How to Arrive
Commentary
Welcome to the end of the Christian year. We began with the first Sunday in Advent (December 1, 2019), as we anticipated the coming of God in flesh (in Latin, in carne, the root of the word incarnation). First, we looked to the ancient writings of the Jews (using the prophet Isaiah), anticipating the arrival of the anointed one (Messiah in Hebrew). Then we turned to the writings of the early church, as Paul helped the Christian converts struggle to live in the Roman Empire — a culture that was nearly the antithesis of Jesus’ teachings. Finally, we read from Matthew’s Gospel, to learn of Jesus’ life as the writer understood it.
Year after year, Advent prepares us for the coming of God into our world. Year after year, we see how the Word of God (as John’s gospel names Jesus) changes our perceptions of the world as we are experiencing it. We, too, struggle to balance our personal concerns with God’s plans and hope for us. We pray for the peace of God to rule our world. We struggle to walk in the footsteps of Jesus in the marketplace, the seats of government, and the everyday work we must accomplish.
This year, Advent finds us struggling to lead worship when only a handful of parishioners can be allowed into the sanctuary, masked and sitting apart from each other, due to the Covid-19 pandemic. Many of us have had a steep learning curve, installing audio and video equipment, so we can lead church programs through Zoom and other computer programs. It is desperately hard to preach in an empty church, trying to picture those who usually fill the pews. And there is the very real worry that if the pandemic persists for much longer, our people will have lost the habit of setting aside Sunday morning to worship and won’t come back even if they can without endangering themselves or others. After all, there are all those pastors on TV who have years of experience and a dedicated staff of professionals to present highly polished performances. Who can compete with that?
It used to be said that we ought to live with the understanding that we may be the only gospel our neighbors will ever see. How do we do that when those we preach to never see us in the flesh? It’s a good thing to remember that despite their financial and technological advantages, not every TV preacher has lived his or her life in ways they want their parishioners to see. There are still ways we can keep in touch with our congregations even in Covid “hot spots.” We have much to offer our elders, our young couples trying to work and care for children and parents at home, school-aged children struggling to learn without the professional teachers they’re used to, and friends with whom they can snap the tension of not knowing, and people who have no family to help nor to help them. This is not to mention those who have no computers, no cable TV, nor any knowledge of how to use them to learn.
Advent simply means “arrival.” What we need to do this year is to discern how to ‘arrive’ at relationships with people who are going a little stir-crazy at home, and introduce them to others who are also struggling; professionals who can help them cope; and Jesus, who transcends the isolation so many of us fear.
Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24
From the beginning of the Hebrew people, they identified themselves as shepherds. Jacob measured his wealth in the numbers of his flocks.
When Joseph moved his father Jacob and all his family to Egypt, he urged them to identify themselves as shepherds, because the Egyptians abhorred shepherds and would give them land of their own to settle on.
When God called David to be king, the people described him as being the shepherd of God’s people, a man they had found trustworthy even while Saul was king (see 2 Samuel 5:1-3).
This is the context of the text for today. Ezekiel was told by God to “[P]rophesy against the shepherds of Israel; prophesy, and say to them: ‘Thus says the Lord God: Ah, you shepherds of Israel who have been feeding yourselves! Should not shepherds feed the sheep?’” God promises to turn them out because they had fed themselves, rather than the people entrusted to them. It is in this context that God self-identifies as a shepherd to the prophet.
Of course, David was long gone to his grave when the prophet was commissioned, so we need to understand this as an allegory. David becomes the model of the shepherd king. Just as David was, in fact, doing the work of a shepherd of the family’s flocks when God laid a hand on him and anointed him to be king (eventually) over a united kingdom, the Messiah would be a boy of humble upbringing, used to doing hard work without thanks — because nobody thanks a shepherd for keeping the sheep safe without something dramatic threatening the flock. Messiah would care for the people, loving them and trying to bring people to a way of life that would assure that they would prosper; and out of their prosperity care for one another, share with one another and work humbly with one another.
