Disappointed Expectations

When I heard that we would be going to Bethlehem, my heart leaped a bit.  I was going to go to the town where, for the first time in history, God became man.  This is the town where Jesus was born, where the Hope of all nations came down from his throne, and took on flesh.  It is a moment in history that has very literally defined it, just note the fact that we have attempted to count our years from that moment.  I began to imagine what it would be like to visit the traditional spot where Jesus was born, to sit in contemplation in the church that occupies this holy site.  Indeed, the more I thought about it, the more the excitement began to mount.

We pulled into the Palestinian town in our big charter bus and parked in a garage with a number of other tourist buses.  Next came our navigation through the streets filled with shopkeepers and various merchants selling their wares including a "Stars and Bucks" made to look like Starbucks.  The excitement within me continued to mount the closer we got to the Church of the Nativity.  When we finally arrived, my professor gave us a few last minute instructions concerning the church then let us go in.  At first I looked around wondering if the structure she had pointed to really was the Church of the Nativity.  Having already been to sites such as the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and the Dormition Abbey, I was a bit taken aback by the sight of the Church of the Nativity.  The image I had built up in my mind didn't match what I saw on the outside.  To be sure the disrepair is understandable since it has been in existence since the 6th century.  Still, the sight of the structure was halting.  It was not what I expected at all.

As you walk into the building, the doorway is significantly smaller than a normal door.  It is this way so that you must bow down as you enter into the building.  Originally it was intended to keep conquerors and looters from entering the church on horseback.  Today it attempts to move tourists and pilgrims into a state of contemplation as they enter the church that sits on the site where Jesus was born.  This was perhaps the most moving part of the church.  Upon making my way through the door I was immediately struck by how loud it was.  There was a line that made its way from the back of the church to the front and down into the grotto where it is believed Jesus was born.  The day we were there, there were a couple hundred tourists and pilgrims waiting in line to get into the grotto.  In fact the church was so loud that I struggled hearing myself think, let alone pray.  This was far from what I had imagined.  An emotion that I had not anticipated began to sneak in:  Disappointment.  The images that I had built up in my mind began to fade away as this unexpected image began to take its place.

Now I traveled all over the nation of Israel.  I visited numerous sites that left me in deep contemplation and utterly humbled.  Some places were simply breathtaking and almost everywhere there was a palpable sense of the Holy One in our midst, yet here at the place where everything changed, the place where Jesus left his throne to dwell among us, something was missing.  It was hard to put a finger on what exactly made this place different.  Perhaps it was the sheer number of tourists, or the doubt and speculation concerning the authenticity of the site, or perhaps the grotto itself that was rather cramped and filled with people taking pictures.  Whatever it was, there was certainly a sense of unmet expectations.  Now before you think my experience an anomaly, James Martin a Jesuit priest and author of Jesus, A Pilgrimage, writes of having a similar experience.  He says, "The Nativity Grotto was the only place where one of my original objections to visiting the Holy Land - the touristy sites would turn me off - proved justified."  Even in talking with others several expressed that it wasn't at all what they were expecting.  Despite the reassurance that I wasn't alone in this, I felt almost guilty for feeling this way and so I tried praying all the more.  This was the place where God took on flesh, where he came and made his dwelling among us and yet standing in the church I felt nothing but the sting of disappointment.  It occurred to me much later however, how appropriate this feeling was.

At the time of Christ, the Israelites were being governed by Herod the Great who was essentially a puppet king of Rome, one of the most brutal empires of all time.  Their rule was harsh and the Israelites suffered enormously under their reign.  Throughout the Intertestamental Period, the Israelites continued to hold on to the promise of a coming Messiah.  They believed that a king would rise from David's line who would free them of their oppressors and then establish the nation of Israel forever.  They expected a Warrior King.  Jesus came as an infant.  Paul would later describe the cross and Jesus' sacrifice as a scandalon, the Greek term meaning a stumbling block, an offense, the same term we get the word "scandal" from.  His birth was little different from his death in that regard.  The Messiah, the one that an entire nation had been waiting for, indeed all of creation had waited for, came almost unexpectedly and unnoticed.  It came with little fanfare except for the angels that appeared to the shepherds and the wise men that followed the star.  Indeed, his birth was not how the Israelites had imagined it would be, one could say, it was disappointing.

