Internal Pilgrimage

In March of this year, I put my hand down on a pane of glass that covers the stone where Jesus is alleged to have been born. It was a curious experience that requires some explaining (maybe some forgiveness.) I went with a few of you as a pilgrim to Bethlehem to the Church of the Nativity. It’s the oldest site for continuous worship for Christians in the world. It’s a somewhat hectic place, and alongside the crowds there was also significant restoration and renovation happening in the church. It’s busy, chaotic, and holy. There are both tourists and pilgrims. Folks taking selfies in front of mosaic renovations along with the penitent on their knees with tears streaming down their dusty cheeks.

We entered through a side door. There was a little prep. Don’t call too much attention to yourself. We’re going through a special entrance. “I have some friends,” our guide explained. “Listen to them. They will take us to the spot of the manger. There’s no need to wait in line.” It was all true. He did have some friends. They did move us in a couple of groups discreetly through cracked doors and around barriers until we were right there. Looking down at this spot where so many had waited hours just to get a glance. I touched the glass. So many others did, too.

It was powerful and strange. It was powerful to visit a spot where Jesus is believed to have been born. It was powerful to visit a spot where so many faithful people, Christians and otherwise, had made a pilgrimage and said their prayers. You could feel it for sure. It was strange to take the V.I.P. route to get there. It was strange to get ushered forward to visit the site where a humble servant bore a baby in humble surroundings.

We’ve built a lot around that site in the last two thousand years. Over it. Around it. The barn became a basilica. We do that. Our intentions are well meaning. It made me think. We’ve put a lot over and around the babe Jesus. Sometimes you can’t even really see him through all the stuff we construct. It was such a privilege to get down on my knees and look through that glass and see that spot and say a quick prayer. That could be our internal pilgrimage during this Christmas season—to find our way through all the stuff we’ve put over and around the baby and the hope and vulnerability he demonstrates. From feet to knees. Hand to glass. Quick prayer. Real connection. Give it a shot.

Love,

Jimmy