When God says, “I will set up over them one shepherd, my servant David,” the rabbis understood this as meaning that the Messiah would be out of the lineage of David, not that David the king would return. For this reason, the Messiah had to be born in Bethlehem of Judea, because that was the city identified as David’s city. It is the expectation of the rabbis and teachers of law that it would be possible to trace the child’s lineage back to David the king. This is why Matthew’s gospel puts his lineage at the very start of his gospel — he needs to establish Jesus’ roots for the Jewish reader for whom his gospel is written.1
The World Council of Churches paired this reading from Ezekiel with Matthew 28 this year. In Matthew, Jesus says to his disciples that it is their responsibility to care for one another, in the same way that a Good Shepherd cares for the sheep in his care. Failure to share the basic necessities of life with one another, will bring the judg ment of God.
Ephesians 1:15-25
This letter is addressed, “To the saints who are faithful in Christ Jesus.” The designation of it being “to the Ephesians” is not included in the best manuscripts (there being many of these, there is therefore room for dispute) especially since there was a problem with false teachers and teachings in Asia Minor. Nevertheless, the letter is apparently meant for any of the followers (“saints”) of Jesus who are troubled by what is going on around them.
As Paul also says in 1 Corinthians and Romans, the central quality of those who are called saints is the love we share with one another.
Many years ago, I was assigned to a church that had been having some hard times. One woman in that congregation kept coming to me in a critical way, questioning what I was preaching, and my understanding of the Bible. Since it was early days for women being ordained and appointed to pastor churches, I had begun to think that she had a problem with me primarily as a woman pastor.
Finally, one day as we were having a discussion in the church parking lot, I finally asked, “Delores, you’ve been going to this church most Sundays. Surely the male pastors who preached here said pretty much the same things I’m saying? I’m really very middle-of-the-road in my understanding of the Bible and the teachings of our church!”
She replied, “Well, yes, but you can’t talk to a man! They don’t understand a woman’s point of view. They were all pretty well patted me on the head and told me I was wrong!”
I suggested a church down the road from ours, one of a different denomination, but who believed much as Delores did. “Why don’t you go over there for a few Sundays and see how you like it there?”
So she did. But a month later, she was back. “So, how did you like that church? Was the preaching better?” She said she had been fairly happy with the pastor’s beliefs, but she hated going there.
“Not one person greeted me, or asked about me, or even invited me to coffee after worship!” She was clearly upset. (A teaching moment!)
“What do we learn from this?” I asked.
“I don’t know. You’re always asking that question! What should I have learned?”
“People live out what they believe about God. You were unhappy with what our denomination teaches, but have you ever seen anyone leave this church without being welcomed, invited to fellowship, and invited to return? I submit that what we teach guides our actions. So what does that say about what we believe?”
We had many conversations about our church’s teaching after that, but the tone had changed. She became comfortable listening to things she had not grown up hearing. A couple of people noticed a difference and asked me if I knew what had happened to Delores, she was so changed. I replied, as all good pastors ought to, “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her?” And really, I don’t know, even now, what God had done with her. And our faith depends, not on what we hear from the pulpit as much as what we hear from God.
It is the Spirit of God who instills wisdom, who opens our hearts so we can see each other’s pain, share one another’s pain and joy, and join with each other in love. Without the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, as Paul says in Corinthians, “I am nothing but a clanging cymbal.”
God knows, we are going through a terrible time in our country and the world right now. God alone knows what will come out of our national trials — the Covid 19 pandemic, the need (or not) to take extreme precautions to protect ourselves and others from infecting one another, and the political scene that has been worsened by our mutual isolation. Sitting alone at home, we have way too much time to think, and too many people were already lonely and afraid. The pandemic has exacerbated our realization that we have very little control over our own lives. Some people have carried their isolation to extremes: there is no reason to stay inside our house or apartment; we can and must get outside into the sun in order to keep depression at bay. Taking a walk can help us clean out our bloodstream, which can clog up with chemicals that our bodies produce when we are angry or fearful. Yet many of us have let the fear of being sick or dying keep us cooped up, which only makes matters worse.
Paul is talking about the power God gives us as an inheritance. That power uplifts us, gives us hope, even joy. But we have a much harder time feeling all that when we are imprisoned — really, or virtually. Paul gives us this vision of Christ, “far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named.” In other words, no matter the outcome of our current election dispute, no matter who thinks they are ruling over us, it is Christ who rules our hearts and minds if we will only let him lead us to God, where we will find the truest freedom anyone can have. NO political party or party leader or Congress or Parliament, no dictator or elected leader, no preacher of chaos, no corrupt — nor honest -- church official can give us what we need to be happy.
