Away in a Manger...in Gaza
Away in a Manger...in Gaza
Francis of Assisi inaugurated the Nativity scene exactly 800 years ago
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I’m not sure how many Nativity scenes one might find in Gaza today (in homes, places of worship, etc.) but I am sure that this charred, blood-soaked, tragedy riddled strip of land was once the hotbed of a movement that revolved around a guy who preached peace and loving one’s neighbor. Though only about a thousand Christians remain (90% Greek Orthodox), Gaza is mentioned in the New Testament (in Acts, St. Philip baptizes an Ethiopian), and it’s still home to a few of the world’s oldest churches and monasteries (though most lay in ruins).
I’m a sucker for a good crèche, whether outside the local Presbyterian church or in the episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where the incorrigible heathen Larry co-opts Joseph & Mary for his pagan purposes. I have Francis of Assisi to thank for all this.
Francis is universally beloved. For good reason. He could’ve lived a life of luxury, ease, and decadence, but instead chose to work tirelessly for peace, to help the less fortunate, and to live a life of nomadic celibacy. His Franciscan Order has served the greater good with compassion for 800 years. However, while many people focus on the "unusual stuff,” like how he used to talk to (and understand) birds, squirrels and trees, or how he mysteriously bled from the same spots as Jesus, I’m drawn to the fact that he was one of history’s greatest and most ethical leaders. Francis was an incredibly courageous pacifist, visionary environmentalist, and pioneering civil rights activist.
So naturally this put him on a collision course with the Pope.
From Copernicus and Galileo to Dorothy Day and Martin Sheen, countless Catholics have not seen eye-to-eye with The Holy See. Francis probably confounded it more than anyone else in history. The Pope and his cardinals didn’t know how to handle him. As Francis was born into wealth and privilege, Honorius III would have much preferred that (like the rest of the upper class) the Umbrian princeling just go about making money, giving a chunk of it to the Church, and sticking to his knitting. Instead, as the Pope’s army waged the evil escapade known as The Fifth Crusade, the monk defied the generals by crossing “enemy lines” in order to try and find common ground with the Muslims. The Turkish generals urged their leader to ignore and behead the strange, ragged Christian, but the Sultan heard Francis out, and eventually offered very generous peace terms, including The Holy See’s stated goal: Jerusalem. But the Pope rebuffed the Sultan. He got greedy. This was a colossal blunder. In 1221, the Christians were routed.
I’m no credentialed biblical scholar or historian, but I think the Crusade debacle had a lot to do with why Honorius allowed Francis to stage the first Nativity re-enactment. Prior to then, the circumstances surrounding the birth of the person so many revered as The Son of God were considered way too sacred and mysterious to reduce to a thespian profanity. I think the Pope felt: better to confine this nut-job to preaching in a cave full of Italian peasants than further obstruct The Crusades.
As for the “mere fact” of Jesus’ birth, this isn’t disputed, except by people who dispute for the sake of disputing. To quote National Geographic (owned by that notorious secular humanist corporate harlot Disney): “That Jesus of Nazareth was born and lived in the early Roman Empire is a matter of historical fact.”
However, as for the details of Jesus’ birth—there’s dispute aplenty! Most biblical scholars seem to feel that the stories in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke (Mark & John omit any mention of Jesus’ “miraculous birth,” royal lineage, the Magi, etc.) are, if not completely cooked up by later writers (Mark was the first Gospel), so leavened with literary license as to be totally unreliable.
But I’m not interested in the exactitude or verisimilitude of the Catholic crèche or any scholarly debates as to the historicity surrounding the “Son of God/Man,” or “King of Kings.” Rather, I’m interested in the laudable and catholic (= “universal”) themes that the great Umbrian monk wanted to highlight back in December, 1223, namely:
Humility
Courage
Kindness
Peace
These virtues bear repeating and highlighting in December, 2023.
Perhaps now more than ever.
Much has been made of how the “Messiah” (= “anointed one”) “lowered himself” and was born amongst some smelly farm animals. If there’s a better parable attesting to the power of humility—I’m not aware of it.
It took a lot of courage for the three wise men to follow the North Star to Bethlehem. They had to hoof it a long way in a very inhospitable desert climate, and they defied the infamously cruel King Herod. They could’ve died of thirst, been robbed of their gold and jewels and killed by brigands, or turned over to Herod for the bounty; then tortured and killed.
Hospitality is sacred in the Middle East. The truest measure and noblest expression of hospitality is kindness to strangers: i.e., rolling out the red carpet for anyone and everyone; even at—especially at—great cost to oneself. If you don’t believe me, I invite you to check out Lone Survivor (the book or film), which recounts how an incredibly kind and brave Muslim protected a Navy SEAL from the Taliban.
Finally, whence did these Magi hail? From Iran, Arabia, and India. If Jews (there were no Christians at the time), Zoroastrians, Hindus, etc. could come together in peace 2,000+ years ago, I’m convinced there’s still hope for our day and age.
Whatever your political or religious persuasion, on behalf of my friends and colleagues here at Under the Hood, I hope you’ll join me in a non-sectarian, ecumenical prayer for peace on earth.
And may thy cup runneth over in the New Year!
Merry Christmas, Eric!
Amen! And thanks for another wonderful article. Merry Christmas!