As winter settles over us and we draw near to Christmas, I find myself reflecting on these words from the beautiful Christmas hymn, O Little Town of Bethlehem: “And in thy dark streets shineth, the everlasting Light, the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” These words pull me back to that humble village in the Holy Land where Jesus was born. They speak of a Light that shines no matter how dark the night.
Bethlehem’s streets, then and now, are simple, dusty, ordinary. Today, those streets, along with so many in Gaza and across the Holy Land, carry the weight of war’s shadow. Families grieve, and their homes lie in ruin. The cry for peace echoes through sacred places. I think of the people there caught in conflict’s pain, and my heart aches. Yet, it’s in such places, in the mess and hurt, that God chose to show up. A baby in a manger, born in a troubled land under an empire’s rule—that’s where the everlasting Light broke through.
This Christmas, as we pray for peace in Gaza and the Holy Land, I’m reminded that God doesn’t wait for perfect moments to meet us. The Christ Child came into a struggling world, and He continues to do so. Whether it’s the war in the Holy Land, the personal battles we face, or the divisions pulling at our communities, the darkness can feel heavy. But Bethlehem’s story tells us no darkness is too deep for God’s Light. Jesus’ birth, then in a stable, now in our hearts, is God’s promise to walk with us, hold our fears, and kindle hope.
The hymn speaks of “the hopes and fears of all the years.” In the Holy Land, people hope for an end to violence, for days when children can play without fear. Here at home, we hope for healing in our families, strength for tough times, and a more peaceful world. But we also carry fears of what tomorrow holds and fear for those suffering in Gaza or fear our efforts fall short. Christmas says these hopes and fears find a home in Jesus. In Him, God embraces our joys and worries, wrapping them in love that never fades.
So, what do we do? As Christians, we’re called to carry this Light, especially now. I think of Mary, saying “yes” to God despite uncertainty, or Joseph, trusting God’s call through doubts. Their courage pushes us to act. To pray boldly for peace in Gaza and support those hurting as we stand with our brothers and sisters in the Holy Land.
In October 2025, a glimmer of that Light has broken through. Israel and Hamas agreed to a ceasefire, including the release of all living Israeli hostages in exchange for Palestinian prisoners, an immediate surge of humanitarian aid, and steps toward rebuilding Gaza. While challenges remain for lasting peace, this fragile pause offers hope for families to heal and children to find safety and a reminder that persistent prayer and diplomacy can invite God’s reconciling work.
I’ve also seen this Light in our diocese. In our parishes, you’re opening doors to feed the hungry, sitting with the lonely, and reaching out to those who’ve lost much. These acts, big or small, are like candles in the dark, echoing Bethlehem’s star. I think of parishioners packing Christmas hampers or quiet prayers for peace in war-torn places. Each is a spark of hope, a sign Christ’s Light lives in us.
We carry this Light when we share Christmas’ Good News, not just with words but with lives that show God is near. From our pews to Gaza’s streets, the message holds: God is with us, in joy and pain. And we carry it by clinging to hope, even when it’s hard. The violence in the Holy Land, the struggles here, don’t have the final word. Christ’s Light does.
My prayer this Christmas is that we’ll be people who shine with that everlasting Light. Let’s keep praying and working for peace in Gaza and the Holy Land, trusting God’s love can transform the darkest places. May Bethlehem’s peace, born in a land of promise and pain, fill your hearts this Holy Season.
