COMMENTARY Bethlehem and Bedlam Silent night, holy night, All is calm, all is bright. O little town of Bethlehem how still we see thee lie. That's not exactly the way it happened. It was not so 2,000 years ago. It is not so today. "For there is born this day to you in the city of David a savior" was a glimmer of hope shared with only a handful of people. And they were shepherds, the near unemployable, the day laborers of their time. Otherwise, Bethlehem was an angry, seething, chaotic village. The streets were clogged with travelers, booted and armed soldiers, thieves, tax collectors who would steal your last sheckel, other opportunists, the homeless, barking dogs. The stench became unbearable as people and livestock relieved themselves along the streets and tossed aside the leftovers from their rotting food. The noise was deafening – shouting, arguing, moaning, bullying, shoving, the screams of women being attacked, the cries of hungry babies, the chilling threats of soldiers, the crackling scourge of those who didn't follow their orders. God's incarnation in Christ also was accompanied by the madness that occurred later – the slaughter of the innocents. Just because of Jesus. Just because of Herod, Rome's puppet megalomaniac. It's a story that's impossible to harmonize with romanticized carols. Herod's sword still threatens. Today, Bethlehem, "house of bread" to the Jews and "house of meat" to the Arabs, is a city tethered to chaos in a hellish war in which innocents are still slaughtered. Even teen-agers with makeshift bombs strapped to their bodies destroy themselves and those nearby. But for a few days, Palestinians and Israelis say Bethlehem will be at peace for the tourist season. It's the first agreement the two parties have signed in four years. There's too much at stake to fight. This is normally the season of 100,000 tourists a day. There have been fewer than 10,000 daily. Business in Bethlehem is dismal. Besides, a few days of peace will not suffice. "Who cares about Christmas?" asked a Palestinian hotelier. "I want the tourists to come all year around, not just for two days of the year." The signs of Herod's sword remain. The Church of the Nativity is pitted with bullet holes after a five-week battle between Palestinians and Israeli soldiers, the scars of human hatred that still boils over in the very place God chose to become flesh and dwell among us … and bring us peace. Twelve centuries after the nativity, in London, the English began a religious house for the poor. It later became known as St. Mary's Hospital of Bethlehem, in honor of the mother of Jesus and the city of David and Jesus. By the 15th century, the priory had become an asylum for lunatics, a human disposal tank for the wretched. For a penny, a tourist could enter St. Mary's and be amused by the grotesqueness, inhumanity and torture of the mentally ill, who were not patients, but prisoners. Those lured to St. Mary's coined a word for their trips. They were going to "Bedlam," a mispronunciation of Bethlehem, for their entertainment. Every age has its Bedlams, the coliseums throughout the empire of Rome, the crematoriums for the empire of Hitler, Hollywood and video games for the empire of America. Bedlam is where chaos, the grotesque, the unspeakable, the sickening become acceptable pastimes. Bedlam even penetrates the church, raising doubts and heresies and seeking to destroy the faith that was handed down to the body of Christ. Yet … In the Greek New Testament, the introduction to the Gospel of John uses a compelling form of the verb "to be." Most translations use "was" as if it implied past action now completed. John used a verb form better translated "was existing," as in: The Word, who was existing before anything else existed, who was existing with God before the beginning of time and who was always existing as God (John 1:1), who chose to humble himself, empty himself of his divine glory and become obedient to his own Word, even onto death on the cross, entered Bedlam willingly (Philippians 2:5-9). Through his trial, scourging and crucifixion, he yielded to Bedlam. And, like the gawkers at St. Mary's Hospital of Bethlehem, those who gathered at the foot of the cross ridiculed and scorned him for their amusement. But Bedlam was not the final word, and never will be. For those who hear his call, Bedlam, like death and the grave, claims no victory. For in him was existing life, and his life was existing as the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, even though Bedlam does not grasp it.

John H. Adams The Layman Online Posted Wednesday, December 22, 2004

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