Yet isn't this often our experience with God?  Aren't there times in our lives, where we expected God to act a certain way only to have that expectation go unmet?  If I'm honest, there have been numerous times where I have been left scratching my head wondering what God was thinking.  Situations that simply didn't make sense and left me feeling disappointed.  I'm sure that I'm not alone in this feeling.  Undoubtedly, all of us have experienced this a time or two in our lives.  One thing about God though, he never promises we won't be disappointed.  He does however promise that He is good, that He is sovereign, and that His ways are far above ours.  I seem to lose track of that.  Often wishing God would ask me my thoughts on the matter before acting.  Yet the life of Jesus shows us this exact thing.  In the feeding of the five thousand, his disciples expected him to send the crowds away so that they could get food.  Jesus' response?  You feed them!  His disciples thought he was going into Jerusalem to overthrow the Roman oppressors, instead he was crucified by them.  Throughout his life, Jesus made it a habit of doing the unexpected and sometimes even disappointing those close to him.  Yet, even in the midst of disappointment Jesus sets the stage for the remarkable.  He feeds the five thousand with a few loaves of bread and some fish.  After being crucified he is raised from the dead.  His ways truly are above ours. 

I think we often get disappointed when we hold too tightly to our own expectations failing to realize that God wants to do something far greater.  The door to the Church of the Nativity is a powerful rebuttal to the disappointment I felt in the church.  It reminded me that sometimes I need to let go of my expectations and simply bow in obedience before God.  Indeed, sometimes in order for God to do something remarkable He must first disappoint our expectations, only then can we be prepared for the unexpected.

The doorway into the Church of the Nativity

Whose Kingdom?

Standing out on the top of the Herodion you can literally see for miles.  It is only one of many impressive structures that Herod built during his reign, but it is also the only one that bears his name.  As you can see from the picture, it towers over the landscape.  The hill it is perched on, however, is artificial, a fitting irony.  Herod took the top half of a neighboring hill and used it to build up this one.  Inside the structure, you are again overwhelmed by the impressive nature of it.  There is one tower in particular that stands apart from the rest.  It is 18m in diameter, for those of us in the States that is close to 54 feet.  Archaeologists suggest that this massive tower would have been several stories tall and would have served a number of purposes including protection.  The Herodion is indeed an incredible architectural achievement.

As I said, however, there is a bit of irony in this structure.  The land of Israel is marked with a number of monumental structures that were built by Herod the Great.  The Herodion is one in a long list of engineering feats that includes things such as Caesarea, a constructed harbor which used underwater cement (in the first century BC no less), the Temple Mount, the fortress at Masada, and various others.  All of these things were done because Herod wanted to make a name for himself.  He was building up his kingdom and his legacy.  Every building was yet another attempt to secure his place in history.  Yet despite all of this, history remembers him mainly as a villain and a puppet.  His entire kingdom belonged to Rome.  If they chose they could simply depose him and appoint another.  In fact, that is exactly what happens to one of his sons who takes over the rule of Jerusalem.  His kingdom was an artificial one just as the hill that he built this structure on.

Unfortunately, kingdom building seems to be a symptom of the human condition.  We're so busy trying to make a name for ourselves, trying to leave our mark on the world, that we often do so to the detriment of others without much thought.  The west is constantly critiqued as being materialistic and consumer-driven.  Guilty as charged.  On my way out of the country, I had to essentially unpack my entire carry-on.  It took quite a while to say the least.  The security agent and I laughed a bit about it until she finally asked, "Why do you have all this stuff?"  A just question, one that has no suitable answer.  I've unwittingly fallen into the same trap as Herod.  I've built up my own kingdom, falling in line with the rest of my society in pursuing material things, wealth, and status.

To the southeast about 3 miles away lies another settlement which is considerably more modest, yet perhaps far more significant.  It is the town of Bethlehem.  This is where Jesus was born, where God came to Earth and took on flesh.  Today, Bethlehem lies in one of the Palestinian territories.  It is wrought with the same poverty that was undoubtedly present at the birth of Jesus.  It is a stark contrast to the riches that must have been present at the Herodion.  Yet only one of these kingdoms continues on today, only one of them continues to shape the world.  Our professor posed the question throughout the day, "Whose kingdom are we building?"  Herod's kingdom with all of its lavishness has fallen away, yet Jesus who was born in a feeding trough has built a kingdom that will stand forever. 

