Little Christmas cheer in the land called chosen and holy

It's Christmas time, that wonderful season of light, happiness, joy and hope. It's the time when families, too, rest a while, come together, celebrate, reminisce and enjoy all that is good and beautiful in life and our common home.

But there will be no celebrations in Gaza, and Christmas has been cancelled in Bethlehem. What a shocking indictment of our world that the birthplace of the Son of God, whose arrival was announced with messages of peace, cannot host celebrations or even a thanksgiving service. How misplaced to call this the Holy Land, mindful of the 1,200 victims of the barbaric Hamas atrocity of October 7 that sparked off the latest round of unspeakable violence. Twelve thousand innocent Palestinian children have been slaughtered in the revengeful assault, evocative of the butchery by King Herod of what we Christians call the Holy Innocents.

United Nations Secretary General Antonio Guterres has been reduced to a voice crying in the wilderness like John the Baptist, pleading for a ceasefire as Gaza is blitzed and demolished into an open graveyard. The UN Security Council has once more been revealed as a toothless bulldog where the five permanent members use their veto clause to protect their own geo-political interests, while holding the rest of the suffering world hostage.

The world has once more witnessed the hypocrisy of America, whose credentials for the defense of human rights are nothing but a mirage when it comes to the crunch. US Ambassador to Kenya Meg Whitman recently met local civil society organisations to discuss human rights in Kenya at a time when her government was supplying Israel with arms and cash to bomb Gaza into smithereens.

In Ukraine, too, there will be little cause for festive celebrations as Kyiv churches have been regular targets of Putin's vicious assaults on his neighbours. Nearer home, but far away from the international cameras, ethnic fighting threatens the unity and prosperity of Ethiopia. But the Sudan conflict is the most forgotten one, with 3.5m children displaced according to Unicef, and the capital Khartoum under constant siege and bombardment. There will be no family homecomings, either, for the millions of refugees displaced by war, poverty and climate crisis, or those who take the turbulent and risky routes of escape to the perceived promised lands of Europe and America.

We live in troubled, dangerous and uncertain times. Pretty much like when Jesus chose to be born, in an occupied land and among a divided people. He came silently and most unexpectedly, born in a stable because there was no room in the inn. Without fanfare, lowly and despised shepherds became the first heralds of his birth. His first visitors were stargazers from the East that proved his message was one of inclusivity for all nations. But soon he was forced to seek refuge in Egypt with his parents.

His early life was just like that of billions of other children today born into insecurity, poverty and hardship. Jesus thus identified with the needy, the prisoners, the refugees, the outcasts and leftovers of a harsh society. He came to bring hope, to go out to welcome home those whose history, burdens and weaknesses had found no room at the table of worship, or the decision-making one, either.

His message is as provocative, challenging and inspiring today as when first spoken. He came to comfort the afflicted and to afflict the comfortable, and his true disciples carry on that mission today. Not for them seats at the high table or intercessions at State House, nor worn-out answers to new questions, nor comfort and security. Churches that reach out to the margins instead of looking inwards at their own prosperity and survival will keep that mission alive. Others will collapse with the poison of greed and scandals as they insulate themselves from criticism and accountability.

But the message will live on and the calling of discipleship is as attractive and frightening as ever. It is that message of hope, based on real experience, that we need to remember this and every Christmas. I wish you and yours every joy, blessing and inspiration, and please be mindful of the poor.