Paul points to God, saying, “He has put all things under [Christ’s] feet…and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all. In other words, we — preachers and teachers and caregivers and protectors — in the church or out of it, fulfill the teachings of Jesus, and are commissioned by God to reach out, whether by our hands or our computers or our phones, and speak of love and hope, which have been sorely missing in our nation and our world, even before Covid became part of our lives.
Matthew 25:31-46
The judgment of the nations is the role of the Christ, the one God shares the heavenly throne with. Jesus mostly tried to talk people into doing the right thing, giving up their fear and reaching out to one another. But occasionally, he lost his temper. I think of the incident with the fig tree that he reached up to in hopes of finding a fig on his way into Jerusalem to worship in the temple. One last time. Finding no figs, he cursed the tree.
I don’t think this is one of those incidents that has a symbolic meaning. I think Jesus knew that his death was coming, getting closer and closer, and he was choosing to do what God wanted him to do, even though he knew how horrible it would be for him. He had seen crucifixions. They were hung alongside the road so everyone would see them and be warned. Frightened into obedience. Taught a lesson about the power of Rome over their subjects.
I think Jesus had also seen the trading, money-changing and selling of animals for sacrifices (probably at a dearer price than lambs usually went for, since you had to have a goat or a lamb that was certified ‘perfect’ and so proper for sacrifice). He may have been restless the previous night, sleeping poorly, or maybe awake all night, sorting through his feelings. Grief, fear, anger — all boiled up, and the poor tree got it all. By nightfall, it had withered to the ground.
And this story of what the day of judgment would be like sets out for us the results of our behavior. And not just our behavior — our attitudes. Because when we refuse to give food, water, clothing, or a safe place to sleep to the poor, it is our attitudes that cause us to act that way. We like to think that the poor are poor because they are lazy, because they think others should do the work and hand part of our profits to them. It’s easier for us that way when we walk past someone who is begging — holding up a sign asking for help or offering to work for food. There are none left alive who lived through the Great Depression, when men spent all day either looking for work or rummaging for something they might sell to get a few pennies to support themselves. None left to know what it was like to have no way to take a bath. None to know what people smell like when they’re wearing all the clothes they have and have no way to wash them.
But we’re learning it now. All those people who have no money for hospitals and won’t go and ask for charity, dying at home with no one to do anything effective for them as their lungs fill up and they can’t draw a breath without pain. Those whose family member died during this pandemic, not from Covid, but from other diseases, because the intensive care u nits are filled in their city (as they are in mine), and all the nurses who can and are willing to work, are taking care of those both in and out of the hospitals. And some nurses have children and/or parents in their lives who need care and cannot split themselves between the needs of those they know and those they are hired to care for. And those who are losing loved ones have to stay home, because they are a danger to those in weakened states in hospitals. I was asked to do a funeral two weeks ago, and I did — but had to set boundaries we were all uncomfortable with. Another cause of stress, in addition to the sorrow of a death unrelated to Covid in a time of panic about the pandemic.
Climate change is also delivering blows against those who live on our coastlines. This week, the 27th Atlantic storm is whirling north. Mississippi was flooded so badly in the last storm that 127 dogs (I don’t know how many cats) were shipped north to our city in hopes of finding them “forever” homes. The crops have failed. Some crops died in the field because there was no one to harvest them. All those migrant workers, you know, who were taking up jobs Americans could (but seemingly don’t want) to do, aren’t available. They’re on the other side of our border with Mexico. That’s part of the reason store shelves are so sparse. Another reason shelves are so bare in stores today is due to the lack of truck drivers, food handlers, and workers to serve those who are trying to get food to our cities.
All of this is producing poverty. Dire poverty. We in the north have been blessed, up ’til today, with early fall temperatures. But the thermometer dropped forty degrees last night where I live. What happens to the newly poor? No more sleeping on the floor in gyms, churches and shelters, packed up against each other. Covid forbids it. Assuming we could even get volunteers to patrol those shelters to prevent the mentally ill from waging mayhem.
“ ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did [or did not] take care of one of the least of these that are members of my family you did it [or not] to me.’ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”
1 The name Bethlehem means house of bread, an allusion that David and his army went into the temple and ate the bread of the presence reserved for the priests. (See Matthew 12:3-5) In the same way, Jerusalem was and is understood as Abraham’s city, (by Jews, Christians and Muslims) because it was outside this city that he encountered Melchizedek, the priest king of Salem, who blessed him in the name of God.
Year after year, Advent prepares us for the coming of God into our world. Year after year, we see how the Word of God (as John’s gospel names Jesus) changes our perceptions of the world as we are experiencing it. We, too, struggle to balance our personal concerns with God’s plans and hope for us. We pray for the peace of God to rule our world. We struggle to walk in the footsteps of Jesus in the marketplace, the seats of government, and the everyday work we must accomplish.
This year, Advent finds us struggling to lead worship when only a handful of parishioners can be allowed into the sanctuary, masked and sitting apart from each other, due to the Covid-19 pandemic. Many of us have had a steep learning curve, installing audio and video equipment, so we can lead church programs through Zoom and other computer programs. It is desperately hard to preach in an empty church, trying to picture those who usually fill the pews. And there is the very real worry that if the pandemic persists for much longer, our people will have lost the habit of setting aside Sunday morning to worship and won’t come back even if they can without endangering themselves or others. After all, there are all those pastors on TV who have years of experience and a dedicated staff of professionals to present highly polished performances. Who can compete with that?
It used to be said that we ought to live with the understanding that we may be the only gospel our neighbors will ever see. How do we do that when those we preach to never see us in the flesh? It’s a good thing to remember that despite their financial and technological advantages, not every TV preacher has lived his or her life in ways they want their parishioners to see. There are still ways we can keep in touch with our congregations even in Covid “hot spots.” We have much to offer our elders, our young couples trying to work and care for children and parents at home, school-aged children struggling to learn without the professional teachers they’re used to, and friends with whom they can snap the tension of not knowing, and people who have no family to help nor to help them. This is not to mention those who have no computers, no cable TV, nor any knowledge of how to use them to learn.
Advent simply means “arrival.” What we need to do this year is to discern how to ‘arrive’ at relationships with people who are going a little stir-crazy at home, and introduce them to others who are also struggling; professionals who can help them cope; and Jesus, who transcends the isolation so many of us fear.
Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24
From the beginning of the Hebrew people, they identified themselves as shepherds. Jacob measured his wealth in the numbers of his flocks.
When Joseph moved his father Jacob and all his family to Egypt, he urged them to identify themselves as shepherds, because the Egyptians abhorred shepherds and would give them land of their own to settle on.
When God called David to be king, the people described him as being the shepherd of God’s people, a man they had found trustworthy even while Saul was king (see 2 Samuel 5:1-3).
This is the context of the text for today. Ezekiel was told by God to “[P]rophesy against the shepherds of Israel; prophesy, and say to them: ‘Thus says the Lord God: Ah, you shepherds of Israel who have been feeding yourselves! Should not shepherds feed the sheep?’” God promises to turn them out because they had fed themselves, rather than the people entrusted to them. It is in this context that God self-identifies as a shepherd to the prophet.
Of course, David was long gone to his grave when the prophet was commissioned, so we need to understand this as an allegory. David becomes the model of the shepherd king. Just as David was, in fact, doing the work of a shepherd of the family’s flocks when God laid a hand on him and anointed him to be king (eventually) over a united kingdom, the Messiah would be a boy of humble upbringing, used to doing hard work without thanks — because nobody thanks a shepherd for keeping the sheep safe without something dramatic threatening the flock. Messiah would care for the people, loving them and trying to bring people to a way of life that would assure that they would prosper; and out of their prosperity care for one another, share with one another and work humbly with one another.
When God says, “I will set up over them one shepherd, my servant David,” the rabbis understood this as meaning that the Messiah would be out of the lineage of David, not that David the king would return. For this reason, the Messiah had to be born in Bethlehem of Judea, because that was the city identified as David’s city. It is the expectation of the rabbis and teachers of law that it would be possible to trace the child’s lineage back to David the king. This is why Matthew’s gospel puts his lineage at the very start of his gospel — he needs to establish Jesus’ roots for the Jewish reader for whom his gospel is written.1
The World Council of Churches paired this reading from Ezekiel with Matthew 28 this year. In Matthew, Jesus says to his disciples that it is their responsibility to care for one another, in the same way that a Good Shepherd cares for the sheep in his care. Failure to share the basic necessities of life with one another, will bring the judg ment of God.
