I paid my first visit to Bethlehem this year, on a Holy Land pilgrimage with my parish the week after Divine Mercy Sunday. It was a blessed experience throughout, but one lived in the context of a beautiful Middle Eastern springtime with flowers blooming everywhere. It’s a stark contrast to the terrible suffering unleashed by Hamas’ invasion and hostage-taking that began on Oct. 7, the Jewish feast of Simchat Torah (the joy of the Torah, or the Word of God) and the Catholic Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. As I write this, it’s the early days after the attack, while Israel is still preparing its ground invasion. I shudder to think what further suffering is coming for the innocent civilians of Israel, Palestine, and the wider Middle East. It makes my memories of my pilgrimage all the more precious now. Cracks and corners My pilgrimage group partook of the hospitality and expertise of Palestinian and Israeli Christians, visiting shops that sold Rosaries and devotional art made from the wood of the trees of Bethlehem, and visiting as well the churches that have stood for centuries, long since built, rebuilt, renovated — churches where cracks and corners reveal art or architecture from ages past, where the changing hands of Jews, Christians, or Muslims have left their mark. I have touched the stone where it is said that Mary lay, visited the spot where, tradition tells us, the shepherds were tending their sheep when the angel came. I have been to the key spots of the Incarnation now. Each time, I was amazed at the beauty of the land, the blessedness of the country, and yet this land hasn’t been fully, properly at peace since long before Christ ever walked the earth. This land, where God walked, where the devil tempted Him as well as those who persecuted Him — this land means too much, now, to both Heaven and hell for there to be full, true peace till the coming of Christ Himself, I think. And yet in the midst of all those struggles, when you come to the holy place, when you touch the stone or stand in silent prayer before the tabernacles of the churches, you realize that the true peace, the peace of the Prince of Peace born in Bethlehem that long ago time, is there. It’s in the very rocks, in the land and the water, in the air — because this land is holy. It was sanctified long ago by a native son who was the Son of God, and all the devil’s rages can’t make that mark go away. Jesus our Host I was there in Bethlehem, and Jesus knew I would be there one day. He knew all of the pilgrims that would come, would visit this town named after Him. He loved us all to life, and sustained us on our journey; He hosted us in Bethlehem, just as He hosts us in the cosmos, in His Father’s house, in the Church and the world. The little Child was the bedrock on which the manger was set. He rested in the manger, and sustained the star that shone overhead. The little Child is the Lord of life, of light, of all things, and it is by His gift that we make little statues of Him, and celebrate Mass at Christmas, and come home to Him again and again in Confession, in Mass. In Hebrew, Bethlehem means “House of Bread,” and in Arabic, Bethlehem means “House of Flesh.” How appropriate for the birthplace of Jesus, who was Bread from Heaven and the Lamb of God, who would be our Eucharistic Lord, really, truly present with us under the appearances of bread and wine down till the end of the world. The home of the sons of David, of Joseph and Jesus after him, was long ago prepared for the coming of this special Son, in the workings of Divine Providence. I was in Bethlehem in the spring. In the eyes of God, I’m there still, for He gazes on time from eternity. When I go before the judgment seat, some part of that judgment will see me in Bethlehem, visiting the place where the Judge was born. Forever and into eternity will be that memory, that reality, that pilgrimage. Forever a part of my life, and so a part of me, and of the Mystical Body of Christ of which I am a member. At every Mass The same can be said of all of us every Christmas. Every Mass we attend is a participation in eternity; every Mass offered for another, a work of mercy that will be attested to as part of our judgment. Every Mass, we stand at Calvary, and in the House of Bread, the House of Flesh. Every Mass is part of every other Mass, and of the life of Christ. Every Mass is a participation in the grace that comes from Jesus Christ, from His Incarnation. Every Mass is part of the gift of God, given to us in a special way at the first Christmas, the first Noel. You can share that gift even with those who don’t believe by enrolling their names in our three Masses at Christmas. Allow the divine fire from outside of time to touch their lives, their minds, their hearts. Allow Jesus to enter the Bethlehem of their hearts and bring a star that will lead them to God. Welcome the Child Jesus into the dark and cold of the modern day, and it will be as it was in Bethlehem, in Romanoccupied Judea — hope against hope; a light shining in the darkness, and the darkness not comprehending it. Pray for peace in the Middle East. Ask our Lord’s help and Our Lady of the Rosary’s intercession for their earthly homeland, and the spiritual homeland of us all. We invite you to send us your intentions for the Three Christmas Masses on Dec. 25 at the National Shrine of The Divine Mercy. Visit Marian.org/b60 to have your intentions remembered. Marian Helper • Winter 2023-24 • Marian.org 19
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