How to Have Christmas after Impeachment

It’s nearly Christmas and the president has just been impeached. We unpack nativity scenes on our window sills and hang merry lights while the Newscasters and all the Reactors hurl the latest charges, accusations and epithets, O unholy night.

None of this has instilled much holiday spirit, you know? The nights aren’t silent, very few are away in the manger adoring the new king. We’re fighting over political turf and wondering not about the star but which side will “win.”

I’m feeling a bit sour and sick. But Hark, hear me for a few moments. Let me tell you about a visit to Bethlehem a few years ago that will help. It was just before Christmas. And of course I had to visit the Church of the Nativity. Here I would surely find peace and good will! I would see the beauty of a people gathered from around the world to worship our Savior.

But the oldest church in the world was in chaos. It was under reconstruction. And uncountable herds of people like me, from all over the world were there. All had come for this: to step down into the grotto, to kneel and lean into a tiny cavern where there was barely room for a single body. There, a silver star adorned the floor, marking the place where many people believe Mary gave birth to Jesus.

On this day, probably like many days, a tour guide stood outside the room, pushing people through with shouts: “That’s enough! You go! Next! Next in line!” as men and women took their turn. Each one knelt to fit into the tiny space, flashed a photo of the star on the floor, rubbed an arm on its silvery surface or swept a scarf across it while bodies pressed before and behind. The air was thick and damp. One elderly woman in a headscarf lingered in her worship a few seconds too long. “That’s enough! Too long! You get out!” the tour guide yelled at her before impatiently waving the next person in. The guards stood all around, tense, frowning.

When I emerged, stumbling, from the grotto, I heard policemen shouting at tour guides, “Stop! Stop talking! You!” The chorus of voices continued, unfazed. He tried again, louder this time, “A service is beginning. Stop now or I’ll kick you all out!” The furor and fury of trying to keep God’s people silent in His house! Occasionally there are even physical fights between the priests and pastors of the six denominations who each claim space in this sacred place.

The day wasn’t over. After our chaotic hour in the Church, the guide unexpectedly took us to a souvenir shop. He smiled and rubbed his hands and urged us all to shop ’til we dropped. “It’s all on sale—a 20 percent discount, just for you!” he said with a wink. Two men approached us grinning widely, ready to usher us to the cash register. Minutes later, the ten of us left the shop empty-handed and sad. The well-dressed owner ran after us on the sidewalk shouting, “You must support us! You simply have to buy something here!”

It was not the happy day I imagined in Bethlehem. I found no peace on that small piece of earth, I found no silent moment, no light shining from dark streets—only shoving and shouting.

Was Bethlehem so very different that sacred day? Because of the census, everyone was returning to his hometown and the hotelkeepers were raking it in. The restaurants were overfilled. Every family rented out whatever room they had and charged too much. The noise, the dirt, the animal dung on sandals—everyone too busy making money and trying to get ahead. They paid no thought to a baby born in the hay that night.

It was all an unholy mess. Like our country right now.

We’re a sad, sorry unholy mess of a people right now. And we’re making a mess of our country, our communities, maybe even our churches.

But Jesus already knows all of this.

And that was exactly the kind of place He chose to be born.

That is exactly the kind of people He chose to be born among.

These are exactly the kind of people He was born to save.

And we are exactly the kind of people who need saving still.

We don’t have to clean it all up or perfect it first. We don’t have to “fix” other people. We don’t have to “fix” our nation. We need only do this:

We make room for the season in our own life and heart. “For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”

We kneel. And enter in.