Ephesians 1:15-25
This letter is addressed, “To the saints who are faithful in Christ Jesus.” The designation of it being “to the Ephesians” is not included in the best manuscripts (there being many of these, there is therefore room for dispute) especially since there was a problem with false teachers and teachings in Asia Minor. Nevertheless, the letter is apparently meant for any of the followers (“saints”) of Jesus who are troubled by what is going on around them.
As Paul also says in 1 Corinthians and Romans, the central quality of those who are called saints is the love we share with one another.
Many years ago, I was assigned to a church that had been having some hard times. One woman in that congregation kept coming to me in a critical way, questioning what I was preaching, and my understanding of the Bible. Since it was early days for women being ordained and appointed to pastor churches, I had begun to think that she had a problem with me primarily as a woman pastor.
Finally, one day as we were having a discussion in the church parking lot, I finally asked, “Delores, you’ve been going to this church most Sundays. Surely the male pastors who preached here said pretty much the same things I’m saying? I’m really very middle-of-the-road in my understanding of the Bible and the teachings of our church!”
She replied, “Well, yes, but you can’t talk to a man! They don’t understand a woman’s point of view. They were all pretty well patted me on the head and told me I was wrong!”
I suggested a church down the road from ours, one of a different denomination, but who believed much as Delores did. “Why don’t you go over there for a few Sundays and see how you like it there?”
So she did. But a month later, she was back. “So, how did you like that church? Was the preaching better?” She said she had been fairly happy with the pastor’s beliefs, but she hated going there.
“Not one person greeted me, or asked about me, or even invited me to coffee after worship!” She was clearly upset. (A teaching moment!)
“What do we learn from this?” I asked.
“I don’t know. You’re always asking that question! What should I have learned?”
“People live out what they believe about God. You were unhappy with what our denomination teaches, but have you ever seen anyone leave this church without being welcomed, invited to fellowship, and invited to return? I submit that what we teach guides our actions. So what does that say about what we believe?”
We had many conversations about our church’s teaching after that, but the tone had changed. She became comfortable listening to things she had not grown up hearing. A couple of people noticed a difference and asked me if I knew what had happened to Delores, she was so changed. I replied, as all good pastors ought to, “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her?” And really, I don’t know, even now, what God had done with her. And our faith depends, not on what we hear from the pulpit as much as what we hear from God.
It is the Spirit of God who instills wisdom, who opens our hearts so we can see each other’s pain, share one another’s pain and joy, and join with each other in love. Without the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, as Paul says in Corinthians, “I am nothing but a clanging cymbal.”
God knows, we are going through a terrible time in our country and the world right now. God alone knows what will come out of our national trials — the Covid 19 pandemic, the need (or not) to take extreme precautions to protect ourselves and others from infecting one another, and the political scene that has been worsened by our mutual isolation. Sitting alone at home, we have way too much time to think, and too many people were already lonely and afraid. The pandemic has exacerbated our realization that we have very little control over our own lives. Some people have carried their isolation to extremes: there is no reason to stay inside our house or apartment; we can and must get outside into the sun in order to keep depression at bay. Taking a walk can help us clean out our bloodstream, which can clog up with chemicals that our bodies produce when we are angry or fearful. Yet many of us have let the fear of being sick or dying keep us cooped up, which only makes matters worse.
Paul is talking about the power God gives us as an inheritance. That power uplifts us, gives us hope, even joy. But we have a much harder time feeling all that when we are imprisoned — really, or virtually. Paul gives us this vision of Christ, “far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named.” In other words, no matter the outcome of our current election dispute, no matter who thinks they are ruling over us, it is Christ who rules our hearts and minds if we will only let him lead us to God, where we will find the truest freedom anyone can have. NO political party or party leader or Congress or Parliament, no dictator or elected leader, no preacher of chaos, no corrupt — nor honest -- church official can give us what we need to be happy.
Paul points to God, saying, “He has put all things under [Christ’s] feet…and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all. In other words, we — preachers and teachers and caregivers and protectors — in the church or out of it, fulfill the teachings of Jesus, and are commissioned by God to reach out, whether by our hands or our computers or our phones, and speak of love and hope, which have been sorely missing in our nation and our world, even before Covid became part of our lives.
