January 6 is Epiphany, the day for Western Christians to remember the story of the Magi visiting the Christ-child. “Epiphany” means “revelation.” The star that led the Magi to Bethlehem was revealing Jesus to the world.
For several years now, Christian olivewood artisans in Bethlehem have been carving a different kind of nativity scene. It has all the traditional pieces – Mary, Joseph, the baby in a manger, shepherds, sheep, and three Magi riding on camels. But it also includes one other piece – a wall separating the Magi from the stable to represent the 25-foot steel barrier that runs the length of the border of the West Bank and separates Jerusalem from Bethlehem. The “Separation Barrier” (simply called “The Wall” by most people) was built to protect Israelis from Arab terrorists. Erected through the middle of many Palestinian farms, it has resulted in economic disaster for many peaceful Arab citizens who are robbed, not only of their land, but also markets for their goods, health care, good education and rights of citizenship.
If the Magi were coming to visit the Christ-child today, they would face some serious security issues. They were all from Persia, which is present-day Iraq, so it isn’t hard to imagine what they would look like – dark skin, dark hair, and facial features associated with the Arab world. Today, they would be profiled as potential terrorists. They would have a very difficult time getting to Jerusalem to inquire of Jewish authorities where the Messiah was to be born. If they somehow got through one of the checkpoints in the Wall to do that, they would then have to pass through another checkpoint to get to Bethlehem, but more likely, they would be detained, and might be deported or imprisoned.
Whether or not the Wall is justified by Israel’s security needs, it casts a shadow over the place of Christ’s birth, whose coming, ironically, was designed to tear walls down. In fact, the whole significance of the journey of the Magi was that the birth of Christ was for all people. The Magi were Gentiles, and their coming foreshadowed how the early church would break out of its cultural limitations and become a community for all people, not just certain people. Since the days of Joshua when, by God’s power, the walls of Jericho came tumblin’ down, our God has been removing barriers between people. “He is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups (Jews and Gentiles) into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us” (Ephesians 2:14).
And yet, we continue to build dividing walls of all kinds. We build walls to keep away the people we don’t understand; to protect our prejudices; to insulate ourselves from risk; and to avoid having to learn anything new or be challenged to see things differently. These walls of protection bring more harm to us than good, for while they keep out the people and problems we don’t want to face, they separate us from God as well. The scriptures tell us that God is our fortress, but we don’t believe it. We keep building our own fortresses. We are afraid to let God tear down our walls and be our protection in place of our own inventions.
Not far from Bethlehem, there is another wall that serves a very different purpose. It’s the wall that surrounds the Old City of Jerusalem. Pieces of it have been there since biblical times. Most of it, however, was constructed in the 16th century by Suliemann the Great, a Muslim ruler who believed it was his responsibility to protect the holy sites within the city so that Muslim, Christian, and Jewish pilgrims could visit them. You don’t walk very far along Suliemann’s wall before you come to one of its eight gates – huge openings appointed by decorative stonework, some of which open onto spacious courtyards. All these gates say to visitors, “Come in.”
The Damascus Gate invites people into the Muslim quarter to experience the sights, sounds and smells of a bustling Arab marketplace. The Jaffa Gate stands open all the time, welcoming people into the festivity of the Jewish quarter. The Zion gate beckons people into the amazing quiet of the Armenian quarter, which is like a huge prayer garden. And on it goes. In Jerusalem’s Old City, we see how walls can serve a good purpose. They can define an area and create boundaries that are helpful to visitors.
Life without any walls is pretty hard to imagine. We all need space to ourselves, but healthy boundaries that define our space need not create hostility. In fact, good boundaries are as inviting as they are defining – they include “gates” that tell people how to come in.
Even Jesus withdrew from the crowds to pray. Jesus had very clear boundaries, but he didn’t build a separation barrier around himself. Better than anyone, Jesus was able to maintain his own identity while also being accessible to others. He was clear enough about who he was that he wasn’t threatened by anybody. And when we allow Christ to dwell with us, we too become more confident about who we are, less anxious, and less threatened by our differences with others. We can maintain our personal boundaries without building a fortress that keeps others out.
Jesus said, “I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.” He also said, “I am the way – the way to God the Father.” The gate implies a boundary, but not a barrier. Jesus did not abolish the distinction between humanity and God, but revealed the Way to God.
The olivewood nativity that includes a wall is jarring when you first see it. The Wise Men are on their camels, stopped cold by a barrier blocking their access to the stable. But it isn’t a hopeless scene. In each of these crèches, the wall, by design, is removable. It can be replaced by a date palm to create a more traditional scene. In the kingdom of God, dividing walls are always removable. No wall is impregnable. No division is permanent. No separation is final. As the coming of the Magi demonstrated long ago, we belong to a God who creates new paths, opens new ways, and tears down the barriers that keep us from each other.
©2015 by J. Mark Lawson
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