Place of Jesus' Birth
The story of Jesus’ birth is told in both Matthew and Luke’s Gospels, and though their accounts differ in important ways, both agree that Jesus was born in Bethlehem. Only Luke gives us details about the birth event. The Gospel states that Mary wrapped the infant Jesus in swaddling clothes “and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for him in the inn.” This line could also be translated to mean that there was “no space for him in the room.”
Homes at the time were single-room, multipurpose dwellings. It would have been traditional for Joseph to take Mary into his family’s home to live. In a one-room house full of relatives, we can imagine their need for space to deliver a baby! Dwellings would have had connected outbuildings to shelter animals. Because of the prevalence of natural limestone caves in the area, a smart homeowner would have used such a feature to house his livestock if it was available. This is where Joseph and Mary retreated to deliver Jesus—a cavern near their home that sheltered animals.
Church of the Nativity
We have evidence from early Christian accounts that place Jesus’ birth in a cave in Bethlehem. In the first century, local authorities may have used the cavern as a temple for Roman gods as a way for the empire to displace the Christians who gathered there to remember Jesus’ birth. This likely only deepened the attachment Christians felt to the place, though. The first church was built there in 339. It was later rebuilt and enlarged by Christians in the sixth century, and it survived the Persian invasion because the intruders recognized the clothes worn by the magi in the church’s mosaics.
Today, one enters the Church of the Nativity through what is called “the Door of Humility.” The entrance to the church was resized twice to make it easier to defend—in the video below, we can see several different outlines of the door that have been bricked in. The latest resizing was to reduce the opening to prevent a horse from entering. Pilgrims who enter must literally make a profound bow as they pass through. The effect is to experience a birth process of sorts—it reminds us of the humility God took on in joining our humanity.
The main altar of the church is built over the cavern that marks the place where Jesus was born. The Church of the Nativity is maintained by the Orthodox Church, and, in accordance with their tradition, it is decorated with many icons and candles. The cavern where Jesus was born is approached by descending a short flight of stairs under the main altar (pictured here). Upon descending, one finds a small, marble altar above the place where we venerate his birth. Again, it is appropriate to descend into this space—it mirrors God’s descent from divinity to join our humanity in the person of Jesus.
The Scandal of the Incarnation
In the Church of the Nativity, the people stand out more than the space. The human condition is on full display here. A long line of pilgrims wait for more than an hour to descend the stairs to see the cavern. They are tired, hot, impatient, and sweaty. When they get to the end of the line, they have 10-15 seconds to kneel and venerate the place where Jesus was born. Even then, they have others elbowing them and jostling to be next, or placing a camera or phone near them for a photo.
The clergy who manage the church are not much better. The small chapel space in the cavern below the main altar is shared by Christians of several denominations. Franciscans assist visiting Catholics, and are assigned certain times of the day for Mass.
We are siblings in the faith, and the clergy there share the space like brothers: If you’ve ever been on a family car trip as a child, and remember parents taping a line on the seat between you and a brother or sister so that you won’t touch each other’s side, you’ll have a sense of how space in the Church of the Nativity is shared—jealously. Catholics are shooed away when it is time for Orthodox worship; Orthodox are pushed out when it is time for Catholic Mass.
Pilgrims expect this to be a place of peace and stillness, but instead find it to be busy and crowded and noisy. The experience of visiting this place with a crowd of pilgrims can be humiliating. One might think it strange that the God of creation—the One who crafted the Grand Canyon and the Rocky Mountains—consented to be confined to the body of a tiny baby in a smelly cave.
All of this prompts us to reflect on the purposes of the Incarnation—the mystery by which God joins our human condition. God the Father did not send his Son among us because we were perfect—he sent his Son because we are broken and in need of redemption. The humiliation we might feel in this crowd, and the humiliation we feel at our own imperfections, are embraced by God. This is why he sent his Son, Jesus—so that this humiliation does not need to define us, and instead we can approach God as adopted sons and daughters.
God did not come to us in the person of Jesus with a Secret Service detail or an advance planning party. Conditions were far from optimal. This messy reality was the very reason for Jesus’ incarnation: so that even this ugly side of our humanity—especially this ugly side—could be taken up, shared, and redeemed by God.
This encounter with the place of the Incarnation can give us hope. When family life breaks down, when we experience meltdowns and fighting, when we come to the end of a day worn out and haggard, we can take a deep breath and recognize that God has been there, too.
The Way God Works
As a pilgrim, one waits in line for a long time to reach this space. Then, when it is your turn, it comes and goes so quickly. You have only a few moments to kneel, collect your thoughts and prayers, and venerate the space. It is easy for it to all happen before you feel ready.
This is probably how Mary and Joseph felt, too—that things were happening too fast and they were not ready. Big moments in our lives unfold in this way—they are accompanied by the pervasive worry that this isn’t going the way it should. The death of a loved one, sudden sickness, accidents crash upon us like waves and knock us off our feet.
There is a great comfort in the fact that God is familiar with this feeling—in fact, judging by the way Jesus’ birth unfolded, it appears to be an important way in which God works. Things don’t have to be perfect for God to enter our lives.
We can follow Mary and Joseph’s example in these situations. They didn’t have it all figured out. They understood very little of what was happening to them, yet they remained faithful: Mary said yes to the unknown, and Joseph was responsive to mysterious promptings from the angel. That faithfulness was enough for God to work with. When we display that same faithfulness and willingness to step into the unknown with trust, it allows us to become co-creators with God, to join God in the work of bringing new life to the world.
Just outside of Bethlehem is a mountain palace called the Herodian. It was a fortress built by king Herod (the one who met with the magi). He was a great builder, and his works still shape the landscape in the region. He transformed the top of a prominent hill just outside of Jerusalem and made it into a palace where he could retreat to live comfortably, even when he was under siege. It had a system for catching and storing water, underground tunnels and grain bins, living quarters, and even a theater. The image of the ruins here includes a model of what the original palace would have looked like.
This is what power looked like at the time of Jesus. Herod was a ruler consumed with the desire to establish and exercise power, yet where is he today? Dead and gone—turned to dust.
Herod’s grasping of power contrasts starkly with God’s methods of exercising power. God entered the world in a very hidden and vulnerable way—the only people who knew of its arrival were shepherds, who were poor outsiders, nobodies. In the Incarnation, God makes power evident in weakness and vulnerability.
God’s power is deeper than what can be built by kings—it is not a power that we establish and grasp and hold. It is a power we participate in through letting go—through obedience and submission, self-gift and sacrifice.
This is power that changes things—this is the power of faithfulness.