Matthew 25:31-46
The judgment of the nations is the role of the Christ, the one God shares the heavenly throne with. Jesus mostly tried to talk people into doing the right thing, giving up their fear and reaching out to one another. But occasionally, he lost his temper. I think of the incident with the fig tree that he reached up to in hopes of finding a fig on his way into Jerusalem to worship in the temple. One last time. Finding no figs, he cursed the tree.
I don’t think this is one of those incidents that has a symbolic meaning. I think Jesus knew that his death was coming, getting closer and closer, and he was choosing to do what God wanted him to do, even though he knew how horrible it would be for him. He had seen crucifixions. They were hung alongside the road so everyone would see them and be warned. Frightened into obedience. Taught a lesson about the power of Rome over their subjects.
I think Jesus had also seen the trading, money-changing and selling of animals for sacrifices (probably at a dearer price than lambs usually went for, since you had to have a goat or a lamb that was certified ‘perfect’ and so proper for sacrifice). He may have been restless the previous night, sleeping poorly, or maybe awake all night, sorting through his feelings. Grief, fear, anger — all boiled up, and the poor tree got it all. By nightfall, it had withered to the ground.
And this story of what the day of judgment would be like sets out for us the results of our behavior. And not just our behavior — our attitudes. Because when we refuse to give food, water, clothing, or a safe place to sleep to the poor, it is our attitudes that cause us to act that way. We like to think that the poor are poor because they are lazy, because they think others should do the work and hand part of our profits to them. It’s easier for us that way when we walk past someone who is begging — holding up a sign asking for help or offering to work for food. There are none left alive who lived through the Great Depression, when men spent all day either looking for work or rummaging for something they might sell to get a few pennies to support themselves. None left to know what it was like to have no way to take a bath. None to know what people smell like when they’re wearing all the clothes they have and have no way to wash them.
But we’re learning it now. All those people who have no money for hospitals and won’t go and ask for charity, dying at home with no one to do anything effective for them as their lungs fill up and they can’t draw a breath without pain. Those whose family member died during this pandemic, not from Covid, but from other diseases, because the intensive care u nits are filled in their city (as they are in mine), and all the nurses who can and are willing to work, are taking care of those both in and out of the hospitals. And some nurses have children and/or parents in their lives who need care and cannot split themselves between the needs of those they know and those they are hired to care for. And those who are losing loved ones have to stay home, because they are a danger to those in weakened states in hospitals. I was asked to do a funeral two weeks ago, and I did — but had to set boundaries we were all uncomfortable with. Another cause of stress, in addition to the sorrow of a death unrelated to Covid in a time of panic about the pandemic.
Climate change is also delivering blows against those who live on our coastlines. This week, the 27th Atlantic storm is whirling north. Mississippi was flooded so badly in the last storm that 127 dogs (I don’t know how many cats) were shipped north to our city in hopes of finding them “forever” homes. The crops have failed. Some crops died in the field because there was no one to harvest them. All those migrant workers, you know, who were taking up jobs Americans could (but seemingly don’t want) to do, aren’t available. They’re on the other side of our border with Mexico. That’s part of the reason store shelves are so sparse. Another reason shelves are so bare in stores today is due to the lack of truck drivers, food handlers, and workers to serve those who are trying to get food to our cities.
All of this is producing poverty. Dire poverty. We in the north have been blessed, up ’til today, with early fall temperatures. But the thermometer dropped forty degrees last night where I live. What happens to the newly poor? No more sleeping on the floor in gyms, churches and shelters, packed up against each other. Covid forbids it. Assuming we could even get volunteers to patrol those shelters to prevent the mentally ill from waging mayhem.
“ ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did [or did not] take care of one of the least of these that are members of my family you did it [or not] to me.’ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”
1 The name Bethlehem means house of bread, an allusion that David and his army went into the temple and ate the bread of the presence reserved for the priests. (See Matthew 12:3-5) In the same way, Jerusalem was and is understood as Abraham’s city, (by Jews, Christians and Muslims) because it was outside this city that he encountered Melchizedek, the priest king of Salem, who blessed him in the name of God.
