Merry ‘muted’ Christmas

It’s a cruel world, babe, as my wise father used to say. Indeed. Wonder what he would say about this recent newsflash: Christmas is canceled in Bethlehem. I am not making this up. It’s the honest-to-God awful truth in this incredibly messed up world of ours.

There’s no Christmas in Bethlehem this year. For real.

With war raging between Israel and Hamas in Gaza, all holiday bets are off. Too much grief and devastation to justify any sort of festivities, even in the Holy Land. Some have dubbed it a “muted” Christmas. Hold the merry.

Last month, a teaser headline about the Christmas cancellation showed up in my NYT digital morning news feed. Surely, I thought, this was a mistake or some click-bait ploy to get me to buy one of those two-person ugly Christmas sweaters that literally fits two grown humans.

(Aside: Stop your eye-rolling. We already have one and have worn it so much on Christmases past that the three giant plastic black buttons fell off! Don’t judge.)

At a November vigil for peace in Washington, a Palestinian Lutheran pastor spoke about the approaching Christmas season in his home of Bethlehem in the Israeli-occupied West Bank. Their U.S. visit came amid a temporary truce between Israel and Hamas over Thanksgiving weekend.

This week, there was talk of another pause in the fighting. A week, maybe two. Sadly, Hamas leaders aren’t interested in such humanitarian pauses.

“How can we celebrate when we feel this war — this genocide — that is taking place could resume at any moment?” the pastor said of the October 7 terrorist attacks by Hamas in Israel, which left 1,200 dead.

There are still more than 100 hostages being held captive in Gaza by Hamas and other militant groups. About 10 of them are Americans. At least 20,000 Palestinians have been killed, according to the Gaza Health Ministry. Among those include about 8,000 children.

Why couldn’t we be so lucky to simply ‘unmute’ an imaginary remote to make peace?

Now, in December, the time of year when churches in the place Christians believe Jesus was born are normally packed with visitors, it’s nearly empty. No cobblestone streets decorated with colorful lights and tourists from all over the world bustling in Bethlehem’s Manger Square.

Dark. Quiet. Joyless.

“This is the worst Christmas ever,” said one shop owner, whose business had managed to survive previous uprisings in 1987 and 2000, along with the COVID-19 pandemic.

Instead of building handmade olive-wood nativity scenes, camels and crosses, the shop owner and his small group of artisans pray for peace.

Why couldn’t we be so lucky to simply “unmute” an imaginary remote to make peace?

Then there’s the Palestinian Lutheran minister and his congregation at the Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church that made international news when they chose to make a statement about the killing of so many children in Gaza. They were inspired by images on TV of children being pulled from the rubble.

Using broken cement and stones, they placed the baby Jesus in a pile of debris from a collapsed home. The photo drew international interest.

Surprised, the minister was happy that the picture spoke to many people who saw it. But he was baffled as to why the staged photo drew more attention than actual pictures of suffering children in Gaza.

I struggle to understand the meaning of a senseless war with innocent people becoming victims of terrorists, and of corrupt politicians who are focused on their own legal troubles instead of the people who elected them. For civilians and those fighting, Christmas 2023 will be filled with pain and sorrow, not comfort and joy.

It’s tough to get excited about what’s under the tree when you witness such tragedy and see the fragile hearts of others breaking.

On Saturday night, I was pulled out of my holiday funk by a random act of kindness from my beloved. Rebecca surprised me with a mystery date to see a local community theater musical production of “A Christmas Story.” What a treat! I had no idea.

Those who know me well know that I absolutely love “A Christmas Story,” the movie. I watch it every holiday season. I can recite nearly all of the dialog scene by scene. I own a leg lamp night light.

One year, we considered staying at the fictional boyhood home of Ralphie Parker in Cleveland. They were booked, even at $545 per night. (Again, no judging.) The Bumpus House is next door, complete with the “Hound Dog Haven” and “Stolen Turkey” suites. You may also tour the house and visit the museum.

Anyway, the musical was funny and hit all the right notes of the original movie – except, thankfully, the Chinese “turkey” dinner scene where Ralphie and the rest of the Parker family sing “Deck the Halls” along with the happy Asian restaurant workers who served them.

I was relieved and glad they left it out. No harm, no fowl.

My point here is that it doesn’t matter to me if they cancel Christmas in Bethlehem.

I’ll still pray every night that the war between Israel and Hamas ends before this year does, however unlikely that may be. But it won’t stop me from enjoying our Christmas.

And I will say what I always say on major holidays when life for everyone is not so holly jolly: For those who are struggling, may the day land gently.

Anyway, Merry “muted” Christmas.

Now, where’s my remote?