I would wager I'm not alone in building up my own kingdom.  I'm sure many can look at places in their lives where they have promoted themselves instead of following Jesus' example.  Unfortunately, there is a great danger in building up our own kingdoms.  Herod is the perfect example.  We read about his edict to kill the children under the age of two in Bethlehem in scripture, but that is only one instance of his tyrannical reign.  He slaughtered his political rivals on the Cliffs of Arbel.  He killed several people close to him including one of his wives because of his paranoia regarding conspiracies along with many other atrocities.  Now certainly we don't carry out our kingdom building to this degree, but we still carry it out at the expense of others.  We buy up the latest gadgets not thinking about the plight of those under the living wage who built them.  We blissfully use up natural resources despite the impact that it has on the ecosystem.  We compromise our integrity for the sake of a small advantage over someone else on the corporate ladder.  The examples are endless.  Yet Jesus calls us to more.  Jesus was aware of the plight of the poor, not just because he saw it but because he experienced it.  He identified with them and trumpeted their cause.  When tempted with power, riches, and fame he turned them down choosing to worship God alone.  When he had the opportunity to tear others down, he sought to build them up.  Jesus built a different kind of kingdom.  Set when the world acquired power through violence, Jesus created a new kingdom through peace.  It is His kingdom that has endured throughout the centuries and it will be his kingdom that will endure until he returns.  So whose kingdom are we building?  Are we building ours at the expense of others, or are we building his to their empowerment?

Listening to understand not reply

The Church of the Holy Sepulcher is a remarkable church.  It happens to be one of my favorite churches to visit in the Old City of Jerusalem.  Inside are six different strands of Christianity that celebrate the place where Christ was crucified and buried.  Represented in this church are the Franciscan, Armenian, Greek Orthodox, Syrian Orthodox, Ethiopic, and Coptic churches.  Each commemorates the crucifixion in their own way.  In going through the church, one sees fellow believers worshiping in a plethora of ways.  Certainly, from western eyes, the sight can be a bit overwhelming with experiences vastly different from our own typical church service.  Once you push past this, however, it is a beautiful picture of the body of Christ... except for one small thing.  A ladder.

You see this particular ladder has a long history.  It has been entitled the "immovable ladder" and has been around for over 250 years.  Pope Paul VI once called this a sign of Christian division.  Indeed, it has also been called the "status quo" ladder.  It is a symbol of the underlying conflicts of the different sects found in the church and stands as a testament to trying not to upset the status quo.  The story is different depending on where you find it.  The general consensus however is that a mason left it there by accident in the 18th century.  Since no one sect can alter any of the property without the consent of all the other parties, the ladder has remained.  Unfortunately, the ladder is only the beginning of the disharmony among the sects in the church.

Now, before you get the impression that I am ridiculing this church, I want to ensure you that I hold this church in high regard and the sects represented there in awe.  This church is on perhaps the holiest of sites for Christians and the diverse nature of the sects make conflict almost unavoidable.  If anything the church gives hope that in the midst of our imperfection some form of unity can be found.

Recently, I have had many conversations with people regarding various church traditions and find that many people are not only suspicious of traditions outside their own, but are actually hostile towards them.  They cite peripheral issues as being their reasons for their mistrust and in some cases even doubt whether or not they are indeed Christian.  It is disheartening to watch and see.  This is probably most evident in America where individualism has bred division within the church.  Denominations continue to split off and we are left growing ever disjointed in a world that desperately needs a unified message of hope.  It is estimated that there are currently 41,000 different denominations of Christianity.  I come from a non-denominational background and once thought that was the answer to this disunity.  The problem is that each non-denominational church has their own essential doctrine and thus it is easy for a single non-denominational church to be its own denomination.

Why is it then that there is so much disunity among believers?  Why do we react with hostility and suspicion when it comes to faith traditions that are not our own?  We harp so often on our differences, that we've completely neglected the fact that much of our beliefs are very similar and if we just listen we may even learn something that will enhance our own worship.  We want to make sure that we have the perfect theology or the right answer to every doctrinal question, but we are also convinced that we indeed have all the answers.  I'm not saying things like theology or doctrine aren't important, but I am saying that in the pursuit of these things we cannot and should not try to codify God.  Doing so would make us god.

At the risk of overgeneralizing the problem, I want to suggest that our problem stems from the tendency to listen in order to respond rather than listening to understand.  We often listen intently to opinions outside our own, but it often happens that we are only listening enough to form a reasonable argument for the contrary.  Again, I'm not saying that everything we hear should be assimilated.  Far from it.  There are many doctrines within Christianity that are nonnegotiable.  What I am trying to convey, however, is that we need to listen to truly understand others.  Too often our differences among traditions come about because both parties refuse to understand the other.  We humans are inherently bad at seeing someone else's point of view especially those that we disagree with.  I personally have found that when I listen in order to formulate a response, I end up building a wall.  When I listen in order to understand, however, I end up building a bridge.  What kind of builder do you want to be?