O Little Town of Bethlehem
If ever you had cause to wonder whether that birth in that little town two thousand years ago is still having an impact today, a walk into the city centre last Saturday might have helped.
At the heart of Broadmead shopping centre there was the eponymous Christmas market. You may be a fan of those huts that spring up every year in an increasing number of cities, selling a range of goods that might prove popular on Christmas Day and a variety of food and drink to tempt you to spend more. You may take the view that they are a blight on the landscape and provide little more than a consumerist hit of adrenaline fuelled spending. Whichever angle you come at it, those market stalls remind us of the celebration that started because of that birth in that little town.
To one side of the market stalls a small group protested outside one of the high street banks. They claim that this bank is investing in aggressive techniques that are being used by national governments, particularly Israel, against embattled communities like Palestinians, especially in Gaza. You may be a regular protestor, on the street every month, writing letters every week. You may feel overwhelmed by a sense of powerlessness as the world slides into chaos around you. Whichever angle you come at it, those protestors remind us how much that little town is just as much in the eye of a political storm today as it was two thousand years ago.
And opposite the protestors, with the sounds of one overlapping with the calls from the other, from the brass instruments of a band from one of our local Salvation Army citadels float the tunes of well known Christmas Carols and passers-by pause for a moment to listen, to sing, to donate some money to the cause for which they are collecting. You may find brass bands, even Salvation Army brass bands at Christmas, a little too sentimental, a little reminiscent of a bread advert from 1973. You may hear those familiar harmonies and, reminded of the words, be caught up once again in the story of the Word made flesh. Whichever angle you come at it, that music gives us pause for thought and prompts us to reflect on that birth in that little town of Bethlehem.
I am reminded of what we were told by some Palestinians about how to divide the hours of the day: to pray in the morning, to protest in the afternoon, to party in the evening. It seemed to me that, unknowingly, Broadmead was providing a perfect platform for a well balanced diet!
Merry Christmas.
Dan Tyndall
20 December 2024
