Poem: Christ is Born

Image courtesy Sister Joan Kerley, FMSJ

Do not fear that I am missing in the chaos and the rubble. I was born there. It is my home.

My parents told me of the arduous journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem to be counted.

A whim of a dictator. Do the numbers change when people move?

Soldiers marching by screaming:" Move Now!" Brandishing whips and swords.

Who cares if a few die on the way? Less to count. Less to revolt.

Do not fear that I am missing in the chaos and the rubble. I was born there. It is my home.

It was a messy birth. Forget the cards that glorify the stable.

It was smelly, dirty, uncomfortable. Shouts of discontent all around.

Soldiers pushing their weight around;

Desperate people jockeying for a place to stay.

Do not fear that I am missing in the chaos and the rubble. I was born there. It is my home.

Were there heavenly hosts singing in the night?

And foreign kings on dromedaries?

Perhaps my parents gazed into the beautiful Palestinian night and saw God's revelation.

But the real angels and the kings brought us food, gave us shelter, led us to safety.

Do not fear that I am missing in the chaos and the rubble. I was born there. It is my home.

We ran with many others away from Herod's wrath to an unknown land.

Refugees seeking shelter,

watching for spies looking to earn the pleasure of a dictator

and, perhaps, a bit of money or fame.

People hid us in caves, behind rocks,

whenever pursuing soldiers appeared on the horizon.

We arrived. Dirty, frightened, hungry, homeless,

one of countless refugees forced to flee.

Do not fear that I am missing in the chaos and the rubble. I was born there. It is my home.

Some ask: Where is God today in the chaos and the wars?

When children starve amidst their burnt out homes?

Do not fear that I am missing in the chaos and the rubble. I was born there. It is my home.

May the peace of Christmas be with you and all your loved ones.
Many blessings for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year