Merry Christmas Everyone! This little meditation is our Christmas card to all of you.

In 1917 Frances Chesterton wrote a poem for her Christmas cards, which became a kind of global Christmas meditation. Later it was put to music and turned into a hymn. The title of her poem was: “How Far Is It To Bethlehem?” In some respects Frances Chesterton’s poem, like the age in which she lived, was rather sentimental. But its question is timeless, and remains crucial for both Christian and non-Christian.

Chesterton was not asking, of course, how many miles or kilometers it is from Los Angeles, New York, London, Hong Kong, or Nairobi to Bethlehem, but what is the distance in our heart from that placeless place where Christ is ever born anew. “How far is it to Bethlehem?” It is as far, Frances Chesterton wisely saw, as the desire within us for the presence of God. It is as distant as our heart is from humility, or our spirit from simplicity.

Hidden in the question, “How far is it to Bethlehem?” are numerous other questions capable of revealing our deepest pathologies and our noblest aspirations: What is your heart’s real desire? What are you hungry for, restless for? What absolutely must happen for you to be happy? What, at all costs, must you prevent from happening? When we can answer questions like these honestly and genuinely we will know the distance to Bethlehem.

I have noticed that in this Advent and Christmas season, a number of “scholars,” who are known more for their clever arguments than for actual evidence, are arguing that Jesus might have been, possibly could have been, may have,  if we squint our mind’s eye just right, been born in Nazareth rather than Bethlehem. My short response, which is all I will give here, is: “So what?” Don’t allow the casuistry, the sophistry, of academics to distract you in your pilgrimage to Bethlehem. Just know this:

If in your heart you make
a manger for his birth,
then God will once again
be born on earth.
–– Angelus Silesius, medieval Christian mystic, poet, and priest

Peace, joy, and everything good,
Brenda and Larry