Come, Prince of Peace

How do we hear the Christmas story and celebrate in worship in the light of the catastrophe enveloping Palestinians and Israelis in real time?

Dave Hardman, Methodist Liaison Officer with the Methodist Church, based ordinarily in Bethlehem but currently in the UK, suggested that the second candle of the Advent wreath – the Bethlehem candle – be left unlit this year in solidarity with Palestinian Christians this year.

Some churches have adopted this suggestion, and a liturgy adapted from the letter from Patriarchs and Heads of Churches to their congregations:

Advent Candle (Not) Lighting Liturgy

The lights don’t shine in Bethlehem

This Advent time.

Too much suffering and uncertainty.

Too much loss and grief.

Instead, the Christian people of the Holy Land

Call for an end to war;

Speak out for those suffering the most;

Give generously to support

The growing number of very needy people

Who have lost loved ones, homes, jobs

And face huge uncertainty.

Their prayer is for a lasting peace in their

Beloved Holy Land.

In Christ’s incarnation, they look forward to a time

‘When death shall be no more, neither mourning, nor crying,

Nor pain, for the former things have passed away.’ Rev 21:4[1]

To stand with them we choose not to light the second candle

In our Advent Wreath

And we pray, ‘Come, Immanuel, God-with-us, come be with your

Suffering people now.’ Amen

Others have not wished to reduce what little light we have in this dark Advent season. In one congregation I know there was a conversation in worship about what best to do. One woman pointed out that it seemed wrong to extinguish the peace candle at a time when peace seems so far from the experience of many. After a bit of further discussion, the congregation decided to light the 2^nd Advent candle but put the lights on the Christmas tree out.

Other congregations have developed new liturgy of their own.

Another congregation adapted the words of their Advent candle song to reflect their concerns:

Hymn  A Candle is Burning (tune Away in a Manger)
A candle is burning, a flame warm and bright,
A candle of HOPE in December’s dark night
While angels sing blessings from heaven’s starry sky,
Our hearts we prepare now for Jesus is nigh.

One candle’s not burning, the candle of PEACE,
A prayer in our hearts now for conflict to cease
For Jesus is coming to show us the way
A message of peace for our world every day.

A candle is burning, a candle of LOVE,
A candle to point us to heaven above
A baby for Christmas, a wonderful birth
For Jesus is bringing God’s love to our earth.[2]

What matters is not the action, to light or not to light, but the thought and reflection that underpins whatever symbolic action is made.

The challenge from our Christian brothers and sisters in Israel-Palestine, and particularly those who worship in Bethlehem where this year the lights are not lit, is not to sentimentalise the Christmas story or separate it from the lived experience of many around the world: the poor, the marginal, those living under tyranny.

A few week’s ago I wrote a reflection on the Christmas story for Life &Work magazine. Conditions for mothers and new babies in Gaza are even worse now than I could imagine then. Rachel’s weeping for her children and the lack of comfort is unending.[3]

Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus begins with the political context. Augustus was Caesar and Quirinius was governor of Syria, territory which includes today’s Israel and Palestine. Then as now, ordinary people found their lives disrupted and worse. A heavily pregnant Mary was forced to make the journey with Joseph her husband to Bethlehem, David’s town. We think of images from around the world of weary women and frightened children and sad and humiliated men all on the move because of geo-political forces outwith their control. Into this world Jesus was born.

Bethlehem was overcrowded when Mary and Joseph got there, and unlike our classical manger scenes, I don’t think they would have been alone with the ox and ass. During the current war, strangers (Palestinian and Israeli) have opened their homes to shelter families. In Gaza, 30 or 40 crowded in to one house is not unusual. Mary would have given birth with perhaps a sheet for privacy, but the midwives would have been there for her, as medical personnel in Gaza have given their all with little equipment to give what comfort they can. When her son was born, Mary swaddled him and laid him in the hay. You use what you have in a crisis.

News is at a premium in times of war. Mobile phone charges are nursed, ingenious methods of recharging found. Never before has it been possible to be present with people in their terror as rockets rain down. Luke has the news of a saviour’s birth go to those who would ordinarily have been last to hear news: shepherds out on the hills with their sheep. That hillside is no longer bare and open to the skies. Bethlehem is now encircled by illegal settlements, the west bank countryside scored through by Israeli-only roads, Palestinians trapped in increasingly smaller enclaves. Yet the same stars shine overhead and the angel song, though muted, still comes to those on the edge of things:

‘Don’t be afraid! I am here with good news for you, which will bring great joy to all the people.’ Luke 2:10

The shepherds’ fear was overwhelming, yet they had enough faith that when the angels had left, they went down into Bethlehem and found Mary and Joseph and the baby, just as the angel had said.

In times of polarisation and brutality and ecological and humanitarian disaster, when it seems humanity itself is under threat; superficial, tinsel covered ‘good news’ does not ring true.

Childbirth is hard: painful, sweaty, dangerous without medical resources. Blood, sweat and tears birthed the Prince of Peace. Peace in our time, God’s dream, will be equally painful. It involves justice for all, recognition for all, a place for all. Just as it took imagination to see in the tiny newborn wrapped in cloths and lying in the hay a Saviour, so we need all our imagination to welcome the One named Jesus – Yeshua- Deliverer, Rescuer, in our lives and in our world now.

Come, Prince of Peace

God-with-us, Emmanuel

Into the mess and misery

Into the war and worry

Into the fear and forsakenness

Come, be born again today.

Amen

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[1] Patriarchs and Heads of the Churches in Jerusalem: ‘Statement on the Celebration of Advent and Christmas in the midst of war’ November 10, 2023

[2] Words by Sandra Dean, (used with her permission), adapted by Sandy Forsyth.

[3] Life & Work December 2023