libelous things I have thought about their faith. Who knows what they might discover about themselves. What might we discover about ourselves?

What if we engaged and argued with members of the Jewish community, not only about our concern for Israel's actions in Bethlehem and Palestine, as we have been doing in recent weeks, but ask about why they distrust and fear so deeply and passionately that another Holocaust could happen, in this or any time. Did you know that "argument" is a significant method of observance for Judaism?

What might we have, if anything, to offer besides a militant shared chorus of "never again" that every Israeli and most every Jew carries close to their being. Might we not engage around issues of forgiveness and not retribution, of searching for understanding and respect and not some passive tolerance or indifference?

Oh I know that these are all bizarre fantasies. So I guess what we claim happened in B'eit L'hem so long ago was really just a fantasy. Or maybe just a mechanism for consumerism?

But I dare to suggest that what was born that night is palpable and real and the reason we come here on innumerable Christmas Eves is to once again hear a word, utter a prayer, think a thought, hmm a song, and bathe in a light that is not of our own creation. And that hope against hope, trust against fear, that the presence we invoke at this table tonight is a real presence for our world and that we will find the courage, God knows it takes courage, to be peacemakers and follow Him?

My friend and colleague Sandra Olewine has been living and working in and around Bethlehem for some years now. She is one of our missionaries. She has been witnessing to her faith and been making peace in the midst of the Intifada, the uprising of the last two and one half years. On Sunday she wrote these words for us as we celebrate this Christmas, this nativity of the Christ.

This has been a most difficult Advent season; yet, we have dared to light small candles in the midst of long suffering. In resistance to the renewed military occupation and a growing reality of fear and hate, we have dared to light candles of hope, peace and joy, proclaiming trust in the God of all creation.

On this Sunday, however, we take the greatest step in faith as we light the candle of love. Certainly, this is not an easy time to speak of love. But, the world was not much different in Bethlehem when Jesus was born, occupation and oppression ruled the day then as well. Many expected God to send a great warrior to battle forces of injustice. But, God surprised the world by sending a small baby instead. Many expected God to reign down destruction on those opposed to God' s will, but God surprised the world by sending Love.

God's answer was not the answer the world expected. Love was God's answer to a world of brokenness, pain, anger and injustice. God showed us a different way through the coming of Christ. The birth of Jesus was God's way of telling us that to turn night to day, fear to hope, anger to joy, injustice to righteousness is through Love. This is the power that will transform the earth. Trusting that God will break forth, then, into our world, we light a candle of love, believing that even a small flame can grow and becoming the Light of the world. (Email 12-23-02 "Love God's Answer to the World")

Let me close with the words of an Christian Arab Hymn.

In the night of the birth, hatred is erased,
In the night of the birth, earth shall bloom forth,
In the night of the birth, war shall be buried,
In the night of the birth, love shall fill our hearts.
So Be It. Insh'Allah.

(Steve is a United Methodist Minister from the New York Conference.)