Day 8

Bethlehem was, in many ways a good choice. Much better than, say, Saigon. Not that I’ve anything against Saigon – or, if you prefer (which most of the inhabitants don’t), Ho Chi Minh City. It’s a lovely place. No, what I mean is this: when God decided to become the Word made flesh and dwell amongst us, He did well in deciding to be born in Bethlehem. Rather than Saigon.

If, of course, He actually made a decision. Decision implies an act of choosing, a weighing up of pros and cons, a consideration of available options. Does a God who has at His disposal not only an infinite number of options, but also an omnipotent ability to create and control those very options have any need to make a decision at all? Did He, perhaps, give Gabriel the news that the Annunciation gig was scheduled for Bethlehem simply by closing His eyes and jabbing a random finger at a map of the world? If so, it could equally well have been Saigon.

Either way, we have much for which to be grateful. For one thing, the choice of Bethlehem made it a good deal easier for Jesus to fulfil the Scriptures. For another, it significantly reduced the commute time for the Flight into, to say nothing of back from, Egypt. For yet another, it meant we, kneeling here at the communion rail in the early years of the 21st century, are spared the tiresome need to remember that the politically correct name for the birthplace of our Lord is not Saigon but Ho Chi Minh City.

I thought about these things today as, only a few seconds late as a result of having had to pause en route while my wife disentangled herself from an itinerant bicyclist, I scuttled down the alley in order to attend the 6.00pm Eucharist at St Peter’s. Because, by choosing (or whatever) Bethlehem in favor of, say, Saigon, God had ensured that His Son was born into, brought up in, and able, therefore, to celebrate His last supper as part of a wheat, rather than a rice, culture. Had it been otherwise, He could not have taken bread, given thanks for it, and broken it. Had it been otherwise, we would not be praying to Our Father for our Daily Bread; we would be praying to Him for our Daily Rice. Had it been otherwise, this evening’s communion wafer would’ve been a grain of rice – and, therefore, extremely hard to divide among the six of us in the congregation.

Yes, all things considered, Bethlehem was a good choice. Mind you, I’m quite partial to a drop of sake.

Day 8: 5 ½ out of 8