The Pastor’s Pen
I recently had the humbling privilege of attending a reception for the mayor of Bethlehem. Not Bethlehem, Georgia – but Bethlehem of Judea. Bethlehem as in “O Little Town of…” The Bethlehem where our Lord was born, where angels sang into the night and shepherds stood blinking in borrowed glory.
For a few quiet moments, I found myself in one-on-one conversation with the mayor of that ancient town. It felt almost surreal – speaking with a civic leader whose daily responsibilities include streets that pilgrims sing about and stones that remember the footsteps of Mary and Joseph. Yet what weighed on his heart was not nostalgia, nor tourism, nor even history. It was his people.
He told me that many Americans don’t seem to realize there are still Christians living in Bethlehem. That surprised him. It saddened him. And I had to confess it is true. In the few days prior to the reception where I met him, when I mentioned to friends that I was meeting the mayor of Bethlehem – and that he is a Palestinian Christian – I was met more than once with genuine astonishment: “There are Christians in the Palestinian Territories?”
Yes. There are.
There is an unbroken Christian presence in Bethlehem stretching back to the earliest days of the Church. Families who trace their faith not to modern mission movements, but to the apostles themselves. Arabic-speaking Christians who worship Christ in the land where Christ first drew breath. They are Orthodox and Catholic, Lutheran and Anglican. They are shopkeepers and teachers, clergy and carpenters. They are not relics of history. They are our brothers and sisters.
Yet their numbers have declined dramatically over the past several decades. Economic hardship, political instability, restricted movement, and the grinding uncertainty of life under prolonged conflict have led many families to emigrate. Tourism – so vital to Bethlehem’s economy – has fluctuated sharply in recent years due to regional violence and global crises, leaving businesses shuttered and livelihoods fragile. Young people, uncertain of opportunity and security, often feel compelled to seek a future elsewhere.
The result is a quiet exodus. What was once a robust Christian majority in Bethlehem is now a small minority. The mayor spoke of this not in anger, but in sorrow. His concern is not only for Christians, but for the fabric of the entire city. As he reminded me, his duty is to all who call Bethlehem home – Christian, Muslim, and others alike. The well-being of one community is bound up with the well-being of all.
Bethlehem today is surrounded by checkpoints and barriers. Its residents navigate restrictions that affect work, travel, medical access, and family life. The broader Israeli-Palestinian conflict shapes daily existence in ways most of us cannot easily imagine. And while the headlines often focus on geopolitics, what is easy to miss are the ordinary people trying to raise children, run businesses, and keep faith alive amid strain and uncertainty.
It struck me that we who sing of Bethlehem each December often imagine it frozen in candlelight – serene, still, untouched by history. But Bethlehem has never been untouched by history. When Christ was born, it was already a town under Roman occupation. It already knew the shadow of empire. The Holy Family themselves would soon become refugees.
Perhaps that makes the plight of Bethlehem’s citizens less surprising – and more piercing.
As followers of Jesus, we are called to remember that the Church is not confined by borders, nor reduced to headlines. The Body of Christ lives in many languages and under many flags. When one part suffers, all suffer. When one part perseveres, all are strengthened.
I told the mayor that I would do my small part to remind people that Christians still live in Bethlehem – that they worship, serve, struggle, and hope there still. I offer this Pastor’s Pen as a beginning to that promise.
May we pray for peace in the land of our Lord’s birth.
May we pray for justice tempered with mercy.
May we pray for the citizens of Bethlehem – all of them.
And may we remember that the light that once shone in that little town still shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
See you Sunday!
Pastor Greg
pastorgreg@lawrencevillepresbyterian.org
For a few quiet moments, I found myself in one-on-one conversation with the mayor of that ancient town. It felt almost surreal – speaking with a civic leader whose daily responsibilities include streets that pilgrims sing about and stones that remember the footsteps of Mary and Joseph. Yet what weighed on his heart was not nostalgia, nor tourism, nor even history. It was his people.
He told me that many Americans don’t seem to realize there are still Christians living in Bethlehem. That surprised him. It saddened him. And I had to confess it is true. In the few days prior to the reception where I met him, when I mentioned to friends that I was meeting the mayor of Bethlehem – and that he is a Palestinian Christian – I was met more than once with genuine astonishment: “There are Christians in the Palestinian Territories?”
Yes. There are.
There is an unbroken Christian presence in Bethlehem stretching back to the earliest days of the Church. Families who trace their faith not to modern mission movements, but to the apostles themselves. Arabic-speaking Christians who worship Christ in the land where Christ first drew breath. They are Orthodox and Catholic, Lutheran and Anglican. They are shopkeepers and teachers, clergy and carpenters. They are not relics of history. They are our brothers and sisters.
Yet their numbers have declined dramatically over the past several decades. Economic hardship, political instability, restricted movement, and the grinding uncertainty of life under prolonged conflict have led many families to emigrate. Tourism – so vital to Bethlehem’s economy – has fluctuated sharply in recent years due to regional violence and global crises, leaving businesses shuttered and livelihoods fragile. Young people, uncertain of opportunity and security, often feel compelled to seek a future elsewhere.
The result is a quiet exodus. What was once a robust Christian majority in Bethlehem is now a small minority. The mayor spoke of this not in anger, but in sorrow. His concern is not only for Christians, but for the fabric of the entire city. As he reminded me, his duty is to all who call Bethlehem home – Christian, Muslim, and others alike. The well-being of one community is bound up with the well-being of all.
Bethlehem today is surrounded by checkpoints and barriers. Its residents navigate restrictions that affect work, travel, medical access, and family life. The broader Israeli-Palestinian conflict shapes daily existence in ways most of us cannot easily imagine. And while the headlines often focus on geopolitics, what is easy to miss are the ordinary people trying to raise children, run businesses, and keep faith alive amid strain and uncertainty.
It struck me that we who sing of Bethlehem each December often imagine it frozen in candlelight – serene, still, untouched by history. But Bethlehem has never been untouched by history. When Christ was born, it was already a town under Roman occupation. It already knew the shadow of empire. The Holy Family themselves would soon become refugees.
Perhaps that makes the plight of Bethlehem’s citizens less surprising – and more piercing.
As followers of Jesus, we are called to remember that the Church is not confined by borders, nor reduced to headlines. The Body of Christ lives in many languages and under many flags. When one part suffers, all suffer. When one part perseveres, all are strengthened.
I told the mayor that I would do my small part to remind people that Christians still live in Bethlehem – that they worship, serve, struggle, and hope there still. I offer this Pastor’s Pen as a beginning to that promise.
May we pray for peace in the land of our Lord’s birth.
May we pray for justice tempered with mercy.
May we pray for the citizens of Bethlehem – all of them.
And may we remember that the light that once shone in that little town still shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
See you Sunday!
Pastor Greg
pastorgreg@lawrencevillepresbyterian.org
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