Jesus Christ,
I think it’s much easier to picture you
in a stable, cozy among the hay–
Then in the cave that they showed me
in Palestine, where all the animal are stabled.
I remember, when I toured Bethlehem
among the Christians
hearing talk of building permits
and dirt roads
the lack of passports
and that a lot of the fighting
was really about water access
“Is it like Syria?” I asked?
Aware, that
Syria was
is turning into a desert
before our eyes
“Exactly” they answered
Like a deer thirsts
for water
So our soul longs for God
“But I never hear that people are fighting
over water?” I wondered
Christmas Day
Eastern Orthodox
Christmas
we went to the tomb
of Jesus
Where seven (the holy number)
crowded in
Each with clear
ropes
labels
and signs claiming
this piece of the Savior
is mine.
“Merry Christmas!”
Our Eastern Orthodox Brethren Proclaimed
“Here touch the head of the tomb,
Normally, it is not allowed,
But today is a merry day”
I do not know, if I wanted
To feel so closely
the desperation
Of occupied
wartorn Gaza
must have
felt like
at your birth Jesus
But when I visited
Lo those 13 years ago
I remember–too
The hope of
Love among the
rubble
The joy of “Merry Christmas”
amongst many faith
The sharing of a a meal
with Muslims, Christians, Jews and Druze
Love among the rubble
As real as a Savior
born in a cave–
as real a glimpse as peace,
in war.
As real as hope,
in a capitalistic, political scape.
As real as joy,
in the midst of weariness.
As real as faith,
in the midst of doubt.
As real as Christmas,
in the midst of the Advent of Life.
That’s my God
the one who shows up in the rubble of life.
Amen, Alleluia, Amen.
–Rev. Katy Stenta
You can find this poem and more of Katy Stenta’s writing at KatyandtheWord.
Smuggling Grace 