Of all the journeys I have taken in life, the one that stands out the most in my memory is the trip I took to Cuba with my seminary classmates. One reason it stands out was its general weirdness. First of all seminarians are weird. A bunch of people from different walks of life who all come together because they are a rare breed of individual who has heard and then responded to a call from God. All of us feeling kind of touchy and vulnerable because we don’t know where we are going physically, spiritually, intellectually. And then we are sent on this trip to a place that takes us out of whatever is left of our comfort zone. For three weeks. With zero calls or texts home.
So people tended to act strangely at times. One of my travel companions turned to me at one particularly crazy moment and said, “People on a trip? They’s a journey.”
The reality is, so much of the spiritual life for all of us is a journey. It is all about moving toward something … someplace … that we are longing for.
The special season of Advent is the most journey-like time of the year. We are moving toward Christmas, counting down the days – and if you ever need a reminder of how many days are left until Christmas I recommend asking a child. Children keep close tabs on matters of such importance.
So while we are moving toward Christmas, which is pretty normal, we are also in a weird way moving toward something that happened 2,000 years ago – the birth of Christ. Which makes Advent sort of a trippy journey.
But we are also moving toward something much bigger on the cosmic scale – Jesus’ return. And our belief that when he returns, he brings the reign of God with him in all its fullness. Something that we hear Jesus describe with longing in our hearts. Advent takes place on all these levels.
Along with all that, this year we are considering the actual physical journey of Mary and Joseph, as they traveled toward the moment, the place, where Jesus was born. This year we are thinking about the locations that were important centers of activity and influence in their lives. And today we begin the journey in Rome.
Even though I am quite certain that neither Mary nor Joseph ever set foot in Rome. It was nowhere near Nazareth, where they lived. Nowhere near Bethlehem, Joseph’s ancestral home. And even with the famous network of roads that the Roman Empire had constructed, it still would have taken them a good 20 days to get to Rome. The players in this story have never been anywhere near Rome. But wherever they were, Rome was a place that was very much present.
Rome had begun their rule in Israel in the year 63 BC. They went there by force, which was the way Rome always took control. The Roman army would come in and stay. They would install local kings, for the sake of making it appear to be something like a partnership. But make no mistake, Rome was in charge.
The Pax Romana began under the rule of Caesar Augustus. And it was a good thing for Roman citizens. It gave them relative peace and prosperity. But the people of the occupied lands did not have the benefit of Roman citizenship, and they had a quite different experience of the Pax Romana.
Rome was uninterested in the welfare of these people. They allowed the local rulers a free hand, to be just as brutal as they pleased. Herod was among the worst. They cared nothing about Jewish cultural and religious values and made demands of the Jews which forced them to violate the laws of God. Rome cared nothing about the laws of God – only the laws of Rome.
For Israel, the Pax Romana meant that any act that was considered a violation of Roman law was punishable by death. They favored death on a cross in a very public place, for it was believed to be a strong deterrent. This was how Rome kept peace.
The people of Israel longed for something different. They longed for real freedom. They longed for real peace. They longed for real justice.
All these longings were in the air at the time Caesar Augustus decreed that a census would take place, and everyone must go to the right place to be registered. A census usually meant taxes. Taxes often meant that war was coming.
All these longings were in the air when the angel Gabriel visited Mary, who was engaged to be married to Joseph. The angel told Mary, you will bear a son who will be great; he will be called the Son of the Most High. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.
All these longings were in the air as Joseph and Mary journeyed to Bethlehem.
Rob Fuquay, a United Methodist Pastor, shared a story in his book called On the Way to Bethlehem, about a time he journeyed to Bethlehem. He wanted to be there on Christmas Eve, to have the experience on that night of being in the place where it all happened.
When he arrived in the city he was shocked and disappointed. The area was crowded with soldiers carrying machine guns. There was a barrier surrounding Nativity Square and visitors had to go through an invasive security check to get inside. The tension in the air was thick.
When he finally got past the barrier there was more surprise. You know the song, “O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie” but here there was no stillness. Rob described it as being more like Mardi Gras than “silent night, holy night.” Loud, boisterous, tense. A scuffle broke out between two young Palestinians. Immediately, he said, Israeli soldiers surrounded them and beat them with the butts of their rifles until the two youths were motionless on the ground. The soldiers dragged them away, leaving a trail of blood.
Rob wondered if this was anything like what Joseph and Mary encountered. And the conclusion he came to was, probably yes.
Because 2,000 years ago when the Emperor of Rome decreed that there should be a census, which demanded that everyone make their way to their ancestral home, there surely would have been chaos. If all these frightened and weary people, who lived under the terror of the empire, were suddenly forced to uproot and take long and dangerous journeys just so the emperor could raise their taxes, there would have been bad feelings. O little town of Bethlehem was suddenly overcrowded with irritable people and armed soldiers.
The journey that brought all these elements together for the birth of the Messiah, everything precariously balanced on the knife edge that was called Pax Romana. The events that set the stage for something that would forever change the world. A moment in time that is forever and always the focus of a spiritual journey for millions of people. It all began with the decision of a politician in Rome.
God does work in mysterious ways.
But I think what this points to is the reality that even while we are spiritual beings, members of the household of God, we exist in a world where there is always some kind of Rome. Where there are always forces of brutality and greed and callous disinterest in how Rome’s decisions affect others. Sometimes Rome might even be us.
Yet, somehow, God works through all of it.
And so we are on this journey of faith. We begin in Rome, the seat of worldly power. We long for so much more, just as Israel did, just as humans always have done. As the Apostle Paul wrote, we groan inwardly, in our longing, while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.
In longing and in hope, we journey on.
NOTE: I am indebted to Rob Fuquay, whose book, On the Way to Bethlehem, has guided my thinking through this journey.
Picture: stock.adobe.com
